Lovejoy (1986–1994): Season 1, Episode 9 - Death and Venice: Part One - full transcript

Who'll start me at 100?
100 for a start.

100 I'm bid. 100 I'm bid.

Who'll give me 10, who'll make it 110?
I'm looking for 110.

100? 110 I'm bid. 110?

Who'll make it 20?
Come on, gentlemen, who'll make it 20?

120 I'm bid. It's with you, madam, at 120.

Do I hear 50? 150 anywhere?

Come on, gentlemen, that's a genuine antique.
They don't come up every day. 150?

150 I'm bid.

Come on, gentlemen, I'm looking for 350.

350 anywhere?



Don't lose it, madam,
don't lose it for another 50.

350 anywhere? 350 I'm bid.

At 350. Who'll make it four?
I'm looking for four.

Any more? At 350.

Are you all done? At 350? At 350...

Lovejoy.

Up ten.

And ten.

And call five.

Everybody in?

- What's the score?
- 15,000? You've got to be kidding.

Call up ten.

The auction's over.

The auction's over.



I knew I'd miss it. I had to pick
something up in Norwich for Alexander.

Where's Lovejoy?

- Where?
- He's doing the real business.

- A ring.
- A ring?

Not so loud. Not exactly legal, is it?

Why does Lovejoy
spend half his life in seedy rooms

doing seedy deals with seedy people?

Well, he's good at it, isn't he?

Call 25.

That's a quarter of a million.

Hugh, please.

You don't find Savoldo oil paintings
every day, Lovejoy.

- You still seeing me?
- Yes.

One hasn't found it today, Hugh.
It's a fake.

To some people,
it's women that come first.

To others, money,

ambition, survival.

For me, antiques.

Well, you could say it was revenge or greed
that got me into that Venice caper,

but no, it was antiques, wasn't it?

I mean, antiques are everything.
First, last.

For ever and ever. Amen.

- I am off.
- You can't leave a client in his hour of need.

My client does not need me,
he's convinced that Savoldo's for real.

Look at him. He's gone bid-happy.
I know that look.

Call. Up ten.

I got you one in. What happened?

Hugh Malleson is now the proud possessor
of a genuine forged copy

of Savoldo's Knight In A Landscape.

- Cheers.
- He's probably already got a buyer lined up.

Some London tosspot
who knows even less than he does.

Someday, someone's gonna suss that's a fake and
they'll find out that I was Malleson's divvy.

- So?
- Well, it's my reputation that'll suffer, right?

Oh, God, don't start getting pangs of integrity
at this late stage, or we'll all be out of work.

- Want a drink?
- You've been in a ring.

- Just watching.
- It's illegal.

You'd enjoy it. No public, no civilians.

Just a ring of hard, grubby antique dealers
tapping on the table

and peering through
the smoke-filled atmosphere

with cracked eyes and parched mouths.

Why auction things among yourselves
if you've just already bought them?

We all agreed that only one dealer bids
in the public sale

so the price is lowered,
and then we do our own thing.

You ought to be a very rich man, Lovejoy.

Well, if I was, would you marry me?

- No.
- Oh, is that because you don't like me

or because you're married already?

It's because I'd find it frightfully boring
visiting prison every week.

Lovejoy!

It's broken, Jane.

- You ran out on me.
- You pay me to advise you, Hugh.

You also trust me because
I'm an old friend.

- We go back a long way.
- Yes, I know.

Yes, and that Savoldo is a modern phony.

- It's still just your opinion, old chap.
- No, it's not. I know.

Well, we can only agree
to disagree on this one.

- At least let me give you your fee.
- No, I won't have you defraud yourself.

- Keep your money.
- All right.

I'll make it up to you sometime, I promise.

So long, Hugh.

You're mad. You needed that money.

- Why?
- It would have paid to get this fixed.

Think he's right.

Going soft in my old age.

Where's yours?

- There's old Campie.
- Friend of yours, is he?

- Shall we stop and pick him up?
- No, he's a road man.

- A what?
- A road man.

He gets a lift and then pretends
he's on his way to see a dying friend

- to pick up a priceless antique.
- Pretends? You mean he's a con man like you.

Mm.

The whole idea is to get the kindly motorist
interested in buying the antique for himself.

The antique which is not an antique, right?

Exactly. No more than the dying friend
is really Campie's cousin, Wally Whitmore,

made up to look terminal.

- Nobody'd fall for that.
- You'd be surprised, Jane.

You look perished, Campie.

Been here ages, Mr. Malleson. Everyone at
the auction's obviously beetled off by now.

Well, you'd better get in. As long as
you don't try your customary scam on me.

Oh, no, sir. Just wanna get home
and have me supper.

Dip your lights, man.

Pass, then. Go on!

Silly bugger.

Are you... you all right, guv?

Aah!

What the hell... Aaah!

- Where's your husband?
- Shooting or fishing. Something like that.

Your break. Five pounds a frame.

Five pounds?

Well, you should have taken Malleson's fee,
shouldn't you?

Hugh's an old friend
and I don't short-change old friends

when I don't do the business for them,

even if it is their fault.

For someone as unprincipled as you,

you do have remarkable principles.

You have a remarkable ass.
No, it's a genuine specimen.

It's not an antique, Lovejoy, not yet.

Excuse me, madam, there's someone
on the phone, asking if Mr. Lovejoy's here.

- Well, you can see he is.
- Well, I didn't know if he was here officially.

Thank you, Mrs. C.

Listen, I'm sorry, Lovejoy,
but we thought you ought to know.

We're on our way back
and we passed the accident.

Malleson and old Campie.
I'm afraid he's bought it.

No, Malleson. He's dead.

What are you doing here so late, then?

Malleson was a friend.
Came to see what happened.

Maybe you know.

- Meaning what?
- You tell me, sunshine.

Sergeant Drabble,
if I didn't know you better,

I would say you were
talking to me like a suspect.

You're a prime candidate, Lovejoy.

The man was robbed of a
valuable oil painting.

And you are a bloke with dubious form,

with more than a passing interest
in valuable antiques.

Who, according to poor old Campie,

just happened to be
on the same stretch of quiet road.

And I must warn you that anything
you say will be taken down

and contradicted flatly by my alibi.

Don't play the smartarse with me.

Well, don't rubbish my
reputation, Colin, eh?

I'm a little bent. Aren't we all?

All right, lad. Don't go for the throat.

Murder's a hell of a lot of trouble
to go to for a fake.

- The picture was a fake?
- Yeah.

Oh, no one believed me.

Call up ten.

Campie, did he... see anything?

Anybody?

Just headlights and a
car he couldn't identify.

Then some hard-nose
pulled him out of the Jag

and brained him against the door.

- Why?
- Oh, nothing, just curious.

You know, for once,
I think you were wrong, Lovejoy.

- Wrong about what?
- The oil painting.

Seems it was valuable after all.

What is that?

- Def Leppard
- I'm not surprised. Switch it off!

Oh Larry, you could give yourself
irreversible brain damage listening to that

I am a heavy metal fan, Lovejoy,
and that is one of the risks that I take.

Oh, hello, Tink. What are you doing here?
Pubs are open.

Police have found a witness.
Bloke parked his car in a field.

- Field?
- Yes, respectable dentist from Norwich,

having it off with his hygienist.

Of course, he reads about murder
in the local rag

and decides to do his duty
as a responsible citizen,

trusting the police to treat the whole
matter in the strictest confidence.

- How'd you find out about it?
- From the police. In the pub.

- What did he see?
- Well, he saw a car.

Flash sports job, couldn't see the make,
and heard a voice - male, foreign accent.

What about that tasty American girl,
Lorraine? Anybody see what she drove off in?

Well, nobody in the ring's
all that keen to come forward.

Being as how their activities
are not the most legal.

I know for a fact the
police can't track her down.

I doubt if they ever will.

Am I speaking to Mr. Lovejoy?

- Lovejoy here.
- Yes, well, my name's Caterina Norman.

Blonde, sleek,
casually but immaculately dressed,

blue eyes, cool expression,
yet with a hint of a sensual smile.

I vaguely recollect you.

Your perception of women is obviously
as sharp as your knowledge of antiques.

I have less trouble with antiques.

That's why I'm calling.

Have I called at a bad time?

Well, my beef Bourguignon
is in danger of overcooking,

but I can always open another tin.

What can I do for you?

Do you know what that smell is, Eric?

- What?
- Money.

Yeah, well, I hope you're going
to pay me for the petrol, Lovejoy.

40 miles, that was. One way.

Why don't you go and nose round the
village? The old man's name is Pinder.

Find out how long they've lived here,
what their game is, that sort of thing, hm?

You use me, Lovejoy, you do.

Eric.

Lovejoy.

Mr. Lovejoy. This way, please.

And thank you for being so punctual.

You're impressed, Mr. Lovejoy.

Oh, antiques are my drug.

I just OD'd.

Your response is very gratifying. Please.

You seem to own a large chunk
of the antique universe.

I'm told it's a world
you know a great deal about.

My granddaughter drew my attention
to your... talents.

I didn't know she knew me that well.

We've had a day or two
to do a little research.

They call you a, erm... a divvy?

Comes from the word
"divining", as in water.

And there really are such people,
who can detect antiques unaided?

Yes.

Over the years, does a person
just acquire this advantage?

One acquires knowledge, facts, experience.

A divvy has a gift.

How come you have this gift
and you're so broke?

I mean, you owe money to several dealers,

you can't pay your daughter's school fees,
and you rent your house.

Did you major in research?
There are many reasons for my fiscal state.

None of them have anything to do with you.

Indeed not, Mr. Lovejoy.

Caterina, sit down.

Don't be offensive.

Nevertheless, young man, I have a proposal

which I imagine would appeal
to a person in your position.

A valuation? Auction?

- Bent?
- I beg your pardon.

Illegal.

Well, there is a certain clandestine aspect
to the activities.

A scam! An antiques scam!

Not "an". The scam.

- What?
- It's Venice.

- What in Venice?
- Venice itself.

That's great.
How do we get it through Customs?

I am in the process of acquiring
everything Venetian.

What I can't get legally,
I'll get in other ways.

You can't steal Venice. It's fastened
to the floor of that lagoon. Don't be daft.

- Don't be so damn rude.
- I'm serious, Mr. Lovejoy.

I'll pay you now, and handsomely,

- for an hour of your time.
- For what?

Listen and have lunch.

He's lived there about four years, I think.

I know I was still at
school when he moved in.

But he doesn't live there all the time.

America, mostly.

Oh, and I think Jamaica,
one of the gardeners said.

Don't see much of him, then?

His sort don't come down here
for a game of dominoes.

- Do they?
- Huh. No. No.

- Erm...
- Miriam.

- Eric.
- Want a refill?

- Oh, thanks. Just a half.
- All right.

Anyhow, why are you so interested?

You a copper?

Not exactly.

It is an unfortunate man
who has never seen Venice.

The Serenissima is the
ultimate glory of man.

The most triumphant man-made structure
the world has ever known.

Paintings, architecture, sculpture.

The clothing, weapons, everything.

Everything living and vital.

I know that feeling.

You do not, young man.

For you believe that I'm
talking out of greed.

On my first visit to Venice, I learned
something so terrible, so near nightmare,

that I've never fully recovered.

To avert that nightmare,
I'm prepared to give everything I own.

Venice is sinking.

I know that feeling, too.

Grandfather, we've made a mistake.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Venice is sinking.

Right?

And its treasures with it.

UNESCO has calculated that every year,
Venice loses 2% of its carvings,

- 3% of its paintings...
- 5% of its frescoes.

Mr. Lovejoy,

if you were standing by the Grand Canal
and you saw someone toss in a...

a Verzelini drinking glass.

What would you do?

A single Verzelini
would give me enough to retire on.

But I can't swim.

I'd jump in.

- I'm sure you would.
- Now, let's get this straight.

You want to rescue the treasures of Venice.

Or, erm... remove them.

Er, one piece is fine. Two would be...

not beyond belief.

Any more than that,
I mean, all hell would break loose.

Not if every item is replaced by the very
best reproduction that money can buy.

What? You'd need an army
of superb forgers for that.

My syndicate...

oh, yes, there are several of us -

already has them.

And we would very much like you to enlist
and to join them in Venice.

Ah, hello. Is Mr. Lovejoy there, please?

Well, just tell him his
limousine's waiting.

Someone's here to collect you.

I assume you'll treat our talk
with the strictest of confidence.

Oh, if I tell them this in the pub,
they'll pack me off to the funny farm.

Anyway, I don't think Grandad
will leave too many clues behind.

Yes, well, the question is,
are you with us or not?

I'll sleep on it.

One thing I don't quite understand
is why you are so eager to get me on board.

Oh, well, I thought that was obvious.
Because of your gift.

Sweetheart, you met me
for 20 minutes maximum upstairs at a ring.

Then you dash back to Grandad
and urge him to employ me.

Perhaps I'm a divvy.

With men.

About three years ago, Alexandra and I
went over to Pinder's house.

It was some sort of cocktail party.
Help yourself, Eric.

He didn't strike me as a socializer.

Oh, no. No, he's something of a recluse.

In fact, I think that's about the first
time the local community has seen him.

But the party was for some sort
of arts trust he was founding,

so he had to show his face.

Oh, your friend Malleson was
there, I remember.

Did you ever, erm...
Did you ever meet the granddaughter?

No, I don't think so.
But I did meet a Mrs. Norman

who I think was Pinder's daughter,
so she may well be Caterina's mother.

What was she like?

Rather dotty,
in that way that Californians are dotty.

I remember she cornered me
and went on relentlessly about nutrition

and pyramid power, whatever that is.

Anyway, she told me Pinder had houses
in Oyster Bay on Long Island,

and somewhere in Jamaica.

Oh, I think she mentioned
a palazzo in Venice as well.

- Janey, you're a marvel.
- Hold on a minute.

I haven't done too bad either.

Of course, Catchpole.

After two hours of intensive investigation,

you found out he'd lived there four years.

I made a date with this girl Miriam
who works in the bar.

She's got fantastic knockers.

Don't worry, he won't be staying to dinner.

Right. Well, I'll take her straight back
to the garage, Lovejoy.

No, take her back to my place, Brian.

- I'll call you when I have the cash.
- Oh, well.

I won't hold me breath, then.

- What did you get?
- Sore feet.

There's not a Venetian
antique in the county.

- No?
- Not a sausage, old bean.

Neither real nor fake,
begged, borrowed, stolen.

That frame.

Well, we can only agree
to disagree on this one.

- What frame?
- That frame on the Savoldo.

It's in Pinder's house on a Dutch seascape.

Putting a fake oil in a silver-gilt frame
does give it a touch of authenticity.

Supposing that's what this Caterina did?

Then she bunged it in the auction.

But Pinder showed up
so she had to get it back quick. Right?

Yes, but thievery's one thing, Lovejoy,
murder is something else.

Yeah, the witness said he
saw a flash sports car.

And there's a Porsche up at Pinder's.

Maybe that's why
she offered me this gig so quickly.

I'm hardly likely to be forging for Grandad

and airing my suspicions to the local
police at the same time, am I, hm?

It's absurd.

Thank you, Wendy.

Then how do you explain the frame?

I don't. There's more
than one silver-gilt frame around.

But what I've said is credible.

Yes, for argument's sake, it is.

But it's also absurd.

But if it's not absurd, I don't think you're
the kind of people I want to work for.

Well, if it's not absurd,
and you don't work for us,

wouldn't that make your position
rather... vulnerable?

Are you threatening me, Caterina?

I was only theorizing.

Caterina,
isn't that your friend Mr. Lovejoy?

He's hardly my friend, Grandfather.

Nevertheless,
I'd have enjoyed talking to him again.

- Isn't he staying?
- No.

He's not with us, either.

What a pity. He'd have loved Venice
and its treasures.

It appears you misjudged him, Caterina.

And now that young man
knows everything I've told him.

That won't be a problem.

I hope not.

It's working!

Yeah, not for long, boy. It's your
alternator, see, keeps packing up on you.

You never know when.

I need my car.

Yeah, well, you shall have
it, boy, won't you?

- When you come up with the scratch.
- I will, I will, just take it away.

Go on, Reg, drive it into the garage.
Hurry up.

I mean, I checked that car out
only two days ago.

There was no sign of
leaking brake fluid then.

- There wasn't?
- No, there was not.

Well, if there wasn't,
that means someone's out to get me.

Yeah, well, they got me instead,
didn't they, boy?

I mean, if I'd have been going at full
tilt, God knows what might have happened.

Do you realize all the resources
that Pinder has at his disposal,

know-how, expertise, manpower,
money, money and more money?

Go to the police, Lovejoy.

If you're so convinced
all these things add up, go to the police.

Can you imagine our local law
coming up against that lot? Eh?

- I know that look.
- What look?

The look that says you're going
to be irresponsible, impetuous,

- vengeful and stupid!
- But...

Janey!

Janey, what are you hinting at?

You're going to Venice, aren't you?

You've sent Tinker off to sell that chair,

I was in the Arcade and saw him.

He made a part-exchange deal with Helen

for a 19th-century wrought-iron
church porch lantern

which he laid off for a tidy price
with Dandy Jack.

How much, then?

Enough for an air ticket.

Send me a postcard.

Excuse me.

Are you with Cosul Tours?

If you're the courier, yes.

- But you're not, I think.
- I think you're right.

Worth a try.

- You'd like a ride into Venice?
- Thank you.

What happened to the tour?

Flight delay. It's always crazy here.

Where are you going?

I need a hotel.
Small, central and incredibly cheap.

It's no problem.

You been to Venice before?

- Never.
- You will not believe it.

I'll give you the name of a hotel.
Cesare, the manager, he's a friend of mine.

Are you always this nice to strangers?

Ah, grazie.

Do you know what's the most
shameful thing of all, Mr. Lovejoy?

It's our belief in our own permanence.

Let me tell you, permanence is only
the gift of constant endeavor.

Man's priceless art treasures must
be ceaselessly protected or they vanish.

Like Venice.

I first saw the Serene Republic
30 years ago.

I suppose it was some routine trip.

I must have been... about your age.

But let me tell you that within two days,
I'd bought the palazzo

and I knew it was for life.

That first year, I spent hours watching.

Watching...

0h, but you know the feeling.

Course, I also watched
the wretched tourists

parading in and out of
Salviati's next door.

Ed ecco la villa Peggy Guggenheim,

divenuta oggi una delle collezioni
pi? importanti di arte moderna

che la Guggenheim stessa don?
al Comune di Venezia.

E alla destra della Guggenheim
? il palazzo del cristallo,

il palazzo detto "dei Salviati"...

Salviati's, next door.

Course, I also watched
the wretched tourists

parading in and out of
Salviati's next door.

Within two days, I'd bought the palazzo

and I knew it was for life.

Venice is singing caged birds
in canal-side windows.

Venice is inverted funnel chimneys,
leaning campaniles,

wrought-iron doors and grilles
and flower-sellers.

"Venice is bridges every few yards

"and narrow alleys where you have to duck
to get under the houses.

"It's patchy areas of din,
tranquility to pandemonium."

He's becoming very literary, isn't he?

Well, I haven't understood a word, yet.

The experience has obviously
brought out the poet in Lovejoy.

It is also a man-made universe
of alleys, houses and churches

crammed into a maze of canals
and spread over 117 small islands.

Which does not make the job in hand
any easier.

Cheers.

Sorry about this, mate.

This moment,
the jeweler arrived in the same direction.

Together, they met at the corner.

- Oh, no!
- You should have seen their faces.

Aah.

- Nancy, hello.
- Hello!

- Lovely to see you.
- And you, you look wonderful.

- Thank you. Did you have a nice stay?
- Absolutely wonderful. Great trip over.

- Did you enjoy that?
- Oh, yes, very amusing.

- Good evening. I'm Miss Norman.
- Good evening.

Very nice to have you here.

Anything you need, please let us know.

- No, everything's perfect, thank you.
- Fantastic.

Ehi, hai fatto quel tavolo?

Erm... large Armagnac, large espresso.

- Hello!
- Hello.

- What happened?
- Oh, I took a walk, and forgot I was in Venice.

What a coincidence, meeting you.

- Or... were you looking for me?
- Please?

Well, erm, my hotel's just next door
and you are here.

Oh, most of my tourists stay in this area.

- I was working late, so...
- Oh, it's just wishful thinking.

- Just what?
- That's an English expression.

It means that I was hoping
that you were looking for me.

- Why?
- Cos I'm lonely, cold and wet.

Ah, grazie, signore.

Well, if you are lonely,
then you should come on one of our tours.

Oh, I don't like tours.
I don't like groups.

I'd rather find out things for myself.

Oh, well. If you change your mind,

the first tour starts at 9:30.

Any chance of you and I doing
the best bars in Venice one night?

? molto bellina, eh?

Oh, sii, sii.

Er, she, er, the young lady.

Does she come in here, this caf?, often?

Mai.

What, never?

Mai.

Ci stan' tant' gent'
che viene qua tutti i giornat'

per? una femmina come chella la,
non ci scorderai.

How cute is she, Lovejoy? Just remember, Italian
women do tend towards chubby in middle age.

Maybe she's a little too cute. She latched
onto me at the airport and keeps showing up.

Another helpless female falls
for Lovejoy's transparent charms.

Afraid not. I think I'm under surveillance.

That means they know you're there.

Could be.
Anyone been asking for me at home?

Only Caterina. Terribly unsubtle,
I thought, for a femme fatale.

She was in the pub last
night, Tinker called me.

Can't be her. I saw her last night.

That's impossible. She couldn't
have been in two places at once.

E allora non vengono pi?, i bambini.

Lovejoy, vieni a prendere un caff?.

- Sii, va bene.
- Lovejoy.

- Giuseppe.
- Ci sentiamo domani.

- Caff??
- Bene, bene. Grazie.

- Are you coming on the tour?
- No, no, I just dropped in.

OK. Will you excuse me for a moment?

- Sure.
- Senti, Giuseppe, dovrei andare via adesso.

Sara bene che si incominci
a fare un po' di lavoro, eh?

- Caff? nero, eh?
- No, no, grazie.

- Ciao.
- Ciao.

I said goodbye.

Lovejoy, goodbye!

I'm coming with you!

Chiama il veterinario...

This way, please.

Can you come this way, please?
Everybody come this way.

This, as you must know,
is the Piazza San Marco,

the most famous piazza in Venice.

- But it was not always...
- First time in Venice?

- Uh-huh. Not the last, I hope.
- Breathtaking, isn't it?

- Mm.
- My name's Lovejoy.

Nancy. Nancy Bligh.

Hello. I'm Gerry, this is my friend Keith.

- Hi.
- Er, you a Brit?

- Thought you called us Poms?
- Yeah, well, we haven't had a drink yet,

so we're still relatively polite.

This way, please. Everybody come this way.

Quickly, please.

- Where are you from, Nancy?
- Los Angeles.

You vacationing alone?

No, I'm here on business.
I came ahead of my boss.

- What's his line?
- He has a postproduction company.

Videos, promos, you know the kind of thing.

- Oh, I see.
- Hey, we'd better catch them up.

This way, please.

They say that when old Galileo
first invented the telescope,

the doge told him to keep shtoom about it,
not to mention a word to anyone.

Then the two of them went up
to the top of the campanile,

looked through it, saw what spice ships
were coming home long before anyone else,

nipped downstairs and made
a quick killing on the stock exchange.

It doesn't say that in any guidebook.

Best bits are never in the guidebooks.

I think we've lost our guide.

You're better off with me, anyway.

You know, Lovejoy,
we should be getting back to the others.

- Jesus!
- What?

"In the 18th century, Venice
abounded with artists like Canaletto,

"Ricci, Tiepolo, Piazzetta."

Blokes who used to use the same boozer but
became famous long after they were gone.

And there was an old collector who used
to buy all their sketches and doodles,

and on each scrap, he'd write the original
artist's name in beautiful copperplate.

Nobody knows who he was, but we call him
"The Reliable Venetian Hand."

- The RVH.
- And you've found one?

Tonight, you shall dine

on the best pizza and wine Venice can buy.

Lovejoy. Pizza I can get in LA.

You know, Lovejoy,
I'm real curious about you.

- Why?
- Maybe you're just too nice, too quickly.

What, just because... Just because I wanted
to show you the joys of Venice?

Hang on, it's your first
trip to Venice too, right?

Yes, but...

I love antiques, don't I?

Antiques are my life.

You ask too many questions
and that make me suspicious.

You don't answer too many,
that makes me suspicious.

Signor Tagliavini, mi dispiace
ma non c'? nessuna doccia in camera 22...

- Buongiorno, Cesare.
- Scusi un momento.

Ecco.

Eh, mi dispiace... Che cosa...

I had the day off.
I thought you would like to see Torcello.

Oh, I thought you'd want
to spend your day off with someone special.

- There is no one special.
- Cesare?

Cesare? He's a friend, that's all.

- OK?
- OK.

First we pass Murano.
It's where the glass-makers work.

Then Burano, where they make the lace,
and then Torcello.

Morning, sport. Small world, eh?

Thought we'd do the sights ourselves,
as it's the little sheilas' rest day.

I didn't think Venice
would be an Aussie's scene.

Oh, it's not mine, mate.
Keith's the sensitive one.

He likes everything arty-farty, does Keith.

Gerry's into engines.

Yeah, that's what's missing in
Venice, Lovejoy. Engines.

You should try D?sseldorf, then.

Oh, that's nice.

Oh, yeah.

- Keith.
- Yeah?

I think these two wanna be alone.

Oh.

During the war,
that was a munitions factory.

- No one's lived there since.
- What does that sign say?

They are warnings of poison.

There are many rats here.
They call this place Rat Island.

Oh. Forget the picnic, then.

Oh, come on.

What are you thinking?

I think you live too much inside your head.

Well, when you see something like this,
it really puts you away for a while.

You know, someone who likes beauty as much
as you do cannot be such a bad person.

Did the people who told you
to watch me say I was bad? Hm?

- What?
- You latched onto me at the airport.

I thought you were being
nice to a stranger,

but it worried me
when you didn't meet any tourists.

- The flight was delayed.
- Then you take me to a hotel

which is run by a friend of yours, then
you turn up at one o'clock in the morning

sipping cognac in a bar
you've never set foot in before.

- I was...
- I want to be with you.

I think, today, you want to be with me.

But we've gotta be
straight with one another.

We seem to have lost the happy couple.

Yeah. I wonder where they are.

So the people you work
for suggested this trip?

They just asked
that I keep with you as much as possible.

But I too, I like to be with you.

They. Who are they?

Miss Norman.
She's my best client, so I did not refuse.

Miss Norman,
who lives at the Palazzo Malcontento.

Sii.

You see, she pays for many people
to come to Venice through Cosul Tours.

Don't know why,
because they're all rich, very rich.

- But she takes care of their travel...
- And Nancy the American woman

- is one of these?
- Yes, that's right.

Mi dispiace.

They asked you to stick with me.

Doesn't mean to say you can't enjoy it.

The boat will leave soon.

There's always another boat.

Hm?

When there are no tourists, people
only come here for the duck shooting.

In the old days, the doge of Venice would give
five ducks to the noble families every Christmas.

I'm on the side of the ducks.
Let's go through here.