The Inspector Lynley Mysteries (2001–2008): Season 3, Episode 4 - If Wishes Were Horses - full transcript
DI Lynley and DS Havers investigate the murder of a forensic psychologist, Professor Dermot Finnegan, who was blown to bits with a car bomb. In his profession, he has done much work for the police and the list of those seeking revenge is endless. In his home village, Noel Shakespeare's daughter was imprisoned for killing her abusive husband and he has campaigned relentlessly to get her a new trial. Then there is Peter Stephanopoulos who also served 10 years largely on Finnegan's testimony but has now been released. Complicating matters is the fact that Finnegan was also a ladies man having had several affairs and ex-wife who shows up at his funeral. Lynley is surprised when he learns that his wife Helen also worked with. The case takes on a very personal slant for Lynley when someone takes a shot at Helen and she is severely injured.
Professor Finnegan,
you testified at the original trial
in your capacity as forensic psychologist,
did you not?
- I did, yes.
- Perhaps you could summarise.
I was firmly of the view that Lizzie
Shakespeare murdered her husband in cold blood.
He may have beaten her, as alleged,
but I do not believe that her knife attack
was a spur of the moment act of self-defence.
- Her state of mind?
- Entirely rational.
She knew precisely what she was doing.
And having monitored her during
her two years in prison, your view now?
The same.
I can see no medical grounds for a release
or transfer to a psychiatric hospital.
So you refute a defence
of diminished responsibility?
Absolutely. Lizzie Shakespeare is, and was,
100% competent.
Responsible for her actions.
Thank you, Professor Finnegan.
The question is, has any compelling
new evidence been laid before this court.
Answer: No.
We're therefore minded to agree with
Professor Finnegan.
Lizzie Shakespeare is, and was,
100% competent.
The conviction stands.
Appeal denied.
Finnegan! You are the scum of the earth!
- This is all down to you.
- Order in court!
I swear to God you'll be sorry.
As his daughter resumed
her life sentence for murder,
Noel Shakespeare vowed yesterday
to continue his fight to clear her name.
In a statement, Mr Shakespeare, who has
mortgaged the family home to pay legal fees...
Close your eyes.
OK.
Which hand?
That one.
That's beautiful.
Thank you.
What's the occasion?
Does there have to be an occasion?
Have a good day.
You're not eating.
Dad, I'm fine.
The police have still got Finnegan's body,
what's left of it.
The memorial's today,
which means drinks on me tonight.
A man's dead and you're gloating.
This is a break for us, Lizzie.
With Finnegan gone, we stand a good chance
of a second appeal.
The man had a wife.
I haven't been able to
hold a proper funeral.
But I can at least plant this rose
in Dermot's memory.
Thank you all for coming.
It means a great deal.
I'm so sorry.
- Waste of time, this.
- Oh, yeah?
You've killed a bloke, right?
The place is crawling with coppers.
Are you seriously going to show?
You'd have to be a pepperoni short
of a full pizza.
Any more tea?
What's your governor's missus
doing here anyway?
She knew Finnegan.
He was her mentor
when she was starting out.
Oh no.
- Sleep with her, did he?
- What?
Well, I worked with him. Ladies' man.
Known for it.
Mind you, I wouldn't say no.
Preggers or not.
And they say romance is dead.
My condolences again, Mrs Finnegan.
We are doing everything we can.
Have you met my wife Helen?
I shadowed your husband
on a case years ago.
He taught me a lot. I'm so sorry.
Thank you. Which case?
A murder. Peter Stephanopoulos.
Oh, yes. He killed his business partner.
Crikey, that was years ago.
Nice touch, Grace, the rose.
Mind you, a cactus would have done
the old goat just as well.
Hello, Maureen.
Inspector Lynley, his wife Helen,
Maureen Finnegan.
You're the professor's sister?
First wife. I kept the name.
The one thing the old
goat couldn't take away.
All back to yours, is it?
- Finnegan's wake.
- Yes.
- I hope you'll join us.
- Once more with feeling, Gracie.
Bull will, all the same.
Who's driving? Man or woman?
- Can't tell.
- Well, get a number.
I can only make out the first half.
It was good of you to come all the way from
Dublin. Dermot would have appreciated it.
Really?
Tell you what, Gracie, you won't want to be
on your own, not for a week or so,
why don't I stay, look after you?
She's well taken care of. Don't worry.
Excuse us.
I was telling Inspector Lynley
how well you were bearing up.
I can't take your happy
pills for ever, though, can I?
No, but they'll help you through the worst.
I take it you're Mrs Finnegan's GP.
No, a friend of the family.
I'm an obstetrician over
at Gloucester General.
Tessa is my tower of strength.
- Have you chosen a name yet?
- No, we're still negotiating that one.
When you feel up to it, I need to ask you
some questions about your husband.
Well, erm... well, now's
as good a time as any.
Erm... some fresh air?
Beautiful gardens.
25 years probing the criminal mind, Dermot said
he'd had enough of people - preferred plants.
Oh, this was his hideout.
Used to come here to work, think.
- Did he discuss his cases with you?
- Hardly ever. Too grim, he said.
So no particular names spring to mind,
grudges?
Afraid not, no.
The bomb was planted on the night
of the Lizzie Shakespeare appeal.
Your husband arrived home at ten, yes?
And the bomb itself?
Crude.
But straightforward.
- We 're waiting on the lab reports.
- A professional job?
Not necessarily, no.
We're considering all possibilities.
Including me.
Well, I'm afraid I am duty-bound
to ask where you were.
Honestly...
No, no, he's just doing his job.
I was here with my husband.
Thank you.
There is one thing I should mention.
Dermot told me
he'd been getting anonymous calls.
A man saying, "Do the right thing,"
then hanging up.
- When?
- About three, four weeks ago.
Why didn't he tell me?
Didn't want to worry you, I suppose.
And that's your excuse, too?
Yep.
Well, we'll look into the
phone company records.
If anything else comes to mind...
All sorted. Found a nice spare room.
Well...
Don't thank me, just happy to help.
I really don't think
I'm up to company at the moment.
Excuse us.
I'm staying. Clear?
- And spare me the crocodile tears.
- I don't know what you're talking about.
Don't come the innocent,
Grace. Not with me.
If I had the full registration
I'd give it you, wouldn't I?
Just speed it up, OK?
- You can be quite scary sometimes.
- Thanks. I try.
- What have we got?
- Well, we've got half a registration and this.
Came alone, didn't speak to anyone.
- Was she at the party?
- It's a wake, Turner.
No, she wasn't.
All right, then. Let's go.
According to a family friend, there's been
a spate of anonymous calls recently,
telling Finnegan to "do the right thing".
Something to do with
the Lizzie Shakespeare appeal?
Maybe.
We're going off to see the father now.
He's got a pub near Broadway.
I see.
Is there a problem?
Well, er... it's just it's a bit irregular.
I know, but A, I knew Dermot, and B,
maternity leave is driving me insane.
Gotta keep the brain from turning to mush.
You and Turner
get to work on the mystery woman,
and I want you to check out
Finnegan's outhouse.
Right, sir. Thanks very much.
Sorry, no, not a clue.
Nor me.
But I'm surprised there weren't more of
them there, crawling out of the woodwork.
- More of who?
- His bits of fluff, floozies.
Maureen.
OK.
Just to be clear, and I'm
sorry if this is awkward,
but Professor Finnegan was married to you
when he starting seeing you, yeah?
Seeing? Is that what they call it?
The answer is yes. ls there anything else?
It's been a long day.
Inspector Lynley
said something about an outhouse.
- Nicholas, Joseph...
- Alexander.
Jennifer.
- He'll have hell at school.
- Silly man.
So tell me,
what was Dermot Finnegan really like?
Charming, inspiring, very clever.
Sounds like someone had a crush.
Hardly. Anyway, that was years ago.
George.
- Trying to change the subject.
- Honestly.
Is that a gun cabinet?
Yes, yes.
Dermot used to like to give the rabbits
a run for their money.
All above board.
- Permits are here.
- Thanks.
I'll er... I'll leave you to it.
OK.
- All right?
- Yeah.
- Anything?
- No. I'll meet you out front, yeah?
OK.
Ladies and gentlemen, friends,
my Lizzie should be here, but she's not.
So the fight's still on.
I'm lobbying for a second appeal,
which means more lawyers,
which means more money.
Gentlemen.
Thank you.
Max?
Sir?
My advice? Face facts.
Right or wrong,
Lizzie's going to serve her full sentence.
Over my dead body.
You need to get on with your life,
and you need to let people have a pint
without a lecture on British justice.
Losing faith, Max?
Huh. Losing readers.
Lizzie's had more front pages
than any other story.
She's not a story, she's my daughter.
Mr Shakespeare? DI Lynley.
- You've got a nerve.
- I beg your pardon?
Where were your lot when Lizzie needed you?
Seven times she reported that brute -
seven times, in nine years.
Well, as I understand it,
there were never any witnesses.
No third-party corroboration,
so the police couldn't prosecute.
And your daughter repeatedly refused
to press charges.
Of course she did, she was petrified.
I'm here investigating the murder
of Professor Finnegan.
Now, if there's somewhere more private
we can talk?
Where did you go after the appeal?
Came back here. Am I a suspect?
Were you open for business as usual?
The show must go on. Am I a suspect?
I'm only trying to establish the facts,
Mr Shakespeare.
Where were you between 10pm that night
and 8am the following morning?
Here. Closed at 11:30, went to bed-.
No witnesses after closing time.
- The wife's long gone.
- Gone where?
Australia. Apparently, I'm obsessed,
impossible to live with.
Mind if I ask what other sites you use?
- If I say no?
- We get a warrant.
Tell me, did you ever contact
Dermot Finnegan directly?
Professor Psycho-bloody-babble?
No, I did not.
Lizzie's got life thanks
to him. Bloody shrinks.
As bad as you lot.
- Actually, I'm a shrink. Police profiler.
- Yeah?
Couldn't get a proper job?
Helen happens to be one of the best
in the business. She is also my wife.
Can I ask why you use this ex-cons website?
- What?
- You've never been inside, have you?
Trying to find other poor sods who've been
stitched up by Finnegan's 'expertise'-.
One miscarriage of justice down to
that charlatan and his reputation's shot.
- Which would help Lizzie's appeal.
- Too right.
So.. when have you found?
Nothing yet.
- Hope springs eternal.
- I'd like to take your computer, please.
Why?
Have our experts analyse the hard disk-
Any objections?
So, Ms Psycho-babble, verdict?
On Shakespeare?
Totally obsessed, and who can blame him?
His daughter's beaten for years, then ends
up behind bars for trying to protect herself.
- I'd be pretty deranged, wouldn't you?
- She did kill her husband.
- In self-defence.
- Yeah, does that make it all right?
No, it makes it complicated.
Question is, did Shakespeare use
the ex-cons website like he said he did
or was he trying to find a hit man
to kill Finnegan?
Havers!
Er... just to let you know no luck yet
on our mystery mourner.
Right, well, keep at it. Anything else?
Barbara?
Er... no, sir.
- Hi.
- Hi.
You coming in for supper?
- I expect she has plans.
- Yeah, thanks all the same.
Hot date?
Hot bath.
Right, that's it. Come on.
Let's not mince words, Grace.
His motto was "Anything with a pulse."
I'm not saying he was perfect,
but he was kind and generous.
The presents? Guilty conscience. Lord
knows he had enough to feel guilty about.
I do wish you wouldn't go on.
I brought my photos.
The good old days.
I'm not interested in the past.
Ah, suit yourself.
Silver? Very nice.
Do you know who you remind me of?
Me. 20 years ago.
Little Miss Meek and Mild.
Assertiveness training,
that's what you need.
It changed my life.
Don't take this the wrong way,
but how long are you thinking of staying?
Till the will is read.
The will? Well, surely you don't expect...
Like I said, Catholic guilt running
through him like a stick of rock.
He'll see me right.
Excuse me.
I thought a casserole wouldn't go amiss.
I don't suppose you feel like cooking.
Thank you. How thoughtful-.
It's a bit late, though,
or we'd invite you in.
It's only half past nine.
Stay for a glass of wine.
- You've just lost your husband.
- I know, but...
You need your rest. Right, Doctor?
I thought you might like company.
She's got company.
Well, erm... another time, then.
Good night.
Right.
- Morning, sir.
- Morning.
- Thanks for last night.
- Pleasure.
What have we got?
Er... we've got some old love letters -
found them in Finnegan's outhouse.
Told you. Ladies' man. Anything juicy?
This might be something, sir.
SOCO found them about 100 yards
from Finnegan's house.
- Parts of the bomb?
- Maybe. Might be fragments of the casing.
I've been trying to work out if it's
one word or bits of different words.
- Well, keep at it. Anything else?
- Yep.
News on the Chevy
at Finnegan's memorial service.
- Possible registrations, 27 names.
- Yeah, we've eliminated 12.
Lucky 13, I'd say.
Sir?
Peter Stephanopoulos.
Helen mentioned him the other day
as being one of Finnegan's past cases.
I'll give her a call.
- I get it.
- Get what?
You and him.
Romeo and Juliet.
More like Punch and Judy, actually.
- Oh, yeah.
- Yes.
And relax down.
Other side, left, take it up.
Exhale.
And... relax.
Tommy. Terrible timing.
Sorry. Can you tell me about that case you
did with Finnegan - Peter Stephanopoulos?
Estate agent, murdered his business partner
about 15 years ago.
So he should be out by now.
I should think so.
- And you profiled him as the murderer, yes?
- Hardly. I just shadowed Finnegan.
He did all the work. Why?
It seems your Mr Stephanopoulos
turned up at the memorial.
He's a mechanic now,
he's got a garage in Lower Upton.
- That's not far from Finnegan's house-
- Give me two hours, I?! come with you.
- Are you trying to do Havers out of a job?
- Ready when you are.
Tommy, I'm pregnant,
not brain-dead, I'd like to come.
You're on leave, remember? Finish
your class and have lunch with the girls.
Go shopping-
Could you be a little more patronising?
.I'll call you later.
Take the right ear down to the shoulder.
Sorry.
Everything OK?
Fine. Shall we go?
Nice. Might be able to fit you in tomorrow.
What's wrong with it?
Nothing. DI Lynley and DS Havers.
Is Peter Stephanopoulos here?
You'll be lucky. Gone
fishing down by the bridge.
Does he drive a Chevy Blazer, LK46 VLO?
Yeah.
He attended a memorial service yesterday,
and we'd like to know why.
Memorial, was it? He keeps me in the dark
like a flaming mushroom.
- I'm Janice.
- His wife?
Girlfriend, and admin supremo.
Before you ask, yes, I
know all about his past.
But he was married, right, to Gina?
Yeah, she did a runner. Before my time.
Any idea why he'd attend the memorial
of the man who helped put him away?
Not a clue.
Excuse me.
- Ah, hello.
- Hi.
- Shouldn't you be at home putting your feet up?
- Don't you start
- Tommy not around?
- No, he's gone out.
- Can I help?
- Are these Finnegan's case files?
- Yes, but I'm not sure you're supposed to...
- I'd kill for a coffee.
Milk, no sugar.
Er... right.
If my husband calls,
tell him to stay right where he is.
OK.
- Er... bye.
- Bye!
Well, this is where Janice said he'd be.
I assume he's actually gone fishing.
Hello?
- Is that the king of condescension?
- Not still going on about that, are you?
- Where are you?
- Er... Lower Upton. You?
- About ten minutes away.
- What?
I checked Finnegan's case file
on Peter Stephanopoulos.
Found a love letter. Guess who from?
- One of Finnegan's harem?
- Gina Stephanopoulos.
No?
Written to Finnegan
while her husband was in prison.
She had an affair with Finnegan after
he put her husband away for ten years?
Looks like it.
Helen?
Helen?
Helen?
Still unconscious, lost lots of blood.
- The baby?
- Can't say.
- You coming or not?
- Go.
Go, sir, now.
Right, everyone, listen up.
Now, we've got no
witnesses, so it's down to us.
And if there is a scrap of evidence,
an atom, within ten miles,
then we're gonna find it.
- Starting with the bullet.
- It wasn't a bullet.
It was an airgun pellet.
37-year-old woman, six months pregnant.
Blood pressure 80 over 50, pulse 110.
- Tommy?
- I'm here, darling, I'm here.
Come on, Helen, stay with us now.
Has anyone paged Professor Morrison yet?
- Where the hell have you been?
- Waste of time. Didn't catch a thing.
- Not even the clap?
- Don't be silly, give us a kiss.
You had visitors. Police.
Your wife's recovering from the operation.
She lost consciousness again,
but we're hopeful she'll recover fully.
- What about the...
- The damage to the placenta was too great.
I'm afraid we couldn't save the baby.
I can't tell you how sorry I am.
I feel like I'm being punished.
For what?
"Be careful what you wish for."
That's what they say, isn't it?
You didn't want her to lose the baby.
Of course not, I didn't.
Do you remember
when I found out she was pregnant?
I er...
- Well, I...
- You what?
You weren't sure you were up to it?
Worried about how your life might change?
I mean, I'm no expert, but...
everyone has those doubts-.
But this... this is not your fault-.
- Should have been there.
- And what could you have done if you were?
I don't know. Something.
You just need to take some time off.
- And then maybe...
- Take leave?
- Are you out of your mind?
- I'm sorry.
Whoever did this is gonna realise
they're messing with the wrong family.
What we need to do is establish a
clear link between Helen and Finnegan.
Apart from the obvious -
this Stephanopoulos thing-.
Well, erm... there is another angle.
Well, I tried to mention it before, but...
I found this with the love letters.
It looks like Helen was seeing Dermot
about 16 years ago.
I can read, Havers.
She didn't tell you?
No.
Why didn't you tell me
about this yesterday?
I didn't know how.
I'm so sorry.
Where are you going?
If Helen was involved with Finnegan 16 years
ago, then he was still married to Maureen.
What? You think she might bear a grudge?
After all these years?
I don't know, but it's a start
Sir...
This is all a bit too close to home.
Shouldn't you...
Are you seriously telling me
what I should and shouldn't do?
- You of all people?
- No, I just think...
You should have told me about this.
New, you stay here and you do not leave
my wife unattended for one single second-.
- Understood?
- Won't she want you here...
Is that understood?
Sir.
I'm er... I'm terribly sorry.
I hope your wife's going to be OK.
Thank you.
Why are you here?
It seems that my wife was involved
with Professor Finnegan.
- Ages ago. Yes.
- So you did know?
Of course. Recognised her at the memorial.
The man kept all their
photos, like trophies.
I see.
May I ask where you were at midday today?
You think I had... Now wait a minute.
No disrespect to your wife, but Dermot's
philosophy was so many women, so little time.
Revenge for every single fling?
I'd be at it till Doomsday.
All the same, where were you?
Having a late breakfast. Eggs, bacon,
tomatoes from the garden, wasn't it?
- Anything else?
- You seem very at home here.
Grace is very hospitable.
- Where were you at 12 o'clock?
- In the rose garden, reading. Why?
It's just occurred to me.
The Inspector's wife wasn't Dermot's
only bit on the side all those years ago,
was she, Gracie?
I don't know what you mean.
None of us had the exclusive
on the old goat, did we?
And the green-eyed monster
does things to even the nicest people.
- How is she?
- Progressing. She's breathing on her own-.
- Oh, that's great.
- Well, early days.
Yeah. ls there any chance of a cup of tea?
I'm not supposed to move.
Are you worried he might try again? Here?
Well, we're not taking any chances.
Do you think this is linked
to what happened to Dermot Finnegan?
Erm... well, maybe.
They did know each other years ago,
they worked on a case together.
- DI Lynley's checking it out now.
- Nurse, tea for DS Havers, please.
- No problem.
- Machine, I'm afraid.
- Tastes like sump oil.
- Cheers.
Peter Stephanopoulos?
Who wants to know?
12 o'clock?
- I was fishing.
- At your usual spot?
I moved. Downriver.
Any reason?
Ten years inside,
I like to go where the fancy takes me.
- Catch anything?
- Just tiddlers.
- Anyone see you?
- Nah.
That's the beauty of fishing.
You can go for hours.
Not a soul in sight.
- Anyway, why would I take a pop at your wife?
- You tell me.
And while you're about it, tell me
why you went to Finnegan's memorial.
- Why shouldn't I go?
- For starters,
the man was partly responsible
fer your serving ten years for murder-.
Paying your last respects, were you?
I once heard about this Hollywood producer.
Real tyrant.
Everyone hated his guts.
But when they buried him,
there was a queue round the block.
Not for affection, or respect.
They all just wanted to make sure
the old sod was really dead.
So, I take it you do bear a little grudge
towards him.
Well, he wasn't on my Christmas list.
But not cos he did his job.
I took a life.
Finnegan helped put me away - fair do's.
Having an affair with your wife
while you're inside,
now that's not quite such fair do's, is it?
- How do you know about that?
- I know she left you.
- For him.
- Look...
Am I glad Finnegan's pushing up daisies?
You bet.
Did I do it? Nah.
Oh, good timing.
- Where's the loo?
- Right, and fourth door on the right.
Please, don't move. I
will be two minutes, yeah?
- Emergency C-section, cubicle four.
- But...
Now!
Havers?
Where the hell were you?
I was two minutes. I... I told the nurse.
Outside now.
What is the matter with you?
Anyone could have got in.
- What happened to you?
- Emergency. Sorry.
Unbelievable. Totally
irresponsible, total dereliction of duty.
I must be mad to fight your corner.
Should have got shot of you
when I had the chance.
Get Turner down here-
You obviously can't do it by yourself.
Sir.
Yes! What?
Nothing.
Hiya.
How's she doing?
- What does it look like?
- Blimey, who rattled your cage?
You wanted Finnegan's case files.
Thanks.
Ah, still playing word games?
Ah-huh.
OK.
- Half each.
- All right. What am I looking for?
Another link. She's in
here, Finnegan's dead.
They worked together on one case -
Stephanopoulos. Maybe there's more.
How did you get on with that woman
at the memorial?
I traced everyone else there.
No-one has a clue.
It could have been anyone.
Everybody hates journalists.
- It wasn't anyone. It was you.
- My guess? One of your readers
who thinks you're a gutless hypocrite
more interested in flogging papers
than you are in a miscarriage of justice.
Here you go, Max.
The police like a nice graffiti case.
Bit simpler than protecting women
from brutal thugs.
- Where were you at 12 o'clock today?
- What have I done now?
My wife was attacked.
Why would I attack your wife?
I didn't say you did,
I just asked you where you were.
In the back, writing to my MP. By hand.
You'll get your computer back when
we've finished analysing the hard disk.
- Is your wife all right?
- No, she's in hospital.
Be careful. He'll have a sneak picture on
the front page before you can say paparazzi.
We've just lost our baby
and someone is responsible for that.
Well, not me. And I'm sorry.
But maybe now you know how I feel-.
Someone you love. Something terrible
happens, there's nothing you can do about it.
It's enough to drive any man half-mad.
Well, if there is another link
between her and Finnegan it's not here.
Nor here.
The lads are going out for a drink. Coming?
What planet are you on?
Sorry.
She's stable, but still no sign
of regaining consciousness.
Sir, I just want to say I'm sorry about...
Well, you know...
I'm sure she'll be OK.
Medical expert, are you?
No, I just meant...
Yeah, I know. Thanks.
You can go.
- But I thought you...
- Yes?
Nothing, sir.
Right, well, erm... Good night.
Good night.
- Any news?
- Erm... no leads in the professor's files.
The Irish police
are checking on Maureen Finnegan.
- I'm glad to hear it.
- Why?
I don't like her.
Do you think the attack on your wife ties
in with what happened to Professor Finnegan?
Well, er... hard to say.
We got an address for
Stephanopoulos's wife - Cheltenham.
We sent a PC round-
The neighbours haven't seen her for days-.
Try again tomorrow. I'm going to be
interviewing Lizzie Shakespeare first thing.
Why?
If her father had anything to do with Finnegan's
death, she might have known what he planned.
I'll get someone to bring you a blanket.
Thank you.
Yeah, I could stay tonight, if you like.
No.
You go.
OK.
I'm leaving here at nine,
sol need you back by then.
And can you do me a favour?
I'm going to need some
fresh clothes and things.
So will Helen. Would you mind?
Yeah.
Maybe you could get somebody else
to stand guard tomorrow.
Yes, I could.
But erm... no-one I trust as much as you.
What, even after today?
Especially after today.
And I'm... I'm sorry.
Right.
Good night, sir.
So what are you saying?
That my father made a car bomb,
and blew Finnegan to bits?
The man runs a pub, for God's sake.
He belongs to the bowls club, not Al-Qaeda.
Anyone could learn how to make explosives
these days,
if they're determined enough-.
Look...
my mum ran off, left my dad high and dry.
I'm in here,
and I wake up every morning
knowing I took my husband's life.
My family's in shreds.
And now you want to hound my dad
for something he didn't do?
When do you people stop?
When we get the truth.
Whose truth?
Tell me one thing.
You could have left your husband,
just packed your bags, walked away.
Why didn't you?
He's fine for ages.
Months.
Then he gets that look...
...and you know it's coming.
And you know it's your fault.
You burnt the bacon.
You flirted with that bloke at the party.
You're too this... you're too that.
And pan of you believes him.
You believe it's your fault.
Especially later...
when he swears he'll never hit you again.
And please don't leave,
because he needs you.
And you love each other.
And this time it'll be different.
Only...
it's never different.
And you're too ashamed to admit
you haven't got the guts to leave.
That's why I stayed.
Shame.
And fear.
Thank you for your time.
I've got plenty of that.
- Lynley.
- It's Turner, sir. How's your wife?
No change. What have you got?
A body in the river over in Lower Upton.
We've got to get the divers.
Roger, I'll have them with you in the hour.
See this ligature mark around her neck?
Garrotted, I'd say, then dumped.
The body's been in water 24 hours, tops.
Whoever did it tied those stones
around her neck to weigh her down.
Didn't do a very good job of it.
Wearing the same clothes she was here.
Except the necklace is missing.
So you know who she is?
No.
No, all we know is that she was
in a churchyard the other day.
Well... she'll be in another one soon.
Excuse me.
Thanks very much.
Oh, he's lovely.
Yeah.
Only, he's a she.
Sorry.
That's all right.
We're thinking of Abigail.
Abigail. That's nice.
Thanks.
And we're sure that this
is the body in the river?
Sir?
Sorry?
Yes...
I've asked Turner to
check the dental records.
Whose?
Gina Stephanopoulos
and Noel Shakespeare's ex-wife.
I thought she moved to Australia.
That's what he said.
I've also asked him to check
with Immigration down under.
Dinner is served.
Thanks, I'm really not very hungry.
Don't blame you. The Domestic Goddess
hasn't quite made it to Gloucester General.
I'll have yours, sir.
How did you get on with Lizzie Shakespeare?
Nothing new.
Very impressive, though.
And I read Finnegan's
evidence from the trial.
No doubt about it, it
turned the jury against her.
Unfairly?
Maybe.
That husband of hers was a real brute.
I'm not saying he deserved to die, but...
he pushed her right to the edge.
- Dr Khan needs a word.
- Excuse me.
- Lynley.
- It's Turner, sir.
We've got news on Shakespeare's computer.
Traces of e-mails between Noel Shakespeare
and Peter Stephanopoulos.
- He deleted them but they're on the hard disk.
- What are they about?
We're trying to retrieve the e-mails.
We've just got (he addresses.
How about the dental records?
I'm on the case.
I want you to chivvy up the phone company.
Those threatening calls Finnegan told Tessa
Jellicoe about. I want to know who made them.
Helen's instinct was right.
Shakespeare had been in touch
with Stephanopoulos, via e-mail.
- And they both hated Finnegan.
- They're in it together.
Shakespeare learns how to make a bomb
on the net,
but he still needs a mechanic
to wire Finnegan's car.
That doesn't explain the attack on Helen.
No, but it's got to be
one of them, hasn't it?
It has to be.
Has to be.
With respect, sir, um...
have you thought about handing this over
to someone less involved?
I beg your pardon?
Well, it doesn't have to be anything.
What happened to Helen and to you is...
...well, is terrible and...
But I think you're letting
it get in the way of...
- Doing my job?
- No, thinking clearly.
Are you making a formal complaint,
Detective Sergeant?
No...
Well, it isn't exactly by the book, is it?
Oh, excuse me. What's that expression?
Pot... kettle... black?
- All I'm saying is...
- If you're concerned about doing it by the book,
then you just do what
you have to, all right?
And I'll do what I have to.
There is one way to find out
if it's Shakespeare or Stephanopoulos.
No guarantees, but it's worth a go-.
I'm listening.
If one of them really did have
something against Helen, then...
...maybe we could give them another chance.
To do what?
- To have another crack at her.
- What?
Try and flush them out using a decoy.
Me.
I need my computer back now.
We're still not done with it.
I'm trying to run a campaign!
I'm trying to find out who murdered
Finnegan and who attacked my wife.
- How is she?
- Better.
She's driving herself
back to London tonight.
In your posh car?
I hope she's not like my wife -
more prangs than I've had pies.
Does she keep in touch?
No, thank God.
You know Peter Stephanopoulos.
What if I do?
You e-mail each other. Why?
Pete was one of the ex-convicts
I tracked down on that website.
Finnegan testified at his trial,
swung the jury against him,
same as he did with my Lizzie.
And you hoped Stephanopoulos could
somehow help nun Finnegan.
Not him, his reputation.
Could he?
No.
But we got on OK. He drinks here sometimes.
Any law against that?
Look, you've got me wrong, Inspector.
I didn't take a pot shot at your wife.
And the only man I've ever wanted to kill
was Lizzie's husband.
The tragedy is, she beat me to it.
Who made the first contact,
you or Shakespeare?
He did.
I got an e-mail out of the blue.
He said he was looking for a way
to nun Finnegan, blow him out of the water.
Unfortunate turn of phrase.
His reputation.
Odd, you and Shakespeare.
Same story, almost word for word.
Anyone would think you'd rehearsed it.
He did call a couple of
hours ago, as it happens.
He said you were snooping around,
- looking in all the wrong places.
- We'll see.
He also said your wife's on the mend.
Going home tonight, is that right?
What if it is?
Nothing.
Glad she's better, that's all.
Helen?
How do I look?
Very convincing.
Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think.
Body armour?
Yeah, it weighs a ton.
I'm not sure I should
be letting you do this.
Sir.
I want to help.
Alpha Two Zero.
With you, Alpha Two Zero. Game on.
Game?
Sorry, sir.
It handles very nicely.
I could get used to this.
Mind on the job, Havers.
Yes, sir.
Pull back a bit, Alpha Two Zero.
- Let her off the leash.
- Right you are, sir.
So far, so good.
Nurse!
That's a bit too close.
Havers?
That is you, sir, isn't it,
coming up behind me?
No.
Well... someone's getting friendly.
A bit too friendly.
Alpha Two Zero, registration check.
Sierra Juliet 53...
...Yankee, Foxtrot, Delta.
He's flashing me.
OK, reel him in.
Registration check, sir. It's Dr Jellicoe.
- What is going on?
- You tell me.
This is my way home. I saw your car.
You were driving like a maniac!
I just got a call.
Your wife's regained consciousness.
Where were you?
Trying to find out who did this.
Oh, Tommy.
Our baby.
I know.
Will she be OK?
We'll run some tests, but, yes,
she can probably go home tomorrow.
I'm sorry about all that palaver.
No, no, it's OK.
Look, are you still on duty, or do you
want to tell me about it over a drink?
Yeah.
Thank you.
Always a pleasure to serve the police.
My Pete been in?
No. Lost him again?
You'd tell me, wouldn't you,
if he had someone else?
Rule No. 1 of running a pub:
see all, hear all, say nowt-.
What's that supposed to mean?
Ah, thanks.
So, why all the drama earlier?
Well, um...
we thought that one of our suspects might
take another crack at DI Lynley's wife.
By suspects you mean?
Well... or her boyfriend.
He seems to have been putting it about
nearly as much as Finnegan.
I'm sorry, I forgot. You were friends.
Well, still. Men, eh?
What do you make of Finnegan's first wife?
What, Maureen?
I'm not sure, why?
I worry about Grace. Maureen seems to be
taking over. She won't let me near.
Well, we're checking her out.
I'll let you know.
Will you stay for another?
Oh, no, I'm driving.
And it's the boss's car.
Back to London?
Local B&B.
So there's no Mr Right waiting up,
keeping the home fires burning?
That'll be the day.
I know it feels like the end of the world.
We could try again, you know.
Darling...
I don't think I can talk
about this right now.
Sorry.
I still don't know... who attacked you.
I'm no closer to finding
out who killed your um...
...your friend, Finnegan.
Why do you say it like that?
Helen, I know you were lovers.
Havers...
Havers found this in the outhouse study.
Tommy...
it was years ago, I was a kid.
Oh, I know.
I know. It doesn't matter.
It really doesn't matter.
Listen, I'm just glad you're OK.
You know.
So glad you're OK.
We'll get through this, I promise.
What's happening? I'm calling the police.
No, no, I am the police.
So, he saw the car,
assumed you were the guv'nor's wife?
Seems like it.
It worked, then, your little decoy trick.
Who's going to pay for the damage?
We'll son it out.
What if they come back?
Don't worry. I'm here now.
My hero.
Do you do room service?
You don't need a room.
You won't be sleeping.
Night.
You're lucky it was a lamp they broke,
not your skull.
We've sent the brick off to Forensics.
- Think you were followed from the pub?
- Possibly.
Someone inside watching us all along?
I doubt it.
They'd know it was me and not Helen.
- Do we know where Stephanopoulos was?
- Not yet.
Get on to Shakespeare. I want a
list of everyone in the pub last night.
- Assuming it wasn't Shakespeare himself.
- All right, I'm ready.
What's going on?
Someone had a go at Havers.
- While you were decoy for me?
- Yeah.
- Are you all right?
- I'm fine.
You'd better stay, I suppose.
- I said I'd drive you home and I will.
- Turner can drive me.
You're obviously still a target, darling.
In that case, the sooner you find out
who's behind this, the better.
Right.
I don't need to tell you
how much I'm relying on you, do I?
No, sir.
I'll be home later tonight-.
Then we can talk.
Properly.
OK.
Sir?
Just got a dental records ID
on the body in the river.
It was Gina Stephanopoulos,
who, as we know, was
garrotted with thin wire...
like a fishing line.
Here they come... Laurel and Hardy.
Where were you at 11 o'clock last night?
Minding my own business-.
Enough of the smart aleck stuff.
My sergeant here was attacked.
I was with a friend.
- What friend?
- No-one you know.
Does this friend have a name?
Stacy Caner, local hairdresser.
Local bike.
We were just talking.
Is this a picture of your ex-wife?
Yeah.
We pulled her out of the river
two days ago. She was murdered.
Oh, my God.
Poor Gina.
Someone tried to weigh her down
with stones but didn't do a good job-.
She was garrotted... with a fishing line.
Ah, so you assume it was me, eh?
Estimated time of death
between midday and midnight on Thursday.
I was here...
working till seven.
I had dinner with Janice, went to bed.
And you can confirm that?
Hello?
They're asking you a question.
Oh, my God.
You cheap, lying...
Early birthday present?
- It's hers!
- We had dinner, went to bed.
- He went off on Thursday.
- Don't listen to her.
- He got back late, maybe 11.
- Shut your mouth!
Gina knew you'd never
forgive her, didn't she?
For having an affair with the man
who put you away for ten years-.
So she went to ground.
But she came out for Finnegan's memorial.
That's why you were there.
Wasn't it? Am I right?
I want my lawyer.
Once you'd found her, you couldn't
do anything, too many people.
So you waited.
You followed her.
And you took your revenge.
I want my lawyer.
Do you think he killed them both,
his ex-wife and Finnegan?
- The motives there, technical know-how.
- Enough to build a bomb?
Maybe he learned to use explosives
from the net.
Let's get his computer analysed as well.
He can certainly wire a car-.
- Can I make a suggestion, sir?
- What now?
Leave this to me.
You need to go home
and take care of your wife...
...if you don't mind my saying so.
No.
Thank you, Havers.
- Evening, sir.
- Everything all right?
Yes, sir, your wife's upstairs-.
Australian Immigration confirmed
Noel Shakespeare's wife
moved to Melbourne last July.
But phone company records show
he made four calls to Finnegan
in the three weeks before Lizzie's appeal,
which ties in with what Tessa Jellicoe said
about threats to Finnegan.
Right.
I'll see you tomorrow morning, eight sharp.
Night, sir.
Hi, darling. I've got supper.
Your favourite.
Helen?
I don't believe this is happening.
Do stop moaning. He left the house to you.
And everything else to you -
cash, stocks, everything.
Guilt running through him like a stick
of rock. This is payback time, Gracie.
I was like you. I was the perfect wife.
But he treated me like a dog.
You've been Lady Muck all these years
and I've had nothing.
This is nothing to do with guilt. Why
did he change his will three months ago?
The man changed his mind, that's all.
People do.
He told you, didn't he?
He told you he was
putting you in the new will.
Don't upset yourself.
The house is worth a fortune-.
Worst comes to the worst, sell.
They call it downsizing.
- Where are you going?
- To shop till I drop.
You might want to check your name's on the
house deeds, just to set your mind at rest.
Toodle-oo.
"Dear Professor Finnegan,
we are sorry to learn of your condition.
We can confirm your policy does cover
multiple sclerosis."
And you knew about this?
Yes.
Hello, are you all right?
- Fine, thank you.
- We're busy.
Dermot came to me in confidence.
You knew he had MS.
You knew for three months
and you didn't tell me.
He didn't want to burden
you before he had to.
- And I had to respect his privacy.
- I'm his wife.
He would have had to tell you soon
the MS was progressing.
A few stumbles he could pass off as clumsiness,
but not for much longer and he knew it.
Hm?
Am I right in thinking
he named you as sole beneficiary?
Of the life insurance, yes,
but not in the new will...
as, no doubt, you know.
What new will?
Oh, Tessa.
How can I believe anything you say?
A dozen white roses.
Make that two dozen.
No, no card.
She'll know who they're from.
Thank you.
It hardly makes up for
what happened, does it?
Still, what else can I do?
OK, so what have we got?
Well, we've...
We've just had a call from Grace Finnegan.
Not a happy bunny.
She wants us to check out Maureen.
Because?
Because Finnegan left
her a shed load of dosh.
And Maureen knew
that she was in the will in advance.
If Maureen wanted the money in a hurry...
It would tie in with this fax
we got from the Irish police.
She's broke.
She put in a phoney insurance claim
for a burglary that didn't happen,
her cottage has been repossessed and she's
been living in a caravan for nine months.
Right.
So... we've got Maureen Finnegan...
Noel Shakespeare...
Who made threatening phone calls to Finnegan
and has no alibi for the night of the car bomb.
And Peter Stephanopoulos,
who we've already got on Gina's murder.
But he does have an alibi
for (he brick through my window.
I talked to that hairdresser, Stacy Carter.
He was at her place that night.
- Will she say that in court?
- Yeah, I reckon so.
Doesn't let him off the hook for Finnegan.
But it doesn't give us enough
to charge him for it.
How much did he leave Maureen in his will?
Over 200 grand.
"Shop till I drop," she said.
She's been gone hours.
We'd like to search Maureen's room.
Be my guest.
Top of the stairs, second on the left.
Was this letter the first that you heard
about your husband's MS?
Yes.
He confided in Tessa.
MS can be very unpredictable.
Dermot could have had another 10-20 years.
I can't help wondering...
What?
Well, he wrote Maureen into the will
after he found out about the MS.
She obviously knew
she was in line for money.
The question is, did she
know he was ill as well?
So?
What do you think?
Amazing what a little cash can do.
Well, you know what they say.
Shrouds have no pockets.
How did you know you
were included in the will?
Dermot told me.
He phoned me to say he had MS.
He told you?
Yes.
So the whole bloody world knew except me.
I'm so sick of being treated like a child!
Then stop behaving like one.
Can we get back to Professor Finnegan?
He said he'd been doing a lot of thinking
since he was diagnosed-.
Dermot didn't know how long he had left, so
he wanted to put his affairs in order...
make it up to me.
For?
Screwing half the country,
running off with Grace.
Catholic guilt, Inspector.
Repentance - nothing like it.
Especially when you think
you're about to meet your maker.
I thought Confession
took care of the guilt.
Confession? Finnegan?
The amount that man had on his conscience,
he'd have been in that box months.
Right, Gracie?
Sorry.
The great taboo.
Well, I don't know about you,
but I need a cup of tea.
He said,
"You get the cash and Grace gets the house.
Plus the life insurance."
It's worth about 300,000, isn't it?
I've no idea.
I believe you. Thousands wouldn't.
Are you making some son of accusation?
I wouldn't dream of it.
But the poor man had MS.
Handy for Gracie,
that he's not going to be around to be a
burden for God knows how many years-.
- I loved him.
- So did I.
Even though he beat you?
You searched my room.
With Mrs Finnegan's
permission. It is her house.
And those are mine, too.
Wrong.
Mine.
Dermot's presents.
I took nothing when I left him.
Not even a suitcase.
And er...
what about these?
My doctor's idea...
in case I plucked up courage to charge.
But I never did.
And is that how it was for you too?
Certainly not.
Come on, Gracie, the
man beat you to a pulp!
That's enough.
He was always sorry, wasn't he?
Always buying those little
"forgive and forget" presents.
Silver for me and ornaments for you.
And every time the remorse.
"I wish I could stop.
I wish to God I could change, Maureen."
And I'd say,
"If wishes were horses...
beggars would ride."
I want you out of my house now!
Fine with me!
And the fraudulent insurance claim
you filed in Dublin?
It's a total misunderstanding.
Not according to the Irish police.
I was never charged.
And you have no grounds to charge me now
with that or anything else.
You can go for now.
You leave my silver.
My silver.
I earned it.
So was she suggesting that Grace murdered
Finnegan for the insurance money?
Not in so many words, but... yes-.
That could be why she's so adamant
he didn't beat her.
I mean, it gives her motive
and her alibi was Finnegan.
Either way, she's not going to tell us.
No.
But if Grace was being beaten,
who would she go to for help?
Someone who was a
close friend and a doctor.
Tessa Jellicoe.
Let's go and see her.
Hello, darling.
Thanks for the flowers, they're gorgeous.
How are you feeling?
Tired.
Feet up, I'll be back
as soon as I can, then...
Tommy... I've had a
long chat with my sister.
And?
She's invited me to stay.
What, in the country? That's good.
I'll... I'll meet up with you there.
That's... not what I mean.
Maybe we need some time apart.
I think what we need is...
is to talk.
Darling, you've had a terrible time.
But we will get over this, you know.
Hold on.
- Havers, I'm sorry to do this to you again.
- It's no problem.
- I'm on my way.
- I've already told Penny I'm coming.
- Tell her you've changed your mind.
- Tommy.
I'm setting off right now, OK?
Are you sure you don't mind?
If you can just drop me
off at the hospital, yeah?
- Can I help you?
- Yeah, I was looking for Dr Jellicoe.
She's off duty.
Any idea where she'd be?
There's a pub in town
where her lot meet sometimes.
- What do you mean, "her lot"?
- You know, lesbians.
- What's wrong with that?
- Being a lesbian's fine.
But snogging your
patient, a vulnerable one?
That's a whole different ball game.
I'm investigating a murder.
If you've got some professional misconduct
grievance, take it up with the hospital.
What?
- Oh, my God.
- What is it?
This vulnerable patient, who was she?
Feeling better?
No.
It's a new chapter, Gracie.
For both of us.
What do you mean, "for both of us"?
- Yes, Havers?
- I've got a breakthrough, sir.../ think.
A nurse just told me he saw Dr Tessa Jellicoe
kissing a vulnerable patient, a woman.
Who?
Grace Finnegan - bruises all over her face
like she'd been beaten.
Regular customer, going back years.
She used to come in wearing scarves
to hide her face.
So they were lovers?
Helen?
It looks like it.
Also, Tessa's been busy on the internet
researching explosives.
Good God!
Then I saw the sharps box. It's what they
use to get rid of contaminated needles.
And?
A sharps box, sir.
S-H-A-R.
Right.
So where's Tessa now?
My hunch - with Grace Finnegan.
Sir?
I'll meet you there.
What about Helen?
I said I'll meet you there, all right?
Everything all right?
Not really, no.
- Is that the box?
- Yeah.
Where are they?
- They're in the garden.
- Come on.
It's not love, it's not. It's control.
- Dr Jellicoe, we'd like a word, please.
- About?
You were seen by one of your nurses
kissing Mrs Finnegan.
We had a relationship, yes. I ended it.
Which is none of their business.
Would you have any idea how the casing
of the bomb that killed Professor Finnegan
was a hospital sharps box?
No.
And I'm sorry, I can't talk now, I'm late.
Whoever planted the bomb probably assumed
there'd be nothing left after the explosion.
They were wrong.
Really?
Can you account for your movements
on the night the bomb was planted
in the Professors car?
- I was at home.
- Can anyone verify that?
No.
Your computer at work...
Do you use the internet?
- What if I do?
- Are you aware whenever you use a website...
to... make explosives, say,
or to build a bomb,
that that visit is logged and stored
on the computer's hard disk indelibly?
You had no right!
You would never have left him.
16 years she put up with it.
It's the usual thing - men like Finnegan,
it's all about power.
And the same old pattern.
He'd be OK for months
and then he'd lose it.
And you'd come running back.
"Take care of me, Tessa.
But don't tell anybody,
cos I love him and it's not his fault."
I did love him.
Yes.
But it was his fault.
And then you found out he had MS.
Yes.
And for a moment I thought
maybe there is a God.
We could be together.
But then it hit me.
If you hadn't left him when he was healthy,
you'd never leave him now.
It's not in your nature.
Why didn't you report it to the police
that she was being beaten?
I wouldn't let her.
He wasn't a bad man. He loved me.
You see, that's what I couldn't stand,
the idea of this sweet, sweet woman tending
that... animal for years and years and years.
So you killed the man I loved?
And then what, hm?
You and me together, happy ever after?
God, you're just like him,
pulling the strings,
trying to manipulate me.
No... I did it for you.
And the attack on my wife...
...and on Havers.
That was you too, wasn't it?
God in heaven, why?
To make it seem like there was some connection
between Finnegan's death and a past case.
I never meant for your
wife to lose the baby.
I regret that every day.
But not what I did to Finnegan,
not what I did for you.
You wouldn't listen, Grace.
No, you wouldn't listen.
I loved him.
Not you, him.
If other people don't understand, too bad.
He was mine, for better and for worse.
He would never have changed.
No, you're wrong. He had changed, he had.
He was trying to make things right.
Hadn't laid a finger on me for months.
It was my marriage, Tessa, my life.
You stole my life.
Roger that. Are you in position?
Let me know if backup is required.
Sergeant, hold that.
OK.
- That should help Lizzie Shakespeare.
- Sir?
Now that Finnegan's been exposed
as a wife beater,
his testimony will never stand up
to a second appeal.
My bet is she'll be out by Christmas.
- Good for her.
- Tessa!
You had no right!
No!
Havers!
Barbara!
Barbara.
you testified at the original trial
in your capacity as forensic psychologist,
did you not?
- I did, yes.
- Perhaps you could summarise.
I was firmly of the view that Lizzie
Shakespeare murdered her husband in cold blood.
He may have beaten her, as alleged,
but I do not believe that her knife attack
was a spur of the moment act of self-defence.
- Her state of mind?
- Entirely rational.
She knew precisely what she was doing.
And having monitored her during
her two years in prison, your view now?
The same.
I can see no medical grounds for a release
or transfer to a psychiatric hospital.
So you refute a defence
of diminished responsibility?
Absolutely. Lizzie Shakespeare is, and was,
100% competent.
Responsible for her actions.
Thank you, Professor Finnegan.
The question is, has any compelling
new evidence been laid before this court.
Answer: No.
We're therefore minded to agree with
Professor Finnegan.
Lizzie Shakespeare is, and was,
100% competent.
The conviction stands.
Appeal denied.
Finnegan! You are the scum of the earth!
- This is all down to you.
- Order in court!
I swear to God you'll be sorry.
As his daughter resumed
her life sentence for murder,
Noel Shakespeare vowed yesterday
to continue his fight to clear her name.
In a statement, Mr Shakespeare, who has
mortgaged the family home to pay legal fees...
Close your eyes.
OK.
Which hand?
That one.
That's beautiful.
Thank you.
What's the occasion?
Does there have to be an occasion?
Have a good day.
You're not eating.
Dad, I'm fine.
The police have still got Finnegan's body,
what's left of it.
The memorial's today,
which means drinks on me tonight.
A man's dead and you're gloating.
This is a break for us, Lizzie.
With Finnegan gone, we stand a good chance
of a second appeal.
The man had a wife.
I haven't been able to
hold a proper funeral.
But I can at least plant this rose
in Dermot's memory.
Thank you all for coming.
It means a great deal.
I'm so sorry.
- Waste of time, this.
- Oh, yeah?
You've killed a bloke, right?
The place is crawling with coppers.
Are you seriously going to show?
You'd have to be a pepperoni short
of a full pizza.
Any more tea?
What's your governor's missus
doing here anyway?
She knew Finnegan.
He was her mentor
when she was starting out.
Oh no.
- Sleep with her, did he?
- What?
Well, I worked with him. Ladies' man.
Known for it.
Mind you, I wouldn't say no.
Preggers or not.
And they say romance is dead.
My condolences again, Mrs Finnegan.
We are doing everything we can.
Have you met my wife Helen?
I shadowed your husband
on a case years ago.
He taught me a lot. I'm so sorry.
Thank you. Which case?
A murder. Peter Stephanopoulos.
Oh, yes. He killed his business partner.
Crikey, that was years ago.
Nice touch, Grace, the rose.
Mind you, a cactus would have done
the old goat just as well.
Hello, Maureen.
Inspector Lynley, his wife Helen,
Maureen Finnegan.
You're the professor's sister?
First wife. I kept the name.
The one thing the old
goat couldn't take away.
All back to yours, is it?
- Finnegan's wake.
- Yes.
- I hope you'll join us.
- Once more with feeling, Gracie.
Bull will, all the same.
Who's driving? Man or woman?
- Can't tell.
- Well, get a number.
I can only make out the first half.
It was good of you to come all the way from
Dublin. Dermot would have appreciated it.
Really?
Tell you what, Gracie, you won't want to be
on your own, not for a week or so,
why don't I stay, look after you?
She's well taken care of. Don't worry.
Excuse us.
I was telling Inspector Lynley
how well you were bearing up.
I can't take your happy
pills for ever, though, can I?
No, but they'll help you through the worst.
I take it you're Mrs Finnegan's GP.
No, a friend of the family.
I'm an obstetrician over
at Gloucester General.
Tessa is my tower of strength.
- Have you chosen a name yet?
- No, we're still negotiating that one.
When you feel up to it, I need to ask you
some questions about your husband.
Well, erm... well, now's
as good a time as any.
Erm... some fresh air?
Beautiful gardens.
25 years probing the criminal mind, Dermot said
he'd had enough of people - preferred plants.
Oh, this was his hideout.
Used to come here to work, think.
- Did he discuss his cases with you?
- Hardly ever. Too grim, he said.
So no particular names spring to mind,
grudges?
Afraid not, no.
The bomb was planted on the night
of the Lizzie Shakespeare appeal.
Your husband arrived home at ten, yes?
And the bomb itself?
Crude.
But straightforward.
- We 're waiting on the lab reports.
- A professional job?
Not necessarily, no.
We're considering all possibilities.
Including me.
Well, I'm afraid I am duty-bound
to ask where you were.
Honestly...
No, no, he's just doing his job.
I was here with my husband.
Thank you.
There is one thing I should mention.
Dermot told me
he'd been getting anonymous calls.
A man saying, "Do the right thing,"
then hanging up.
- When?
- About three, four weeks ago.
Why didn't he tell me?
Didn't want to worry you, I suppose.
And that's your excuse, too?
Yep.
Well, we'll look into the
phone company records.
If anything else comes to mind...
All sorted. Found a nice spare room.
Well...
Don't thank me, just happy to help.
I really don't think
I'm up to company at the moment.
Excuse us.
I'm staying. Clear?
- And spare me the crocodile tears.
- I don't know what you're talking about.
Don't come the innocent,
Grace. Not with me.
If I had the full registration
I'd give it you, wouldn't I?
Just speed it up, OK?
- You can be quite scary sometimes.
- Thanks. I try.
- What have we got?
- Well, we've got half a registration and this.
Came alone, didn't speak to anyone.
- Was she at the party?
- It's a wake, Turner.
No, she wasn't.
All right, then. Let's go.
According to a family friend, there's been
a spate of anonymous calls recently,
telling Finnegan to "do the right thing".
Something to do with
the Lizzie Shakespeare appeal?
Maybe.
We're going off to see the father now.
He's got a pub near Broadway.
I see.
Is there a problem?
Well, er... it's just it's a bit irregular.
I know, but A, I knew Dermot, and B,
maternity leave is driving me insane.
Gotta keep the brain from turning to mush.
You and Turner
get to work on the mystery woman,
and I want you to check out
Finnegan's outhouse.
Right, sir. Thanks very much.
Sorry, no, not a clue.
Nor me.
But I'm surprised there weren't more of
them there, crawling out of the woodwork.
- More of who?
- His bits of fluff, floozies.
Maureen.
OK.
Just to be clear, and I'm
sorry if this is awkward,
but Professor Finnegan was married to you
when he starting seeing you, yeah?
Seeing? Is that what they call it?
The answer is yes. ls there anything else?
It's been a long day.
Inspector Lynley
said something about an outhouse.
- Nicholas, Joseph...
- Alexander.
Jennifer.
- He'll have hell at school.
- Silly man.
So tell me,
what was Dermot Finnegan really like?
Charming, inspiring, very clever.
Sounds like someone had a crush.
Hardly. Anyway, that was years ago.
George.
- Trying to change the subject.
- Honestly.
Is that a gun cabinet?
Yes, yes.
Dermot used to like to give the rabbits
a run for their money.
All above board.
- Permits are here.
- Thanks.
I'll er... I'll leave you to it.
OK.
- All right?
- Yeah.
- Anything?
- No. I'll meet you out front, yeah?
OK.
Ladies and gentlemen, friends,
my Lizzie should be here, but she's not.
So the fight's still on.
I'm lobbying for a second appeal,
which means more lawyers,
which means more money.
Gentlemen.
Thank you.
Max?
Sir?
My advice? Face facts.
Right or wrong,
Lizzie's going to serve her full sentence.
Over my dead body.
You need to get on with your life,
and you need to let people have a pint
without a lecture on British justice.
Losing faith, Max?
Huh. Losing readers.
Lizzie's had more front pages
than any other story.
She's not a story, she's my daughter.
Mr Shakespeare? DI Lynley.
- You've got a nerve.
- I beg your pardon?
Where were your lot when Lizzie needed you?
Seven times she reported that brute -
seven times, in nine years.
Well, as I understand it,
there were never any witnesses.
No third-party corroboration,
so the police couldn't prosecute.
And your daughter repeatedly refused
to press charges.
Of course she did, she was petrified.
I'm here investigating the murder
of Professor Finnegan.
Now, if there's somewhere more private
we can talk?
Where did you go after the appeal?
Came back here. Am I a suspect?
Were you open for business as usual?
The show must go on. Am I a suspect?
I'm only trying to establish the facts,
Mr Shakespeare.
Where were you between 10pm that night
and 8am the following morning?
Here. Closed at 11:30, went to bed-.
No witnesses after closing time.
- The wife's long gone.
- Gone where?
Australia. Apparently, I'm obsessed,
impossible to live with.
Mind if I ask what other sites you use?
- If I say no?
- We get a warrant.
Tell me, did you ever contact
Dermot Finnegan directly?
Professor Psycho-bloody-babble?
No, I did not.
Lizzie's got life thanks
to him. Bloody shrinks.
As bad as you lot.
- Actually, I'm a shrink. Police profiler.
- Yeah?
Couldn't get a proper job?
Helen happens to be one of the best
in the business. She is also my wife.
Can I ask why you use this ex-cons website?
- What?
- You've never been inside, have you?
Trying to find other poor sods who've been
stitched up by Finnegan's 'expertise'-.
One miscarriage of justice down to
that charlatan and his reputation's shot.
- Which would help Lizzie's appeal.
- Too right.
So.. when have you found?
Nothing yet.
- Hope springs eternal.
- I'd like to take your computer, please.
Why?
Have our experts analyse the hard disk-
Any objections?
So, Ms Psycho-babble, verdict?
On Shakespeare?
Totally obsessed, and who can blame him?
His daughter's beaten for years, then ends
up behind bars for trying to protect herself.
- I'd be pretty deranged, wouldn't you?
- She did kill her husband.
- In self-defence.
- Yeah, does that make it all right?
No, it makes it complicated.
Question is, did Shakespeare use
the ex-cons website like he said he did
or was he trying to find a hit man
to kill Finnegan?
Havers!
Er... just to let you know no luck yet
on our mystery mourner.
Right, well, keep at it. Anything else?
Barbara?
Er... no, sir.
- Hi.
- Hi.
You coming in for supper?
- I expect she has plans.
- Yeah, thanks all the same.
Hot date?
Hot bath.
Right, that's it. Come on.
Let's not mince words, Grace.
His motto was "Anything with a pulse."
I'm not saying he was perfect,
but he was kind and generous.
The presents? Guilty conscience. Lord
knows he had enough to feel guilty about.
I do wish you wouldn't go on.
I brought my photos.
The good old days.
I'm not interested in the past.
Ah, suit yourself.
Silver? Very nice.
Do you know who you remind me of?
Me. 20 years ago.
Little Miss Meek and Mild.
Assertiveness training,
that's what you need.
It changed my life.
Don't take this the wrong way,
but how long are you thinking of staying?
Till the will is read.
The will? Well, surely you don't expect...
Like I said, Catholic guilt running
through him like a stick of rock.
He'll see me right.
Excuse me.
I thought a casserole wouldn't go amiss.
I don't suppose you feel like cooking.
Thank you. How thoughtful-.
It's a bit late, though,
or we'd invite you in.
It's only half past nine.
Stay for a glass of wine.
- You've just lost your husband.
- I know, but...
You need your rest. Right, Doctor?
I thought you might like company.
She's got company.
Well, erm... another time, then.
Good night.
Right.
- Morning, sir.
- Morning.
- Thanks for last night.
- Pleasure.
What have we got?
Er... we've got some old love letters -
found them in Finnegan's outhouse.
Told you. Ladies' man. Anything juicy?
This might be something, sir.
SOCO found them about 100 yards
from Finnegan's house.
- Parts of the bomb?
- Maybe. Might be fragments of the casing.
I've been trying to work out if it's
one word or bits of different words.
- Well, keep at it. Anything else?
- Yep.
News on the Chevy
at Finnegan's memorial service.
- Possible registrations, 27 names.
- Yeah, we've eliminated 12.
Lucky 13, I'd say.
Sir?
Peter Stephanopoulos.
Helen mentioned him the other day
as being one of Finnegan's past cases.
I'll give her a call.
- I get it.
- Get what?
You and him.
Romeo and Juliet.
More like Punch and Judy, actually.
- Oh, yeah.
- Yes.
And relax down.
Other side, left, take it up.
Exhale.
And... relax.
Tommy. Terrible timing.
Sorry. Can you tell me about that case you
did with Finnegan - Peter Stephanopoulos?
Estate agent, murdered his business partner
about 15 years ago.
So he should be out by now.
I should think so.
- And you profiled him as the murderer, yes?
- Hardly. I just shadowed Finnegan.
He did all the work. Why?
It seems your Mr Stephanopoulos
turned up at the memorial.
He's a mechanic now,
he's got a garage in Lower Upton.
- That's not far from Finnegan's house-
- Give me two hours, I?! come with you.
- Are you trying to do Havers out of a job?
- Ready when you are.
Tommy, I'm pregnant,
not brain-dead, I'd like to come.
You're on leave, remember? Finish
your class and have lunch with the girls.
Go shopping-
Could you be a little more patronising?
.I'll call you later.
Take the right ear down to the shoulder.
Sorry.
Everything OK?
Fine. Shall we go?
Nice. Might be able to fit you in tomorrow.
What's wrong with it?
Nothing. DI Lynley and DS Havers.
Is Peter Stephanopoulos here?
You'll be lucky. Gone
fishing down by the bridge.
Does he drive a Chevy Blazer, LK46 VLO?
Yeah.
He attended a memorial service yesterday,
and we'd like to know why.
Memorial, was it? He keeps me in the dark
like a flaming mushroom.
- I'm Janice.
- His wife?
Girlfriend, and admin supremo.
Before you ask, yes, I
know all about his past.
But he was married, right, to Gina?
Yeah, she did a runner. Before my time.
Any idea why he'd attend the memorial
of the man who helped put him away?
Not a clue.
Excuse me.
- Ah, hello.
- Hi.
- Shouldn't you be at home putting your feet up?
- Don't you start
- Tommy not around?
- No, he's gone out.
- Can I help?
- Are these Finnegan's case files?
- Yes, but I'm not sure you're supposed to...
- I'd kill for a coffee.
Milk, no sugar.
Er... right.
If my husband calls,
tell him to stay right where he is.
OK.
- Er... bye.
- Bye!
Well, this is where Janice said he'd be.
I assume he's actually gone fishing.
Hello?
- Is that the king of condescension?
- Not still going on about that, are you?
- Where are you?
- Er... Lower Upton. You?
- About ten minutes away.
- What?
I checked Finnegan's case file
on Peter Stephanopoulos.
Found a love letter. Guess who from?
- One of Finnegan's harem?
- Gina Stephanopoulos.
No?
Written to Finnegan
while her husband was in prison.
She had an affair with Finnegan after
he put her husband away for ten years?
Looks like it.
Helen?
Helen?
Helen?
Still unconscious, lost lots of blood.
- The baby?
- Can't say.
- You coming or not?
- Go.
Go, sir, now.
Right, everyone, listen up.
Now, we've got no
witnesses, so it's down to us.
And if there is a scrap of evidence,
an atom, within ten miles,
then we're gonna find it.
- Starting with the bullet.
- It wasn't a bullet.
It was an airgun pellet.
37-year-old woman, six months pregnant.
Blood pressure 80 over 50, pulse 110.
- Tommy?
- I'm here, darling, I'm here.
Come on, Helen, stay with us now.
Has anyone paged Professor Morrison yet?
- Where the hell have you been?
- Waste of time. Didn't catch a thing.
- Not even the clap?
- Don't be silly, give us a kiss.
You had visitors. Police.
Your wife's recovering from the operation.
She lost consciousness again,
but we're hopeful she'll recover fully.
- What about the...
- The damage to the placenta was too great.
I'm afraid we couldn't save the baby.
I can't tell you how sorry I am.
I feel like I'm being punished.
For what?
"Be careful what you wish for."
That's what they say, isn't it?
You didn't want her to lose the baby.
Of course not, I didn't.
Do you remember
when I found out she was pregnant?
I er...
- Well, I...
- You what?
You weren't sure you were up to it?
Worried about how your life might change?
I mean, I'm no expert, but...
everyone has those doubts-.
But this... this is not your fault-.
- Should have been there.
- And what could you have done if you were?
I don't know. Something.
You just need to take some time off.
- And then maybe...
- Take leave?
- Are you out of your mind?
- I'm sorry.
Whoever did this is gonna realise
they're messing with the wrong family.
What we need to do is establish a
clear link between Helen and Finnegan.
Apart from the obvious -
this Stephanopoulos thing-.
Well, erm... there is another angle.
Well, I tried to mention it before, but...
I found this with the love letters.
It looks like Helen was seeing Dermot
about 16 years ago.
I can read, Havers.
She didn't tell you?
No.
Why didn't you tell me
about this yesterday?
I didn't know how.
I'm so sorry.
Where are you going?
If Helen was involved with Finnegan 16 years
ago, then he was still married to Maureen.
What? You think she might bear a grudge?
After all these years?
I don't know, but it's a start
Sir...
This is all a bit too close to home.
Shouldn't you...
Are you seriously telling me
what I should and shouldn't do?
- You of all people?
- No, I just think...
You should have told me about this.
New, you stay here and you do not leave
my wife unattended for one single second-.
- Understood?
- Won't she want you here...
Is that understood?
Sir.
I'm er... I'm terribly sorry.
I hope your wife's going to be OK.
Thank you.
Why are you here?
It seems that my wife was involved
with Professor Finnegan.
- Ages ago. Yes.
- So you did know?
Of course. Recognised her at the memorial.
The man kept all their
photos, like trophies.
I see.
May I ask where you were at midday today?
You think I had... Now wait a minute.
No disrespect to your wife, but Dermot's
philosophy was so many women, so little time.
Revenge for every single fling?
I'd be at it till Doomsday.
All the same, where were you?
Having a late breakfast. Eggs, bacon,
tomatoes from the garden, wasn't it?
- Anything else?
- You seem very at home here.
Grace is very hospitable.
- Where were you at 12 o'clock?
- In the rose garden, reading. Why?
It's just occurred to me.
The Inspector's wife wasn't Dermot's
only bit on the side all those years ago,
was she, Gracie?
I don't know what you mean.
None of us had the exclusive
on the old goat, did we?
And the green-eyed monster
does things to even the nicest people.
- How is she?
- Progressing. She's breathing on her own-.
- Oh, that's great.
- Well, early days.
Yeah. ls there any chance of a cup of tea?
I'm not supposed to move.
Are you worried he might try again? Here?
Well, we're not taking any chances.
Do you think this is linked
to what happened to Dermot Finnegan?
Erm... well, maybe.
They did know each other years ago,
they worked on a case together.
- DI Lynley's checking it out now.
- Nurse, tea for DS Havers, please.
- No problem.
- Machine, I'm afraid.
- Tastes like sump oil.
- Cheers.
Peter Stephanopoulos?
Who wants to know?
12 o'clock?
- I was fishing.
- At your usual spot?
I moved. Downriver.
Any reason?
Ten years inside,
I like to go where the fancy takes me.
- Catch anything?
- Just tiddlers.
- Anyone see you?
- Nah.
That's the beauty of fishing.
You can go for hours.
Not a soul in sight.
- Anyway, why would I take a pop at your wife?
- You tell me.
And while you're about it, tell me
why you went to Finnegan's memorial.
- Why shouldn't I go?
- For starters,
the man was partly responsible
fer your serving ten years for murder-.
Paying your last respects, were you?
I once heard about this Hollywood producer.
Real tyrant.
Everyone hated his guts.
But when they buried him,
there was a queue round the block.
Not for affection, or respect.
They all just wanted to make sure
the old sod was really dead.
So, I take it you do bear a little grudge
towards him.
Well, he wasn't on my Christmas list.
But not cos he did his job.
I took a life.
Finnegan helped put me away - fair do's.
Having an affair with your wife
while you're inside,
now that's not quite such fair do's, is it?
- How do you know about that?
- I know she left you.
- For him.
- Look...
Am I glad Finnegan's pushing up daisies?
You bet.
Did I do it? Nah.
Oh, good timing.
- Where's the loo?
- Right, and fourth door on the right.
Please, don't move. I
will be two minutes, yeah?
- Emergency C-section, cubicle four.
- But...
Now!
Havers?
Where the hell were you?
I was two minutes. I... I told the nurse.
Outside now.
What is the matter with you?
Anyone could have got in.
- What happened to you?
- Emergency. Sorry.
Unbelievable. Totally
irresponsible, total dereliction of duty.
I must be mad to fight your corner.
Should have got shot of you
when I had the chance.
Get Turner down here-
You obviously can't do it by yourself.
Sir.
Yes! What?
Nothing.
Hiya.
How's she doing?
- What does it look like?
- Blimey, who rattled your cage?
You wanted Finnegan's case files.
Thanks.
Ah, still playing word games?
Ah-huh.
OK.
- Half each.
- All right. What am I looking for?
Another link. She's in
here, Finnegan's dead.
They worked together on one case -
Stephanopoulos. Maybe there's more.
How did you get on with that woman
at the memorial?
I traced everyone else there.
No-one has a clue.
It could have been anyone.
Everybody hates journalists.
- It wasn't anyone. It was you.
- My guess? One of your readers
who thinks you're a gutless hypocrite
more interested in flogging papers
than you are in a miscarriage of justice.
Here you go, Max.
The police like a nice graffiti case.
Bit simpler than protecting women
from brutal thugs.
- Where were you at 12 o'clock today?
- What have I done now?
My wife was attacked.
Why would I attack your wife?
I didn't say you did,
I just asked you where you were.
In the back, writing to my MP. By hand.
You'll get your computer back when
we've finished analysing the hard disk.
- Is your wife all right?
- No, she's in hospital.
Be careful. He'll have a sneak picture on
the front page before you can say paparazzi.
We've just lost our baby
and someone is responsible for that.
Well, not me. And I'm sorry.
But maybe now you know how I feel-.
Someone you love. Something terrible
happens, there's nothing you can do about it.
It's enough to drive any man half-mad.
Well, if there is another link
between her and Finnegan it's not here.
Nor here.
The lads are going out for a drink. Coming?
What planet are you on?
Sorry.
She's stable, but still no sign
of regaining consciousness.
Sir, I just want to say I'm sorry about...
Well, you know...
I'm sure she'll be OK.
Medical expert, are you?
No, I just meant...
Yeah, I know. Thanks.
You can go.
- But I thought you...
- Yes?
Nothing, sir.
Right, well, erm... Good night.
Good night.
- Any news?
- Erm... no leads in the professor's files.
The Irish police
are checking on Maureen Finnegan.
- I'm glad to hear it.
- Why?
I don't like her.
Do you think the attack on your wife ties
in with what happened to Professor Finnegan?
Well, er... hard to say.
We got an address for
Stephanopoulos's wife - Cheltenham.
We sent a PC round-
The neighbours haven't seen her for days-.
Try again tomorrow. I'm going to be
interviewing Lizzie Shakespeare first thing.
Why?
If her father had anything to do with Finnegan's
death, she might have known what he planned.
I'll get someone to bring you a blanket.
Thank you.
Yeah, I could stay tonight, if you like.
No.
You go.
OK.
I'm leaving here at nine,
sol need you back by then.
And can you do me a favour?
I'm going to need some
fresh clothes and things.
So will Helen. Would you mind?
Yeah.
Maybe you could get somebody else
to stand guard tomorrow.
Yes, I could.
But erm... no-one I trust as much as you.
What, even after today?
Especially after today.
And I'm... I'm sorry.
Right.
Good night, sir.
So what are you saying?
That my father made a car bomb,
and blew Finnegan to bits?
The man runs a pub, for God's sake.
He belongs to the bowls club, not Al-Qaeda.
Anyone could learn how to make explosives
these days,
if they're determined enough-.
Look...
my mum ran off, left my dad high and dry.
I'm in here,
and I wake up every morning
knowing I took my husband's life.
My family's in shreds.
And now you want to hound my dad
for something he didn't do?
When do you people stop?
When we get the truth.
Whose truth?
Tell me one thing.
You could have left your husband,
just packed your bags, walked away.
Why didn't you?
He's fine for ages.
Months.
Then he gets that look...
...and you know it's coming.
And you know it's your fault.
You burnt the bacon.
You flirted with that bloke at the party.
You're too this... you're too that.
And pan of you believes him.
You believe it's your fault.
Especially later...
when he swears he'll never hit you again.
And please don't leave,
because he needs you.
And you love each other.
And this time it'll be different.
Only...
it's never different.
And you're too ashamed to admit
you haven't got the guts to leave.
That's why I stayed.
Shame.
And fear.
Thank you for your time.
I've got plenty of that.
- Lynley.
- It's Turner, sir. How's your wife?
No change. What have you got?
A body in the river over in Lower Upton.
We've got to get the divers.
Roger, I'll have them with you in the hour.
See this ligature mark around her neck?
Garrotted, I'd say, then dumped.
The body's been in water 24 hours, tops.
Whoever did it tied those stones
around her neck to weigh her down.
Didn't do a very good job of it.
Wearing the same clothes she was here.
Except the necklace is missing.
So you know who she is?
No.
No, all we know is that she was
in a churchyard the other day.
Well... she'll be in another one soon.
Excuse me.
Thanks very much.
Oh, he's lovely.
Yeah.
Only, he's a she.
Sorry.
That's all right.
We're thinking of Abigail.
Abigail. That's nice.
Thanks.
And we're sure that this
is the body in the river?
Sir?
Sorry?
Yes...
I've asked Turner to
check the dental records.
Whose?
Gina Stephanopoulos
and Noel Shakespeare's ex-wife.
I thought she moved to Australia.
That's what he said.
I've also asked him to check
with Immigration down under.
Dinner is served.
Thanks, I'm really not very hungry.
Don't blame you. The Domestic Goddess
hasn't quite made it to Gloucester General.
I'll have yours, sir.
How did you get on with Lizzie Shakespeare?
Nothing new.
Very impressive, though.
And I read Finnegan's
evidence from the trial.
No doubt about it, it
turned the jury against her.
Unfairly?
Maybe.
That husband of hers was a real brute.
I'm not saying he deserved to die, but...
he pushed her right to the edge.
- Dr Khan needs a word.
- Excuse me.
- Lynley.
- It's Turner, sir.
We've got news on Shakespeare's computer.
Traces of e-mails between Noel Shakespeare
and Peter Stephanopoulos.
- He deleted them but they're on the hard disk.
- What are they about?
We're trying to retrieve the e-mails.
We've just got (he addresses.
How about the dental records?
I'm on the case.
I want you to chivvy up the phone company.
Those threatening calls Finnegan told Tessa
Jellicoe about. I want to know who made them.
Helen's instinct was right.
Shakespeare had been in touch
with Stephanopoulos, via e-mail.
- And they both hated Finnegan.
- They're in it together.
Shakespeare learns how to make a bomb
on the net,
but he still needs a mechanic
to wire Finnegan's car.
That doesn't explain the attack on Helen.
No, but it's got to be
one of them, hasn't it?
It has to be.
Has to be.
With respect, sir, um...
have you thought about handing this over
to someone less involved?
I beg your pardon?
Well, it doesn't have to be anything.
What happened to Helen and to you is...
...well, is terrible and...
But I think you're letting
it get in the way of...
- Doing my job?
- No, thinking clearly.
Are you making a formal complaint,
Detective Sergeant?
No...
Well, it isn't exactly by the book, is it?
Oh, excuse me. What's that expression?
Pot... kettle... black?
- All I'm saying is...
- If you're concerned about doing it by the book,
then you just do what
you have to, all right?
And I'll do what I have to.
There is one way to find out
if it's Shakespeare or Stephanopoulos.
No guarantees, but it's worth a go-.
I'm listening.
If one of them really did have
something against Helen, then...
...maybe we could give them another chance.
To do what?
- To have another crack at her.
- What?
Try and flush them out using a decoy.
Me.
I need my computer back now.
We're still not done with it.
I'm trying to run a campaign!
I'm trying to find out who murdered
Finnegan and who attacked my wife.
- How is she?
- Better.
She's driving herself
back to London tonight.
In your posh car?
I hope she's not like my wife -
more prangs than I've had pies.
Does she keep in touch?
No, thank God.
You know Peter Stephanopoulos.
What if I do?
You e-mail each other. Why?
Pete was one of the ex-convicts
I tracked down on that website.
Finnegan testified at his trial,
swung the jury against him,
same as he did with my Lizzie.
And you hoped Stephanopoulos could
somehow help nun Finnegan.
Not him, his reputation.
Could he?
No.
But we got on OK. He drinks here sometimes.
Any law against that?
Look, you've got me wrong, Inspector.
I didn't take a pot shot at your wife.
And the only man I've ever wanted to kill
was Lizzie's husband.
The tragedy is, she beat me to it.
Who made the first contact,
you or Shakespeare?
He did.
I got an e-mail out of the blue.
He said he was looking for a way
to nun Finnegan, blow him out of the water.
Unfortunate turn of phrase.
His reputation.
Odd, you and Shakespeare.
Same story, almost word for word.
Anyone would think you'd rehearsed it.
He did call a couple of
hours ago, as it happens.
He said you were snooping around,
- looking in all the wrong places.
- We'll see.
He also said your wife's on the mend.
Going home tonight, is that right?
What if it is?
Nothing.
Glad she's better, that's all.
Helen?
How do I look?
Very convincing.
Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think.
Body armour?
Yeah, it weighs a ton.
I'm not sure I should
be letting you do this.
Sir.
I want to help.
Alpha Two Zero.
With you, Alpha Two Zero. Game on.
Game?
Sorry, sir.
It handles very nicely.
I could get used to this.
Mind on the job, Havers.
Yes, sir.
Pull back a bit, Alpha Two Zero.
- Let her off the leash.
- Right you are, sir.
So far, so good.
Nurse!
That's a bit too close.
Havers?
That is you, sir, isn't it,
coming up behind me?
No.
Well... someone's getting friendly.
A bit too friendly.
Alpha Two Zero, registration check.
Sierra Juliet 53...
...Yankee, Foxtrot, Delta.
He's flashing me.
OK, reel him in.
Registration check, sir. It's Dr Jellicoe.
- What is going on?
- You tell me.
This is my way home. I saw your car.
You were driving like a maniac!
I just got a call.
Your wife's regained consciousness.
Where were you?
Trying to find out who did this.
Oh, Tommy.
Our baby.
I know.
Will she be OK?
We'll run some tests, but, yes,
she can probably go home tomorrow.
I'm sorry about all that palaver.
No, no, it's OK.
Look, are you still on duty, or do you
want to tell me about it over a drink?
Yeah.
Thank you.
Always a pleasure to serve the police.
My Pete been in?
No. Lost him again?
You'd tell me, wouldn't you,
if he had someone else?
Rule No. 1 of running a pub:
see all, hear all, say nowt-.
What's that supposed to mean?
Ah, thanks.
So, why all the drama earlier?
Well, um...
we thought that one of our suspects might
take another crack at DI Lynley's wife.
By suspects you mean?
Well... or her boyfriend.
He seems to have been putting it about
nearly as much as Finnegan.
I'm sorry, I forgot. You were friends.
Well, still. Men, eh?
What do you make of Finnegan's first wife?
What, Maureen?
I'm not sure, why?
I worry about Grace. Maureen seems to be
taking over. She won't let me near.
Well, we're checking her out.
I'll let you know.
Will you stay for another?
Oh, no, I'm driving.
And it's the boss's car.
Back to London?
Local B&B.
So there's no Mr Right waiting up,
keeping the home fires burning?
That'll be the day.
I know it feels like the end of the world.
We could try again, you know.
Darling...
I don't think I can talk
about this right now.
Sorry.
I still don't know... who attacked you.
I'm no closer to finding
out who killed your um...
...your friend, Finnegan.
Why do you say it like that?
Helen, I know you were lovers.
Havers...
Havers found this in the outhouse study.
Tommy...
it was years ago, I was a kid.
Oh, I know.
I know. It doesn't matter.
It really doesn't matter.
Listen, I'm just glad you're OK.
You know.
So glad you're OK.
We'll get through this, I promise.
What's happening? I'm calling the police.
No, no, I am the police.
So, he saw the car,
assumed you were the guv'nor's wife?
Seems like it.
It worked, then, your little decoy trick.
Who's going to pay for the damage?
We'll son it out.
What if they come back?
Don't worry. I'm here now.
My hero.
Do you do room service?
You don't need a room.
You won't be sleeping.
Night.
You're lucky it was a lamp they broke,
not your skull.
We've sent the brick off to Forensics.
- Think you were followed from the pub?
- Possibly.
Someone inside watching us all along?
I doubt it.
They'd know it was me and not Helen.
- Do we know where Stephanopoulos was?
- Not yet.
Get on to Shakespeare. I want a
list of everyone in the pub last night.
- Assuming it wasn't Shakespeare himself.
- All right, I'm ready.
What's going on?
Someone had a go at Havers.
- While you were decoy for me?
- Yeah.
- Are you all right?
- I'm fine.
You'd better stay, I suppose.
- I said I'd drive you home and I will.
- Turner can drive me.
You're obviously still a target, darling.
In that case, the sooner you find out
who's behind this, the better.
Right.
I don't need to tell you
how much I'm relying on you, do I?
No, sir.
I'll be home later tonight-.
Then we can talk.
Properly.
OK.
Sir?
Just got a dental records ID
on the body in the river.
It was Gina Stephanopoulos,
who, as we know, was
garrotted with thin wire...
like a fishing line.
Here they come... Laurel and Hardy.
Where were you at 11 o'clock last night?
Minding my own business-.
Enough of the smart aleck stuff.
My sergeant here was attacked.
I was with a friend.
- What friend?
- No-one you know.
Does this friend have a name?
Stacy Caner, local hairdresser.
Local bike.
We were just talking.
Is this a picture of your ex-wife?
Yeah.
We pulled her out of the river
two days ago. She was murdered.
Oh, my God.
Poor Gina.
Someone tried to weigh her down
with stones but didn't do a good job-.
She was garrotted... with a fishing line.
Ah, so you assume it was me, eh?
Estimated time of death
between midday and midnight on Thursday.
I was here...
working till seven.
I had dinner with Janice, went to bed.
And you can confirm that?
Hello?
They're asking you a question.
Oh, my God.
You cheap, lying...
Early birthday present?
- It's hers!
- We had dinner, went to bed.
- He went off on Thursday.
- Don't listen to her.
- He got back late, maybe 11.
- Shut your mouth!
Gina knew you'd never
forgive her, didn't she?
For having an affair with the man
who put you away for ten years-.
So she went to ground.
But she came out for Finnegan's memorial.
That's why you were there.
Wasn't it? Am I right?
I want my lawyer.
Once you'd found her, you couldn't
do anything, too many people.
So you waited.
You followed her.
And you took your revenge.
I want my lawyer.
Do you think he killed them both,
his ex-wife and Finnegan?
- The motives there, technical know-how.
- Enough to build a bomb?
Maybe he learned to use explosives
from the net.
Let's get his computer analysed as well.
He can certainly wire a car-.
- Can I make a suggestion, sir?
- What now?
Leave this to me.
You need to go home
and take care of your wife...
...if you don't mind my saying so.
No.
Thank you, Havers.
- Evening, sir.
- Everything all right?
Yes, sir, your wife's upstairs-.
Australian Immigration confirmed
Noel Shakespeare's wife
moved to Melbourne last July.
But phone company records show
he made four calls to Finnegan
in the three weeks before Lizzie's appeal,
which ties in with what Tessa Jellicoe said
about threats to Finnegan.
Right.
I'll see you tomorrow morning, eight sharp.
Night, sir.
Hi, darling. I've got supper.
Your favourite.
Helen?
I don't believe this is happening.
Do stop moaning. He left the house to you.
And everything else to you -
cash, stocks, everything.
Guilt running through him like a stick
of rock. This is payback time, Gracie.
I was like you. I was the perfect wife.
But he treated me like a dog.
You've been Lady Muck all these years
and I've had nothing.
This is nothing to do with guilt. Why
did he change his will three months ago?
The man changed his mind, that's all.
People do.
He told you, didn't he?
He told you he was
putting you in the new will.
Don't upset yourself.
The house is worth a fortune-.
Worst comes to the worst, sell.
They call it downsizing.
- Where are you going?
- To shop till I drop.
You might want to check your name's on the
house deeds, just to set your mind at rest.
Toodle-oo.
"Dear Professor Finnegan,
we are sorry to learn of your condition.
We can confirm your policy does cover
multiple sclerosis."
And you knew about this?
Yes.
Hello, are you all right?
- Fine, thank you.
- We're busy.
Dermot came to me in confidence.
You knew he had MS.
You knew for three months
and you didn't tell me.
He didn't want to burden
you before he had to.
- And I had to respect his privacy.
- I'm his wife.
He would have had to tell you soon
the MS was progressing.
A few stumbles he could pass off as clumsiness,
but not for much longer and he knew it.
Hm?
Am I right in thinking
he named you as sole beneficiary?
Of the life insurance, yes,
but not in the new will...
as, no doubt, you know.
What new will?
Oh, Tessa.
How can I believe anything you say?
A dozen white roses.
Make that two dozen.
No, no card.
She'll know who they're from.
Thank you.
It hardly makes up for
what happened, does it?
Still, what else can I do?
OK, so what have we got?
Well, we've...
We've just had a call from Grace Finnegan.
Not a happy bunny.
She wants us to check out Maureen.
Because?
Because Finnegan left
her a shed load of dosh.
And Maureen knew
that she was in the will in advance.
If Maureen wanted the money in a hurry...
It would tie in with this fax
we got from the Irish police.
She's broke.
She put in a phoney insurance claim
for a burglary that didn't happen,
her cottage has been repossessed and she's
been living in a caravan for nine months.
Right.
So... we've got Maureen Finnegan...
Noel Shakespeare...
Who made threatening phone calls to Finnegan
and has no alibi for the night of the car bomb.
And Peter Stephanopoulos,
who we've already got on Gina's murder.
But he does have an alibi
for (he brick through my window.
I talked to that hairdresser, Stacy Carter.
He was at her place that night.
- Will she say that in court?
- Yeah, I reckon so.
Doesn't let him off the hook for Finnegan.
But it doesn't give us enough
to charge him for it.
How much did he leave Maureen in his will?
Over 200 grand.
"Shop till I drop," she said.
She's been gone hours.
We'd like to search Maureen's room.
Be my guest.
Top of the stairs, second on the left.
Was this letter the first that you heard
about your husband's MS?
Yes.
He confided in Tessa.
MS can be very unpredictable.
Dermot could have had another 10-20 years.
I can't help wondering...
What?
Well, he wrote Maureen into the will
after he found out about the MS.
She obviously knew
she was in line for money.
The question is, did she
know he was ill as well?
So?
What do you think?
Amazing what a little cash can do.
Well, you know what they say.
Shrouds have no pockets.
How did you know you
were included in the will?
Dermot told me.
He phoned me to say he had MS.
He told you?
Yes.
So the whole bloody world knew except me.
I'm so sick of being treated like a child!
Then stop behaving like one.
Can we get back to Professor Finnegan?
He said he'd been doing a lot of thinking
since he was diagnosed-.
Dermot didn't know how long he had left, so
he wanted to put his affairs in order...
make it up to me.
For?
Screwing half the country,
running off with Grace.
Catholic guilt, Inspector.
Repentance - nothing like it.
Especially when you think
you're about to meet your maker.
I thought Confession
took care of the guilt.
Confession? Finnegan?
The amount that man had on his conscience,
he'd have been in that box months.
Right, Gracie?
Sorry.
The great taboo.
Well, I don't know about you,
but I need a cup of tea.
He said,
"You get the cash and Grace gets the house.
Plus the life insurance."
It's worth about 300,000, isn't it?
I've no idea.
I believe you. Thousands wouldn't.
Are you making some son of accusation?
I wouldn't dream of it.
But the poor man had MS.
Handy for Gracie,
that he's not going to be around to be a
burden for God knows how many years-.
- I loved him.
- So did I.
Even though he beat you?
You searched my room.
With Mrs Finnegan's
permission. It is her house.
And those are mine, too.
Wrong.
Mine.
Dermot's presents.
I took nothing when I left him.
Not even a suitcase.
And er...
what about these?
My doctor's idea...
in case I plucked up courage to charge.
But I never did.
And is that how it was for you too?
Certainly not.
Come on, Gracie, the
man beat you to a pulp!
That's enough.
He was always sorry, wasn't he?
Always buying those little
"forgive and forget" presents.
Silver for me and ornaments for you.
And every time the remorse.
"I wish I could stop.
I wish to God I could change, Maureen."
And I'd say,
"If wishes were horses...
beggars would ride."
I want you out of my house now!
Fine with me!
And the fraudulent insurance claim
you filed in Dublin?
It's a total misunderstanding.
Not according to the Irish police.
I was never charged.
And you have no grounds to charge me now
with that or anything else.
You can go for now.
You leave my silver.
My silver.
I earned it.
So was she suggesting that Grace murdered
Finnegan for the insurance money?
Not in so many words, but... yes-.
That could be why she's so adamant
he didn't beat her.
I mean, it gives her motive
and her alibi was Finnegan.
Either way, she's not going to tell us.
No.
But if Grace was being beaten,
who would she go to for help?
Someone who was a
close friend and a doctor.
Tessa Jellicoe.
Let's go and see her.
Hello, darling.
Thanks for the flowers, they're gorgeous.
How are you feeling?
Tired.
Feet up, I'll be back
as soon as I can, then...
Tommy... I've had a
long chat with my sister.
And?
She's invited me to stay.
What, in the country? That's good.
I'll... I'll meet up with you there.
That's... not what I mean.
Maybe we need some time apart.
I think what we need is...
is to talk.
Darling, you've had a terrible time.
But we will get over this, you know.
Hold on.
- Havers, I'm sorry to do this to you again.
- It's no problem.
- I'm on my way.
- I've already told Penny I'm coming.
- Tell her you've changed your mind.
- Tommy.
I'm setting off right now, OK?
Are you sure you don't mind?
If you can just drop me
off at the hospital, yeah?
- Can I help you?
- Yeah, I was looking for Dr Jellicoe.
She's off duty.
Any idea where she'd be?
There's a pub in town
where her lot meet sometimes.
- What do you mean, "her lot"?
- You know, lesbians.
- What's wrong with that?
- Being a lesbian's fine.
But snogging your
patient, a vulnerable one?
That's a whole different ball game.
I'm investigating a murder.
If you've got some professional misconduct
grievance, take it up with the hospital.
What?
- Oh, my God.
- What is it?
This vulnerable patient, who was she?
Feeling better?
No.
It's a new chapter, Gracie.
For both of us.
What do you mean, "for both of us"?
- Yes, Havers?
- I've got a breakthrough, sir.../ think.
A nurse just told me he saw Dr Tessa Jellicoe
kissing a vulnerable patient, a woman.
Who?
Grace Finnegan - bruises all over her face
like she'd been beaten.
Regular customer, going back years.
She used to come in wearing scarves
to hide her face.
So they were lovers?
Helen?
It looks like it.
Also, Tessa's been busy on the internet
researching explosives.
Good God!
Then I saw the sharps box. It's what they
use to get rid of contaminated needles.
And?
A sharps box, sir.
S-H-A-R.
Right.
So where's Tessa now?
My hunch - with Grace Finnegan.
Sir?
I'll meet you there.
What about Helen?
I said I'll meet you there, all right?
Everything all right?
Not really, no.
- Is that the box?
- Yeah.
Where are they?
- They're in the garden.
- Come on.
It's not love, it's not. It's control.
- Dr Jellicoe, we'd like a word, please.
- About?
You were seen by one of your nurses
kissing Mrs Finnegan.
We had a relationship, yes. I ended it.
Which is none of their business.
Would you have any idea how the casing
of the bomb that killed Professor Finnegan
was a hospital sharps box?
No.
And I'm sorry, I can't talk now, I'm late.
Whoever planted the bomb probably assumed
there'd be nothing left after the explosion.
They were wrong.
Really?
Can you account for your movements
on the night the bomb was planted
in the Professors car?
- I was at home.
- Can anyone verify that?
No.
Your computer at work...
Do you use the internet?
- What if I do?
- Are you aware whenever you use a website...
to... make explosives, say,
or to build a bomb,
that that visit is logged and stored
on the computer's hard disk indelibly?
You had no right!
You would never have left him.
16 years she put up with it.
It's the usual thing - men like Finnegan,
it's all about power.
And the same old pattern.
He'd be OK for months
and then he'd lose it.
And you'd come running back.
"Take care of me, Tessa.
But don't tell anybody,
cos I love him and it's not his fault."
I did love him.
Yes.
But it was his fault.
And then you found out he had MS.
Yes.
And for a moment I thought
maybe there is a God.
We could be together.
But then it hit me.
If you hadn't left him when he was healthy,
you'd never leave him now.
It's not in your nature.
Why didn't you report it to the police
that she was being beaten?
I wouldn't let her.
He wasn't a bad man. He loved me.
You see, that's what I couldn't stand,
the idea of this sweet, sweet woman tending
that... animal for years and years and years.
So you killed the man I loved?
And then what, hm?
You and me together, happy ever after?
God, you're just like him,
pulling the strings,
trying to manipulate me.
No... I did it for you.
And the attack on my wife...
...and on Havers.
That was you too, wasn't it?
God in heaven, why?
To make it seem like there was some connection
between Finnegan's death and a past case.
I never meant for your
wife to lose the baby.
I regret that every day.
But not what I did to Finnegan,
not what I did for you.
You wouldn't listen, Grace.
No, you wouldn't listen.
I loved him.
Not you, him.
If other people don't understand, too bad.
He was mine, for better and for worse.
He would never have changed.
No, you're wrong. He had changed, he had.
He was trying to make things right.
Hadn't laid a finger on me for months.
It was my marriage, Tessa, my life.
You stole my life.
Roger that. Are you in position?
Let me know if backup is required.
Sergeant, hold that.
OK.
- That should help Lizzie Shakespeare.
- Sir?
Now that Finnegan's been exposed
as a wife beater,
his testimony will never stand up
to a second appeal.
My bet is she'll be out by Christmas.
- Good for her.
- Tessa!
You had no right!
No!
Havers!
Barbara!
Barbara.