I'll get it.
- Mr Manuel? - He's not in.
It's you that I wanted to talk to, sir.
What?
I hear Peter's going to be on trial in a couple of weeks.
Him and a lad named Joseph Brannan,
for some attempted burglary over in Blantyre.
So, what of it?
Always seemed to me that Peter's at his most
reckless when he's out on bail. Most prone to doing something that he may regret.
You've got some bloody nerve.
Coming on like you care when it's you that's trying to put Peter in the frame.
Piss off! Get your hand off my door.
You really want another Anne Kneilands on your conscience?
Oh, she's not on my conscience, Muncie.
Because Peter was here that night.
Superintendent Leish is satisfied with that.
And he's in charge now, isn't he?
Superintendent Leish had no choice but to be satisfied,
because you provided Peter with an alibi.
And Professor Alison,
who was the pathologist on the Anne Kneilands case,
he told me, in all his years,
he'd never seen a body with more brutal injuries.
There was a hole on top of her head that you could put a fist in.
There was blood and brain matter found over 15 feet from where she lay.
She was so badly beaten
that her hands and her arms, which she'd held up to try to defend herself, were broken.
- This is harassment. I'm reporting you. - No, wait. Just...
Imagine that was your daughter.
Officer?
From Blantyre. To do with the Manuel burglaries.
While you're up, Iris, make us a cuppa, would you?
I'm a detective, Duncan. Not a tea lady.
Can you believe it? Me, the killer?
Muncie. I tell you, that bastard's had a grudge with me
ever since I gave him that going-over in the alley.
- You beat up a copper? - Aye.
Knocked seven shades of buzzing shite out of him.
You don't get done for that?
Well, I didn't do it in broad daylight, did I?
Aye.
What's up with you, anyway? You've got a face on you like a girl.
Well, Pete, if we go to trial,
we'll go to prison.
It's all right for you, you've been inside.
Ah, it'll be over before you know it.
Sheriff will give us 18 months, we'll be out in 12.
- In a year. What's that? - A lot, in the life of my wee ones.
Family man's got the blues, eh?
Well, maybe I have something that'll put a smile back on your face.
What are you doing?
Webley .38.
What have you got that for?
Making hay while the sun shines, buddy.
We've got one more month of freedom, right?
Plenty of time for one more job.
- We added insurance. - Like what?
A little dicky bird told me about a rich wop, lives in Burnside.
Owns a bunch of ice-cream parlours.
And he has a safe at home where he keeps the weekend takings.
Well, I don't know, Pete, that gun looks pretty knackered.
What do you know about guns? The gun's fine. So are you in?
- Nah. You're all right. - What's that supposed to mean?
I just don't think our partnership's been a roaring success, has it?
We've knocked off half a dozen places and only been done once.
- Once is enough for me. - Your loss, chum.
Burnside 3-8-8-5.
Hello, Bill.
Did you... Did you speak with Vivienne about, er...
About our quarrel?
Not with my sister here.
You know, I didn't mean to hurt you, let alone Vivienne.
Now's not the time, Bill.
Could I say good night to her?
Vivienne?
Daddy wants a word.
Tell him I'm busy.
She says she's busy.
Teen rebel.
- What gives, daddy's girl? - It's nothing.
I'm mad at him.
He forgot to give me my pocket money before he went away.
- Vivienne... - Honest.
Look on the bright side. You'll get double next week.
Do you want to stay over tonight?
Do you mind if I don't?
I sort of feel like my own bed tonight, you know?
Sure. That's fine.
Daddy?
Sir.
William Watt?
Lads.
If you'd like to follow us back to Glasgow, sir.
Oh, God. Oh, God!
No! Oh, my goodness!
No, who could have...
Do you know of anybody
who might harbour feelings of resentment,
animosity towards your family?
Against my wife? My daughter?
No, you couldn't... You couldn't ask for two sweeter souls.
See, I was thinking more towards yourself.
A business rival, say,
who would be prepared to carry out such a terrible crime.
I'm a baker.
That's all I am. I'm just a baker.
You see, Mr Watt, I believe this is no ordinary break-in.
I believe there's a motive here.
Chop-chop, girls!
Jane, school is not a beauty pageant!
I'm coming!
You know, it is possible it wasn't Manuel.
Leish and his team did go into his house.
They didn't bring him in for questioning, though, did they?
Yes, but you said yourself there's much that doesn't fit.
The gun.
Killing the two older women in their sleep.
No feel for him to gloat on.
Yes, it is possible that it wasn't him.
But is that really good enough?
For his wife, his daughter and his sister-in-law?
I mean, in two days' time...
I can't find my ruler!
It's by your bed, sweetheart.
In two days' time,
him and Brannon are going to stand trial for that caper over in Blantyre
and then they're going to be in prison for a few months,
and you know how that works.
As a suspect, Peter Manuel will cease to exist.
I know. I know.
I'm sorry, Agn.
I need to see that house for myself.
They weren't asleep. The mother and her sister.
They weren't asleep.
Look, lying side-by-side,
like they're standing to attention. Nobody sleeps like that.
They were awake.
They were most likely terrified.
So, Mr Watt confirmed that none of his wife's jewellery was stolen.
- All present and correct, sir. - There's no safe.
No, sir.
Then why this house?
Burglars act on information. So he knew something.
What's so special about 5 Fernsbank Avenue?
First is number two. No number one.
It's a mess-up on the part of the planners, apparently.
Yeah, but he didn't know that, did he?
What if he never meant to break in at number five?
What if the intended target was number four?
It's dark. He doesn't even know there's no number one,
so he just comes along, saw one, two,
three, four.
Except there was number five, no number four.
So, who lives in number four?
Italian family by the name of Valente.
- Is that the ice cream Valentes? - The same.
Yeah, you see? That's money.
- I think this was Manuel. - Yes, sir.
Well, you've known him since his old housebreaking days,
so if you've got any thoughts, erm...
I'd like to hear them.
Well, when it came to housebreaking, he always like to have a base.
A vacant property where he could lay low, watch and wait.
Who lives in there?
Number 18.
Spinsters. Sisters.
Been on holiday in Wester Ross since the 10th.
Hello, Peter Manuel.
Leish is making an announcement. They've made an arrest.
A little after 11:00 this morning,
a team of Hamilton CID officers led by myself
arrested a 52-year-old man.
It's William Watt.
Was he not supposed to be 90 miles away in a hotel?
Yeah, he was, but two eyewitnesses have come forward.
They both made statements on the night of the murders, they saw Watt in his car,
on the road between the hotel and Burnside.
Congratulations!
Well done, sir.
Look, I don't know what the story is with your two eyewitnesses,
but trust me, sir, they're mistaken.
- It's Manuel. - Oh, Manuel.
What is it with you and Manuel?
His house was one of our first raids, Bill, top to bottom. We even dug up the garden.
There was no bloodstained clothing, no gun. There was nothing.
And his father provided us with an alibi!
The father always provides him with an alibi.
No, hear me out, sir.
When I arrested Manuel in 1946 for housebreaking,
I saw the exact same thing that I saw at 18 Fernsbank Avenue today.
Homeowners away on holiday, him using their house as a base,
and the same
peculiar, petty act of vandalism,
an old tin of soup with the contents poured on the floor
telling us it's him.
You traipse all over my crime scene and that's the bombshell? Soup?
Come on, Bill. Please tell me you've got something else.
- A fingerprint or something. - Who needs fingerprints?
Well, a motive, then.
He's a psychopath.
That's all the motive he needs.
He kills people because he enjoys it.
And for him, that's every bit as compelling
as revenge or passion or greed...
Or marital dissatisfaction.
I'm sorry.
Listen, Bill, the lassie next door, Deanna Valente,
she said that Vivienne was angry with her father that night.
Vivienne said it was something to do with pocket money.
But Deanna sensed she was hiding something.
Morning, boy. How you keeping?
I've got that James Bond you ordered.
I never heard of...
There's a very gripping passage on page 100.
Mind you, when it comes to fetching,
a certain Attendant Leish is in a class of his own, eh?
You bumping off your family by making a 180-mile round-trip by car. At night.
And all done and dusted in time for kippers for breakfast.
No. Leish is an arse.
You can quote me on that. Peter Manuel.
No, he didn't kill him. Page 100.
Chin up, Willy.
Salvation is closer than you think.
Mr Manuel, it says in your note that you know the real killer,
but you're not prepared to divulge his name.
Well, it troubles me to see a client's life hanging by a thread.
Look, I won't name names. That's just principle with me.
However, I will give you sufficient for you to prove
that William Watt is an innocent man.
"To our mutual advantage."
- You want money? - No. Perish the thought!
All I'm saying is, if you judge what I have to say to be of use,
then who knows, maybe at some point in the future,
if I find myself in a jam, you'll let me call on your services.
Tell me what you know.
It was me...
who provided the culprit with a gun
which killed those three unfortunate women.
A Webley .38.
And that's not all. After your man done what he did,
he came to see me again with a bad case of the horrors.
Told me everything which happened that night.
Everything.
Hello, Dad.
- Do we have a fancy visitor? - We do.
Superintendent Leish advised me
that I've been led by the nose by a teller of tall tales.
He voiced the opinion that I must have been talking to you.
So here I am, talking to you.
What do you make of what Manuel told me?
I believe every word. Give or take.
He murdered your client's family.
- Well... - Let me show you something.
This is my unofficial file.
This is Anne Kneilands.
And this is the Watt family.
Welcome to the world of Peter Manuel.
Mr Muncie, William Watt is almost out of time.
Any day now, the Crown will serve their indictment,
then there's a high-court trial and then, well...
The mind boggles.
I intend to go to the Fiscal.
See if I can stop this madness before it's too late.
May I borrow these?
Oh, yes, of course. But wouldn't you rather have some help?
I carried out a timed run.
Burnside to the Cairnbaan Hotel and back.
Now, Leish and his men were correct.
It is possible that William Watt could have done the journey
in a little bit over two hours.
But he would have had to have been travelling
between 55 and 60 miles an hour the whole way.
Now, this Roderick Morrison, second to the Crown's two eyewitnesses,
he sounds the most plausible to me. What's your view on him?
Morrison is plausible. But his statements aren't corroborated.
So it's basically his word against William Watt's.
- That is about the size of it. - Except that it's not.
Because when I got to the Cairnbaan Hotel, I spoke to a waitress,
a very sensible young woman by the name of Patricia Carew,
and she told me that when she arrived for work at 8:10
on the morning of the 17th,
she saw William Watt scraping ice from the windscreen of his car,
which, obviously, he wouldn't have had to do
if his vehicle had just completed a four-hour round-trip.
Forgive me, Inspector, but you did all this driving and questioning
despite not being part of the investigating team?
Yes, sir, I did.
And thank heavens for William Watt that Bill's done all this.
Robert, we have a wealth of circumstantial evidence here which, viewed purely as grounds
for ruling the charge against my client unsafe,
is most compelling.
This is a rare state of affairs.
A defence lawyer and a police officer on the same side,
requesting the Lord Advocate himself make a public admission
that the Crown Office got it wrong.
Not for a trifle, Robert.
For a man's life.
Could we have something from you, Mr Watt?
Mr Watt would like to say a few words.
I know that as long as this terrible crime remains unsolved,
the public will always think of me as the man who murdered his family.
The police could not find him, but I will.
To him, I say,
as long I live,
I shall not rest until you,
who took all that was dear to me, get what you so rightly deserve.
What is left of my life
will be spent hunting a monster.
Three guesses who's behind Willy Watt's release.
- Did I say you could sit down? - Come on, Charlie. I'm front-page news.
Don't mention my name, maybe, but I'm there, all right.
Between the lines.
Get off my table, will you, you fucking loon?
Now, Tallis, no one talks to Peter about...
Enjoy your retirement, sir.
Sorry, sir, I thought you'd left.
I had. Have. Just came back for this.
I believed I was right, Bill.
Well, I hope, for all our sakes, you prove me wrong.
We're hoping you can help us devise a strategy, Bill.
Manuel wants to meet with William.
Provoking his vanity. That'll be the key.
You need to cast doubt on anything that he tells you.
No, push him.
Push him, and if he unburdens, good for him.
I want that meeting to be somewhere very public like a restaurant.
And most important of all, Laurence said one of you be there, too.
Because that way, if Manuel does say something self-incriminating,
then at least this time we'll have some corroboration.
Of course.
Agreed.
Erm...
Mr Watt.
I hope you realise that Manuel is going to make it his business
to cause you as much distress as possible.
And he's going to talk to you of a subject matter
that's going to be very hard for you to hear.
Because that's his twisted idea of fun.
Manuel murdered my wife and my daughter, Mr Muncie.
There's nothing he can say or do that can unsettle me.
Afternoon, gents.
- Laurence. - Mr Manuel.
Willy!
Peter. Good to see you again.
- We're a long way from Barlinnie now. - Aren't we just, eh?
Tallis. Charlie Tallis.
That's the man who killed your family.
A gang boss.
Fancies himself as a bit of a hard man.
Funny thing is, he was at Barlinnie the same time we were.
Came in a few weeks after me. Bastard, eh?
Oh, blimey! Jesus! Sorry, lad, your lovely suit!
- Whoa, whoa, sorry! - Barely... All right. No, no, I shall...
I shall return momentarily.
Alone at last, eh?
You know, erm, Willy...
Well, you two gave me a boost. Money-wise, well...
It'd be my sincere pleasure to put an end to Charlie Tallis.
And that's, uh... It's an interesting offer.
But, you know, Peter, uh...
I would have to know that Tallis was the one.
You'd need to give me real proof.
Is that right?
Something really incriminating? Eh, Willy?
Now that you mention it,
there was something that Tallis said about your daughter.
Don't shoot the messenger.
What Charlie said was, by the time he was out of there,
your little girl, Vivienne,
she weren't a virgin no more.
William! William, for God's sake! William!
Whoo!
You tell Muncie, Larry...
You tell him
he'll need to do a lot better than you two to get one over on Peter Manuel.
What do you think?
Gorgeous.
Oh, c'est très jolie. Thank you so much, Mum!
There's no question you will be the belle of Bellshill Ball.
Jane, it's your go.
"You find a footprint in the flowerbed."
A man or a woman's shoe?
- Work it out. You're the detective. - Jane!
I'll get it.
Who's Dr Barnardo?
It's a charity, sweetie.
- Oh. - Thank you.
Anne Kneilands was this time of year.
New Year's Day.
And then there was a woman
that he attacked with a hammer when he was 15.
That was at Christmas.
Maybe the festive season.
Other people's happiness brings out the worst in him.
I don't want Jane going to this dance in Bellshill.
Nor do I, Bill.
- Do you want me to tell her? - No, we'll tell her together.
Okay.
I'm sorry about the wrapping paper, but it's the thought that counts, right?
Go on, open them.
Oh, Son!
Well, try 'em on.
Oh, you feel the lining in that.
That's a proper pair of gentleman's gloves, that is.
Thanks a million, Son.
Look at her. She's speechless!
Mum.
You look beautiful.
It's lovely.
- Why don't you say something? - About what?
Because you stole these things, Peter.
And you know that.
These are other people's Christmas presents.
I can't do anything right, can I?
I can't do anything right by you three.
Peter, come on, it's Christmas!
Muncie.
Okay. Send a car.
What's happened?
Girl's gone missing.
We went out about 4:00.
Mother and Izzy.
Isabelle. Were looking after the boys.
Isabelle gave her youngest, Robert, his bath.
Then she left about 6:45
to catch the bus over to the dance in Bellshill.
She was wearing her
dark blue dress.
It had a white collar attached.
Er, with a navy cardigan. Matching navy cardigan.
Over that, her blue coat.
And she was carrying her little peppermint vanity case
with her dancing pumps and hairbrush inside.
She told Mother she was taking the shortcut to the bus stop
across the fields.
What is it, sir?
I know this place.
Think it's hers, sir?
He attacked a woman here 12 years ago.
And I think last night he came back.
I'm meant to be at work. So why am I here?
What's happened?
A young woman's gone missing in Mount Vernon
and I think your brother may have something to do with it.
Theresa, do you know where Peter was last night
between the hours of 6:00 and 7:00?
We had a fight on Christmas Day.
He hasn't been home since.
- Do you know where he is now? - No.
Theresa, I think that you and I both want the same thing.
No more people hurt.
I know that when Peter was in remand in Barlinnie,
you went to see the prison doctor.
Is that because you have got concerns about his sanity?
I don't have to be here.
I want to leave. Now. I want to leave now!
It's a breadcrumb trail of Isabelle's belongings
from where he took her.
Buttons. Her hairbrush.
Dancing shoes.
He's playing games.
He's missing. Same location.
It's just 1946 all over again, only worse.
It's as if he wants to be caught.
Oh, for him, getting arrested would be the biggest thrill of all.
Headlines, face in all the papers...
For being a murderer of innocent women?
That's not how he sees it.
In his head, he's a criminal mastermind.
- Do you think the girl is dead? - I don't know how else to read it.
When will you tell the family?
When we find something conclusive.
So...
He's missing, she's missing. We need manpower.
I'll call in support from local stations.
Yes?
It's Manuel.
Here I am, public enemy number one.
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