The Inspector Lynley Mysteries (2001–2008): Season 1, Episode 3 - Payment in Blood - full transcript

Inspector Lynley (Nathaniel Parker) and Sergeant Havers (Sharon Small) are sent to a remote Scottish mansion house, the home of Sir Stuart Stinhurst (Ronald Pickup), to investigate the violent death of a famous playwright whilst she was helping to rehearse a production of her new play. Initial investigation reveals that practically anybody could have committed the crime but everybody appears to have a convincing alibi and nobody has a motive. As the investigation continues an apparent nearby suicide begins to have a bearing on the case and Lynley believes that is wasn't suicide. The arrival of a new guest, Helen Clyde (Lesley Vickerage), a former girlfriend of Lynley's who is now a lover of one of the main suspects starts to cloud his judgement and raise Havers' suspicions. As the real motives begin to appear and the dark pasts of some of the guests are revealed will Lynley catch the double murderer?

Detectives Thomas Lynley
and Barbara Havers are back.

And in top form.

Fighting inquirement
bickering wirth each other.

Employed by Scotland Yard, their
work has taken them right across Britain,

From the dales of Yorkshire
to the west coast to Scotland.

Tonight case find
Cambridge University.

The place where Crick and Watson
discover the stucture of DNA.

Where the atom first split.

Where the poet Sylvia Plath
and Ted Hughes fell in love.

But this illustrious
history is lost on Havers,

If John Travolta studied there,
she might be more impressed.



It's not just an unfamiliar
millieu to Havers,

It's a repugnant one,

with the sexied professors,

arrogant artists,

pregnant undergraduates.

Lynley takes it in his stride, he
is a man of the world after all.

Havers world has allways
beem more circunscribed.

Especially now the her
mother suffer from dementia.

But Lynley needs Havers,

even if she does see
everything in black or white.

Some might call it prejudice,
but Lynley calls it clarity.

"For the sake of Elena".

There's a girl...
She's back there on the island...

She, er...! Oh, please!



- Havers!
- What?

Havers? What?
We're off to Cambridge.

Your fish! And you just left her
on her own to go and feed...?!

Female undergraduate. Several
severe blows to the head...

Mrs. Geeves, I'm not paying you to...!

I don't care
if it was only five minutes!

OK, OK. OK. Just...

No, it's fine, fine.
I will find her! You...!

Stay put. Ring me in
the minute she turns up!

It's Mum. She could be anywhere!

Try the hairdressers.
Up there on the left.

- Any luck?
- No.

You'll be familiar with the
names of Heloise and Abelard,

those, um,

iconic tragic lovers whose
doomed passion rocked Christendom.

But imagine for me, if you will,
Pierre Abelard, 1079 to 1142.

This wunderkind, this baby-faced,
professor of dialectics...

Dr. Weaver...excuse me.

Mum!

Stop! Stop the car. Stop!

Mum!

Mum, what are you doing?!

Always the last one out, your brother.

No, Mum...!

Terry's...!

Oh, Mum, you gave me such a fright!

Let's go home, eh?

Yeah?

Come on.

You're all right, sir. You're
OK. You just need to sit down.

My little girl...

- Hello! You are back!
- I'm back!

- How's the baby?
- Gorgeous.

What have you got?

I've got a little girl!

A nice cup of tea for
you, dear, two sugar.

It's OK. We're doing
fine. We're managing.

OK, we're NOT managing.

I'M not managing.

Do you know what I was thinking?

For we found, I thinking:

what would happen if she crossed
the road and a bus ploughed into her?

Wouldn't that be the perfect
answer to all my problems?

Well, go on, then, say it.

Have a fag.

No, say what a crap daughter I am!

I was going to say something rather
trite, like maybe the time has come... etc.

Well, isn't that convenient?
Stop beating yourself up, Havers.

No, it is SO convenient, because,

well, I've got the chance of this
cracking little flat in Chalk Farm,

which I could almost afford...

if I sell up and dump Mum in a home.

I had a look round one
last week. Hawthorn Lodge,

select residential care for the elderly.

And?

I can't do it.

She fancies one of them
wafers with her tea.

So forget it. Flats are out.

And that, er, Cambridge job,
sir... I can't leave her.

Not after this.

North Circular, M11.

You'd be home every night.

Think about it.

Strictly off the record, OK?
But what happened was this.

A junior don had killed himself
earlier this year. I mean...

- Hi, George.
- Hello.

Classic case of suicide, cut and dried.

But one of our CID officers made
a pig's ear of investigating it,

and caused a lot of bad feeling.

So bringing in someone from the Met
seemed like a sensitive option...

Coffee, Edwina! There's a love!

- The girl?
- Elena Weaver, yes.

Student at St. Stephen's College,

same place her father's a
professor. It's all in here.

Early-morning training run.

Knocked unconscious

and strangled with the
cord of her tracksuit hood.

No sign of sexual assault.

Take a seat.

Knocked unconscious with what?

Not a clue. Can't agree on anything,
forensics, squabbling old women!

The lady who found the
body, Sarah Gordon...?

- Out sketching in the fog.
- Sarah Gordon the artist?

THE Sarah Gordon? The one
who's got that thing on BBC Two?

No idea. Never watch it.

- Arts Axis.
- Thank you!

So, Miss Gordon discovered the
body at 7.30am this morning,

at which point, the girl had been
dead for three quarters of an hour.

I hope you dusted that chair.

We're not used to
entertaining aristocracy!

Any luck?

All sorted.

- We've fixed you up with rooms in college.
- Thank you...

And it's a sad fact, Inspector,

but my boss wouldn't know a
painting from a Pot Noodle.

It is THE Sarah Gordon.

Good evening, sir.

- Detective Inspector Lynley?
- Yes.

- May I take your bag, sir?
- Thank you.

So, tell me who was on
duty earlier this morning?

I was, sir, and, yes, sir, I did see
Miss Weaver leave the college.

Any idea what sort of time?

Her usual time, sir. 6.30.

She runs most mornings...

Ran most mornings.

Hello?

I guess you must be Inspector Lynley?

I guess I must.

We were expecting you.

I'm Dr. Weaver's research
student, Adam Jenn. Hi.

It's knocked us all
sideways, this business.

Any problems, anything

you want, I work right
over there, across the quad.

Second floor, Dr. Weaver's rooms.

- Thanks.
- See you around.

Researching what?

Monastic power in C13 Europe.

I take it Dr. Weaver's a historian?

You've heard of the Penford Chair?

Well, Dr. Weaver's on the short list.

Good for him. Good for you too, presumably.

No joking! I'd kill my grandmother
to work with a Penford professor.

Let's hope he gets it, then.

No, of course you must stay with us.

Justine insisted.

I want to see my daughter.

Just get in the car, Glynnis, please.

I want to see her!

You don't. Trust me.

You don't...

So, Weaver's daughter...

as brilliant as her dad?

Pretty much, yeah.

Try the shower.

She made a mess of her first year.

Too many parties,
hangovers, one-night stands.

The authorities came down heavy on her.

In what way heavy?

She had to be in before
midnight, stuff like that.

They gave her a student mentor.

This Gareth Randolph.

President of the CDS.

CDS? What's that?

Cambridge Deaf Society.

Which, of course, Dr. Weaver hated.

He could never admit
Elena had a disability.

I'm sorry. You've
completely lost me now.

Elena was deaf.

Profoundly deaf.

Quiet!

You swore to me you'd
never let her run alone!

She didn't run alone.
She ran with Justine.

You trusted my daughter's
safety to your trophy wife...!

That's enough!

- Your bit of...!
- Glyn!

So why weren't you
with her this morning?

Because she phoned us last night

and said she wasn't running today.

This really doesn't touch you, does it?

You're not a mother.

You don't know what it's
like to lose a child!

So, no, Dr. Weaver and his wife,

his first wife,

they wanted Elena to grow
up as normal as possible.

It's a tricky call. She
could lip-read brilliantly,

but they refused to let
her learn sign language.

They wouldn't even let her learn?

Absolutely not.

Then this character I told
you about - Gareth Randolph -

he started teaching her, which
caused a shedload of trouble.

You knew Elena pretty well, didn't you?

Pretty well, yeah.

We went out a couple of times.

Dr. Weaver asked me to...

ease her path socially!

But?

He hadn't got a clue about it.

She was firing on all
cylinders socially.

She didn't need me to ease her path.

I don't know,

maybe...

I guess I wasn't her type.

I remember the day I met
Agnes so well. I was...

... sat in my office. The curtains were
drawn but the rest of the furniture was real!

I needed a drink, I...

I mixed myself a card-table
cocktail. They're very strong.

You drink more than two,
your legs fold under you!

Then it happened. The door
opened and there stood Agnes.

I recognised her from the photograph in the paper.
She was a society girl. A member of the upper set.

Kept her bottom set in her purse!

- I thought to be sleep.
- No.

How can I do, Justine.

- You've been with her.
- I haven't.

With your soul mate.

I haven't seen her. I
haven't spoken to her!

You named your terms,
Justine, I've kept my word.

To the letter. Oh, for
Christ's sake, hold me!

My daughter's dead!

- So you rush to her for comfort?!
- Help me!

And last night?

- Where were you last night?
- I was in college.

In college. I had work
to do. You know I did!

You're a liar, Phillip!

I phoned your rooms. You weren't there.

You've come straight
from her bed to mine!

Hello.

It's me.

How's Cambridge?

Full of rich, poncey students?

Knee-deep in them.

Isn't, er, Helen staying in Cambridge?

With her sister.

So, is this a late-night
chat or business?

Late-night chat.

- Um...so, who did you decide to take in the end?
- No-one.

So, suppose I get things
sorted out with Mrs. G, and...

suppose I get there about 10ish?

Probably best to park
at the police station.

I'm sorry!

I get so frightened you'll
go back to her and I'll...

Please, Phillip! If you still want to...

I won't mention babies.

You can use something if you like.

Please, Phillip. Give me a chance!

Where are you going?

Stop it, Elena! Please, come on.
Stand up properly.

Smile.

Stand still! Smile!
I've got a tape running.

Stop it.

Daddy, will I do?

Stop playing around. People
will be here in a minute.

Watch out!

Good morning, madam.

I'm looking for Detective
Inspector Lynley.

He's just come back from his run, madam.

Your run?!

Thought I'd check out
the route the victim ran.

Nearly killed me!

Do you see the papers on the bed there?

- Yep.
- Have a read.

So...who do you think would
kill a bright, beautiful student?

Profoundly deaf...

a brilliant lip reader, into
partying, into running...

A random thing?

I don't know. Some pervert?

I don't think was random.

I think it was planned.

She was knocked out from behind.

He thought she'd recognise him.

Or he knew she wouldn't hear him coming.

The woman who found
her... Sarah Gordon...?

- Yeah, she's a well-known artist with her own...
- I know who she is!

I don't just read celebrity gossip!

So...it's actually her?

Actually her. Yeah.

Right... So...

Shall we get the tough
one over with first?

Yeah.

You want to put some...?

Oh, sorry...!

I'll just...

My daughter was,

Gosh, it's extremely difficult.

She was very fragile...

Fragile?

Yes. I blame myself for that.

Five years old, you go to
bed and everything's fine.

Wake in the morning and
dad left of his life.

Imagine what that does to a child.

Sorry.

I mean, the thing is...
My first wife and I...

... it simply wasn't working
out. And then I met Justine.

So when we discovered
about my daughter's...

her deafness,

obviously, I wanted to do
whatever I could to ease her way.

So you pulled strings to
get her into St. Stephen's?

She'd probably have got in anyway.

She was a very bright girl.

But I thought because
she was here with us,

well, living in college...
it was like a second chance.

It's not easy living with the knowledge
that, when she was little, I put my own...

... I put my own happiness above hers.

Everything was fine.

And what was so good was that
Elena and my wife were really close.

They went shopping together. Justine
used to help her with her clothes.

Don't you darling?

Justine's wonderful at, um...style.

You know, style, polish,

things of that kind.

The things that Elena missed out on.

And of course...

... they used to run together.

But... not yesterday?

No, she cancelled.

She phoned us on Sunday night?

I'm sorry. Forgive my ignorance...

This might sound like
a very stupid question,

but I understand your
daughter was profoundly deaf,

so...how on earth
could she telephone you?

Let me show you.

Who answered Elena's call last night?

Justine did.

- My husband was out.
- I was in college...working.

Do you work, Mrs. Weaver?

At the University Press, yes.

Here comes the reply.

So, you must have had a nice
lie-in yesterday morning?

- Actually, I did go for a run yesterday.
- You didn't tell me.

- You didn't ask.
- Lord them!

One day's training missed and it's
the slippery slope to cellulite!

- I helped myself to toast.
- But I didn't run along the river.

- Let me introduce you.
- I'm Glynnis Weaver.

- I'm Elena's mother.
- DI Lynley. DS Havers...

I don't understand was happened.

Elena did run yesterday, so why
didn't she want to run with you?

Don't let the dog in.

Are you going to shut this
poor creature out as well?

- It's not his fault Elena's dead.
- Leave it!

Who else has a Minicom?

Oh, anyone at CDS.
All the deaf students have them.

What about Elena's mentor? Gareth...

Gareth Randolph. He'd
definitely have one.

Oh, I see what you mean.

It wasn't Elena
who phoned us and cancelled.

Whoever phoned us
was the person who killed her.

It was that premeditated.

She was quiet, wife number two.

What do you reckon was going on there?

She must have private money.

None of my tutors at Oxford ever
lived in that kind of designer chic.

What?

The way you casually drop "my tutors
at Oxford" into the conversation.

I mean, Ealing Tech doesn't quite do it!

That thing with the dog
was weird, wasn't it?

And he was lying about
where he was Sunday night.

Or if he wasn't,
then she thought he was.

I've got a dish cloth very
similar to this at home...

though not quite as glittery.

A busy girl.

She was on the pill.

Except... That's odd.

They were prescribed a year ago
and they haven't been touched.

Why get them and then
not bother to use them?

Excuse me...

The mouse. Could I take him?

- You are?
- Mel Powell.

- What mouse?
- You knew Elena Weaver?

Sorry... DI Lynley, DS Havers.

- What mouse? Elena's mouse.
- On the windowsill.

No-one'll have fed him.

She was crazy about animals.

Any kind of animal.

Any idea what all these mean? H & H?

H & H? Hare & Hounds.
University running club.

What else was she into?

Fun.

Life.

Men.

Guys fell over
themselves to be with her.

And the girls?

What, you didn't like her?

No, actually, I loved her to bits.

So?

We weren't in competition.
She was 100% straight.

And you're...?

Not.

So, did she have a boyfriend?

She was seeing a guy
called Gareth Randolph.

Actually, they had
a big row the night...

- Any idea what about?
- It was all in sign language.

This name keeps appearing
on her calendar, Thorsson.

- Who's that?
- Dr. Thorsson.

Her academic supervisor.

So, she saw an awful lot of him.

Not as much of him as he'd have liked.

Oh, one of those...

Commonly known on this
staircase as Lenny the Lech.

I don't know if this is relevant, but...

she was threatening to
report him to the authorities.

Sexual harassment.

"I think the king is
but a man as I am...

"Is but a man...

"..as I am."

(Oh, please!)

We're talking the revolutionary
principle of equality here.

The king and I.

(Seen it. Jodie Foster!)

The king and I...both men,

both flawed, vulnerable creatures

controlled by the same base urges.

There is, Shakespeare argues,
no defensible social hierarchy,

and in that one line...

I'm off for a smoke.

... of political debate for another...

... for another four centuries.

- A word, please.
- Detective Sergeant Havers. CID.

Sorry you found my lecture so boring.

I'm more of the
Countdown type, you know.

I like a challenge.

Dr. Thorsson, could you
spare us a minute, please?

- Your name keeps coming up.
- So I should hope.

I was Elena's supervisor.

- And?
- And what...?

And nothing! I'm not stupid.

I don't have affairs with my students.

Not even when they
offer themselves to me,

which they do with tedious frequency.

Poor deluded beggars!

Poor uptight little virgins.

I can spot one a mile off.

So, maybe can tell me

in what way did you
sexually harass Elena Weaver?

Yesterday, between 6
and 7am. Where were you?

- In bed.
- Whose bed?

- My bed.
- Witnesses?

Nope.

On Sunday night, what were
you doing in Elena's room?

I was trying to talk
some sense into her.

So you knew she was going to
report you for sexual harassment?

You think I strangled her to shut
her up and save my brilliant career?

Hard luck, Inspector,
you're way off mark.

The silly bitch had
already turned me in.

What a jerk!

What a pretentious,

self-satisfied, posing,

- arrogant, offensive little jerk!
- Come on, not be offended, Havers.

- Tell me what you REALLY think!
- I think we've cracked it.

Well, why would he kill
Elena? If he want shut her?

All that "look at me, you
can't resist me" stuff.

I can't stand it!

He's the kind of man who
gives women a bad name!

Are you looking for someone?

- Gareth Randolph.
- Right over here.

I'm Detective Inspector Lynley,
this is Detective Sergeant Havers.

Could we ask Gareth a
few questions, please?

Detective Inspector Lynley,
Detective Sergeant Havers.

I believe that Gareth was
Elena's student mentor.

You should speak to Gareth directly.

Right.

I take it that Dr. Weaver
wasn't too happy about this?

Dr. Weaver didn't want Elena to
have anything to do with the deaf.

That's deaf with a
capital "D", Inspector.

Deaf the culture, Deaf
with its own language,

as opposed to deaf,
small "d", the impairment.

He was dead against it.

When I started teaching her
to sign, he was spitting blood.

What were you and Elena rowing
about the night before she died?

You've got to tell them, Gareth.

Not a row. She dumped me.

She said I was wasting my time.

Someone else.

Who?

So he spent all night brooding about
some other guy touching her, yeah?

Ask him where he was at 6.30
yesterday morning.

Does he understand the question?

He's studying
comparative philosophy!

He could never hurt her. Loved her.

You were a bit hard on him, don't you?

Just cos he's deaf doesn't
mean he's not guilty!

I'm sorry. The whole thing
just completely unnerved me.

I'm sorry.

Your car or mine?

Why? Where are we going?

Come into the warm.

Miss Gordon, I understand you discovered
the body while you were out sketching?

At 7.30am.

- Yes I know, sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?!
- What time did you get to the river?

I left the house just before seven,
so, I suppose, about five past.

I know it sounds odd
- what could I see to sketch in the fog?

But all I can say is that's what I did!

Could...could I just
show you something...?

My life's work.

Technically brilliant,
emotionally dead.

But that painting in the other room...?

Oh, that...

Well, that was before
success paralysed me.

Before I started
analysing my work to death,

and wasting hours grinding paints
and stretching canvases

just to put off facing
the moment of truth.

Moment of truth?

The answer to the question
I'm too scared to ask.

Do I have any true originality,

or did the art buffs make all that fuss
about me because I was young and pretty,

and, in their infinite stupidity,
decided I was the next big thing?

But recently, I've, um...

well, I've started work again.

Real stuff.

Like this one?

Do you know about painting?

No,

No!

A very dear friend of mine
made me believe I could still do it.

And then, yesterday morning,
I woke up and I saw the fog...

and I thought to myself,

"That's it.

"That's what it feels like
not being able to paint."

I just...

I just wanted to catch that...
coldness.

Well, that's when I stumbled across the,

Do you know who she was yet?

A young student named Elena Weaver.

Elena?!

You knew her?

Yes, I...I did sketches for her father.

That was Elena...?! Oh, God!

Oh, poor Phillip!

It'll break him!

She's the woman I saw last
night, crossing the quad.

Sorry, sir?

Late last night. Crossing the
quad. I recognised the coat.

So...both neighbours saw her drive
off around 7.00 yesterday morning.

Which is exactly what she said.

- What did you make of her?
- I thought she was fascinating.

So did I.

So why was she sneaking around
St. Stephen's last night?

Which is where Dr. Weaver's rooms are.

She called him Phillip. She know he?

- An affair?
- Blimey!

Abandons wife number one

for a newer model, and
then cheats on her too.

I bet he's the friend that's
got her painting again.

Two sausage, eggs, chips.

- Shouldn't you be in school?
- No.

If she is a day older than 14,
then...then I'm Julia Roberts!

OK, um...

say she did go to Weaver's rooms.

It wasn't to offer sympathy,

she had no idea Elena
was dead until you said.

Unless it was a regular assignation.

Oh, no...! He wouldn't risk
having sex in the college.

Not with the Penford Chair at stake, no.

So are we saying that she's
pretty much in the clear?

I mean, Elena was already dead by
the time she left Grantchester. And...

well, she's no motive.

Whereas that obnoxious git, Thorsson...!

What is it with these academics, Havers?

Look at Weaver, lucky devil!

Stunning wife at home and the
fascinating Miss Gordon on the side!

How does Helen react when
you say things like that?

Oh, no, you don't, do you? Not to her.

She is in Cambridge, isn't she?

She's, er, visiting her sister.

Pen's just had another baby.

- Are you going to see her?
- No.

Why not?

After what happened last time? I'm
the last person she wants to see.

Eat up. We've got work to do.

Yes?

Three bits of interesting
information for you.

That call Elena didn't make.

They've traced the call...

to the Minicom in Weaver's rooms.

You think Weaver could
have used it himself?

They found black fibre
on Elena's tracksuit.

But wouldn't a wine bottle smash?

They think the murder
weapon was smooth and round.

Possibly glass.

Dr. Thorsson. On the island...

with a... rather pretentious little claret!

Sorry? I missed that.

Hold on, Edwina's
waving something at me.

Tell him... four bits of
interesting information.

How about this?

Elena Weaver was 14 weeks pregnant.

So here's my guess...

She was going to tell the
authorities that Thorsson

got her pregnant unless he married her.

With this party girl?!

She'd just shopped him for harassment.

She wouldn't want to marry him.

Would you?

- This is the Venetian Bronze, or you...
- Which is the cheapest?

Well, this one, the Windsor.

- No.
- We do have... There is an economy.

- How much?
- ?150.

- Show me.
- I'm afraid we don't...

It's only pressed wood and there's
no protective surface, so...

- For God's sake, Glyn.
- It's all I can afford.

WE can afford the Venetian Bronze.

I'll leave you to discuss it.

Who spent years giving her language?

Who helped her with her maths homework?

Who gave everything I could manage?

I will not allow you to have
her buried in some tacky box.

I just have to make a phone call.

Why not?

Because people will
call you a cheap-skate?!

I don't care what they call you, Philip.

This isn't about Elena.

You haven't felt one
second's real grief for her.

You're too busy punishing me.

This is about me.

Everything is always about you, Phillip.

But you'll get over her quickly

because you can have other children.

She was all I had.

She was my life.

And...it's too late for me now.

So don't talk to me about grief.

You forgot to tell us
something, don't you Gareth?

You forgot to tell us
that Elena was pregnant.

Gareth!

Is it your child?

Are you telling us that
you NEVER slept with her?

Never. I swear it.

Talk to Adam Jenn. Sick creep.

You talk to Adam Jenn.

See if you can't get under his skin.

All right.

He'll try and charm you.

Know what, Mr. Jenn?

The killer used this very machine.

I didn't make that call.

Whatever Gareth said
it's a lie. I just...

Things got out of control.

She was offering it to me
on a plate and I thought...

I swear I didn't hurt her.

They never come.

- Sorry?
- Phone calls.

The ones that you want, anyway.

I don't know what to do now.
Whether to ring her or not.

Who?

My partner. She went home yesterday
to tell her parents about us.

- Tough.
- Yup.

She said she'd ring and she hasn't.

I'm just a bit...

I think I kind of pushed her
into it before she was ready.

What d'you think? Do I
phone her, or don't I?

Don't ask me. I have that
debate with myself daily.

Did you know that Elena was pregnant?

Oh. I thought she might be.

Why? I mean,

why would a girl like
Elena choose to have a baby?

Because she was Elena.

She just did whatever she wanted.

Excuse me, I've got to run. Rehearsal.

- What are you...?
- Master class.

- You want to come?
- Yeah, I'd love to.

I'll try and get you an invite.

So, Dr. Weaver asked
you to partner Elena?

To this formal, black-tie do.

And you jumped at it because hate...

wouldn't Dr Weaver smile kindly on your
academic career if you and Elena...?

No, wasn't just that!

- I really liked her.
- Good.

And I thought she wanted...

Look, she led me on.

She was flirting and
teasing with me all night.

And Gareth was moping around
like a love-sick puppy,

so she pulled me into the cloakroom...

I didn't mean to hurt her.

- Hurt her?
- She just...

knew how to...

get me...

What, and you had sex with her?

In the cloakroom?

She went cold on me. Suddenly.

She said things.

And you hurt her?

Is that what excites you, what
turns you on? Hitting girls?

- No.
- So what happened in there?

She told me...I was a crawler,

that...I should forget it.

That I couldn't use her
to suck up to her father.

And... I just lost it.

I lost it.

So Gareth pulled you off her?

If he tells you anything
else, it's a lie.

To be honest, Adam, he didn't
tell us anything specific.

He did not charm me, so don't
you look at me like that!

Havers, that's las it's
100% prove ambition.

If he had to shut Elena up
to save his academic bacon...

He's just a frightened little boy

and I don't believe he was
the father of Elena's baby.

Hello! If we could just
find out who the father is...

All right, Mrs. G, just calm down
and tell me slowly. Mum's what?

Mum's locked herself in the bathroom.

Look, you go home. I'll go and
see the Weavers' house alone.

OK, I'll be there as soon as I can.

Seriously, sir, I'm going to
have to put in for a desk job

- and you'll have to get someone up here.
- Don't talk nonsense. Go on.

What are you doing?

I spent every minute of my working life

making sure she could
function in a hearing world.

Top independent school,
full scholarship.

She didn't need Phillip
smoothing the way for her.

I'd prefer it if you didn't...

- So what was it, then?
- A mid-life crisis?

Suddenly his conscience bothers him?

After 15 years of shutting us out?!

Excuse me.

He steamrollers in
and...steals her from me!

I'm afraid my husband's out.

Justine, we used to laugh
together, Elena and me,

about those uptight
little lectures of yours.

- Maybe I should...?
- No, please come in.

It's tricky,

that whole step-mother thing.

It's a minefield.

You and Elena didn't get on, did you?

No.

Yet your husband seems to
think you were very close.

What would he know about it?
He only ever sees himself.

His ideas, his
responsibilities, his guilt.

He had no idea who Elena was.

Who was she?

She was a promiscuity little slat.

I found got a screw with Philips
colleague in our bathroom,

in the middle the part of the
party, completely shameless.

She'd do things like

she'd strip off in front
of me to try on a dress.

All flesh and sweat and perfume.

She'd lift her arms up and
I could smell the sex on her.

I tried talking to her about it,
but she just laughed in my face.

So in the end I got our
doctor to put her on the pill.

Her father's had a tough
struggle to get where he is now.

I wasn't going to let her
destroy it by getting pregnant.

She wasn't pregnant, was she?

- Is she all right?
- She's fine.

Panic over. I'm just getting her tea.

Mum? You all right?

What's wrong, Mum?

The locksmith charged 35
quid. I paid him in cash.

Well, I'll move that
nasty snake now, shall I?

It's the only keeps her
quiet. She thinks it's a snake.

Don't you, dear? Nasty snake!

Bite your arm if you don't sit still.

Well, I'm sorry dear,

but what am I supposed to do when she
gets herself into one of her states?

Look, just go, Mrs. G. Just go.

Yeah, hello. It's, er...
My name is Barbara Havers.

I came to see you a couple
of weeks ago about my mother.

Hang on!

Hello, Helen.

I hate spaghetti, I hate spaghetti!

How are you?

- Christian, stop that.
- Not the best time.

- Who is it, Hel?
- Tommy Lynley.

She had a hard time with this one.

- Harry's walked out.
- He's left her?

No, not permantly, not yet.
He's been living in college.

Right, well, look...

Actually, I wanted a word with Pen.

- Christian! Stop that.
- I need an art historian.

- He's a classic psychopath(!)
- There's an artist living locally...

Bath time. Upstairs.

Look, I'm sorry I made
such a mess of things.

The whole business with Rhys.

You did.

- It was unforgivable of me.
- It was. Unforgivable.

Pen!

She's upstairs feeding the baby.

Listen, Helen, I'm so sorry that
I screwed things up between us.

I should've said that before...

Hi Tommy, what are you doing here?

- The Weaver case.
- How's it going?

Impenetrably.

God Almighty, this room is a tip.

- What are those?
- What, these?

- Washing, I'll bet.
- Oh, don't start.

Pen, is there a clean shirt
anywhere? I'm dining in halls.

Iron one or go and buy one.

"Dog" and "bark yourself"
are words that spring to mind.

Stop it! Stop it right now!

Look, don't start on me.

Come on, upstairs. Bath time.

I just want a normal,
functioning family!

You having a life and me stuck
here slowly rotting away...!

They used to be so in love.

Now look at them.
Upstairs, you two, go on.

Fancy a night off?

My God two statement,

his neighbour next door and
the woman opposite both saw him.

We've got him.

Well done, Havers.

- Good morning.
- You choose your moments.

Why are you behind me?

The silly bitch got yourself pregnant.

That's the problem

You really like word bitch, don't you?

Tell me again.

Why did you go to Elena's
room the night before she died?

Definitely for the result
of the pregnancy test.

Because if the child was yours
and she refused to abort it,

your career's on the skids.

My God. Where do they drag
you people up from, eh?

You were seen outside your house
at 7 clock on Monday morning.

So? I live here.

Returning to the house. Looking...

- What was the word the witness used?
- Dishevelled.

Dishevelled.

Where'd you been, Dr. Thorsson?

Nowhere.

I was here in bed.

- And this morning?
- Your car's warm.

You've been out in it.

Oh, have I? Good heavens!

Bag his clothes.

Wait! Where the hell are you going?!

- Upstairs.
- Anything black.

You'd better take this, then.

How shall I phrase
that in my notes, sir?

Would "hung" and "donkey" cover it?

I've made a decision about Mum.

The home's got an immediate vacancy.

- You're doing the right thing.
- Am I?

Another body! Different MO, same place.

Get these to the lab.

Hey.

It had to be done, Ros.

I've just wrecked all my mum's dreams.

- I love you. I want everyone...
- I don't wanna talk about it.

Ros.

Ros!

Why didn't you tell me?

- You didn't ring, so I...
- Elena's dead?!

Strangled.

Out running the river
route, early Monday morning.

I was running the river
route early on Monday morning.

Someone doesn't like female joggers

with long hair and college tracksuits.

Look at this! Over here!

She tripped over this wire,
falls flat on her face,

he comes out from behind the
bushes, blow to the back of the head.

Throw it in to the canal.

You're right, Havers. Some
perverted serial killer.

What's unreasonable about it?
I don't think it's unreasonable.

I just don't want any...

Always what you want, or what Elena wants.

Never what I want.

I'll be late home.

There's some salmon in the fridge.

One thing.

I don't suppose your daughter told
you, but she was 14 weeks pregnant.

Well...didn't you enjoy that?

Goodness, Justine... talk
about salt in the wound.

Your stepdaughter pregnant

and there's poor old you...still
no sign of babies on your horizon.

That's why I don't want her at the
funeral, Phillip. Because she hated Elena.

Georgina Higgins-Hart.
English postgrad student.

It's another Thorsson connection, sir.

Suppose she was the one person
to make Elena's accusation stick.

It ties in with the car and
explains where he was this morning.

So where the evidence?

Let's see if any of the fibres from
Elena's tracksuit match his clothes.

I have to wait.

They've only just got a definite
angle on the Weaver murder weapon.

- Solid glass, decanter shaped.
- A decanter! I knew it.

Inspector? Interview room two.

I think it's you he's after, sir.

It's a bit awkward. He's deaf.

Justine, that's not true,
is it? You didn't hate Elena?

I tried to love her, Phillip,
for your sake.

But she was just too...

- Too what?
- It doesn't matter.

Weird?

Go on, say it. Say what you think.

- Too embarrassing.
- No.

- Too freaky.
- No.

That hooting voice. People
assumed she was mentally deficient.

- Nobody assumed...
- They did! I saw it. I saw it.

"Poor Dr. Weaver, with that damaged
daughter of his. What a tragedy!"

I couldn't stand it,
Justine. I loathed it.

Nothing like that ever
once crossed my mind.

- Christ.
- And you accuse me of hating Elena?

"I Lied

"Could be father did sleep with Elena. Once
thought it mean something. Thought special.

"She laughed at me. Just a shag.

"Didn't kill ker. Loved her.

Smile. Stand still.

'Smile! I've got a tape running.

- Stop it.
- Daddy, will I do?

Daddy, will I do?

Daddy, will I do?

- That pack of unused pills...
- Did she eat her dinner?

- Why let yourself get pregnant?
- To prove to her father she was 100% normal.

No, I'll do that when I get in.

Or how about a calculated
campaign to hurt him?

God, yes! That's what the one-night stand
with Gareth was all about. What a devil...

No, Mrs. Geeves, just leave it.

What an inspired kick in her dad's
teeth if the baby was deaf as well!

I'm sorry, sir, but

Mrs. G and I have had words and
I'm going to have to leave again.

Inspector, there's a
young woman upstairs.

A first-year student.

She says Dr. Thorsson was with
her the morning Elena was killed.

He spent the night at her place.

How sweet, to provide him with an alibi.

I wonder what lucky girl had the
privilege of his company last night?

Never sleeps with students?

What a card. Gets
about a bit, our Lenny.

- Don't do that.
- What?

That, "What a lad - ha-ha!",
blokey stuff. Just don't do it.

What did I say...?

Have a nice evening with Helen and

and say hello to her from me.

Barbara?

I've forgotten where we're going.

Hawthorn Lodge, Mum.

That's Majorca, isn't it?

Where did I put my passport?

Through here, Mrs. Havers.

We're just watching Rolf Harris.

- Did we come on a plane, Barbara?
- No, Mum.

We're going to have cocoa
in a minute.

This is Mrs. Warner.

This is Mr. Crumpsall.

Er, no, I'm sorry. I'm
sorry. I made a mistake.

Mum, come on, we're going home.

She'll be all right.
She'll settle in just fine.

You say goodbye to her and go.

Hey.

- Where've you been all afternoon?
- For a run... Listen...

- I'm so sorru...
- Are you mad?

There's a maniac out there,

- first Elena, now Georgina.
- What?!

You didn't know?

They found her about half a mile
from where Elena was killed.

Oh, my God. Mel...

I've given up on relationships, Tommy.

Stick with friendship. It's safer.

Are we still friends?

Inspector!

This is Ros.

It was a mistake,
Georgina Higgins-Hart.

I think whoever killed
her meant to kill me.

Take air. Tell me slowly.

Monday morning, I was out
running in the river rout

and I think I must have seen the killer.

Oh, God! Georgie, same height,
same hair, same tracksuit.

- This person you saw...?
- I don't know.

- I didn't get a proper look at her.
- Her?

- A woman?!
- With light hair.

A woman wearing a black tracksuit.

Phillip?

- Was that the post?
- Get out!

- What?
- Get out of here!

Blimey!

You've come to arrest her?
Let me show you something.

That's how much she hated my daughter.

He had to keep them locked away.

Look what she's done to this canvas.

She slashed it, thrown paint over it.

- Mind if I take this?
- I thought...

- Havers, have you got a bag?
- Until you wait for her?

I thought you were going to arrest her.

I thought we went there
to arrest her as well.

There is no possibility
that she has done so, Havers.

I'm not arresting anyone until
I know what's happened to this.

Hi, Pen. Tommy Lynley.

I need to pick your brains judgement.

It depends how badly defaced it is.

Look, give me and half hour
and I'll meet you at the museum.

You'll have to look after the kids.

- I can't...
- You'll love it. It's a breeze.

We X-ray the painting
section by section.

My God, this is new work, isn't it?

Sarah Gordon's painting again.

Yes, she signed it.

So who defaced it?

D'you know what I think this is?

I think this is Sarah
Gordon's love letter to Weaver.

I think what happened is this.

Justine found it,
she was devastated. She begged him,

"I'm your wife. Give up Sarah Gordon.
Stay with me. Have children with me"

But he refused, so she slashed
it and threw paint on it.

And yet he still kept it.

What are you thinking?

Where have I seen
something like a decanter?

What, er...you mean...?

That kind of shape?

- Like a muller?
- What's a muller?

What artists use to grind paint.

She told us, Havers. She
told us what the weapon was.

It doesn't work.

She was in Grantchester
when Elena was murdered.

She can't have been
in both places at once.

I know, I know it doesn't work.

Unless she was in the same place twice.

What do you mean the same place?

Into Cambridge just before six.
Kills Elena, rushes home to change,

then tears back into Cambridge.

- Why come back?
- She'd been seen.

She had to make sure
that the police knew

she'd been sketching
by the river so early.

That was her alibi.

The woman that Ros saw had blonde hair.

That was a wig.

I saw it in the studio.

She wanted Elena to
think that it was Justine.

Still doesn't work.

Why didn't the neighbours hear
Sarah Gordon's car the first time?

I don't know.

Yes, I do! She didn't use
it. She ran into Cambridge.

But it all went wrong. Ros
saw her. She ran back, changed,

drove back to Cambridge,
established her alibi to the police.

And panicked because Ros saw
her at half-six, not half-seven.

- Decided to shut her up.
- And killed the wrong girl.

- That's Weaver's car.
- Park over there.

Get Sheehan out here.

No lights, no sirens.

You...

killed my daughter.

Go on, Phillip.

Do it.

I want you to.

You

killed my daughter.

- Because you threw me out of your life...
- I had to.

- ...like a piece of junk.
- Jst sex. We've been over this!

When Elena came to live near us,

I had to break it off. For her sake.

For your myth of the
perfect family and home.

If you'd killed ME, I
could have understood it.

You killed my daughter.

Yes, Phillip,

I killed her.

Your whole life is a
paper-thin stack of lies.

You sacrificed me for a lie.

You chose to stick to that
pathetic fantasy of family life.

I was trying to do the right thing.

I walked out on Elena once before.

Yes, because you couldn't
cope with her deafness.

I couldn't walk out on her again.

Sarah Gordon,
I arrest you on suspicion of murder.

You do not have to say anything,

but it may harm your defence if
you do not mention when questioned

something which you
later rely on in court.

Anything you do say may be
given in evidence against you.

You OK, sir?

God, Havers, the mess
people make of love.

Better to make a mess of
it than not to love at all.

Is it?

Have you seen one good,

loving, halfway selfless
relationship since you've been here?

Weaver,

Troughton,

Thorsson. Why should I be any different?

I see.

As you have been at
pains to point out to me.

I see.

What have I got to offer anyone?

50 acres and a small stately home.

- I'm talking seriously.
- I know.

You had an instinct about Sarah
Gordon all along, didn't you?

Sort of.

That's what's so weird. You're
so spot on about other people

and totally blind about yourself.

I beg your pardon?

What have we been talking
about for the last five minutes?

What have we been talking about?

Helen.

You should have caught up by now, sir.

All that "we're just friends" rubbish.

You're in love with her.

So he'd given Sarah
Gordon a key to his rooms.

She slipped in, used the Minicom

and pretended it was Elena.

What was she doing there
the night you saw her?

God knows. Taking a last look
at somewhere she was happy.

Or just returning the key.

Where are you parked?

It was on a side street
off this road somewhere.

I won't be a sec, sir. I'm
just going to get some fags.

What?

It's a hat shop!

Two o'clock, sir.

Helen.

Subtitles by BBC Broadcast - 2002