A Touch of Cloth (2012) s03e02 Episode Script
Too Cloth for Comfort (2)
1 It's my brother.
- Do you know this man? - Yeah, I seen him.
Up at The Healery, he was.
We run a respectable business here.
There are no secrets, you can ask me whatever you like.
What do you know about the death of my brother? I think I've answered enough of your questions, Inspector.
Good day.
This place'll soon kick the tits off you.
Is it that obvious I'm new? We slept together, Jack.
I wasn't looking where I was going.
OK.
Every person on this list from The Healery is accounted for except for this one Rowan Willow.
Left The Healery about the same time as Terry, not been seen since.
Hold it, Vull! What did you do with Rowan Willow? - Rowan who-ow? - Rowan Willow! Never seen that woman before in my life.
You killed her in one of your ceremonies.
I told you, Inspector, that ceremony you witnessed was strictly therapeutic.
We often encourage our patients to enact a Gothic ritual slaughtering, right up to, but not including, the moment of death.
Makes the participants feel good about themselves, knowing that they couldn't do such a thing, even though they've dressed as if they definitely would.
- Why do you hate women so much, Vull? - I love women.
Oh, come off it! You're a classic misogynist! You don't have any respect for anything with knockers or a fanny.
I believe the medical term is quim, Inspector.
Look at her.
Look at her! What do you see? Just another victim? Some women are just asking to be sacrificed on an altar, aren't they? - And she's one of them.
- Stop this.
You can read her like a Kindle, can't you? Just push her buttons and see it all.
The childhood.
Not popular at school.
No friends, except for the other lesbian- officers-in-waiting, of course.
Please, stop this.
Little Miss Proper! Little Miss Prim! Little Miss Boohoo Shitty Childhood Bitch! No wonder she signed up to the force, looking for excitement, a thrill, a tingle in the loins, maybe.
Yeah, that's it.
It excites her, the danger of it, that and the paperwork, and the scent of her commanding officer.
She slept with him, you know.
She loved it! She took off all her clothes and she slept with him in the nude! - Don't.
- Oh, yeah! He saw her bum and everything! And where did it get her? Nowhere.
So, how does she ease the pain? She drinks.
Oh, I know, all right.
It's no secret.
She laps vodka from toilets like a dog, a dog that drinks, which dogs don't, but she does.
Imagine a drinking dog, with her stupid head on it, and her stupid female mouth, and her stupid woman's tongue, and her ridiculous lady throat.
She's just Aw, fuck it! For God's sake, man, stop it! Can't you see she's upset? She's only a woman, for God's sake! I mean, you've humiliated her so much, she can't even speak for herself.
She'll probably run out of the room any second, poor thing.
See? Jack, you bastard! Are you all right in there, Oldman? "Old-man.
" - Are you all right in there, Old Man? - Just could you get me some more paper? A3 or A4? What was that? Just a porcelain shit.
Nothing to worry about.
Are you OK? It's not easy, being a woman in this environment.
The ladies' toilets? There's a glass ceiling.
Oh, that's disgusting.
Boys down the station see us as sex objects or harridans.
They won't let us be both.
You shouted something about Jack.
It's nothing.
I I - We - It's OK.
I wee in toilets too.
Jack and I have got a history.
The kind of history you don't read about in books.
At least, not on public transport.
You mean you two We had sex, like a pair of idiots.
You mean while gurgling and clapping your hands? He was the best lover I ever had, until it went pear-shaped.
- Had he banged it on something? - And now every time I see him, my heart wants to put its head on my shoulder and cry from the inside.
- Do you know that feeling? - Yes.
Yes.
I I lost my dad when I was young.
I'm sorry to hear that.
Did he die slowly? I'm sorry.
It's none of my business.
Don't cry.
It's just so raw, you know? I'm sure if he was looking at you right now, he'd be ever so proud of you.
Anne.
Anne! I had to say those things in there.
I had to make Vull think that I thought the way he does, through a mad brain! It didn't work, did it? Look, I can break him, if you'll just come back in there with me for a few more hours, let me harangue you in front of him.
What if he didn't do it? - Vull killed Rowan Willow.
I'm certain of it! - There's not even a body.
Ah, because Terry knew where it was and he's dead now, thanks to Vull.
Don't you see? - Vull had him killed to cover up his death cult! - Jack! There's no way those towers could have collapsed like that! It was a controlled demolition! John, George, Ringo, they all knew! - That's why Paul's barefoot on the cover! - Jack! Listen to yourself! This is madness.
You've let it get personal, Jack.
What will it take to convince you that Vull's innocent? Another murder? Is that what you want to see, the moment I walk away? Well, is it? This is Radio 3.
And now Ikea Johansson's Requiem For An Unsuspecting Victim.
Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?! Oh, Marmoset.
You'll be the death of me one day.
There you are.
Cloth.
I've had Damien Vull's lawyer in my ear for the past hour.
Don't lie.
He'd never fit! Vull is an important and influential member of society.
You can't simply toss accusations of murder at him like peas at a goose.
- This isn't an episode of Cracker.
- But Cracker, Jack.
This is personal, Tom.
So is Ed Miliband's anus, and I don't want to see that in my workplace either.
Pull yourself together or hit the road.
- But - Hit the road, Jack.
Guv! We've found a body.
- Rowan Willow? - No.
But it's dead, guv.
It's the same MO as Terry.
Time of death? It's too early to say.
- And now? - Sometime in the last few hours.
Vull's been here all day.
It can't have been him.
- The victim, who is he? - It's not a he, sir.
It's a she, sir.
It's your ex, sir.
It's Deborah, sir.
Sweet Valley High.
I warn you, she's a ripe one.
I thought the time of death was only a few hours ago.
It was, but she was found under an electric blanket switched to maximum, with the central heating on.
The air con in the meat wagon broke down when they brought her in and she was inadvertently left on a plate warmer instead of in a refrigeration unit.
I know women are putty in your hands, Jack, but this one Huh! She's just putty.
Slade In Flame! Think you can handle it? Bullet entered the cranium, although the hole has softened, so we can't tell much from the wound, and the bullet appears to have lodged elsewhere in the body.
The easiest way is to go in through the ribs, a bit easier since the foxes appear to have broken into the flat and already had a go.
Them again? As you can see, she seems to have eaten quite a few internal organs before dying.
They've had a good snack on the left arm.
Almost hollowed out.
Looks like she'd already been doused in an acid bath.
Signs of burns here and here.
Nothing in the throat.
Now, let me just do this for absolutely no reason.
Anyway, no idea who she is.
Just thought you'd be interested.
Your victim's just over here.
Clean and efficient, and the bullet matches Terry's.
She was shot with the same gun.
- My God.
- Jack, this has nothing to do with The Healery.
My brother and my brother's ex-girlfriend.
Ah! Come on, Jack, think.
You were close to both of them.
Nobody knew them better than you.
- Who connects them? - Guv This was left on the body.
Why are you wearing X's? Those were added after this photo was taken, Des.
Don't you see? I'm the link.
Whoever killed Terry and Deborah, they're telling me I'm next.
I understand I'm free to leave, Inspector.
I'd like to say it's been a pleasure but, for some reason, I haven't been scripted to do so.
And if you've been affected by any of the issues arising from my interrogation here's a card for The Healery.
You can't hide behind a bottle, you know.
Because it's transparent.
OK.
Recap.
Let's speak out loud what we know so far, even though we clearly all know it, because we're all saying it in turn.
- First victim, Terry Cloth.
- My brother.
- Shot dead in a forest.
- No trace of semen on the body.
Two weeks after vanishing from The Healery.
A sort of New Age treatment centre.
- Run by this man.
- Damien Vull.
- Also missing from The Healery.
- Rowan Willow.
- No trace of semen on the body.
- Yesterday, we found another corpse.
- Terry's ex-girlfriend.
Your ex-lover.
- Deborah.
- Shot with the same - Gun as - Terry.
- No trace of semen on the body.
- Which means the next target - For our killer - Is almost certainly - Me, Jack Cloth.
- I'm the new girl.
- No trace of semen on the body.
- That's what I look like in a hat.
- And now we're - Entering - The - Inci - Dent - Room.
OK! Listen up! Take a look at our murderer's next intended victim! That's right.
I'm the target.
So, we can probably assume that everyone close to me is at risk.
We treat this like any other protection operation.
This man gets murdered over my dead body.
We need to know everything there is about this guy.
How tall he is, who has he slept with, who does he want to sleep with.
But something, call it the job, keeps getting in the way.
There's some stuff I can tell you about him you might not know already.
He has a secret pornography obsession, which he's terrified'll come out one day.
He's haunted by the death of his wife, whatever her name was.
And he keeps making these weird spelling mistakes when people are watching.
Whoever carried out these crimes has a grudge against these two men, and it's only going to escalate.
So far, he's only targeted people that we scarcely know.
We've got to catch him before he graduates to regular characters.
So, we've got to go door to door, put feelers out, compile a list of everybody who hates me.
Could be a long list.
So, use a small font size if you have to, but keep it legible, nothing smaller than 7-point, alphabetical, with pictures.
Come on, people! Let's go, before someone else gets killed.
Female.
Early 30s.
Caucasian.
Approximately five foot seven inches tall.
Long, light-brown hair.
Slim build.
Likes farmers' markets, musicals, curling up with a DVD.
I suppose I'm looking for someone who can make me laugh.
That's the most important thing.
And an interest in forensic pathology would be great.
Photos preferable.
E-mail NatSash@TownMorgue.
gov Is somebody there? Hello? PS, send help.
Please! Not the face! It has sentimental value.
- Natasha Sachet, forensic pathologist.
- I know that, Asap! - Worked at the City of Town Police - That too.
- Friends with - Know it! - Lived in a - Got it! - Had a - Yes, yes! - I didn't say anything, so maybe - I know that! - But she's not - Thanks, Qureshi! That's enough! Aberdeen Angus! Natasha! Oh, no! Oh! Why you? Why not someone else, like Qureshi, or Hairihan, or him over there and his wife and kids? Or me! Why not take me?! Because no-one can take you anywhere, Jack.
You're not dead.
As far as I can tell, no.
Bullet entered the body here, just below the left clavicle apex.
I was lucky.
One centimetre to the right and I'd be in the morgue.
Any trace of semen on the body? Not yet.
- Did you see the gun? - No, but I kept a souvenir.
It felt like a .
22.
Same bullet that killed your brother.
Same bullet that killed Deborah.
And, judging by the barrel marks, fired from the same gun.
- Did you see who did it? - I'll ask the questions! - What she said.
- Only for a second.
I saw a motorcycle helmet.
And then Natasha? Natasha? Medic! Natasha? Natasha? - Natasha.
- Coming through.
One, two, three, lift.
Get them, Jack, before they get someone you really care about.
- Witch! - Victim.
- Bollock.
- Ponce.
Make sure she gets the best medical care the state can provide! I'll pay for it out of my taxes! Things just got personaler.
Natasha? You said she was just a human you worked near.
Unless you had history.
There was chemistry.
And biology? With double physics.
How long did it go on for? Oh, two, maybe three minutes.
Don't judge me, Anne.
My wife had just died, for God's sake! My mind was elsewhere.
She wanted more, but I said no and that was that.
There was gossip, of course, but we stayed professional, never let it affect our work.
Even though everyone knew.
Not everyone.
- Anne, please! - You and Natasha! The boys down the station used to talk about all the notches on your bedpost.
They never said anything about you sleeping with women.
It was just sex.
Intimate, earthy sex, up to, and including, ejaculation.
Don't paint me a picture.
Look, you want to see the photos on my phone? You'll see how little it meant.
I've got this blank look on my face, like a bored horse staring at a fence post, even as I'm watching it go in.
I don't want to see anything! I just want it all to go away.
Not just you, all of it, all the death and the pain and the anguish and all the endless striding down corridors just to get a bit of bloody movement into things! I can't stand it any more! No, Anne, don't.
I'll do it, Jack.
I swear I will.
What are you going to do? Climb inside that bottle and stay there for the rest of your life? I've tried.
You'll never get your hips through the neck.
I just don't know what to do.
Oh! I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
It's OK.
It's all right.
Yeah, what is it? Qureshi.
Said he's been through the files and he's drawn a total blank.
It's all on there.
Good work.
Listen, we're all exhausted.
Go home, pour yourself a glass of wine and go to bed.
And drink it in the morning? If it helps.
To be honest, with all the killings, I'm nervous about going home on my own.
I'm sure Des won't mind looking after you.
I didn't realise it was that obvious.
You and Des? You have my blessing.
- Who are you, her dad? - No, her boss, and she's an impressive young woman who's done well in her first week.
Take the night off, Kerry.
Have fun.
Don't get killed.
You deserve it.
Thank you.
And Kerry, - be careful.
- I will.
You're going soft.
Anne, you need help with the drinking.
I can unscrew bottles just fine on my own.
One day you won't.
Next thing you know,you'll be smashing bottles in your mouth to get to the drink, and then it's too late.
Take some time off and dry out.
OK? Just spoke to Jack.
He said we should take the night off, not get murdered, and come in tomorrow, refreshed.
Nice one.
- Pint? - Yeah, why not? Actually, Des, I was thinking WE could do something.
Shove your pint.
What did you have in mind? Well, there's this sort of harrowing film at the Guardiman Cinema.
- It's meant to be good.
- I love harrowing.
- It's a hobby of mine.
- OK.
Well it's a date.
Just gotta you know.
And maybe have a shit.
Good luck.
- Where are you going? - I'm sorting myself out.
I've lost focus recently.
Everything's a blur.
- So, you're - Going to The Healery.
Just for a few days.
OK.
- Where's the baby? Where's our baby?! - I don't know! Take the syringe out of your eye and answer me! I said I don't know! You sold him, didn't you? You sold the baby for smack! You make me sick! You want to know how sick you make me, eh? Here! Wuh! Bleugh! Bleugh! What's this? - What's this in your pocket? - It's a bit of potato, innit? - No, it's a baby's leg! - It's not a leg! You ate him! You ate the baby - and you tried to blame me! - I didn't! - So - So? Look, Des, I would love to invite you upstairs, but But this car hasn't got an upstairs.
It's not that.
I just want to take it slowly.
I've got one of them cock rings.
Keeps you from barking your yop for a good 20 minutes.
I mean us.
I'm not quite ready yet.
Shall we give it ten minutes? Let's just take it one step at a time.
Night, Des.
Night, Kerry.
All right, Joanne? I am Anne Old-man.
And I'm a drinkaholic.
We overlooked you, Rowan Willow.
Surely you must hold the key.
But where are you? Excuse me.
I'm just locking the station up for the night.
Rowan? Are you Rowan Willow? - Rowan who-ow? - Rowan Willow? No, I'm Knott.
WPC Julie Knott.
But this is your photo.
Someone's printed that off my Facebook.
But if you're Knott then who's ? Cocks in aspic! Come on, Anne.
Pick up, pick up.
Hi, it's DC Anne Old-man.
I can't come to the phone, because my life is in danger, - but leave a short message.
- Damn it.
Sanctu Spiritus No, Vull! - You don't have to do this! - I don't want to.
You must die.
Come on, Des.
Pick up, pick up.
Guv? Des, it's me.
Hang on, Des, hang on a minute.
Des, you still there? Listen.
You've got to get to The Healery now.
Anne's in danger.
- What sort of danger? - The dangerous kind! I can't! I can't! You'll just have to shoot me.
If you're going to kill me, at least let me see your face so I can rate it out of ten.
Cheers, thanks for the tip.
Guv? Caught me on my second job.
Asap, I know who the killer is! - Who is it? - Meet me at The Healery ASAP, Asap.
Hello, Oldman.
"Old-man.
" Hello, Old Man.
And goodbye.
- There's a lion behind you! - I'm not falling for that.
They trained you well at the academy.
I've never been to the academy.
I don't even know who an academy is.
- What? - I forged my papers.
- Why? - To get close to him.
To Jack.
- Why are you obsessed with Jack? - Why are you obsessed with Jack? - Who says I am? - Who says I am? You shot three people to get close to him.
No, you shot three people to get close to him.
- No, I didn't.
- And neither did I! Oh! Jack! Drop the gun, Newblood! It's over! I know who you are.
I know you're Rowan Willow.
Rowan Willow was a pseudonym, just like Kerry Newblood.
Then if you're not either one of them then which one of you are you? I knew you'd come.
I haven't come in months.
Isn't it embarrassing when your parents talk about sex? What? Oh, my God.
- Jack? - Yes.
I'm your daughter.
I don't have a daughter.
I don't have kids of any flavour, or race! They don't even have heads, my kids, because I don't have any! You're my daddy.
My big strong daddy.
Jack! You're not fantasising.
This is real! - Well, then, if I'm your father, who's - Jill, of course.
She was pregnant when she had that accident, when you betrayed her.
She left town and gave birth to me in a bin! She never forgave you for the indignity of that.
- Bastard.
- She hated you.
What was Daddy? A big bastard.
Filled my head with poison from the very first moment.
She refused to tell me who you were.
She wouldn't even speak your name.
But she left me in no doubt what she thought about you.
Bastard! Arsehole! She literally never stopped slagging you off not a pause for breath between 1987 and 2011.
She went to her grave complaining about you.
How do you know? Because I buried her alive.
You know who's to blame for this, don't you? - Just couldn't stand it any more.
- It's your dad! It's your dad! Your dad! - It all happened because of your dad! - Still, I never knew who you were.
I was lost desperate sort of sexy.
I thought they'd find Mum's body, so I went on the run and came here.
Checked in as Rowan Willow, and that's when I met Terry in the fam-angerment support group.
Terry had deep-seated issues with his brother.
He was working them through making real progress.
There was just something about him.
We sat up till dawn, talking, me about the dad I'd never met, him about the brother who'd betrayed him.
And after a while, he said there was something familiar about me.
My accent.
- The hand I drank with.
- The way I held guns under my chin.
Even the way I got erections.
Soon we realised we were talking about the same person.
You knew it was me just from that? That and the DNA test.
Yeah.
And now I knew my father's name, and the more I spewed my hatred, the more worried Terry became.
So, he set out to warn you.
I put on a pair of specially padded bike leathers I'd had made so anyone watching me in an earlier sequence would assume I was male and I set after him.
I shot him forged some police papers, and came to find you.
I knew I had to cover my tracks from The Healery.
So, I swapped my file photo with someone else's while Des was preoccupied.
And there you all were Searching for Rowan Willow, when she was right beside you all the time! Why didn't you just kill Jack when you had the chance? That was my plan.
But the more time I spent with you, I realised at last I had the gruff, distant, uncaring father figure I'd always craved.
I wanted you all to myself.
But first I had to kill everyone who loved you! Deborah.
Natasha.
Jenny.
Who's Jenny? Oh, she looked at you funny from that lecture you did that I wasn't at.
And finally her.
I'm going to kill her.
For you, Daddy, for you.
You may be my daughter, but I'll shoot you like you're my own son! No, you won't, guv.
Oh, Des, don't! Shoot her, and I'll shoot you first.
I love her, guv.
I love her guv.
Don't do it, Des! Why not? Because Qureshi's pointing a gun at you.
Can't let you shoot Jack, Des.
Stop using words.
Come on, Des, think.
This isn't you.
It's another Des, someone who's forgotten who the good guys are! How did he get my warrant card and trousers? - I don't know! - Liar! It is me! Seems we've reached an improbable standoff.
You can put a stop to it all.
Kerry, just put the gun down.
No, you can put a stop to all of this, Daddy, - by telling her you don't love her.
- Oh! Look her in the eye and say, "I don't love you, Oldman.
" "Old-man.
" Look her in the eye and say, "I don't love you, Old Man.
" And I'll spare her life.
Go on.
Say it.
Come on, Daddy, say it.
Say it! No.
Then she dies! Not if I die first! - No, Daddy! No! - I'll do it! You say you love me then drop the gun, or I'll do it! God, so help me! I'll blast myself into the afterlife quicker than you can say, "Buh"! Do it.
No! Goodbye, Daddy.
Don't.
Just like you taught me, Des.
Just squeeze and She's lucky.
The bullet only obliterated an unimportant part of the brain.
With some Dettol and a lie-down, she should survive, but she'll be watching TV through a straw for the rest of her life.
It seems I owe you an apology, Cloth.
Let's keep it that way.
I want to visit her, make sure she's OK.
Huh! I'm having her sent to a specialist unit in Monterrey.
- But that's thousands of miles - Monterrey, Jack.
You'll probably never be sufficiently arsed - to ever see her again.
- She's my daughter.
Who just tried to sacrifice your partner on an altar.
- But - An altar, Cloth.
What about Des? Pulling a weapon on a superior officer is an unforgivable offence.
Luckily, you're inferior.
He'll be back at work in a fortnight, - back in the saddle.
- But The saddle, Cloth.
- Well, I won't.
I'm finished.
- What do you mean? You'll have my resignation on your desk tomorrow morning.
Jack, wait.
I'm working from home tomorrow.
Have it couriered to my house instead.
The postcode is CNT4 2PJ.
- But - J Cloth.
Jack, wait! You have to go round that bit.
Jack, wait! It must be hard to gain a daughter then lose her again so fast almost like never having had her at all, except for the few moments when you did, until she shot herself in the head with a gun, right in front of you.
I wasn't much of a father to her.
Or to you.
Jack, about before, when she tried to get you to say that you didn't love me.
Yeah, what about it? Did you mean what you didn't say? Every word.
And every letter of every word and every sound those letters made, which were the words I mentioned at the start.
I've always loved you, Oldman.
"Old-man.
" I've always loved you, Old Man.
And I always will.
But it won't work.
I've done too much, seen too much, been too much.
Everyone close to me dies.
And I can't let that happen to you.
Jack, wait! - No, Anne, don't! - I learnt this from you.
Blowing your brains out won't solve anything, and it'll really sting.
Oh, Jack! Neither of us have anything worth living for except the other, which in my case is you.
You care that much? More than dialogue can say.
Oh, my God! Quick, help! Over here! He's been shot! Oh, my God! It's my sister.
- I'm going to bloody kill her, you bastard bitch! - Asap, no! This is out of character! - What the hell is it? - I don't know! I am the fruit of your loin! - But - Your loin, Cloth! Do you want to see my bum, eh? Do you want to see my bum? You want to see my arse? Is that it? Here! Have a look at that, then! Yeah, that's it!
- Do you know this man? - Yeah, I seen him.
Up at The Healery, he was.
We run a respectable business here.
There are no secrets, you can ask me whatever you like.
What do you know about the death of my brother? I think I've answered enough of your questions, Inspector.
Good day.
This place'll soon kick the tits off you.
Is it that obvious I'm new? We slept together, Jack.
I wasn't looking where I was going.
OK.
Every person on this list from The Healery is accounted for except for this one Rowan Willow.
Left The Healery about the same time as Terry, not been seen since.
Hold it, Vull! What did you do with Rowan Willow? - Rowan who-ow? - Rowan Willow! Never seen that woman before in my life.
You killed her in one of your ceremonies.
I told you, Inspector, that ceremony you witnessed was strictly therapeutic.
We often encourage our patients to enact a Gothic ritual slaughtering, right up to, but not including, the moment of death.
Makes the participants feel good about themselves, knowing that they couldn't do such a thing, even though they've dressed as if they definitely would.
- Why do you hate women so much, Vull? - I love women.
Oh, come off it! You're a classic misogynist! You don't have any respect for anything with knockers or a fanny.
I believe the medical term is quim, Inspector.
Look at her.
Look at her! What do you see? Just another victim? Some women are just asking to be sacrificed on an altar, aren't they? - And she's one of them.
- Stop this.
You can read her like a Kindle, can't you? Just push her buttons and see it all.
The childhood.
Not popular at school.
No friends, except for the other lesbian- officers-in-waiting, of course.
Please, stop this.
Little Miss Proper! Little Miss Prim! Little Miss Boohoo Shitty Childhood Bitch! No wonder she signed up to the force, looking for excitement, a thrill, a tingle in the loins, maybe.
Yeah, that's it.
It excites her, the danger of it, that and the paperwork, and the scent of her commanding officer.
She slept with him, you know.
She loved it! She took off all her clothes and she slept with him in the nude! - Don't.
- Oh, yeah! He saw her bum and everything! And where did it get her? Nowhere.
So, how does she ease the pain? She drinks.
Oh, I know, all right.
It's no secret.
She laps vodka from toilets like a dog, a dog that drinks, which dogs don't, but she does.
Imagine a drinking dog, with her stupid head on it, and her stupid female mouth, and her stupid woman's tongue, and her ridiculous lady throat.
She's just Aw, fuck it! For God's sake, man, stop it! Can't you see she's upset? She's only a woman, for God's sake! I mean, you've humiliated her so much, she can't even speak for herself.
She'll probably run out of the room any second, poor thing.
See? Jack, you bastard! Are you all right in there, Oldman? "Old-man.
" - Are you all right in there, Old Man? - Just could you get me some more paper? A3 or A4? What was that? Just a porcelain shit.
Nothing to worry about.
Are you OK? It's not easy, being a woman in this environment.
The ladies' toilets? There's a glass ceiling.
Oh, that's disgusting.
Boys down the station see us as sex objects or harridans.
They won't let us be both.
You shouted something about Jack.
It's nothing.
I I - We - It's OK.
I wee in toilets too.
Jack and I have got a history.
The kind of history you don't read about in books.
At least, not on public transport.
You mean you two We had sex, like a pair of idiots.
You mean while gurgling and clapping your hands? He was the best lover I ever had, until it went pear-shaped.
- Had he banged it on something? - And now every time I see him, my heart wants to put its head on my shoulder and cry from the inside.
- Do you know that feeling? - Yes.
Yes.
I I lost my dad when I was young.
I'm sorry to hear that.
Did he die slowly? I'm sorry.
It's none of my business.
Don't cry.
It's just so raw, you know? I'm sure if he was looking at you right now, he'd be ever so proud of you.
Anne.
Anne! I had to say those things in there.
I had to make Vull think that I thought the way he does, through a mad brain! It didn't work, did it? Look, I can break him, if you'll just come back in there with me for a few more hours, let me harangue you in front of him.
What if he didn't do it? - Vull killed Rowan Willow.
I'm certain of it! - There's not even a body.
Ah, because Terry knew where it was and he's dead now, thanks to Vull.
Don't you see? - Vull had him killed to cover up his death cult! - Jack! There's no way those towers could have collapsed like that! It was a controlled demolition! John, George, Ringo, they all knew! - That's why Paul's barefoot on the cover! - Jack! Listen to yourself! This is madness.
You've let it get personal, Jack.
What will it take to convince you that Vull's innocent? Another murder? Is that what you want to see, the moment I walk away? Well, is it? This is Radio 3.
And now Ikea Johansson's Requiem For An Unsuspecting Victim.
Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?! Oh, Marmoset.
You'll be the death of me one day.
There you are.
Cloth.
I've had Damien Vull's lawyer in my ear for the past hour.
Don't lie.
He'd never fit! Vull is an important and influential member of society.
You can't simply toss accusations of murder at him like peas at a goose.
- This isn't an episode of Cracker.
- But Cracker, Jack.
This is personal, Tom.
So is Ed Miliband's anus, and I don't want to see that in my workplace either.
Pull yourself together or hit the road.
- But - Hit the road, Jack.
Guv! We've found a body.
- Rowan Willow? - No.
But it's dead, guv.
It's the same MO as Terry.
Time of death? It's too early to say.
- And now? - Sometime in the last few hours.
Vull's been here all day.
It can't have been him.
- The victim, who is he? - It's not a he, sir.
It's a she, sir.
It's your ex, sir.
It's Deborah, sir.
Sweet Valley High.
I warn you, she's a ripe one.
I thought the time of death was only a few hours ago.
It was, but she was found under an electric blanket switched to maximum, with the central heating on.
The air con in the meat wagon broke down when they brought her in and she was inadvertently left on a plate warmer instead of in a refrigeration unit.
I know women are putty in your hands, Jack, but this one Huh! She's just putty.
Slade In Flame! Think you can handle it? Bullet entered the cranium, although the hole has softened, so we can't tell much from the wound, and the bullet appears to have lodged elsewhere in the body.
The easiest way is to go in through the ribs, a bit easier since the foxes appear to have broken into the flat and already had a go.
Them again? As you can see, she seems to have eaten quite a few internal organs before dying.
They've had a good snack on the left arm.
Almost hollowed out.
Looks like she'd already been doused in an acid bath.
Signs of burns here and here.
Nothing in the throat.
Now, let me just do this for absolutely no reason.
Anyway, no idea who she is.
Just thought you'd be interested.
Your victim's just over here.
Clean and efficient, and the bullet matches Terry's.
She was shot with the same gun.
- My God.
- Jack, this has nothing to do with The Healery.
My brother and my brother's ex-girlfriend.
Ah! Come on, Jack, think.
You were close to both of them.
Nobody knew them better than you.
- Who connects them? - Guv This was left on the body.
Why are you wearing X's? Those were added after this photo was taken, Des.
Don't you see? I'm the link.
Whoever killed Terry and Deborah, they're telling me I'm next.
I understand I'm free to leave, Inspector.
I'd like to say it's been a pleasure but, for some reason, I haven't been scripted to do so.
And if you've been affected by any of the issues arising from my interrogation here's a card for The Healery.
You can't hide behind a bottle, you know.
Because it's transparent.
OK.
Recap.
Let's speak out loud what we know so far, even though we clearly all know it, because we're all saying it in turn.
- First victim, Terry Cloth.
- My brother.
- Shot dead in a forest.
- No trace of semen on the body.
Two weeks after vanishing from The Healery.
A sort of New Age treatment centre.
- Run by this man.
- Damien Vull.
- Also missing from The Healery.
- Rowan Willow.
- No trace of semen on the body.
- Yesterday, we found another corpse.
- Terry's ex-girlfriend.
Your ex-lover.
- Deborah.
- Shot with the same - Gun as - Terry.
- No trace of semen on the body.
- Which means the next target - For our killer - Is almost certainly - Me, Jack Cloth.
- I'm the new girl.
- No trace of semen on the body.
- That's what I look like in a hat.
- And now we're - Entering - The - Inci - Dent - Room.
OK! Listen up! Take a look at our murderer's next intended victim! That's right.
I'm the target.
So, we can probably assume that everyone close to me is at risk.
We treat this like any other protection operation.
This man gets murdered over my dead body.
We need to know everything there is about this guy.
How tall he is, who has he slept with, who does he want to sleep with.
But something, call it the job, keeps getting in the way.
There's some stuff I can tell you about him you might not know already.
He has a secret pornography obsession, which he's terrified'll come out one day.
He's haunted by the death of his wife, whatever her name was.
And he keeps making these weird spelling mistakes when people are watching.
Whoever carried out these crimes has a grudge against these two men, and it's only going to escalate.
So far, he's only targeted people that we scarcely know.
We've got to catch him before he graduates to regular characters.
So, we've got to go door to door, put feelers out, compile a list of everybody who hates me.
Could be a long list.
So, use a small font size if you have to, but keep it legible, nothing smaller than 7-point, alphabetical, with pictures.
Come on, people! Let's go, before someone else gets killed.
Female.
Early 30s.
Caucasian.
Approximately five foot seven inches tall.
Long, light-brown hair.
Slim build.
Likes farmers' markets, musicals, curling up with a DVD.
I suppose I'm looking for someone who can make me laugh.
That's the most important thing.
And an interest in forensic pathology would be great.
Photos preferable.
E-mail NatSash@TownMorgue.
gov Is somebody there? Hello? PS, send help.
Please! Not the face! It has sentimental value.
- Natasha Sachet, forensic pathologist.
- I know that, Asap! - Worked at the City of Town Police - That too.
- Friends with - Know it! - Lived in a - Got it! - Had a - Yes, yes! - I didn't say anything, so maybe - I know that! - But she's not - Thanks, Qureshi! That's enough! Aberdeen Angus! Natasha! Oh, no! Oh! Why you? Why not someone else, like Qureshi, or Hairihan, or him over there and his wife and kids? Or me! Why not take me?! Because no-one can take you anywhere, Jack.
You're not dead.
As far as I can tell, no.
Bullet entered the body here, just below the left clavicle apex.
I was lucky.
One centimetre to the right and I'd be in the morgue.
Any trace of semen on the body? Not yet.
- Did you see the gun? - No, but I kept a souvenir.
It felt like a .
22.
Same bullet that killed your brother.
Same bullet that killed Deborah.
And, judging by the barrel marks, fired from the same gun.
- Did you see who did it? - I'll ask the questions! - What she said.
- Only for a second.
I saw a motorcycle helmet.
And then Natasha? Natasha? Medic! Natasha? Natasha? - Natasha.
- Coming through.
One, two, three, lift.
Get them, Jack, before they get someone you really care about.
- Witch! - Victim.
- Bollock.
- Ponce.
Make sure she gets the best medical care the state can provide! I'll pay for it out of my taxes! Things just got personaler.
Natasha? You said she was just a human you worked near.
Unless you had history.
There was chemistry.
And biology? With double physics.
How long did it go on for? Oh, two, maybe three minutes.
Don't judge me, Anne.
My wife had just died, for God's sake! My mind was elsewhere.
She wanted more, but I said no and that was that.
There was gossip, of course, but we stayed professional, never let it affect our work.
Even though everyone knew.
Not everyone.
- Anne, please! - You and Natasha! The boys down the station used to talk about all the notches on your bedpost.
They never said anything about you sleeping with women.
It was just sex.
Intimate, earthy sex, up to, and including, ejaculation.
Don't paint me a picture.
Look, you want to see the photos on my phone? You'll see how little it meant.
I've got this blank look on my face, like a bored horse staring at a fence post, even as I'm watching it go in.
I don't want to see anything! I just want it all to go away.
Not just you, all of it, all the death and the pain and the anguish and all the endless striding down corridors just to get a bit of bloody movement into things! I can't stand it any more! No, Anne, don't.
I'll do it, Jack.
I swear I will.
What are you going to do? Climb inside that bottle and stay there for the rest of your life? I've tried.
You'll never get your hips through the neck.
I just don't know what to do.
Oh! I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
It's OK.
It's all right.
Yeah, what is it? Qureshi.
Said he's been through the files and he's drawn a total blank.
It's all on there.
Good work.
Listen, we're all exhausted.
Go home, pour yourself a glass of wine and go to bed.
And drink it in the morning? If it helps.
To be honest, with all the killings, I'm nervous about going home on my own.
I'm sure Des won't mind looking after you.
I didn't realise it was that obvious.
You and Des? You have my blessing.
- Who are you, her dad? - No, her boss, and she's an impressive young woman who's done well in her first week.
Take the night off, Kerry.
Have fun.
Don't get killed.
You deserve it.
Thank you.
And Kerry, - be careful.
- I will.
You're going soft.
Anne, you need help with the drinking.
I can unscrew bottles just fine on my own.
One day you won't.
Next thing you know,you'll be smashing bottles in your mouth to get to the drink, and then it's too late.
Take some time off and dry out.
OK? Just spoke to Jack.
He said we should take the night off, not get murdered, and come in tomorrow, refreshed.
Nice one.
- Pint? - Yeah, why not? Actually, Des, I was thinking WE could do something.
Shove your pint.
What did you have in mind? Well, there's this sort of harrowing film at the Guardiman Cinema.
- It's meant to be good.
- I love harrowing.
- It's a hobby of mine.
- OK.
Well it's a date.
Just gotta you know.
And maybe have a shit.
Good luck.
- Where are you going? - I'm sorting myself out.
I've lost focus recently.
Everything's a blur.
- So, you're - Going to The Healery.
Just for a few days.
OK.
- Where's the baby? Where's our baby?! - I don't know! Take the syringe out of your eye and answer me! I said I don't know! You sold him, didn't you? You sold the baby for smack! You make me sick! You want to know how sick you make me, eh? Here! Wuh! Bleugh! Bleugh! What's this? - What's this in your pocket? - It's a bit of potato, innit? - No, it's a baby's leg! - It's not a leg! You ate him! You ate the baby - and you tried to blame me! - I didn't! - So - So? Look, Des, I would love to invite you upstairs, but But this car hasn't got an upstairs.
It's not that.
I just want to take it slowly.
I've got one of them cock rings.
Keeps you from barking your yop for a good 20 minutes.
I mean us.
I'm not quite ready yet.
Shall we give it ten minutes? Let's just take it one step at a time.
Night, Des.
Night, Kerry.
All right, Joanne? I am Anne Old-man.
And I'm a drinkaholic.
We overlooked you, Rowan Willow.
Surely you must hold the key.
But where are you? Excuse me.
I'm just locking the station up for the night.
Rowan? Are you Rowan Willow? - Rowan who-ow? - Rowan Willow? No, I'm Knott.
WPC Julie Knott.
But this is your photo.
Someone's printed that off my Facebook.
But if you're Knott then who's ? Cocks in aspic! Come on, Anne.
Pick up, pick up.
Hi, it's DC Anne Old-man.
I can't come to the phone, because my life is in danger, - but leave a short message.
- Damn it.
Sanctu Spiritus No, Vull! - You don't have to do this! - I don't want to.
You must die.
Come on, Des.
Pick up, pick up.
Guv? Des, it's me.
Hang on, Des, hang on a minute.
Des, you still there? Listen.
You've got to get to The Healery now.
Anne's in danger.
- What sort of danger? - The dangerous kind! I can't! I can't! You'll just have to shoot me.
If you're going to kill me, at least let me see your face so I can rate it out of ten.
Cheers, thanks for the tip.
Guv? Caught me on my second job.
Asap, I know who the killer is! - Who is it? - Meet me at The Healery ASAP, Asap.
Hello, Oldman.
"Old-man.
" Hello, Old Man.
And goodbye.
- There's a lion behind you! - I'm not falling for that.
They trained you well at the academy.
I've never been to the academy.
I don't even know who an academy is.
- What? - I forged my papers.
- Why? - To get close to him.
To Jack.
- Why are you obsessed with Jack? - Why are you obsessed with Jack? - Who says I am? - Who says I am? You shot three people to get close to him.
No, you shot three people to get close to him.
- No, I didn't.
- And neither did I! Oh! Jack! Drop the gun, Newblood! It's over! I know who you are.
I know you're Rowan Willow.
Rowan Willow was a pseudonym, just like Kerry Newblood.
Then if you're not either one of them then which one of you are you? I knew you'd come.
I haven't come in months.
Isn't it embarrassing when your parents talk about sex? What? Oh, my God.
- Jack? - Yes.
I'm your daughter.
I don't have a daughter.
I don't have kids of any flavour, or race! They don't even have heads, my kids, because I don't have any! You're my daddy.
My big strong daddy.
Jack! You're not fantasising.
This is real! - Well, then, if I'm your father, who's - Jill, of course.
She was pregnant when she had that accident, when you betrayed her.
She left town and gave birth to me in a bin! She never forgave you for the indignity of that.
- Bastard.
- She hated you.
What was Daddy? A big bastard.
Filled my head with poison from the very first moment.
She refused to tell me who you were.
She wouldn't even speak your name.
But she left me in no doubt what she thought about you.
Bastard! Arsehole! She literally never stopped slagging you off not a pause for breath between 1987 and 2011.
She went to her grave complaining about you.
How do you know? Because I buried her alive.
You know who's to blame for this, don't you? - Just couldn't stand it any more.
- It's your dad! It's your dad! Your dad! - It all happened because of your dad! - Still, I never knew who you were.
I was lost desperate sort of sexy.
I thought they'd find Mum's body, so I went on the run and came here.
Checked in as Rowan Willow, and that's when I met Terry in the fam-angerment support group.
Terry had deep-seated issues with his brother.
He was working them through making real progress.
There was just something about him.
We sat up till dawn, talking, me about the dad I'd never met, him about the brother who'd betrayed him.
And after a while, he said there was something familiar about me.
My accent.
- The hand I drank with.
- The way I held guns under my chin.
Even the way I got erections.
Soon we realised we were talking about the same person.
You knew it was me just from that? That and the DNA test.
Yeah.
And now I knew my father's name, and the more I spewed my hatred, the more worried Terry became.
So, he set out to warn you.
I put on a pair of specially padded bike leathers I'd had made so anyone watching me in an earlier sequence would assume I was male and I set after him.
I shot him forged some police papers, and came to find you.
I knew I had to cover my tracks from The Healery.
So, I swapped my file photo with someone else's while Des was preoccupied.
And there you all were Searching for Rowan Willow, when she was right beside you all the time! Why didn't you just kill Jack when you had the chance? That was my plan.
But the more time I spent with you, I realised at last I had the gruff, distant, uncaring father figure I'd always craved.
I wanted you all to myself.
But first I had to kill everyone who loved you! Deborah.
Natasha.
Jenny.
Who's Jenny? Oh, she looked at you funny from that lecture you did that I wasn't at.
And finally her.
I'm going to kill her.
For you, Daddy, for you.
You may be my daughter, but I'll shoot you like you're my own son! No, you won't, guv.
Oh, Des, don't! Shoot her, and I'll shoot you first.
I love her, guv.
I love her guv.
Don't do it, Des! Why not? Because Qureshi's pointing a gun at you.
Can't let you shoot Jack, Des.
Stop using words.
Come on, Des, think.
This isn't you.
It's another Des, someone who's forgotten who the good guys are! How did he get my warrant card and trousers? - I don't know! - Liar! It is me! Seems we've reached an improbable standoff.
You can put a stop to it all.
Kerry, just put the gun down.
No, you can put a stop to all of this, Daddy, - by telling her you don't love her.
- Oh! Look her in the eye and say, "I don't love you, Oldman.
" "Old-man.
" Look her in the eye and say, "I don't love you, Old Man.
" And I'll spare her life.
Go on.
Say it.
Come on, Daddy, say it.
Say it! No.
Then she dies! Not if I die first! - No, Daddy! No! - I'll do it! You say you love me then drop the gun, or I'll do it! God, so help me! I'll blast myself into the afterlife quicker than you can say, "Buh"! Do it.
No! Goodbye, Daddy.
Don't.
Just like you taught me, Des.
Just squeeze and She's lucky.
The bullet only obliterated an unimportant part of the brain.
With some Dettol and a lie-down, she should survive, but she'll be watching TV through a straw for the rest of her life.
It seems I owe you an apology, Cloth.
Let's keep it that way.
I want to visit her, make sure she's OK.
Huh! I'm having her sent to a specialist unit in Monterrey.
- But that's thousands of miles - Monterrey, Jack.
You'll probably never be sufficiently arsed - to ever see her again.
- She's my daughter.
Who just tried to sacrifice your partner on an altar.
- But - An altar, Cloth.
What about Des? Pulling a weapon on a superior officer is an unforgivable offence.
Luckily, you're inferior.
He'll be back at work in a fortnight, - back in the saddle.
- But The saddle, Cloth.
- Well, I won't.
I'm finished.
- What do you mean? You'll have my resignation on your desk tomorrow morning.
Jack, wait.
I'm working from home tomorrow.
Have it couriered to my house instead.
The postcode is CNT4 2PJ.
- But - J Cloth.
Jack, wait! You have to go round that bit.
Jack, wait! It must be hard to gain a daughter then lose her again so fast almost like never having had her at all, except for the few moments when you did, until she shot herself in the head with a gun, right in front of you.
I wasn't much of a father to her.
Or to you.
Jack, about before, when she tried to get you to say that you didn't love me.
Yeah, what about it? Did you mean what you didn't say? Every word.
And every letter of every word and every sound those letters made, which were the words I mentioned at the start.
I've always loved you, Oldman.
"Old-man.
" I've always loved you, Old Man.
And I always will.
But it won't work.
I've done too much, seen too much, been too much.
Everyone close to me dies.
And I can't let that happen to you.
Jack, wait! - No, Anne, don't! - I learnt this from you.
Blowing your brains out won't solve anything, and it'll really sting.
Oh, Jack! Neither of us have anything worth living for except the other, which in my case is you.
You care that much? More than dialogue can say.
Oh, my God! Quick, help! Over here! He's been shot! Oh, my God! It's my sister.
- I'm going to bloody kill her, you bastard bitch! - Asap, no! This is out of character! - What the hell is it? - I don't know! I am the fruit of your loin! - But - Your loin, Cloth! Do you want to see my bum, eh? Do you want to see my bum? You want to see my arse? Is that it? Here! Have a look at that, then! Yeah, that's it!