The Inspector Lynley Mysteries (2001–2008): Season 5, Episode 4 - In the Blink of an Eye - full transcript

I was wondering if you'd call.

Tonight?

Yeah, tonight's perfect.

Yeah, OK.

Oof! Ugh!

Peter Rooker, 38 years old,
found 40 minutes ago in an alleyway in Soho.

Gunshot wounds to the leg and head,
no witnesses.

- How is he still alive?
- By a miracle, apparently.

The bullet passed between the frontal lobes.

- Nothing. Still here.
- Adrenaline wind.

Looks like he was a photographer.



OK, victim's wallet, mobile phone, keys,

camera, and what looks like a coat tag
from a club.

- Number 19?
- It's on Wardour Street.

Shock him again.

In amongst a million tube tickets,
we found his press card.

We're going again.

- 360 charge.
- 360.

Clear.

That's it. If we're all in agreement,
we'll stop resuscitation there.

Time of death: 22:15.

Doctor, is there anything else you can tell me?

Er...well, I don't think
it's the first time he's been shot.

This looks like an old bullet wound.

And by the scarring,
I'd say that was a back room job.



Not done in a hospital?

If it was a hospital, it wasn't this country.

Ah. You have that look in your eyes, both of you.

The look that says you're not planning
to go home any time soon.

- Are you gonna put me in a cab?
- And wave you off into the night?

What kind of man do you think I am?

Found the body yet, Lafferty?

Very droll.
Might have found the murder weapon, though.

- A bit of a gift, if it is.
- I'll do a check on it.

No need to dress up for us.

- It shows the proper respect your work is due.
- About time too.

How's it going, Mrs Lynley?
Are you back with us?

No, Stuart. No, this is someone's idea
of showing a girl a good time.

- Anything else?
- Murder weapon not enough for you?

Possible murder weapon.

This is where he fell.

Paramedics found him on his back.

The entry wound for the second shot...
was in the middle of the forehead.

The entry wound for the first shot
was the back of the knee, which suggests...

The killer was behind him.

So, we've got the head here, the feet there.

And Rooker is travelling this direction
down the alley.

The killer, behind him, shoots him in the leg.

He drops here...rolls over.

- Sees the killer.
- Coming at him.

- Shoots him in the head.
- You don't really need me, do you?

Not really, no, but you brighten the place
up for us, you know.

You do. Where was he headed, then?

Where did he come from?

Well, there's a pub round the corner.
The hospital said he stank of booze.

- Check it out.
- Excuse me.

Can I go home now, or have you got a surprise
visit to the mortuary planned?

I'm sorry. It is going to be a late one, isn't it?
Here. I'll see you at home. Take the car.

That is a bit of a first.

- Come on, before I change my mind.
- I'm going.

Get on to Winston. Tell him to go round
to Rooker's flat and see what he can find.

Hey, is that what I think it is?

Sorry, mate. That camera's just for show.

There's no film, Mr McGuire,
is that what you're saying?

Brewery said they'd fix it. Never happened.

Exciting night?

No more than usual.

We cater for real drinkers here, the real Soho.

Not your poncey media types
with their bottles of foreign lager.

Have you seen this man before?

No.

Would you try looking at the picture first, please?

- Was he in here tonight?
- Could have been.

This is the West End, love.

We get a thousand-plus punters in here
every week.

I ain't that good with faces.

Who uses the alleyway?

Dealers, methadone addicts, pros. People take
the short cut to Tottenham Court Road tube.

It's like one big filthy urinal.

Hello?

Police.

DC Nkata, Control.

Requesting backup. Suspected break-in
at 25 Elliot Street, Marylebone.

Intruder possibly still on the premises.

I'm entering now.

Urgh!

Calm down. Calm down.

It's OK.

I'm a police officer.

My ID...is in my pocket.

Are you gonna let me get it?

OK?

Now...

I need you to put the gun down...

and tell me exactly what happened here.

OK?

Can you do that?

OK.

I should have done more to stop her.

No, you did exactly the right thing.
She had a gun, you didn't.

Did you get any sense of who she might be?

I didn't get a sense of anything.
She never said a word.

She looked traumatised.

- Was she injured?
- Nah.

So it's not her blood, then?

- Rooker's?
- From what we saw,

both his injuries occurred in the alleyway.

Third party?

We'll run up a DNA profile.

- See what it throws up.
- Check out the A&Es of local hospitals, will you?

So...Rooker suffers a fatal shooting...

...In Soho and there's a second firearms incident
at his flat in Marylebone.

Well, she shot Rooker first and came here.

There was the gun in the alleyway,

presumably the murder weapon,
and her second gun. Why two guns?

Whatever, he must have been involved
in something pretty deep.

Well, here's a theory.
Whether she killed Rooker or not,

she breaks in and gets a nasty surprise.

Yeah, someone else is here.

She shoots them. Third party is wounded,
but escapes. She stays here. Why?

- She's looking for something?
- Probably something quite difficult to find.

- He likes the lived-in look, doesn't he?
- Mm.

This is her.

You're kidding me.

- I just found it on his bedside table.
- They were close, then? Girlfriend?

It seems odd that she had to force the door.

You think she'd have a key.

Perhaps they had a falling out.
Not much evidence of a woman's touch.

Whoever she is,
my guess is she doesn't live here.

Well, unless she's a slob too.

Winston, head back. Circulate the photo.

Put out an observation call.
Make sure they that know she's armed - priority.

We need to find her as soon as possible.

Havers, I don't care if this takes all night,
this flat is going to get turned upside-down.

It already is, isn't it?

- So he was that kind of photographer.
- Paparazzi?

Paparazzo. Paparazzi is plural.

If you're trying to make me look stupid... Well...

he wasn't exactly in demand.

The only entry in his diary this week
is a car registration number.

Oh, no, hang on. He had a meeting last week
with a Melissa Booth.

Oh, isn't she the newspaper editor?

One of the big tabloids.

Maybe things were looking up for him.

You said you'd ring me back.
Right, OK, I'm here waiting.

- David?
- Three minutes.

David!

What's this supposed to be?

A piece on the teenage crime wave.

I don't think so.

There's a theory: if you give an infinite number
of monkeys an infinite number of typewriters,

they'll eventually write Hamlet. This is what
you get from fewer monkeys in less time.

Give me a teenage crime wave, David.

And who are you?

A photographer meeting directly
with the editor of a tabloid newspaper.

It struck me as out of the ordinary.

It usually would be.

Isn't that a job for the Picture Desk?

Yeah.

How did you hear about his death?

I got a call at three this morning
from my chief crime correspondent.

- He thought I'd want to know.
- How did you take the news?

With a Valium and a large Scotch.

You were close, then?

Once, yes, very.

I just the heard the news.

All those war zones he came back from
and he winds up dead in the middle of London.

- I'm so sorry.
- Don't.

Inspector Lynley,

Eddie Price, my husband and my boss.

A very hands-off one.

Not much choice with her in the chair.

Obviously, this is not a good time,
but if you need me, I'll be down the hall.

Oh, the last time I saw Peter,
he looked a bit worse for wear.

Maybe he'd run up a tab he couldn't pay off.

You're talking about him
like he was some kind of addict.

We don't have to trample his name in the dirt,
do we?

We would if he was anyone else.

I'm sorry.

Your husband said "war zones".

I thought Mr Rooker was paparazzo.

First Gulf War.

He was good, wasn't he?

He was a real talent.

The kind of picture
he was trying to sell you last week?

He packed in real photography
when he came back from Bosnia.

When he was down to his last 50 quid,
he tried to beat the paparazzi at their own game.

Maybe it wasn't the soft option
he thought it was.

If you could get me the property
that matches this tag, please.

Can I help you?

- Sorry, you are?
- Michael Wren.

- I manage this place.
- I'm Detective Sergeant Havers.

I'm investigating the murder
of a Mr Peter Rooker.

Peter?

Yeah, I'm afraid so.

Are you sure?

- Has he been identified?
- We're sure.

- Murdered how?
- He was shot.

I heard there was a shooting
in an alley off Dean Street.

So you knew Peter Rooker.

- You could say that.
- What does that mean?

He was the best friend I ever had.

How did you meet?

Belfast...1983.

He was on assignment for the New York Times.

I was with the Paras.
We both drank in the same pub.

He could drink me and all my men under the
table and make us laugh while he was doing it.

- What about recently? How was he?
- He could barely raise a smile.

What pictures did he try and sell you?

Some C-list celebrity.

Did you buy them?

Yes.

- When did they run?
- They didn't.

I've bought dozens of Peter's pictures over the
last ten years and I think I've used them once.

It drives Eddie mad,

but that's my prerogative.

It sounds like charity.

Or something deeper.

Is that what Mr Price really gets mad about?

No.

Eddie's always known and accepted
that Peter Rooker was my first big love.

What went wrong?

I don't know.

Peter changed. He lost his spirit.

Actually, that's an understatement.

How did he seem to you
when you saw him last week?

Particularly anxious about anything?

Peter was anxious in his sleep, Inspector.

Awake, he was a nervous wreck.

Well, awake and sober, at least.

Self-medication, he called it.

Four large vodkas and a Diazepam was
what it took to drag him down to mere anxiety.

Did you still see him...socially?

No.

I love my husband.

Being mates with exes never works, does it?

When did you last see Mr Rooker?

- Yesterday.
- At what time?

He was here about seven.

Was he a member of the club?

Unofficially through me, if you like.

So he came to speak to you.
What did you talk about?

Nothing.

So you had a conversation
that consisted of total silence.

Nothing significant.

Look, he was talking about
how he was sick of Melissa Booth's handouts,

that if she didn't print his pictures,
he'd send the cheque back.

I told him not to be so stupid
as to bite the hand that feeds.

He didn't like that.

So it's fair to say that he left under a cloud.

Perhaps that's why he forgot his coat.

He didn't have much choice.

I slung him out. The place was heaving.
I couldn't have one of his tantrums.

Especially with him not being a member?

Exactly.

- Did he say where he was going to?
- Nope.

- Well, what time did he leave?
- It was about eight o'clock.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah, why?

Well, shots were heard at 9:10.

The alleyway that he was killed is - what -

a five-minute walk, max, from here, so...

what was he doing between eight and nine?

This is Soho, Sergeant.
He could have been doing anything.

Like?

Well, he was drinking heavily already.

He was off his head on something.
Take your pick with Peter.

Do you know her?

- Her name's Nina.
- How do you know her?

She works here.

And what's her relationship with Peter Rooker?

Peter was her legal guardian
when she first came over from Bosnia in...'95.

- Is she working today?
- She's supposed to be.

She's been off a couple of days with flu.

- I need an address.
- Don't have one.

She's cash in hand, you know.

Are you saying you don't have
your employees' addresses?

Of course, but er...she's not been here long.

OK, next of kin.

Well, that would be Peter.

Is she in some kind of trouble?

Let's just say she's in possession
of a firearm and not in a stable frame of mind.

So, if there's anything you can tell us
to help us find her...

Look, I've told you,
I can't help you with what I don't know.

OK, do us a favour.

Check your records,
see if you can't rustle up a surname.

- I've told you...
- It'll save me having to go to the tax office.

Just get it done by tomorrow morning, all right?
Cheers.

Idiot.

- Mr Price, can I have a word?
- I've got a car waiting. Call my secretary.

- She'll book an appointment.
- Peter Rooker - did you know him?

- A little.
- And his relationship with your wife?

Ended years ago.

I'm sorry. I meant
his professional relationship with your wife.

Was that what the dig about his habit
was about?

I was just trying to be helpful.

Not how Miss Booth interpreted it.

Nasty bruise on your cheek there, sir.

- What are you suggesting?
- Nothing. Just wondering how you got it.

There's a sordid little scene playing out
in your head, isn't there, Inspector?

I wasn't aware of one.

My wife's ex-lover comes back into her life
and they embark on a steamy affair.

I find out about it, I beat seven bells out of him.

I suppose I'd give him some sort of macho
speech about staying away from her.

And then what?

I smell his cheap aftershave on her
some time afterwards.

I take the gun from my desk drawer,
which I keep there just for such an occasion,

and I blow his head off?

Ha ha ha ha!

Bit clichéd, isn't it?

So offer me an alternative.

I got Melissa on the rebound.

I knew it then and I know it now.

And I was still the luckiest man in the world.

Fun, smart and beautiful.

Truth is...

I don't think she even loved me
the day we got married.

But I told her, "Love can grow."

And it has.

Plus she got to be editor
of a national newspaper.

She was always very honest to me
about her ambition and drive.

Like she was about her relationship
with Peter Rooker.

Trust is the basis of a happy marriage.

Sure, I wasn't crazy about her paying
for those photos we never ran with.

But it wasn't jealousy. I just hate waste.

That's the way I was brought up.

But it made Melissa happy,
and if she's happy, I'm happy.

It must have stuck in some people's throats,

you parachuting her in like that to the top.

Newsrooms are shark pools.

It's not so much sink or swim, as swim...

or get chewed to death by 11:30.

If Melissa couldn't hack it, me being the owner
of the paper wouldn't mean anything.

And the bruise?

I walked into a bog door after a few drinks.

Hm. Well, thank you, Mr Price.
You've been very helpful.

That's all right.

Oh...if you want to speak to me again,
give me some notice.

I'll bring my lawyers.

Her name's Nina.

Rooker was her guardian. Anything else?

She works for Wren at the club.
She hasn't been in the last few days.

He claims not to know where she is.

Do you believe him?

Well, it's a start. What's the club like?

An exclusive hang-out for celebrity types.

Fits with him being a paparazzo, doesn't it?

Must have been handy for Rooker to have
a mate who runs a bar stuffed with C-listers.

It's hard to see how why these kinds of pictures
should lead to him taking a bullet.

You don't have to be Quincy to ascertain
cause of death as gunshot wound to the head.

The angle of entry, the blood spray at the scene,

the position of the body,
all confirm what we thought last night.

The killer was behind Rooker,
shot him in the leg,

then in the head once he was on the ground.

Range?

There's smoke soiling
around the entry wound here

and propellant burns
and soot tattooing across the forehead.

The gun can't have been fired from more
than a metre away for that second shot.

But the leg shot was further back,
more than a metre,

because there's no soot or burns.

Worth noting also the angle of entry and exit.

The leg was extended back
at the moment of impact.

Rooker was running?

So why not shoot him in the back?
It's a much bigger target.

Because if you shoot him in the back,
you might kill him straight away.

He doesn't want it to be over too fast.

This way, you shatter the kneecap,

which immobilises him and causes him
a hell of a lot of pain.

But why do it like that?

I mean, why take more time
and risk being caught in the act?

Maybe the killer wanted him to know
who it was who was killing him.

It was a risk he was prepared to take.

I don't know what this gives you,
but your man was so living on borrowed time.

We heard he wasn't exactly clean-living.

He had suffered severe liver damage,
had excessively high alcohol content,

but he was also riddled with tumorous tissue.

- What, cancer?
- When we're done here,

we should pack him off to the science museum.
He was a dead man walking.

There's something else too.

As you can see, they're yellowing,
which means they predate death

by at least one day, at most a few days.

And there's broken skin
and swelling on his knuckles,

all signs that he was in a fight.

Anything else?

The bruising is stronger down the right-hand
side, which would suggest

that the attacker was left-handed.

The question is whether the beating
and the death are connected.

And if the beating was a warning,
what did Rooker do...

or not do?

The gun found at the scene
is not the murder weapon.

That would have been far too easy.

It's a recommissioned firearm.
Nice job, too, apparently.

I'd bet my pay cheque, whoever did this is on
a short list and known to the Firearms Division.

We've all seen you've got a private income.

I'll get some names and cross-reference it
with West End Central.

- Ballistics say it had never been fired.
- Suggesting a recent purchase.

How would Rooker get his hands on it?

It's his prints all over it.

Well, why did he feel he needed a gun?

Melissa Booth talked of his pathological anxiety.

Maybe his anxiety wasn't quite so pathological.

- How's it going, Winston?
- Slowly.

There's thousands of images here.
What am I looking for?

Anyone or anything
that could have caused his death.

I might not know it when I see it.

- I have complete faith in you.
- No pressure, then.

This is all I've got so far, from two weeks ago.

- Two weeks and one day, to be precise.
- That's Melissa Booth.

For a guy who looked like
he might ask you for 20p,

he was pretty thorough with his indexing.

These were taken 15 days ago?

Exactly.

I doubt Mr Price would have been so Zen
if he saw these.

Yeah, Melissa and Peter Rooker
had resumed their relationship.

- Looks like they never fell out of love.
- Funny she didn't mention it.

- Shall we hit her with it?
- No.

No, let's keep our powder dry.

See if we can find out what else
she's not telling us.

Rooker's bank statements.

For the last year, there's been a monthly debit
of £400 going to a letting agency in Camden.

Camden? I thought he lived in Marylebone.

I talked to the agency. He's been paying rent
on a flat on the high street.

The tenant's name? Nina Delic.

Well, that was hard work.

They were trying to say, "You've got to knock first
and if we don't answer, come back later."

What is it with lettings people?

You try going through life not smart enough
to even make the sales team.

Well, it's much nicer than Rooker's flat.

He obviously takes his guardian duties
very seriously.

Yeah. Tough guy with a heart.

You know,
the more we find out about this bloke Rooker,

the less he adds up.

A bit like when I first met you.

Meaning?

Well, posh guy with a heart.
Didn't quite make sense.

Thanks very much, Havers. Science-defying.

This morning's post.
She must have been here today.

Hm.

Junk, junk, junk.

Well, it's small, but perfectly formed.

Who the hell are you?

- We thought Nina lived here alone.
- She does...

officially. I sub-let.

You know what rents are like in London.
I sleep in here.

We're investigating the death of Peter Rooker.

Did you know him?

Yeah.

Yeah, he's Nina's guardian.
He rents this place for her.

- Do you know where Nina is?
- No.

- She hasn't been home the last few nights.
- Has she called?

No, and she always does
if she's spending the night out.

- Have you tried her?
- Yeah. Her mobile's switched off.

Do you know where she might be?

Erm...her boyfriend Michael's?

- Michael?
- I don't know his surname.

But he runs Number 19 in Soho.

Michael Wren, Rooker's friend.

Huh.

Sorry about that.

Did Rooker know about the relationship?

Peter always wanted the best for Nina,

but he could be quite controlling.

She said he'd go crazy
if she had to drop out of college.

Why would she have to drop out?

- No specific reason.
- Is that what Michael wanted?

She never said that.

Then why was she discussing
leaving college at all?

Look, if you think in holding something back
you're somehow being loyal to Nina,

you're mistaken.

She's pregnant.

I want an unmarked car parked outside.
We've got a trace on Nina's phone, haven't we?

We should have. I'll double check.

I thought you Army chaps
were meant to big on loyalty.

Cut to the chase, please.
I've got a party of 70 coming in at one.

You're the father of her child...

and you couldn't even give me an address?

It was when you mentioned
her waving the gun around.

I knew it was my gun.

She must have taken it
from the drawer of my office.

So you knew your gun was missing?

It never crossed my mind it was Nina, though.

You did report it missing?

I thought I'd have a go
at getting it back myself.

In violation of your licence?

- My licence expired eight months ago.
- And it also stipulates

it should be kept in a locked, steel cabinet.

Exactly.

Tell us about Nina.

She could be a laugh.

She's great-looking, obviously.

But when she told me she was pregnant,
I didn't freak out or anything.

But?

She has an unpredictable side.
I don't know if I can handle that long-term.

And you told her that?

Is it why she hasn't been here
for the past two days?

She's not ill with flu, is she?

No, I didn't tell her that.

She just took off in the middle of the day,
said she wasn't coming back.

Look, I've racked my brain,
thinking about what I might have said or done.

Do you think that Rooker found out
about the affair and talked Nina out of it?

It crossed my mind.

It would have made you angry, wouldn't it,

Rooker telling her that you weren't good enough
for her, that she could do better than a barman?

I'm not a barman.

Even if it is a posh Soho club.

Look, I know where you're going with this
and you're miles off.

That's what you were arguing with Rooker
about last night. Nina.

- Wasn't it?
- Yeah.

OK, so Rooker left here at eight.

He got shot at 9:10.

Yeah, and the alley is only five minutes' walk
away from the bar. We did this last time.

But last time you withheld to the point of lying.

I told you, I don't know where he went.

What about you?

- Where were you between eight and nine?
- I was here.

I was right here the whole time.

Look, I wish I knew something. I wish
I could help you find whoever killed my mate.

Oh, save it, please.

I could arrest you for the things
you didn't tell my sergeant.

Where is Nina now?

- I don't know.
- Where might she be?

I'll ask around, talk to the other girls.

Thanks. We're already on to that.

And what are you going to do
if she does contact you?

Well, I'll call you straight away.

That's right.
You won't try and sort it out on your own?

Look, I'm not stupid.

Let's hope that proves to be true.

Hey, I got a result from that registration
we found in Peter Rooker's diary.

- Anything interesting?
- Black Mercedes,

registered to a private chauffeur hire company.

It's a sole trader. Andrej Pavletic.

That makes life easier.

That's not the interesting bit.
One of his main clients is Eddie Price.

Wren's just turned up at Nina's flat.

- Has he come out yet?
- No.

- OK, anyone else gone in?
- No.

- Are we going in?
- No, let's leave it a little bit longer.

See if anything turns up.

Mr Pavletic?

Fancy a stroll, Winston?

Perfect day for it.

- Maybe this er... Peter Rooker...
- Rooker.

Maybe he was a customer.

Then surely you would remember him?

I pick up so many people,

from actors, musicians, restaurateurs.

And on top of that, I have my regulars.

Like Eddie Price.

Yes.

Do you talk to Mr Price much,
when you're driving him around?

Mm, sometimes.

What do you talk about?

Does he talk about his personal life?

We talk, but about weather and football.

Politics sometimes.

But I wouldn't know anything
about his private life.

So you wouldn't happen to know
how he got that bruise on his cheek?

No.

Quite a nasty bruise.
Right on the cheek bone. Recent too.

No, sorry.

This is a picture of Peter Rooker.

Are you sure you don't know him?

Sarah.

We'd better go inside.

OK, you see where our friend's heading.
I'll go light a candle.

Hello, Clare.

You going away somewhere?

- No.
- What's going on?

- Nothing.
- I'm not stupid.

I bet if I opened that bag, I'd find Nina's stuff.

Don't tell me,
you had Nina's best interests at heart.

- I did. I do.
- So do we.

Look, I'm sorry.

She sounded so scared.

- Where was she calling from?
- I don't know.

OK, so you were supposed to meet her here,
then what?

She said she had to get out of London.

And then what was the plan?

Clare...

My sister lives in Cornwall.

Nina was gonna stay with her for a bit
until things blew over.

- OK, so where is she now?
- I swear, I don't know.

- She was meant to meet us here.
- You and Michael?

Yeah. He had to get back to the club.

I thought I'd hang round for a few more minutes,
see if she showed up.

Is there something else you want to tell me?

When I talked to Nina,

I mean, she was worried about you guys
and what happened with the gun, but...

I don't think that was the main thing.

In fact...

I'm sure it wasn't.

Look, I've worked hard to build up my business.

And Eddie Price is my best customer.

He's also very powerful.

We're the police, Mr Pavletic.
We have one or two powers of our own.

Right.

I think I know why this man Rooker
had my registration number.

Good.

On Tuesday afternoon,

I picked Mr Price up from a club in Soho.

- Which one?
- Number 19.

- He's a member there.
-Goon.

We'd only been going a minute,
when he told me to stop the car.

He got out, crossed the road
to a man on the other side.

Thanks, Sarah.

She's worried I'll say something
that will lose me my income.

It was this man.

They started arguing.

- What about?
- I couldn't hear.

But it got physical.

Hence the bruise on his cheek.

But it was nothing serious,
just a silly, playground scrap.

When you say "nothing serious",
24 hours later one of them was dead.

Of course.

Look...

I really want to help you...

but is there a way you can not tell Mr Price
you heard this from me?

He could ruin me.

I appreciate the concern for your business,
Mr Pavletic,

but it's not one of my priorities, I'm afraid.

So Melissa Booth was having an affair
with Peter Rooker, Price flies into a jealous rage.

- Too clichéd, apparently.
- Every cliché has a kernel of truth.

Get Eddie Price in to make a statement.
He can bring as many lawyers as he likes.

Havers. What?

Well, that's fantastic. OK, thanks.

You might want to hold off getting Eddie Price
in for a few hours.

- Why?
- They've found our wounded intruder.

Was there any particular reason
to break in to Mr Rooker's flat last night?

Who says I did?

Your shoulder wound
and the blood we found at the scene.

Answer my question. Why Mr Rooker's flat?

- Random selection.
- Really?

- What were you after?
- Items of value.

Like what?

- I was interrupted by a girl with a Magnum.
- If it was a Magnum,

you'd have needed more than a plaster at A&E.

You're not a petty thief. I've seen your criminal
record. You're classier than that.

- You flatter me.
- There's fraud,

bugging, deactivation of alarm systems.

Whatever you were doing in Rooker's flat
is in that ballpark.

When you were last in court,
you should have gone down.

But your youth and your ability with electronics
persuaded the judge to spare you,

if you went to technical college.

Yeah, how's that course going?

I don't know. I dropped out.

Which isn't gonna go down well
with the judge this time.

You'll need a kind word from me, Luke.

Thanks for the offer.

No, no, no. This is the difference
between six months and three years.

- What do you want?
- What have you got?

All right.

I was removing some bugs
I put in a few weeks back.

- At whose request?
- Just a middle man. I don't know.

You're gonna need that kind word, Luke.

- Come on. Help me to help you.
- I have.

- I told you what I was doing there.
- Three years, Luke.

That's 15% of your short, sad life. More.

Who paid you to put the bugs in?

Eddie Price.

You are a clever man, Mr Price.

You almost made me believe
you weren't like the rest of us: insecure...

jealous, selfish, but you are, aren't you?

Just like the rest of us, only more so.

You probably get this all the time,
but I really don't know what you're talking about.

I'm talking about your wife.

I'm talking about your attitude to your wife.

And your attitude to her lover - Peter Rooker.

He's not her lover.

You even managed to posit the theory,
before I could, that you'd killed him.

You dismissed it as clichéd, if I remember.

And it was.

So was claiming that you'd had a collision
with a toilet door.

Are you going to bark all day,
or are you going to bite?

We have several witnesses
who saw you attack Peter Rooker

in Wardour Street three days ago.

We had a row that ended in a scuffle.

- Oh, I think it was more...
- Who are these witnesses?

Which is why you lied to me
when I asked if you'd seen him.

This row was about your wife, wasn't it?

I trust my wife.

He said that more convincingly the first time.

It's true.

This argument, this fight,
what was the flashpoint?

Nothing. It was silly.
I was sick of him sponging off her.

- Oh, so it was just business, then?
- Right.

And you're a rich, prominent figure in society,
almost famous,

but you jump out of your car in broad daylight

and you attack a man in the street
in the middle of Soho.

That smacks to me more
of personal than business.

I had a few drinks at lunchtime, all right?

- You were in a jealous rage.
- I was stupid, I admit it.

Stupid to show how violent your paranoia
can make you.

- I'm not paranoid.
- And not violent, I suppose?

I'm only paranoid
when there's nothing going on.

You and Rooker had rekindled
the flame, hadn't you?

- Yes.
- Starting when?

Two or three months ago.

Why?

I suppose it was always a case of when,
not why.

So what made you wait ten years?

I resisted my feelings.

Plus you were given the distraction
of a national newspaper to run.

- I wasn't given it.
- Come on, Melissa.

If Price was an ordinary guy,
you wouldn't go near him.

I resisted because I take marriage seriously.

Because I knew that me getting back together
with Peter was Eddie's worst nightmare,

what he'd always dreaded.

Yeah, but that didn't stop you.

No.

Are you enjoying this?

No.

I'm trying to reconcile Peter Rooker
being the love of your life

and your refusal
to co-operate in our murder investigation.

I am co-operating.
I didn't want to hurt Eddie's feelings, that's all.

Because without Eddie,
you'd have to make it on your own, right?

That's not it!

You know that he beat Rooker up in the street.

Peter gave as good as he got.

Do you know he paid someone
to break into Rooker's flat

and bug it so he could listen
to the two of you together?

What?

That's impossible.

Eddie didn't know about us.

Evidently, he did.

You're bluffing.

I have a signed confession
from the man who planted the bugs.

Miss Booth,
how well do you know your husband?

Helpfully, Luke made copies of all the tapes
before he passed them on to you.

Is it necessary we hear these recordings?

Well, in so far as it was necessary for your client

to pay someone to break into a private residence
to make them.. .yes.

What are you doing?

- Peter!
- Where's that freckle gone?

If's still there.
Don't backtrack. What shall I do?

Do what you always do.
Please yourself.

You know that's not true.

Do I?

Eddie's a good man.
It's not that easy for me.

It couldn't be easier.

You're married to a man you don't love
and you're sleeping with a man you do.

Can we just leave it?

The truth hurts?

Forget Eddie for now. Come here.

Charge me or let me go!

- Mr Price...
- Can I go now?

9pm last night, where were you?

Having dinner...

...with my wife.

We were together...at Number 19 having dinner.

- You were in Soho?
- Yes.

What time did you arrive?

8:30.

We didn't finish till after 11.

And at any point during your dinner,
did your husband leave the table?

Do you think your husband is capable
of murder?

- No!
- By proxy?

Absolutely not!

You don't know him, I do!

Yeah, but you've been asking yourself
that question, haven't you?

It's ridiculous.

At the back of my mind, I always thought
Peter and I would be together...

...some day.

Well, maybe you would have.

Do you think he killed Peter?

Do you think he did it?

Thank you for answering my questions.
I appreciate the position you're in.

We're gonna have to let Price go.

Well, she backs up his alibi.

As will everyone at Number 19.

And I bet he was there all night and left a big fat
tip just so the waiters would remember him.

I asked her if she thought Eddie
or anyone that he knew was capable of it...

And, of course, she said no.

You know, actually,
I think if she knew something, she'd tell us.

She loved Rooker.

You know,
I admire your faith in human nature, Havers.

I am so sorry.

You're lucky. You only had another two minutes.

- You'd have left without me?
- Yes.

That's nice, that is.

Are you still up for this restaurant?
Cos we don't have to.

No, no, no. You're looking forward to it.

Well, I've been looking forward to it.

Tough day?

- Just lost our prime suspect.
- That was careless.

Sorry.

You were at the crime scene.

For five minutes.

But what did you make of it?

Did anything in particular strike you?

I'm sorry.
You don't want to talk about this, do you?

I don't want to profile for the Met.

That doesn't mean I won't help my husband
with his homework.

No. no, you're right.

Sometimes, work just takes over.

You're tired.

Uh...more grumpy than tired.

- Let's forget the restaurant.
- No, no, I'll be fine.

- I just had a futile day, that's all. I'll be fine.
- Come on.

Pizza delivery, bottle of plonk,
and an early night for you, old man.

Who are you calling an old man?

- You know what's a great feeling?
- What?

No matter how old we get...

you'll always be older than me.

You really know how to make me feel better
about myself.

Thank you. It's something I pride myself on.

You sure you don't mind about tonight?

Let's go home.

I've been thinking about your crime scene.

Oh, yes?

Have you got five minutes?

All the restaurants throw their rubbish out here
during the course of the evening.

If he'd put the body under there, it would have
remained undetected till the next morning.

Maybe he panicked.

This killing doesn't indicate
a person prone to panic.

What, then?

I think, subconsciously, the killer wanted
to make sure the body was found.

Because he wants to get caught?

Because he's proud of what he's done.

The actual killing - how do you characterise that?

Well, the manner of death is a possible
indication of psychopathology.

The first shot's the important one.

The killer wants to inflict pain and induce fear.
It's a power thing.

He wants to make sure
that the victim understands

that he, the killer,
has the power of life and death over him.

Was there anything to suggest, say,
a military connection?

Bullets...

full metal jacket.

- Usually military issue.
- Someone with a military background.

- Possibly, yeah.
- I'd say probably.

He's adaptable.

He shot a man dead in a busy area, suggesting
the manner of killing is second nature to him.

He only has to concern himself
with the environment.

Because he's killed before.

You're good, aren't you?

- At what?
- Lots of things.

Some things.

Not so good at getting home at a decent hour.

Oh, we have to get used to neither of us
being home very much.

I'm prepared to be at home for the right reason.

Which is?

Oh, right, OK.

You want to try again?

Perhaps we could just try
and stop getting in the way of it.

If that's what you want.

Yeah. I mean, more than anything.

Oh.

Havers?

The trace on Nina's mobile
has thrown up a number.

- Michael Wren.
- Our ex-Para?

They've spoken twice. He didn't mention it.

Well, run a background check on him.

See what he's been doing since he left the Army,

and how he's adapted to civilian life.

- Will do. OK.
-OK

I've been calling and calling.

I know.

Are you OK?

And the baby?

She's OK, too.

She?

Just a hunch.

Look, you've got something I need back.

I need the gun, Nina.

I haven't got it.

- I got rid of it.
- Oh, great.

What the hell did you think you were doing?

- Detective Inspector.
- Bastard!

- Nina, I didn't call them!
- He didn't, Nina!

You wait with Wren.

Nina!

Nina!

- Nina.
- Please.

Get up.

Where's the gun?

You told us you wouldn't take matters into
your own hands, yet you met up with Nina.

You had two phone calls from her.
Why didn't you tell us?

She made me promise.

Though she's been running round
with your unlicensed gun?

- It was a mistake.
- When were you going to tell us? Next week?

- I was gonna talk her round, get her to come in.
- Oh, really?

- It doesn't sound like it.
- She's fragile, scared.

Of what?

Come on. She must have told you something.

Look, if I could help you, I would.

Last time I believed you, and regretted it.

This time it's true.

It'd better be.

Where is the gun, Nina?

I threw it in the canal.

Which one?

What were you doing Friday night?

Oh, come on, Nina.

The night Peter was killed.

I was in his flat.

- But you have your own place.
- I was hiding.

Who from?

From him?

I'd never seen that man before that night.

He just broke in?

Were you aware Peter had started a
relationship with his ex-girlfriend, Melissa Booth?

Did it bother you?

- Why should it?
- You weren't jealous at all?

I didn't kill him, all right?

- You let him have it.
- It was self defence.

You stole a gun. You were expecting to use it.

Why?

What were you scared of?
Who were you hiding from?

Nina, we can help you.

But I can't do anything with silence.

Come on, sweetheart.

You must have some idea what she's scared of.

If I did, I'd tell you.

Nina, whatever you think...

you are safer here than out there.

Think of your baby.

I'm not getting very far, am I?

Tell him the truth.

Come on, Nina.
It might help him get who did this to Peter.

I doubt it.

We'll get through this.

No...

.we won't,

You don't have to feel guilty, Michael.

- Honestly.
- I don't feel guilty.

It's my responsibility.

Sweetheart, I'm as responsible in this as you are.

No...

you're not.

I still don't trust him.

So, what do we do?

I think we bring in a psychologist...

on a provisional basis.

Anyone in mind?

My name's Helen.

I don't work for the police, Nina.
I work at the university.

I'm just a civilian like you.

Nothing you say to me can be used against you
or Michael or anyone else.

In fact, it's against the law for any of our
conversation to be repeated in court.

Did Peter take pictures of your town
during the war?

Is that where you met?

By all accounts, he was bit of a character.
He liked a drink and a laugh.

But he had a big heart, too, didn't he?

He brought you back with him.

You formed a bond.

Like family.

Nina, all these people want to protect you

and find the man that killed Peter.

But they need your help to do that.

He was kind to me.

He brought me to London.

He gave me somewhere to live.

- He paid for the rest of my education.
- Right.

Nina, I need you tell me what it is you're afraid of.

Is it someone from the past, from Bosnia?

You can't protect me.

From?

From my fate.

Look, if this man is in London,

then we have a chance to catch him, and I think
you owe it to Peter to give us that chance.

I was going to my grandparents...

...after school.

It was my brother's birthday
and... we'd organised him a party.

My whole family lived together in the same town.

We were Bosnian Muslims.

My grandparents had this tiny house
on the outskirts near the woods.

When I got there, the place seemed deserted.

Then I heard voices.

I heard shouting...

...and then gunshots.

I was terrified.

I wanted to go home,
but I was scared I'd be seen, so...

...I kept still.

And all the time
the gunshots were going on and on...

...hot stopping.

I needed to know what was happening.

I was petrified,
but I had to find out what was going on.

Aagh! Aagh!

There were some bodies...
already lying in the dirt

My grandparents.

My little brother, Mahir, he er...

...he couldn't stop crying.

Their leader, he was one of our neighbours.

He was a policeman during the war. He said...

He said, "Save the kid for me."

And they shot him like a dog.

I heard someone behind me and I froze.

It was Peter.

Then I heard my mother screaming.

I knew what they were doing to her.

Then there were two more shots...

...and the screaming stopped.

My father.. pleaded with them.

But the man who shot my brother just laughed.

They'd killed everyone.

After that, Peter didn't let me out of his sight.

He brought me back to London.

You said one of the men...

.the leader...

...was a neighbour.

Do you remember his name?

No, but he's in London.

You saw him?

No, but Peter did, or thought he did.

He wouldn't rest until he was sure.

And he made sure.

Mr Price's driver.

Did Peter tell you that...himself?

It was our last conversation.

- We've got our man.
- You think this goes back to Bosnia?

Yeah. Rooker sees Pavletic
in the fight with Eddie Price.

- He recognises him.
- Then what?

Peter Rooker takes matters into his own hands?

Well, let's find out.

Is your husband in, Mrs Pavletic?

- He's out on a job.
- When do you expect him home?

Well, he said he wouldn't be back till late.

Perhaps we could talk to you instead.

Sorry about the mess.

Have you ever heard your husband
mention a Peter Rooker?

No. I don't think so.

Have you noticed any changes
in your husband recently?

Well, he was worried
about that Eddie Price business,

that he'd have to testify
to Price beating that man up.

- That man was Peter Rooker.
- Right.

I didn't know that.

Anyway, that's all done with now, isn't it?

Absolutely. Your husband
was most co-operative on that issue.

Look...I really need to get on.
Is there anything else?

Two nights ago,
Peter Rooker was found murdered,

shot dead in Soho.

This is him.

I want you to think very carefully
before you answer this question.

Do you know the man in that picture?

He came to the house.

- I didn't catch his name.
- When?

Three or four days ago.

He said he was a friend of Andrej's.

- He left a photo and his phone number.
- Can we see it?

No. I gave it to my husband.

- I don't know what he did with it.
- Describe it.

Well, it was a photo of a road sign
riddled with bullet holes.

Sanski Most - Andrej's home town.

What did your husband say
when he saw the photograph?

That it was an old friend and he'd give him
a call when he had a chance.

I was quite relieved, to be honest.

- Why?
- I wasn't sure the man was a friend of Andrej's.

Well, he'd asked too many questions.

What kind of questions?

How long had he been here
and... when did we get married?

And was Andrej definitely from Sanski Most?

- But you answered them?
- Yes.

Mrs Pavletic, two nights ago,
what time did your husband come home?

Ten. Ten-thirty.

Did he do anything out of the ordinary?
Wash his clothes?

- Take a shower?
- He just had a cup of tea and read the papers,

- like he always does.
- Do you know if your husband owns a gun?

You think he killed that man, don't you?

- We have to eliminate him from our enquiries.
- Ridiculous.

Andrej is the most decent,
hard-working man I've ever met.

In Bosnia, he was a policeman like you.

But you don't see that. You see a foreigner.

- An immigrant looking for a hand-out.
- Mrs Pavletic...

My parents were just the same.
That's why I don't speak to them any more.

- Does he own a gun?
- No. He's a chauffeur, for God's sake.

Winston, are we up and running?

Yes, we are.

If she calls his mobile, or vice-versa,

triangulation should give us his location
inside three minutes.

Thanks. I'd better go.

Sir?

That's him.

Watch it!

Sir, the van!

All right?

Sorry! Sorry!

I panicked.

I'm going to lose my driving licence now, aren't I?

You are under arrest
on suspicion of the murder of Peter Rooker.

You do not have to say anything,

but it may harm your defence if, when
questioned, you later rely on something...

Is he here? Where is he?

You're quite safe, Nina,
but I need you to do something for me.

Look at these pictures.

Who are these people?

Random licence... Well, random, apart from one.

I need you to identify the man
you believe killed your family.

I can't tell you the second
where I was at eight o'clock that night,

but I keep a log so it shouldn't be a problem.

- Is my home being searched?
- Does that bother you?

No, of course not.

As a policeman in Bosnia,
did you receive firearms training?

Yes.

Would you consider yourself a good shot?

About average.

Look, I did not kill this man.

I'm a peaceful person and I always was.

Even in the war?

Especially in the war.
I mean, it was an exercise in absurdity,

but I tried as long and hard as I could
to do my job, to uphold the law.

You told your wife that Rooker was on old friend.

- Is that true?
- Sure.

He was a photographer covering the war.
We struck up a friendship.

So why, after three years of living here,
have you never tried to contact him?

According to your wife,
he didn't even know that you'd settled here.

I tried to find him,
so we could kick around old times.

You are a liar, Mr Pavletic.

A bloody liar.

Yes, you had some old times with Mr Rooker,

but they were not the kind
that you would chat about over a cold beer.

But the kind you might kill
to keep from coming out,

like murdering entire families, for example.

Obviously, you have a witness -

someone from Bosnia
who is claiming I did all these terrible things.

Are they reliable?

Do they have photographs?

Do they have proof?

No.

They've made a mistake.

Don't try and second guess us.

What else can I do when you hold all the cards?

Did you call Rooker
on the number he left your wife?

- Yes, I did.
- And?

We arranged for him to come up
to the house at the weekend.

So, when Eddie Price attacked Peter Rooker,

why didn't you go to defend your old friend?

Well, to tell you the truth, I didn't recognise him.

He'd put on weight.

He looked older.

I'm not a killer.

Back home, I had authority.

Here I have nothing but my name and you're
destroying it with every second I'm in here.

No-one wants to be driven around
by somebody they think is a Serbian gangster.

I think I'd like my phone call now,

if that's all right.

He's only got the best criminal lawyer
in Christendom.

- Michael Ackland?
- Who paid for him?

Eddie Price. It's who he made his phone call to.

- How about the house search?
- Forensics found nothing, ballistics or otherwise.

But they discovered he keeps a lock-up nearby.

- That sounds promising.
- It'd better be.

Or we'll have to tell Nina that he's walking.

- He's note perfect.
- If he's a sociopath, that's no big surprise.

Robert De Niro, eat your heart out.

All we've got on him is Nina's story.

- So not enough to charge him?
- Not yet.

Hm.

Helen, you were a star in there with Nina.
Did I tell you?

- You didn't need to.
- Well, you were.

Look, I've not got much on. Do you want me
to wait around and keep an eye on her?

No, you've done enough. Well, more than.

Tommy, if you have to let him go,
she's going to be a mess,

and I don't reckon much to boyfriend Michael.

Hm.

I love you.

Hm, a bit OTT, Tommy. "Yes" would have done.

Sir?

Excuse me.

Background check on Wren. Five years ago
he was arrested after an arms trafficking bust.

He got off on lack of evidence.

Four of his co-defendants weren't so lucky,
including one Brendan McGuire.

McGuire squealed
and they cut his sentence in half.

We never did find out where Rooker got his gun,
did we?

McGuire seems like a good bet.

- Rooker needed you to broker the deal.
- That's why you held out on us.

Despite trying to appear accommodating.

We never found out what he was doing
between eight and nine, the last hour of his life.

He was busy buying a gun, wasn't he?

- I've no idea.
- Ballistics will trace it back to Brendan McGuire.

On past form, Brendan McGuire will sing
from the rooftops to avoid going to jail.

Which means he'll implicate you.

Look, Wren, whatever it is you've done,
it's better that we hear it from you, not from him.

Look, Peter came to me and said he needed
a gun or he was a dead man.

He was my best mate.
What was I supposed to do?

You're gonna show me.

Nothing from Pavletic's lock-up.

- What was in there?
- Furniture...

books, usual sort of household stuff that'll see
the rubbish tip before it sees another home.

So what have we got on Pavletic,
other than motive?

Getting to Rooker, before Rooker got to him.

That's the motive I mean.

Well, he was in the vicinity of the crime
at the right time.

Access and motive.

That's it.

But that does not add up to a conviction.

- I know.
- We're gonna have to release him.

We do not have anything substantial enough
to hold him with.

It seems we'd better lose the battle
and win the war.

OK. OK.

I'll release him.

I'll go and tell Nina the bad news.

- So what time did you get here?
- I left Number 19 about eight o'clock.

It's a five-minute walk, so it must have been
about five-past, ten-past.

OK, and then what?

I made the introductions, headed back.
It was Friday night - busy, busy, busy.

What about Rooker?

Well, he finished his pint.
Actually, it was his second pint.

- On his own?
- Brendan was chatting to him.

Wasn't he busy, busy, busy?

Peter gave him two grand for a Smith & Wesson.
It was the least he could do.

I've told you everything I know. Can I go now?

Every time you've told us everything,
there seems to be a new instalment.

Come on.

Sorry, mate.

- How the hell did they trace it to me?
- It doesn't matter. We did.

Now, Peter Rooker had the dubious pleasure
of spending the last hour of his life with you.

- What did you talk about?
- Are you kidding? He was nuts.

- Nuts how?
- Kept banging on about genocide and murder,

and scars that wouldn't heal
and bodies that wouldn't stay buried.

- But you illegally sold him a firearm, anyway?
- OK, yeah, he's a grown-up.

His mental condition didn't give you
pause for thought?

Well, he told me that Rooker
was a famous war photographer,

that he could handle himself.

But then he left here and an hour later
there was a shooting round the corner.

- And you didn't get in contact with us?
- I thought it was my gun.

Rooker never got a round off.
Not that it would have stopped much.

Look, I'm sorry the geezer's dead,

but it weren't my fault.

When he left here,
did you see anyone follow him?

No.

Well, did you see anyone watching you
while you were chatting?

Not that I noticed.

But?

But when I said the CCTV
weren't working round the back...

- What? You were lying?
- Look, it's no big deal.

You can't make the bloke out.
The quality ain't good.

Trust me, Mr McGuire, it is a big deal.

I need you to show me now.

Look, I recognised him!

- I picked him out!
- I'm sorry.

- It's not over yet.
- Yes, it is.

Nina...

Helen.

It's all right. Nina?

- Havers?
- Sir, It's Pavletic!

Positive?

- I've got video to prove it.
- We've just let him go!

OK, I'm on my way back now.

- Winston, with me!
- What?

Pavletic.

Nina, confronting him won't help!

Nina...

Nina, don't.

Who are you?

Nina...put the gun down.

They're taking him back in!

He's going to prison now, Nina.

Put the gun down.

You said that the last time.

This time, Nina, we've got proof.

Look...

I am not who you think I am.

I swear to you.

Nina...

Get out of the way!

Don't ruin your life.

He's going to jail... for the rest of his.

Please.

You don't need it any more, Nina.

Put the gun down.

Down on the ground.

All right.

No spine in Bosnians.

Get him!

Winston!

She's gone.

Let me try, sir.

One, two, three, four, five, six...

seven, eight,

nine, ten,

eleven, twelve, thirteen...

We have entrusted Helen to God's mercy...

in sure and certain hope of the resurrection
to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ,

who will transform our frail bodies

that they may be conformed
to his glorious body...

What are you doing here?

Don't know. Just...

letting you know, when you're ready...

- that there is a world out there.
- Right.

It's just what she'd say.

I know.

And you know what I'd say back?

The world can wait a couple of minutes.