Lewis (2007) s07e03 Episode Script

I wouldn't worry.
We've got a whole wine cellar full of the stuff.
It's a true story.
Don't get me started on that.
Tales from med school.
It'd be better if there wasn't red tape everywhere you turned.
Well, there is a lot of history to protect in Oxford.
I'm just saying these planning regs, they cripple a small business like mine.
Maybe it's time to stop being a small business then, Brian.
That way I might even get some return on my investment, eh? That's the one good thing about Croatia.
You can do what you like with your own property.
He was a man and a friend always He stuck with me in the hard old days He never cared if I had no dough We rambled round .
.
in the rain and snow So here's to you, my ramblin' boy May all your ramblin' bring you joy So here's to you, my ramblin' boy Well, it's gonna be my project Are you all right? I need a drink.
All right? Fine.
Thanks.
Would you like some more wine, Jack? Oh, thank you, just a drop.
Thank you.
We're still on the wine.
I'm going onto the grain.
How wonderful.
So we can expect embarrassing jokes any time now, then? Jack? Would you come over here and help me open the dessert wine? Come along.
Good doggy.
I know he's a bit of a flirt.
Doesn't mean anything.
Thanks, Robbie.
I didn't know who else to talk to.
He said he'll pay the mortgage and send money for the boys.
As if that's all that matters.
Well, I'll try to talk to him.
This flat he's taken? Yeah.
Right.
I'll call him first.
Yeah.
He's blocking my calls, but he'll listen to you.
Well, I'll do my best.
I'm sure it's just a People don't change that much.
Jack's a good bloke.
And thinks the world of you and the boys.
I know he does.
Top up? Driving.
Do you want a drop more? That'll be great.
Watch your liver.
Beverley.
Jack, it's Robbie Lewis.
Just touching base.
See how you are.
Erm give us a ring some time.
A-Any time if you think there's anything I can do to help in any way.
You must miss the boys a lot and well There you go, wild youth.
And wild lass.
Great, Dad.
More jobs like this, I can stop doing Mr Miller's funerals.
Don't turn your nose up at funerals.
We all die.
Good steady income.
Morbid.
And you do some studying.
I will! Are you OK, Dad? You're not? No.
I'm not.
You're sure you won't One day at a time, yeah? Don't worry.
Sober as a judge.
Jack, can I get you a liqueur? Thanks, no, driving.
I thought you just had to flash your warrant card if you got stopped.
Those were the days.
It was really lovely.
We've had a really lovely time.
And tell me about that wallpaper.
Oh, God, stop! Get away from me! Are you getting in, then? It's all kicking off in there.
"Stop being a small businessman?" Who the hell does he think he is? My boss? Having my baby You're the woman I love and I love what it's doing to you You're supposed to be studying.
I'm a woman in love and I love what it's doing to me I didn't have to keep it Wouldn't put you through it Gross.
That's never gonna happen to me, babe.
Good.
That's me.
Just got to hope it sticks.
Ah, I was supposed to get my hat from work.
Oh, Li, I knew you'd forget.
It's all right.
I can go and get it.
You stand no chance.
Everyone goes as Dracula.
Yeah, but not everyone has a beautiful corpse.
Zere is more to Dracula zan a set of fangs, you know? All packed and ready to go? Time for a last pint.
So, Pristina? Holiday resort, is it? Not quite a resort, no.
Right.
But it's seaside? Not exactly, sir.
I've cleared my desk.
I don't think there's anything outstanding.
You're the poster boy of police efficiency.
Try and stay that way.
Sir? Oh, people change.
Try and keep hold of who you are.
I'm going on holiday for a week.
I'm not joining the Foreign Legion.
They wouldn't have you.
Too posh.
Ooh, hello.
Oh, leave him alone.
What? What are you like? I'll see you in ten minutes, tops.
You took forever.
Where is it, the hat? There was someone there, viewing a body.
Never mind.
Come on, the others went in ages ago.
And put your fangs in.
Have a look round the immediate area.
See what you can find.
Morning, Robbie.
Laura.
What have we got? Gentleman of mature years.
Been dead some time but bit of a puzzle.
No maggots, no visible pooling.
Tongue is not distended.
The nails Spare us.
Best suit.
Polished shoes.
Clean white hanky in top pocket.
No underpants.
No keks? Ah, you can take the lad out of Newcastle Not your usual focused self, Robbie.
Where's Hathaway? On his holidays.
Did you ever meet Jack Cornish? Fast-track detective, destined for great things.
Yeah, I've met him.
Why? Well, it's just We were always great mates, you know, cut from the same cloth and No, ignore me.
Is that it? 'Fraid not.
Saving the best till last.
If I were to say all the usual offices have been performed Robbie, this gentleman has already been put through the tender hands of an undertaker.
Interesting? Best before the 15th? That was when? Last week.
You're a single bloke.
Zap it in the microwave.
Be fine.
You know Jack Cornish well? I worked with him for three years.
Well, the big gossip - that even I can't avoid - is he's having an affair with Tara Faulkner.
Peter Faulkner's wife? Pretty solid.
Everyone knows.
Jack's wife doesn't.
Please, Robbie.
No wonder he's not answering the phone.
Peter Faulkner's wife? Have you met her? I spent a few fruitless hours interviewing her husband.
We didn't like each other much.
So I hear.
Not a good partner for an ambitious copper.
Your pal needs to extricate himself double quick.
Haven't you got a body to investigate? There's no obvious cause of death.
No broken bones.
Skull is complete.
Hyoid's intact.
So not battered or strangled, then? The soft tissues are too decomposed to tell us anything.
And the organs have been mucked about with.
Can't do a blood test due to the embalming fluid in his veins.
And still no identification? Nope.
Been through all his pockets.
You're enjoying this.
I'm just wondering how you're gonna start untangling it.
With great skill.
And without Hathaway.
Be like having one hand tied behind your back.
There's not a lot you can do until you find out who this gentleman is or was.
No.
We're waiting for the search results, ma'am.
In the meantime Yes, come in, Grey.
Sorry, ma'am.
I'm DC Grey, sir.
Right.
I was told DC Grey is your right-hand man in Hathaway's absence.
He's just out of uniform.
Is he? Good.
Maybe you could Course.
Right.
Yes.
A detective constable? Thank you, ma'am.
When I asked for volunteers to work with you, he was the only one who put up his hand.
Be nice, Robbie.
If Inspector Morse had been nice, I'd still be a sergeant.
Yeah, that man has got a lot to answer for.
None of these essays lightened my heart.
But Liam Jay, words failed me.
Where is he? Any idea? I thought he'd be here.
Sorry.
Why should YOU be sorry? It's hardly your fault.
Usually when work is cribbed wholesale from the Net, some small effort is made to disguise the fact.
Do tell him.
At last.
How do you fancy an hour or two busking? You're in so much trouble.
See you later! The Bodleian is heaving with Americans.
We'll clean up.
You promised your dad you'd start studying.
And I will.
Come on, Luce, I need the money.
We don't all live in a cosy, little, rent-free boat, do we? Oh, don't be grumpy.
Hathaway's having a holiday.
Says he is.
Oh? Like that, is it? Come on.
He thinks I don't know about it.
Some old churchy pals of his have roped him in for some do-goodery.
Oh, no! Fixing up an orphanage.
More or less press-ganged him into it.
Poor James.
Eh He'll fit straight back in with all of them.
He wouldn't know fun if it jumped up and smacked him in the gob.
Like you would? I've had my share.
In the distant past.
Oh, you did give yourself up to wild abandon the other night.
Friday.
Drinking in the beauty of the river, standing in the dusk and just gazing at the sight.
Ah, yeah, yeah.
Body Well, I thought I saw a body.
But, well, it wasn't.
It was a log.
What? Yeah.
Lewis.
Neil Strickley.
Thanks.
Name band.
Cut off his wrist or his ankle.
Found about 100 yards from the body.
Still, it's something to work on.
Sorry.
Your treat.
We're not asking you to break any confidences.
I'm already late for my calls.
He'd been our patient for three years.
Nothing unusual about his death.
Cancer.
Do you know the family? I don't know any families.
I just sit in there like a priest in the confessional and they bring me their scabs and their limps and imagined ailments one after another.
You like your job? Probably as much as you like yours.
Sorry I can't be more help! You're the undertaker? Mr Miller, Detective Inspector Lewis.
There's no way this is Mr Strickley.
We cremated him on Tuesday.
You'd recognise him? Of course.
I laid him out.
I prepared him.
Mr Strickley was in that coffin.
I put him in it.
I drove the hearse to the crematorium.
So why didn't you stop him clambering out? So you always check the name? Yeah.
Don't want to send the wrong one off, do we? Is that it? Pretty much.
How do you know there's anything inside it? Well, it comes from the undertaker, must be.
And it gets carried in, so we'd know if the coffin was empty.
But it needn't be a body.
It could be books, bricks, anything.
I always check the furnace.
A spy hole.
Coffins burn away in minutes.
Made out of rubbish mostly.
What, you can see the body in there? Yeah.
I was on duty for Mr Strickley.
And I always, always check.
It's just a habit.
Last person to see him, you could say.
OK, on you go.
And this is the sum total of your knowledge? I can remember a few lines of The Ancient Mariner, ma'am.
The search team is still on the scene.
And it's a favourite spot for fly-tippers, so it could take some time.
What? Peter Faulkner should be on that list, sir.
According to Companies House, he owns 80% of Miller's business.
He's an investor.
That doesn't mean he's directly involved.
It doesn't mean he isn't.
OK, you can renew your old friendship.
Just be nice.
I have several business interests.
Garages, construction, all sorts.
But you already know that, don't you? I do, but I'm concentrating on this latest investigation, sir.
When did you last have any involvement with the funeral company? I look at the accounts from time to time.
And when did you last go there? Couple of years ago.
When it opened.
So there'd be no need to take your fingerprints for the purposes of elimination? Absolutely not.
And your wife? Does she look as if she hangs around funeral parlours? Would it be possible to speak to her, sir? Tara's on holiday.
And she isn't taking calls.
Where is she staying? No idea.
Some mysterious destination.
She's run off with one of your lot.
When was this, sir? One lovely summer's night.
The 17th.
And where do you think she might have gone? The world's her oyster.
Now I've got work to do.
You're not worried about her, sir? Tara is a grown woman.
Predator on predator.
Worthy opponents.
Heart-warming.
It is.
No-one I know can put up a half decent fight.
Present company included.
I come in when Mr Miller needs a pall bearer.
And sometimes they need me for repatriation.
Bringing a body back from Spain or somewhere.
It pays really well.
Funny job for a student.
My dad got me it.
You were at Neil Strickley's funeral.
Anything unusual? No.
You seem very sure? I am.
Hmm.
"Corby Manse - 6pm, the 17th.
" The police have been.
Liam, surgery is over.
They say we've lost a body.
Mr Strickley.
It was that night.
It has to be.
I knew there was something weird.
You don't "know" anything.
Calm down.
Why would anyone steal a body? Why indeed? It's nothing to do with us.
You're sweating.
Do you need something? You were at Corby Manse four days before the Strickley cremation? About that.
They had one of their famous suppers.
Dr Whitby, his girlfriend, all the usual suspects.
Sorry.
Unfortunate turn of phrase.
Good evening? Very.
Everyone on good form.
How long since Peter Faulkner had a look around his investment? Came here? He doesn't.
I run the place.
I'm the boss.
Nine o'clock, my appointment.
How much longer? He may have been called to an emergency.
Has he not got a mobile phone? You just can't get enough of me, can you? I'll take out a restraining order if you don't pack it in.
Looks like another GP suicide.
No note? Not so far.
OK, well, I won't be here long.
Reeks of whisky and the pills tell their own tale.
Postmortem should be pretty straightforward.
That's what you said about Mr Strickley.
Another fine mess you got me into.
The next of kin.
Did you find him? No, sir, that's it.
His next of kin is Tara Faulkner.
OK.
The facts so far.
Body is removed from its coffin.
Somebody else is cremated in its place.
Peter Faulkner who owns the lion's share of the funeral parlour says his wife has gone off on some mystery holiday.
And her brother is found dead.
Tara Faulkner was last seen on the If she was killed that evening and then cremated four days later, this suicide could be Matt Whitby's confession.
Sorry, I can't take it in.
He killed himself? And you still haven't heard from your wife, sir? Only, as Dr Whitby's next of kin, we really do need to speak to her.
I've already told you.
When did you last see Dr Whitby? Not yesterday.
The day before.
And this is everybody that was at your dinner party? Let me in, please! Peter! Peter! Peter? Mr Faulkner? Excuse me.
Peter! I've just come past the surgery.
Someone said Is it true? But it can't be.
Not Matt.
Why would he Probably topped himself to get away from HER.
The limpet.
What time did you leave the party? First to go.
I'd had enough of the humiliation.
I'm sorry? I bored him.
He made me feel like a sad, old, academic spinster.
You and Dr Whitby were? We were together.
Sometimes.
Never quite sure if we were on or off.
Not a match made in heaven.
Purgatory maybe.
Were you the last guests to leave? Yes, I think so.
Maybe Matt Whitby and I'm not sure about the policeman.
He was still there? Might have been.
Unable to tear himself away from Tara Faulkner.
She will be in pieces about her brother.
She didn't have any other family.
Or none that wanted anything to do with her.
You don't like her much? Tara Faulkner's only hobby is upsetting people.
Banging on about her architect or her interior designer.
The latest thing being some precious farmhouse in Transylvania or somewhere.
No.
Croatia, that's it.
I'm not gonna make you a happy man.
I'm always happy.
My face is misleading.
The assumed suicide.
Might just be murder? He was poisoned.
A mixture of PCP, methanol and formaldehyde.
Formaldehyde? Embalming fluid.
Combined with the alcohol and Diazepam.
And there was some of it in his lungs.
Any sign of bruising to indicate he'd been held down? Possibly, but he's been face down on his desk all night and it's very difficult to find bruising through lividity.
All right, I'll have another look.
I'll try not to pester you, but if you could Hurry it up? Don't push it.
You saw Dr Whitby several times over the last few months.
Liam, isn't it? Second time we met this week.
What were you doing at the doctor's? It was nothing.
A routine visit.
He didn't have an appointment but Dr Whitby said he'd see him.
And he was at the Faulkners' dinner party.
A waiter.
And you work at Miller's? What's that got to do with Dr Whitby's death? Probably nothing.
Can you tell us why you went to the surgery? It's private.
Sorry.
Any objection if we take a look at your room? I ran a check on Dr Whitby's mobile, sir.
He didn't seem to use it much.
- No calls on the day he died.
- OK.
And no texts? Didn't text and only ever received one that was way back on the 20th, World Cup? From a pay-as-you-go phone.
Bought that same day.
Hasn't been used since.
How's it going? This is Liam's room? Worth a look, ma'am.
Yeah, he was at Mr Strickley's fake funeral and he was the last patient to see Dr Whitby.
Found anything interesting? A couple of old Diazepam bottles both prescribed to him.
So, not at all interesting, then? We're getting nowhere fast.
Well, not entirely.
The Faulkners have a farmhouse that he neglected to tell us about.
In Croatia.
And? Well I'd just like a chat with Mr Faulkner, ma'am.
Horse's mouth, and all that.
But if the species has a primary biological urge to reproduce, wouldn't we all want to be parents? And don't we? Do we? Hi.
Sorry.
Sorry, everyone.
Have I missed much? Just most of the term.
Oops.
You'd better go.
Sorry? I'll inform your senior tutor that you've left my course.
But that's You need to find out what options you have.
Whatever they are, you will not be rejoining this course.
Must I lose TWO students? You have to see your senior tutor.
You've not been sent down.
Stop it! Liam! Most fun I've had in weeks.
You idiot.
Yeah, I am! It's not my fault.
It's in the genes.
I'm like my dad - a loser.
Your dad, call him.
Tell him.
He'll know what to do.
Yeah, right.
He's off on a binge, like always.
It's what he does, Ruth, lets you down.
Just like me.
And it didn't occur to you to mention your Croatian property when we asked where she might have gone? If you knew my wife and you'd seen that farmhouse It's a wreck.
It's damp, half derelict, no electricity.
My wife wouldn't be seen dead there.
On the night of your supper party Oh, not again.
We believe you had an argument with your wife.
Probably.
It's how we like to round off the day.
Can you tell me what it was about? My client chooses not to say anything.
Chief Superintendent Jack Cornish.
I couldn't stomach it any longer.
We had a slanging match and the two of them left.
Together.
Do you know where Mr Miller stores his embalming fluid? In the embalming fluid cupboard, I suppose.
How long do I have to take this? Do you and your wife often take separate holidays? Sometimes.
How would you describe your marriage? Heterosexual.
What the hell are you on about? When you fought that night after your guests left Argued.
I think you hit her.
Or she hit you.
We have forensics officers at your home.
There will be forensics.
I strongly advise you to remain silent.
In the fight, I think your wife died.
So you swapped her body for one at the undertaker's.
Then somehow her brother found out, so What? Sorry, sir, you're wanted downstairs urgently.
Two minutes.
Two minutes.
Chief Superintendent Innocent said to stress it's urgent, sir.
This had better be good.
She's through there, sir.
One more minute we'd have had him charged and locked I don't think you've met Mrs Faulkner.
Sorry, guys, we're all stood down.
Search over.
All right.
And now we've got to tell her her brother's been murdered.
Her husband's on the way down, so she's not completely alone.
Oh, the man you reckoned had murdered her and killed her brother to shut him up? That one.
Do you think it'll make it easier? Ma'am.
We're both gonna get dragged over the coals for this.
Thank you so much.
I just need a bit of help.
Get me some pills.
Say you're depressed.
No.
Right, fine, go your own way and I'll go mine.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
You're not making any sense.
Get me some pills.
Anything.
You're messing up your life and now you want to mess up mine.
No, I don't.
I won't.
I'll sort myself out.
We're over.
That's right, walk out on me.
Everyone does.
Liam You're not gonna do anything stupid? Something I should have done days ago.
Where are you going? The police.
A shooting star.
That's what he is.
Lighting up the night sky, exciting and amazing.
But what is he really? They burn out, you know.
They turn into useless lumps.
Trust me.
Maybe if you take Mrs Faulkner home, sir.
We will need to talk later, but it can wait.
Oh, bloody hell, not that stupid missing body thing again? How many times do Can I see him? Of course.
I'll take you over there.
I can take her.
No.
Why isn't it YOU lying dead and cold instead of Matt? I want to say goodbye to him in private.
Sir.
There's a young man wants to talk to you.
Liam Jay.
I can't talk to him at the moment.
Says it's urgent.
Bit agitated, sir.
Get him to wait.
Mrs Faulkner.
Who did this? Was it a patient? We don't know.
I'm sorry.
It was.
I know it was.
Some druggy.
He was too good to them.
I told him.
Liam Jay? Got tired of waiting.
Call me if he turns up again.
Maybe his sister's right.
If this student Liam Jay.
.
.
was the last patient to see him, and we know he's on prescription drugs.
People kill for crack cocaine, ma'am, not Diazepam and this kid is no killer.
Famous last words.
I know you think I'm fixated on the Faulkners but if Jack Cornish was looking into their affairs and they thought he was getting a bit too close.
Maybe they killed him? It's a bit of a leap.
Well, he was at their party and he has gone missing.
Someone was cremated, ma'am.
You said that was Tara Faulkner.
And now you reckon it's Jack Cornish.
It's just a bit random, Robbie.
Well, there was a fight, and if Jack was getting close to making an arrest If, if, if.
He wasn't investigating the Faulkners.
I've spoken to his number two.
We still don't know whether Tara Faulkner left with him.
Maybe she went off on her own.
Is anyone trying to track her movements? We're onto the Border Agency.
Hobson, ma'am.
Hi.
Excuse me, ma'am.
Yeah.
Right.
Why don't we try and meet half way? I've found your ante-mortem bruising on Dr Whitby.
Two areas of pressure either side of the neck whilst he was sitting, probably too drunk to fight them off, because the bruising was pretty light.
Final toxicology report, nothing new, same as before.
Drunk, stomach awash with whisky and undigested pills.
Faulkner is into whisky.
As are a lot of people.
Faulkner said, when his wife suddenly turned up, he said, "Not this stupid lost body thing again.
" But if she went off on the night of the party, she hadn't been in touch with anybody since, why didn't she say, "What are you talking about?" He'd just told her that her brother was dead.
Nah, nah, she knew.
Her and her husband pretend to be at each other's throats, but actually they're thick as thieves.
Not if she ran off with Jack Cornish.
I bet my pension she didn't.
He wouldn't have anything to do with a woman like her.
You think it was him in that coffin, don't you? I hope not, but I think he might have been about to uncover something something big.
So the Faulkners killed him.
And Dr Whitby? Do you think he was in on the murder? I don't know yet.
But I'm sure his murder links back to the Faulkners, too.
Never mind.
There's a lad who wants to tell me something.
Maybe he's gonna wrap up all the answers for us nice and neat.
Looking for Liam Jay.
Didn't need him today.
OK, I'll try his girlfriend.
That number? Used to be 1066, but we changed it.
Why would that be on Dr Whitby's phone? I don't follow.
The text "World Cup", did you send it to Dr Whitby? You've lost me, Inspector.
I never sent anything to Dr Whitby.
Who else knows the entry code? Everyone who needs to.
How often is it changed? Why is that open? That leads through to the refrigeration room.
No-one? We get some stupid kids daring each other.
Ghouls.
Check the fridges.
What? We haven't got anyone.
Mr Miller? He's dead! Yeah, not far off! Go on, phone now! Come on, son.
Stay with me.
Stay with me.
You think something terrible has happened.
We don't know what's happened.
I need you to get to a farmhouse just outside Split.
You know Split is in another country? Your ferret's not doing very well! Losing his teeth.
Careful, Robbie! There'll be gas bottles!