The Greeks called it apeiros...
Anaximander of Miletus termed it apeiron,
but we generally take it to mean the same thing, which is to say...
..'endless'.
♪ Like a flower bending in the breeze
♪ Bend with me Sway with ease
♪ When we dance you have A way with me
♪ Stay with me Sway with me
♪ Other dancers may be on the floor
♪ Dear but my eyes will see only you
♪ Only you have that magic technique
♪ When we sway I go weak
♪ I can hear the sounds of violins
♪ Long before it begins
♪ Make me thrill as only you know how
♪ Sway me smooth Sway me now
♪ Other dancers may be on the floor
♪ Dear but my eyes will see only you
♪ Only you have that magic technique
♪ When we sway I go weak... ♪
All right, matey. Try calm your nerves, all right?
Vivienne Haldane, 43.
Husband's Rufus Haldane,
Maths don at St Saviour's according to neighbours.
Body was found by the postie. No sign of a break-in.
Dr deBryn? Strangled, from behind.
With a silk stocking. Not hers.
Underwear balled up in her handbag.
Physical relations had taken place within an hour or two of death.
Nothing to say unwillingly, at first glance.
Any similarities to Mrs Curran-Matthews besides the sex?
The stocking's new. If it is him. Mrs Curran-Matthews, it was manual.
Same as Mrs Merchant at the start of last month.
I thought the husband had been charged for that?
He's on remand. That's DI Chard's case, isn't it?
- I took a look at the case files. - That will please Mister Chard
Mrs Merchant's body was found on waste ground,
Mrs Curran-Matthews at home.
If it's the same bloke it's hardl... It's him. The strangler.
Mrs Merchant. Mrs Curran-Matthews.
- Now Mrs Haldane. - Yeah?
Three women. So?
Three married women, not one of whom was found wearing a wedding ring.
What's that? A diary from Mrs Haldane's handbag.
And? Just appointments.
Hair. Dentist.
Getting her nails done.
Golf with Prue and Audrey couple of times a week.
Supper with this Josephine. Other than that...
A junior officer calling the work
of a senior Detective Inspector into question?
Mister Merchant's been charged. Are you sure about this?
Wedding and engagement rings are missing in all cases.
Could go long, sir.
I'd be glad of Morse, if you can spare him from this report.
Erm, yes. Yes, I suppose.
Very well. Probably best keep him out of DI Chard's way.
Not everyone has my forgiving nature.
Right on top of Guy Fawkes.
Nip it in the bud, fast, or we'll have a panic on our hands.
Lynch mobs and all the rest of it. Shall we carry on?
When did you last see your wife, Doctor?
Yesterday morning.
No. The day before.
I think.
Yes. Yes. The day before.
I went home to collect a fresh shirt.
Vivienne and I... lived apart.
She had her world and I, mine.
What was her world, sir? I don't know...
Whatever women do, I suppose.
Could I ask, sir, what your movements were yesterday evening?
I had a late tutorial.
Dined in, dropped by the SCR,
and returned to my room about nine-thirty to work on a lecture.
Can anyone confirm that, sir?
M-My pupils.
Some fellows, I'm sure. I can give you a list of names.
It appears your wife had an appointment in her diary last night
for supper with someone called Josephine.
It seems to have been a regular occurrence these past few months.
Only I can't find anyone of that name in her address book.
Any idea who that might be? I'm afraid not.
You've no idea of the company she kept?
Who she might have been seeing?
Doctor Haldane?
A man, you mean?
No.
I suppose I hoped we might resolve our differences.
It was a pattern, you see, with Vivienne,
every few years or so.
I was a disappointment to her, I think.
In all the important ways at least.
The ways that matter... to a woman.
You see the way I look at it, when it comes to birds,
there are two types of men in this world.
Them that's got it, and them that don't.
Know what I mean?
Yeah. Not bad.
Not bad at all.
- I'll take it. - Very good, sir.
Isobel Merchant.
Thirty-eight years old. Housewife.
One daughter at Belbury Tech.
Mister Merchant's a long-distance lorry driver.
Last week, Mrs Ann Curran-Matthews.
Forty-three. Housewife.
Husband's something in the City, where he stays through the week.
Now, this morning, Mrs Vivienne Haldane.
So, we've got a multiple murderer on our hands,
with no suggestion he'll call time at three.
- Jakes? - Right.
Persons of interest. The usual fragrant bunch.
Flashers. Sex-cases.
Ask about chokers and pseudo-stranglers.
You know the drill.
Thank you.
Good morning, sir. How may I be of assistance?
Detective Constable Morse. City Police.
I'd like to ask someone about stockings, ladies' stockings.
You want Mrs Armstrong in hosiery.
If you'd like to come this way.
Mrs Armstrong, this gentleman is from the police.
He'd like some assistance in the matter of ladies' stockings.
Yes, certainly.
I'm trying to find if anywhere in Oxford sells a particular brand.
Black. Silk. Seamed. With a design at the top.
Do you have it? The stocking.
I am afraid not, but I have a sketch of the design.
Ah, si. Le Minou Noir. French.
It's a new line. They only came into stock for the Autumn/Winter season.
I don't suppose you'd know how many you've sold?
I need to check with the stock room, but two or three pairs a week.
They're quite expensive, seventeen and six.
So... If you'd like to come back?
Perhaps after lunch.
I will.
Thank you very much for your help.
Norman P-Parkis speaking.
This is Mrs Armstrong in Hosiery.
Yes? - Could you bring me the stock sheets for Le Minou Noir stockings?
Right away. Thank you.
The name of the stocking is Le Minou Noir. There may be others.
The only place I've found that sells them in Oxford is Burridges.
Unless he's not from Oxford. I'd have thought so, wouldn't you?
The odds of him finding three married women,
all of whom live alone?
So..? So he knew them.
Or had been watching them long enough to know their whereabouts.
Someone was with Mrs Haldane last night.
What do you make to this ring business?
Souvenirs, maybe? Some kind of memento?
Right, then...
Let's see what we shall see... You'll see ham and tomato.
Thursday.
Why don't you go away for your anniversary?
Calais. Ostend. St Malo.
Abroad?! We're not made of money. Where's this from, a magazine?
All right. Torquay, then. Out of season?
It's your own fault. Who gets married in November?
We did. So much for 'the June bride.'
It was the war. Things were different.
He had a 48 hour pass. One weekend.
Married on the Saturday. Honeymoon Sunday.
Shipped out to the desert on the Monday and that was it.
Till after VE day.
You must have seen him once before then.
Oh, yes. All right. The once.
They brought him back to London for something... I don't know.
'Hush-hush.' Hush-hush? Dad?
It must have been important because they put us up at the Dorchester.
Look at you! What DID he do, Dad?
He never talked about it and I know better than to ask.
I expect Mrs Thursday's made a few rounds over the years.
How long have you been married?
Well, let's see.
A while now.
How long would that be?
A good while, in dog years.
It's our silver wedding next week.
There's a lot to be said for being settled.
Where are you in that regard these days? As a matter of interest.
Me? I haven't got time, really.
Work's all well and good but there's more to life.
Or should be, a man your age.
Morse?
Three weeks... between the first and second victims.
Less than a week between second and third.
It hadn't escaped me. The next could be days away.
Thanks for helping me with Dad's present.
It was fun. Can I help you onto the bus?
Yes, can we help? Thank you.
There we are, one step up.
Thank you, conductor.
See you later. Bye, Mum. Bye!
Read all about it!
Strangler claims third victim.
Oxford woman murdered in her own home.
I went back to Mrs Haldane's and found this.
She kept a private diary outside of her appointments book.
Those 'every second Wednesdays' she was meant to be seeing Josephine.
"Saw X, and we made violent love.
"I know X is a brute, but I can't help myself.
"X is taking advantage.
"I know he's using me, and he knows I know."
Next week...
"Terrible row with X.
"I told him I wasn't prepared to go on with things the way they are.
"That it had to change.
"I wept and wept as if the world were ending.
"Afterwards X very kind and thoughtful and comforting.
"He put his hands on me and I let him do what he wanted. I'm such a fool."
What do they want?
Passion seems to be the long and the short of it, sir.
Passion. Going by the diary.
Excitement. Ah!
Excitement!
What happened to reliability? Hmm?
Of course, North Oxford's full of that type.
Life a drama...
..and themselves its star.
The damage done.
What about the rest of them? Anything like that there?
Mrs Merchant, it's difficult to say as she wasn't found at home.
With Mrs Curran-Matthews there was no forced entry
nor at Mrs Haldane's.
Get anything out of this stocking business?
Morse is on it now, sir. I'm meeting him at Burridges.
Just right!
Mr Highbank, where do you want this Colston?
Window four please, Mr Huggins. Walk this way.
If I could walk that way, I wouldn't need the talcum powder.
Hello.
Hello. Haven't seen you about for a while.
I've been on nights mostly.
Listen, I-I meant to apologise for that night we were meant to...
You don't need to explain. I do need to explain.
I should have then.
See, a friend asked me to do him a favour to make up a four.
I'd completely forgotten until the last minute
but I didn't want to let him down.
I didn't know what to tell you.
The truth.I'd like the chance to make it up to you.
You could buy me a drink if you're not doing anything?
I've got to see the manager for work, but I'm free about 7.30.
Shall I give you a knock? You going to turn up this time?
Good afternoon, Sir, Madam.
How may I be of service today?
Oh. I am sorry. You misunderstand... Perhaps Madam knows?
Yes. A new mattress.
Of course. This way.
That one looks nice. Ah, the Silent Spring deLuxe.
A wise choice. Madam certainly recognises quality when she sees it.
As I'm sure Sir would agree.
It's quite comfy.
To fully grasp the wonder of the new cantilever springing
requires the presence of a second occupant.
Just as you would at home, hmm?
As you see, we've sold 19 pairs
of the particular stocking you were after.
Thirteen to some six account holders.
The remaining five to casual shoppers.
So, if Mrs Haldane did buy a pair,
she certainly didn't charge it to her account.
And we've no record of the other two names you've asked for,
Mrs Curran-Matthews and Mrs Merchant.
Do you recognise them, Mrs Armstrong?
I recognise this lady from the newspapers,
but no, I never served any of them.
Mister Quinbury...
Oh, sir, may I present
Detective Constable Morse of the City Police.
This is Mister Alan Burridge, the proprietor.
Forgive me, please.
Mister Quinbury gave me to understand
we might resolve this issue without troubling the police.
Which issue, sir?
The officer is here in regard of another matter, sir.
These stranglings. I see.
One of the victims held an account here.
A Mrs Haldane.
My goodness. How awful.
Well, of course, if there's any way we can be of use...?
Thank you, sir. Mister Quinbury's been very helpful.
Well, then, I'll leave you to it.
What's this amongst her purchases? Ronson. Engraved.
Oh... It's a Gents lighter.
We have a key-cutting service in the basement.
Mr Jopling, our principal cutter, handles all the engraving.
Would it be possible to find out what Mrs Haldane had engraved?
Certainly.
She has also bought a couple of pairs of cufflinks and a gents tie-pin.
A description of those items would be very useful.
- Yes? - Another policeman to see you.
Send him in.
Afternoon, sir.
Detective Inspector Thursday. Oxford City Police.
Sergente Giovedi?
Fredo?
Si.
Sir?
Must have been the shock. That's all.
I knew...
Mrs, is it? Armstrong.
Mrs Armstrong.
..during the war.
They had it bad, her people.
She doesn't want all that bringing up again.
Look, you'd better take her through
whatever she's got to say about this stocking business.
Of course. I'll see you back at the nick.
You can't come in here.
Staff only. N-N-Not... c-c-customers.
It's all right, Norman. This gentleman is with the police.
Yes, sir.
Oh, Mister Burridge, what issue was it
you'd hoped might be resolved without involving the police?
A small amount of petty pilfering.
Nothing we can't resolve within the store, I'm sure.
Well, if you do need our assistance. Of course. Thank you.
Mrs Armstrong's been with us three years.
Widowed, sadly.
She's powdering her nose...
Did your colleague say erm...? The war.
Ah. Strange.
I look around, people going about their business, living their lives.
You wonder sometimes whether any of it really happened.
Forgive and forget, I suppose.
11 Group. Spits. Kenley.
One of the lucky ones. Walking wounded.
Afternoon, sir. Any luck at Burridges?
Morse is on it. Anything doing?
Door to door's put a green car outside Mrs Haldane's
on one or two of these Wednesdays she's been seeing Mister X.
No make, model or registration number.
I went over witness statements on Mrs Merchant.
Report of her getting into a green car earlier that evening.
You'd remember if a man had ever bought a pair, presumably?
A man? Si.
But... No. No. Nothing like that.
Unless there was anything else,
perhaps Mrs Armstrong could return to work?
Of course. Of course.
If I remember anything else...
Where can I find you? Cowley Road Police Station.
My number's on the card.
Your, er... colleague.
He had to return to the station. Sends his regrets.
Yes. Of course.
Is there anywhere else you know of in Oxford that stocks Le Minou Noir?
You'd need to ask the suppliers.
A Mister Lisk at Goldfarb-Ligourin.
Oh. Well, thank you.
So, what have we got on our hands?
A sex killer, hmm? Doctor?
Both Mrs Merchant and Mrs Curran-Matthews
had engaged in coitus within a few hours of death.
But, like Mrs Haldane,
there was no evidence of force having been used.
There is one thing you might want to bear in mind.
I've only just had initial reports on Mrs Curran-Matthews' clothing,
but the skirt is showing traces of calcium sulphate dihydrate.
Gypsum.
A plasterer, then, some sort of manual labourer.
It's also used as a fertilizer, I believe.
An agricultural connection?
She might have come into contact with the material
through wholly innocent means.
Nothing like that showed up on the first victim, Mrs Merchant?
No, and it'll be a day or two
before we've a result back on Mrs Haldane's clothing.
I showed her a photograph of Mrs Haldane
but she'd no recollection of having served her.
Oh.
How was it you knew Mrs Armstrong?
I told you, the war.
The engraving on the lighter wasn't much use.
Just 'They asked me how I knew...'
'Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.'
Present for her fancy man, I expect.
Think it's him? I know the type.
Bleed 'em for all they've got, move on to the next meal ticket.
Why not just drop them?
To sleep with all three then strangle them seems a bit...?
Maybe it's just his thing?
Maybe he'd had money off 'em and they were looking to make trouble?
Who knows with women-haters?
Look! Your secret admirer?
Came in the pneumatic mail not ten minutes ago.
The second one today. One more and I'll have a dozen.
Those your invoices? I'll pop them up before I go.
Thank you, Mrs Deeks.
Coming down the Lion, Lu? Not tonight, Charlie.
Story of my life!
What was all that about earlier? I heard you had a turn.
A dizzy spell. That's all.
I'm fine now, just a little tired.
We're still on for our Friday manjarie?
Of course. See you tomorrow, then.
Watch how you go in that fog.
Don't go talking to any strange men. You hear me?
Ciao, bella.
Ciao.
Right. That's the lot, then.
Don't!
All right, Norman? What you got there then?
Here look, Roy. I'm Jake the Peg.
I've g-got to g-get on.
If I don't g-get on, I'll g-get told off.
Mister Quinbury have your g-guts, will he?
Give it back you...
Oi! Give it him.
You shouldn't tease people.
You can talk! Anyway, he's not people.
He's Norman.
Oh, wow.
You have very beautiful hands. Do you know that?
You can tell a lot about a person by their hands.
What can you tell from this?
That whoever he is, he's a fool to leave you out on your own.
Joan and me thought we'd go to the Botanical Gardens.
Stay out of trouble. You know what they get like in town.
I suppose you'll be working?
Dad? Fireworks night. You'll be working.
He always works Fireworks. What are you going to be doing?
I just said. The Botanical Gardens. Don't go off and leave her.
You know how bad things can get in town.
And you, mind how you get home from the bank of a evening.
Stay where it's well lit. Same goes for you.
This thing in the paper?
I don't want to have to spell it out, just be careful.
All right?
Ever had your palm read?
You'll get your face red in a minute.
I'm waiting for someone, so skip the blarney.
No, you're not. You...
You're a very beautiful young girl.
Your problem is that you know it.
I reckon somebody broke your heart...
..and now you think men are only after one thing.
And you're not, I suppose.
You wear that ring as a wall to keep the wolves out,
and I don't blame you.
Only it's been up so long,
you can't tell when the genuine article comes along.
It's full-time with you, isn't it?
On the ward this afternoon,
they were all talking about this strangler.
Sorry. I shouldn't ask. No. No, it's...
You'll be all right because...
It's only married women he goes for.
Oh...
Anyway, shall we have another bottle?
Yeah.
Drop of Dutch?
Tell me it's not my place, Glo.
I know it must be hard on you with Steve being... where he is.
God knows we can all use a friendly port,
but are you sure about this?
All set?
I can't. What do you mean 'can't'?
Car's outside. I said I'd take you up Boar's Hill, see the sights.
I changed my mind. I'm sorry.
I bought you a drink.
Hey, handsome. She's said she's not interested.
Who asked you?
This young lady, happens to be a friend of mine.
Is that right? You're barking up the wrong tree there, darling.
He's a bloody fairy. I don't know why they let your type in here.
Should be strangled at birth. Thank you, Cary Grant.
Don't, Charlie.
My old man fought a war for people like you.
He never got one? Shame. Listen...
P-p-pick on someone your own size.
You with him?!
Yeah! You l-l-leave him alone.
What is this? The circus in town?
It's a bloody freak show.
Think about who you let in, Pat, this place has gone right down.
♪ When marimba rhythms start to play
♪ Dance with me Make me sway
♪ Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
♪ Hold me close... ♪
When nobody arrived at the rendezvous,
I made my way back to the villa with Lupo...
We saw from the olive grove through binoculars.
They had you lined up against the white wall.
Francesca I recognised first, her red dress.
Then I saw you beside her.
I saw you fall.
I thought you were dead.
I tried to get down but Lupo cold cocked me,
probably just as well.
More than likely I'd have got them killed as well.
When I came to, it was dark. A cave, somewhere.
He said they'd got 'everyone'.
They did.
Francesca?
The next afternoon a... an English company arrived.
They found me lying with everyone else...
..close to death but somehow not.
There was an officer, Major Hugh Armstrong.
He saw to it that I was taken to a field hospitale.
How did they get to you..? We were betrayed.
Who? It doesn't matter.
The nearest farm down the hill.
Ugo... the farmer's boy.
A good little fascisto.
But also... malato d'amore.
Lovesick.
For Francesca.
He took to following her, spying on her.
He saw where she went, who she met.
And then he realised she was una stafetta.
And Ugo?
Hanged.
With his father after the war.
The mountains don't forget.
Let me see you home.
Thanks.
So...
Was that a date or..?
I don't know.
Maybe we should do it again, just to be sure
if it was a date or not.
Well, I'd better...
Of course.
Goodnight. Night.
What time do you finish on Bonfire Night?
Midnight.
Why? I'll pick you up.
This is him, is it? Major Armstrong?
He came back for me after the war, brought me here.
He was a good man.
I'm glad.
Children?
No. They took that from me too, the Germans.
French cigarettes...
Hugh's favourite.
I buy a packet from time to time.
I let one burn out in an ashtray.
You get used to things.
So, what about you?
You have children?
A boy and a girl, Sam and Joan.
And a wife?
Yes, and a wife.
The same wife?
Yes.
I wondered if you would come after today.
What do you want, Fredo?
I'm not her.
She died.
Remember the girl you knew.
I have. Always.
It's somebody's initial, presumably?
'A' for what? Andrew? Albert?
Whoever it is, DI Chard's men missed it.
I'd think twice before throwing accusations like that around.
Mrs Merchant was killed four weeks ago.
Who knows who's been through there since?
I suppose. Right, what's the order of battle?
You're going to pick up with this stocking supplier?
Middle-man or whatever he is.
Mister Lisk? See if there's any other local retailers.
I've got account holders at Burridges to work through.
Right, best get to.
Dad! Sandwiches. You're not thinking this morning.
No. No, I'm... Come home safe.
Are we all here?
Where's Mrs Deeks? Not in yet, sir.
We'll have to start without her, now, for the fourth month in a row,
we have a discrepancy between sales recorded and monies received
to the sum of 18 pounds, 14 shillings and nine pence.
Until further notice, the evening cash-up for each department
will take place in the presence of myself or Mister Jellicoe.
Where is your poppy, Mister Lee?
My apologies, Mister Quinbury. It was there when I left the house.
As may be, but the offence is given.
I'm sure no slight was intended, Mister Quinbury.
The pin must have gone.
Happens to me all the time.
Here. Please.
Have mine.
Thank you, Mister Burridge.
To your departments.
Mr Jellicoe? Sir.
If you would, Mr Potter?
Mister Lisk?
Detective Constable Morse, City Police.
You're the intermediary for Le Minou Noir, a range of hosiery.
Oh. Oh, right.
Yeah, I carried the line for a bit. I'm afraid we won't get any more in.
Problem with the manufacturers.
Do you want to get that?
Hello?
No, that's the previous occupant.
As far as I'm aware they ceased trading some months ago.
You'd have to apply to the leasor for a forwarding address.
I'm afraid it's not very convenient right now.
If you could... call back tomorrow.
Ta.
Spelt with an R isn't it? Parmer?
Have a bottle if you want.
You'll be beating 'em off with a stick.
I won't, thanks.
I would like a list of the retailers you've supplied with these stockings.
Apart from Burridges.. Well, Burridges was the main...
Outlet.
If not, in fact... the only... probably.
It was B-Stock, to be honest. I got lumbered with it. Job lot.
What I've had, they got. There won't be no more.
So, Burridges is the only place in the county which sells them.
In the country in a nutshell. What's this about?
I'm not at liberty to say.
For the record, where were you Wednesday night?
Me? Yes.
Birmingham. Doing what?
I had business in the afternoon, toy line with Christmas coming up.
And the evening? I ran into this air hostess.
Some bar somewhere. Carol something.
I took her for a meal. Saw her back to her flat and er...
You got a number for her? Nah.
Address? She did tell the taxi but...
I wasn't paying attention to where we were going.
I had my hands full, if you follow me.
And she threw in a fried breakfast.
You can't say fairer, can you?
Still no Mrs Deeks? No, sir. Not yet.
This isn't like Gloria, Mister Burridge.
She's usually dead on time.
Perhaps you could telephone just to make sure she's not ill or anything.
Sir, it's been for staff to notify the store of such an eventuality.
That's always how things were done under Mister Barridge Senior.
Mister Quinbury, you've served my late father and the store
better than any man alive for 20 years.
He often spoke to me of how much he valued your advice as, indeed, do I.
Good of you to say so, sir.
Truth is, I've only been in the job three months.
I don't doubt I'll make a great many mistakes, but one thing I do know,
Burridges is its staff.
Their happiness and well-being are my whole concern.
With that in mind, might we not,
together, create a few new traditions of our own?
I'll telephone at once, sir.
What did you make to him?
Fly-by-night wide-boy knocking out third-rate tat.
Denies knowing the victims, but can't provide an alibi for any.
He'd have to be stupid to knock these women off with his own stock.
What about a car? Two-tone Cortina he says.
Mark 1. Blue with a white top. Not our man then.
Well, whoever killed Mrs Haldane, bought these stockings themselves,
or is close to someone who did, a wife maybe, or girlfriend.
A daughter, or sister even.
Stockings aren't as popular as they used to be with younger women, sir.
It's more pantyhose nowadays. Indeed.
Well, I'm sure we're grateful for your expertise.
They've sold how many Burridges?
Nineteen, sir, over ten or so customers,
six of whom are account holders with the store.
Better start there, then. Process of elimination.
There's no reply at her home.
Ah. Here she is now.
Mrs Deeks!
You missed Mister Burridges' roll-call.
I'm so sorry, sir.
The cat brought down a shelf in my front room with the goldfish on.
By the time I'd got it tidied, I'd missed the bus.
Perfectly understandable. It won't happen again, Mr Burridge.
Alan. Please.
All right. Get to your post.
How many's this?
Of the account customers? Five of six. Mrs Shears.
Bought a single pair Tuesday last. Bloody wild goose chase.
I bet we'll get through the list, they'll all be accounted for.
It's gonna be one of these five we don't know about.
Mrs Shears? Hello?
Mrs Shears?
Police, Mrs Shears.
Mrs Shears?
With the one found around Mrs Haldane's throat,
I would imagine that to make the pair, presumably.
Stockings. But not hers.
We found the pair she bought from Burridges in a drawer, unopened.
This was caught in her hand.
Unlikely to have been wearing one on her nightclothes.
She's reached back over her shoulder, clawing at him,
and only managed to dislodge the poppy.
Can you put a time to it, Doctor? About six hours.
Must have been after the kids left for school. Two girls.
A car and a WPC on way.
Neighbour this side said there was a bloke
watching the house first thing.
It was dark, so no description,
but he was carrying a bag, a holdall, maybe.
Any sign of a break in? No. Front door was on the latch.
Possible she let him in. The back door was unsecured.
He could've come in that way unseen and gone out the front.
So he left it unlocked?
According to the woman over the road,
there was a green car parked on the drive yesterday.
Not for the first time whilst the old man's away.
What about the husband?
Away in Scotland on business. Left the day before yesterday.
What do you reckon to that? Behind the door in the front room.
Door stop, maybe?
Something you should see.
It's the mathematical symbol for infinity.
Or it's an eight that's had one too many.
Unless there's another four victims we don't know about?
So, what does it mean? A message perhaps? A signature?
Infinity. That goes on forever, doesn't it?
Maybe what he's trying to say is he's not going to stop.
Until we catch him.
Detective Constable Beckett's phone. DC Morse speaking.
I usually call DC Beckett in these situations.
She just keeps saying it's a mistake.
They all say that, of course.
You saw her take them, Mister..?
Len Jellicoe. Detective Sergeant. Retired.
I saw her standing by the section. When I looked back, she was gone.
So was a nice pair of kid-skin gloves.
I stopped her and asked her to step into the manager's office.
The gloves were found in her handbag.
My day, that was about as open and shut as it gets.
This way.
Here she is.
I didn't do it. Of course, you didn't.
I've never taken anything in my life that didn't belong to me.
Detective! He couldn't detect muck on a rug!
Then he's the damn cheek to tell me if I paid a fine,
I could go on my way and no need to fetch the police.
I said to him, "You fetch 'em!" I wasn't having that!
A fine..? Hmm.
What sort of fine?
It's Money with Menaces, Mister Quinbury.
She's lying. They'd say anything to get out of trouble.
What's this? A shoplifting incident, sir.
It's rather more than that.
Your store detective is running an extortion racket.
W-Wait a minute. Look here, son. I'm ex-job myself.
He's planting goods on customers and then offering then a fine of £10
or risk having the police brought in.
Is this true, Jellicoe? Of course not, sir.
I-It's her word against mine.
Sir, who are you going to believe?
Don't tell Fred.
Tell him what? Nothing's happened. No.
Well, I don't want him bothered.
He's enough on his plate with all this at work.
You must be rushed off your feet, the pair of you.
I mean, his tea had barely a chance to go down last night
before he was out again till all hours.
Observation, he said.
This thing in the papers, is it?
I...can't really go into it.
No.
You're like two peas in a pod.
I'm glad he's got you to keep an eye on him.
It's got to him this one.
Joan and Sam are organising
some sort of surprise do for our anniversary.
I'd like you to come.
Well, that's a... family occasion... surely?
I'd like you to be there and I know Fred would, too.
You never thought to go back after your husband died?
There's nothing for me there. Family?
No.
You shouldn't be alone, too much life in you for that.
I should find someone to take care of me, you mean?
Who? A policeman?
We were friends once.
That's the last thing we were.
Friendship takes time.
What did we have?
Two months? Three?
If that.
There wasn't room for friendship, too.
You can't tell me. I was there.
I remember everything.
Everything.
Every moment like nothing before or since.
It's here. Still. Forever.
The scent of the pines.
The sun on the water.
So vivid.
And you.
All above everything, I remember you.
Your eyes. You can't say these things.
You can't, not to me.
I've no-one else to say them to.
Don't go. Not like that. Let me get you another..?
I said only one drink. I have to go. Really.
I'll see you home.
You can walk with me to the bus.
This may seem rather an odd question, Doctor, but your piano at home...
Would you happen to know if it's been tuned lately?
That was Viv's department,
but we used to have a chap come by once a year.
Usually around this time, in fact. A Mister...
Mister Pugh.
Viv would have kept his number in her address book.
You think it has something to do with what happened?
I don't know. It's just a line of inquiry.
Could I trouble you for one more thing? Certainly.
What does this mean to you?
It's a lemniscate.
Introduced into mathematics in the mid 17th century by John Wallis.
It stands, almost invariably, for infinity.
Does it have any other significance?
It symbolized eternity and the soul of the world.
And of course, in modern mysticism,
it represents Ouroboros.
The snake which devours its own tail. Yes. Just so.
Right... Thank you.
Mmm...
That was delicious...
How is your bum for love bites? Anything on the horizon?
Apart from oojamaflip.
Luuuu...?
I met someone.
Someone I knew before. Before?
We were something to each other.
I hadn't seen him for more than 20 years.
I never thought I'd see him again.
Only now...
He was waiting for me after work. I don't know what he wants.
To be a friend or...
What do you want?
Not love. Not now.
My heart can't take it. Too hard.
I had an old-time used to be.
Bosons Mate.
First time I saw him was in some bijou harbour bar on Gib.
Tanned. Blond.
I heard Mantovani.
Proper pals we was.
What happened?
I got careless.
Lost him somewhere.
You're young, you think...
..love's like buses.
There will be another one along in a minute.
That was '48.
I saw him last New Year
in Berwick Street market.
Me on one side of the road, him on the other.
I could have said something.
Maybe I should have.
I let it go.
Funny. What is?
It's never the one you haven't met...
..only the one you can't forget.
What's the story? We've got a dead body.
Looks like someone attempted to knock off yesterday's take.
The manager's office has been turned over.
Some ham-fisted attempt to open the safe.
Robbery? That's what they're saying.
Norman Parkis, sir. Stock clerk. He was working late last night.
Passer-by noticed him in the window just after four.
Uniform were first on the scene,
found the door to the loading bay unsecured.
Dr deBryn?
Multiple stab wounds to the chest.
Time of death between eleven and one o'clock.
Be able to speak to the nature of the fatal blow,
once I've completed the post mortem.
From the volume and patterning of the blood,
this would appear to be the locus of the attack.
And he went this way...
Thursday, anything to go on?
There's talk of a disgruntled ex-employee,
store detective by the name of Jellicoe,
former police officer, got given his cards yesterday.
And the promise of poor references. What was the cause of his dismissal?
Some sort of bust-up over a shoplifting scam
led to a search of his locker which turned up several marked notes
management had planted in the float.
Marked notes? Petty cash had gone missing the last few months.
In any event, this Jellicoe left in pretty high dudgeon by all accounts.
And last night, this. Personnel's taken a going over, too.
It's connected to the strangler.
The strangler, by what means?
The stockings he's used on the last two victims.
Burridges is... The only place that supplies them.
But outside of that, the victim in this instance is male.
He's been stabbed rather than strangled which leads me to believe
the inquiry should be assigned to another Investigating Officer.
It'd leave us free to concentrate on the strangler.
John Gorman's back off leave today. He's a safe pair of hands.
Very well, Sgt Jakes will act as de facto ADC pending the handover
and see Mr Gorman has everything he needs when he arrives.
Morse can help with statements and pars from the staff.
Yes, sir. Carry on.
That stock basket's half full of Le Minou Noir.
This is where Parkis was stabbed, on the hosiery counter.
And it's not connected?
He was sweet.
Lived by himself, I think.
No mum and dad to speak of, as far as I know.
He'd been in somewhere, when he was younger.
Blenheim Vale I think it was called.
A place for... well...
The ones that ain't quite right.
But, he was nice.
Kind.
Maybe it makes 'em that way.
Erm, I'm sorry to trouble you,
but I wonder when the staff might be released.
Just as soon as they have given their statements.
Is all this strictly necessary?
If it's Jellicoe?
Well, we still have to follow procedure, Mister Burridge.
You've given an account of your own whereabouts?
Er, no. No, not yet.
I attended a meeting of the Oxford Traders Association
above the King's Head after which, I went straight home.
Can anyone vouch for you? At the pub, but I live by myself.
Did you get any further with your other inquiries?
This strangler.
It's ongoing.
We'll return to that as soon as we've finished here.
Well, here's hoping you catch him soon.
It's a worry, for the female members of staff.
Indeed. Well, thank you for your help, Mister Burridge.
Not at all, and er... It's Alan. Please.
Mister Burridge, do you favour cuff links or buttons?
Buttons. Cuff links are old hat.
Not to mention liable to fall out. Indeed.
Last night? I was at home.
Can anyone can vouch for you, Mister Huggins?
Flo. My missus. She'll tell you. I'm in most evenings.
How well did you know Mister Parkis? Just at work.
Bit soft like, but he wouldn't hurt a fly.
He was sweet on Gloria, Mrs Deeks from Ladieswear.
Not that he was alone there. How's that?
Half the blokes in the store are, not that she's any truck with that
but that don't stop 'em trying.
Her husband would have something to say? He's inside.
Prison? Farnleigh.
Went away in the summer. Three years.
Only been married five minutes. Gives some of 'em ideas.
You can imagine, but erm, we all keep an eye out for her.
Another pair of stockings gone from the inventory.
Ah.
Yes erm...
Actually, that was me.
I erm...
I find a stocking over my leg where it fits into the prosthesis...
I find silk slightly more comfortable.
I usually just grab a pair and pay for them but...
It was after hours and I'm afraid I forgot.
What an old wreck.
I turned 20 that month. Can you believe it?
Throwing a machine around the sky at 360-odd miles an hour.
My son's a year older now than I was then. He doesn't even drive.
It must have been terrifying. Later, perhaps.
When the piano stops and the beer runs dry but...
Not in the moment. It happens so fast.
Then it's over and you find yourself alone out on the edge of it.
The light up there, my God,
and this patchwork below.
You fall in love.
With what? England.
'Her ways to roam.'
Morse spoke to all the staff.
Huggins gave his missus as an alibi. Barry Dobbs lives at home.
In all evening. His parents will vouch.
And Mrs Armstrong, where was she?
With this window-dresser.
Charles Highbank, regular dinner date every Friday.
All girls together.
Ex-Merchant Navy, isn't he? Rum, bum and concertina.
Widow she is so...
Company for her, I suppose.
I've handed it all over to Mister Gorman.
Got ports and airports in place on Jellicoe, so only a matter of time.
We can get back onto the strangler. Speaking of which, where's Morse?
Mister Pugh? Detective Constable Morse.
City Police. I wonder if I might ask you a few questions.
Those in mufti, it is your responsibility
to identify the chief troublemakers to your uniformed colleagues.
However, this evening's firework festivities take place
beneath the shadow of something far worse than mindless yahoo-ism.
There is a strangler at large who has already claimed four victims.
It is up to us to ensure he does not claim a fifth.
Yes, I tuned Mrs Haldane's piano a few weeks ago.
What about Mrs Curran-Matthews? I was there in August.
Rather a inferior instrument, too long neglected.
Almost impossible to restore to concert pitch.
And a Mrs Shears. Watling Street, yes?
Yes. I was there very recently...
Thursday afternoon.
He said she'd had a man there before he arrived.
The same man who had been at Mrs Curran-Matthews's
and Mrs Haldane's house.
How would he know that? He could smell him.
He wore the same after-shave in each instance.
Lots of blokes wear the same after-shave.
Yes, and smoke French cigarettes?
Turns out Mr Pugh is something of a connoisseur when it comes to tobacco.
Mrs Haldane's fancy man was seeing all of them, then.
Good, write it up. I'll tell Mister Bright.
This came for you. Oh, thank you.
It wasn't Alan.
What wasn't? The cufflink I found.
The description of items Mrs Haldane bought for Mister X came through.
It was part of an Alpha and Omega set.
You what? Didn't you go to Sunday school?
You don't want to know where I went.
Revelations, "I am the Alpha and the Omega".
The first and last letters of the Classic Greek alphabet.
The beginning and the end.
Mrs Merchant was the first victim.
So, if she was the Alpha...
Who's the Omega?
Damn.
Oh.
Here. Take this. Oh. No.
Go on. No, you need it.
I'll be all right. Go on.
Go on.
Better.
Mmm.
Much.
I came to give you these.
I've no right to keep 'em. Never have had if I'm honest.
Francesca's in one of them. The other... Well...
You should have 'em.
Arriverderci.
Fredo...
Hold me.
Once.
For what we were.
Fredo, don't come back.
Ever.
Please.
That you, Dad?
Fred?
Yeah. It's me.
How was it? Oh, you know. The usual.
Nothing serious.
Guy Fawkes night, it's always a bit busy.
You go through. I'll put the kettle on.
Have you ate? Doesn't matter if you have.
But, I made stew and dumplings just in case.
Go nice with a Mackesons?
Dad?
Yeah. Go on, then.
Bugger.
Get away from me, you bastard! Come back, you little bitch!
Oi! What's all this? Piss off, mate.
Get in the car. I don't want to...
Get in the motor. Stop messing about.
I'm not your mate, matey. I'm the law and you're nicked.
Oh. You're not on today, are you?
You know a Mrs Shears, Mister Lisk?
Mrs Janet Shears, 32 Watling Street?
What about Vivienne Haldane? 12 The Elms.
Isobel Merchant, 156 Gilbert Avenue.
No.
You do know there's a strangler on the loose?
Each of those women was found choked to death
with a black, Le Minou Noir, silk stocking,
a brand of which you're sole supplier.
Smoke 'em if you've got 'em.
"They ask me how I knew..."
Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.
DC Morse found a very nice tie pin...
..and a cufflink round at your place.
Didn't you? One of an Alpha and Omega set.
Only the Alpha was missing.
- I lost one, down the Baths. - Careless.
See, we recovered an Alpha cufflink on waste ground
where a Mrs Merchant was found strangled.
Here's the thing,
sundry receipts of items identical to your tie pin and cufflinks,
and lighter,
bought and paid for on account by Mrs Vivienne Haldane.
Anything you want to tell me about that?
Where did you meet her?
Dinner and Dance.
Golf Club.
We got talking. I drove her home. It went from there.
And the others?
Look, if they were getting what they needed at home,
they wouldn't have to look outside for it.
What would that be?
Attention.
Someone in their lives with more to say than, "What's for tea?"
I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.
Hard-faced tarts past the first flush.
They know what the score is and I'm good company.
You're a real charmer
Don't kid yourself, most blokes would do exactly the same as me
if they had anything more than milk running through their veins.
Like the man said, who wants to buy a book?
I didn't kill them.
Come.
He admits seeing the first three but says he left them alive and well.
And Mrs Shears? He's no alibi for the morning she was killed.
He says he was in traffic on the way to work.
I'm going to hold him 24 hours, see if that changes his mind.
Well done. Oh, thank you very much, sir.
Now that's the sort of collar that gets a bloke noticed, matey.
So, Joey Lisk's our strangler then?
Do me a favour,
if I get this booked into Evidence, would you keep an eye?
Make sure none of it takes a walk.
Couple of things been going missing lately.
Some light-fingered bugger? Let's hope that's all it is.
Mrs Armstrong,
your name has turned up in Joey Lisk's address book.
He came to the store to sell his stockings.
I was under no illusion as to what he was or...
..even that I was the only one.
Does Inspector Thursday know?
It would hurt him very much, I think.
You were... friends.
In Italy?
More.
We were comrades.
Hello.
Just off to work? Mm-hmm...
Hey. That new mattress.
They delivered it this afternoon. They got it up the stairs?
They did.
What time are you back?
I'll knock. Good.
I'll see you later, then. Goodbye.
A policeman's lot is not a happy one, I'm told.
But, the lot of a policeman's wife hardly gets a mention.
While I've been out running around,
nabbing villains and generally playing silly buggers...
..the real brains of the outfit
has made a house a home,
raised two children, our children.
Seen 'em off to school each morning, clean and smart.
And somehow, even with all that to do,
there's always been a hot meal for me when I get home.
Twenty-five years ago I got the best bit of luck
any man ever had.
Well said!
The toast is, 'My Win.'
Win!
Morse? You got a drink. I hate to intrude...
Not a bit of it. You were invited. I know but...
It's not Joey Lisk, sir.
Now? This is my wedding anniversary! I'm sorry.
Go and do your job.
If I'd wanted dull, I'd have picked someone else.
♪ And the sun was made To burn so bright
♪ And light the sky-ee-y-ee-y
♪ Pretty eyes were never Made to cry... ♪
What's it all about?
You remember the calcium sulphate dihydrate,
the material on Mrs Curran-Matthews's clothes?
Plaster or fertilizer. It's neither, and both.
It's the same stuff on Mrs Shears' wall.
Good old-fashioned rock chalk. From where?
I suppose it's important the order the deliveries go on board.
You wouldn't want the washing machine at the back of the van.
That's why they chalk 'em.
So we know the order to stick 'em on.
More of an art than a science.
Did you make a drop to a Mrs Shears the other day, a Colston Dishwasher?
She had the manual on the side in the kitchen.
That would have been the eighth drop on your delivery that day.
Yeah.
How did you know that?
Right.
It wasn't infinity.
It was just an eight on its side.
The chalk on Mrs Curran-Matthews
came off his work clothes.
Neighbour saw him leave an hour ago. He had a holdall with him.
I found these on the bedside table. The victims' rings.
He could be anywhere. We've no idea who he's after.
Actually, sir, I think I might. Joey Lisk's latest flame.
Mister Huggins.
Cup of tea?
Yeah.
Ta.
Do you like music?
I don't mind.
This was my Flo's favourite. She used to love dancing to this.
♪ When marimba rhythms start to play Dance with me...
When last you dance with someone? Before your Steve went away?
Probably.
I expect you're a good little mover.
I don't know about that, Mister Huggins.
Roy.
It's nothing like that. I've a daughter your age.
Have you? Yeah.
It'll just be like dancing with your dad.
You know, in the old days...
A gentleman always wore gloves to dance with a lady,
so as not to spoil her dress.
People were more considerate then. Gallant.
♪ My eyes will see only you
Fred and Ginger.
♪ Only you have that magic technique
♪ When we sway I go weak...
And we thought it was Joey Lisk.
We were meant to.
The music's stopped now, Mister Huggins.
We've got our own music, Flo.
I don't think we should be doing this, Mister Huggins.
What about that bloke the other night?
That Lisk bastard.
Eh?
I bet he's light on his feet.
And you, a married woman?
I can smell him on you.
That ponce's aftershave he wears.
I could smell him on my Flo the same the nights she'd been with him.
Can you imagine? Getting into our bed.
With me.
You're no better.
Are you?
She just threw it at me, didn't she?
Just like that, after 23 years.
I'd never lifted a hand to her in all that time.
I don't care!
I only hit her the once.
It wasn't even with my fist, it was open-handed.
It's just she...
She fell awkward and erm...
She banged her head on the fire surround.
Where is she?
She's behind the bath panel.
I wouldn't have hurt her for the world. It was an accident.
These other women, they weren't an accident, were they?
Hmm? That was planned.
You followed Joey Lisk to find out who else he was meeting
and if they were married...
Two victims in, we hadn't made the connection.
That's why you started using the stockings he supplied.
Then went to the scene of the murder and planted the cufflink.
They weren't an accident, were they?
If he hadn't come between me and Flo I wouldn't have had to do any of it.
It's his fault!
You killed four innocent women,
and poor Norman Parkis who was unlucky enough
to find you helping yourself to more stockings.
Isn't that how it went?
I am sorry about Norman. Wrong place, wrong time.
Going behind their husbands' back with a bastard like that?
You call that innocent?
Why didn't you just go after Joey Lisk?
Because I wanted him to suffer.
I wanted people to see him for what he is.
Well, you nearly pulled it off.
We had Lisk in custody ready to charge him.
If you'd killed Gloria Deeks, you'd have proved he was innocent.
I don't think that would have mattered much to Mr Huggins, Morse.
Did it?
What started out as a means to an end,
had become an end in itself.
There you go. Thank you.
Where have you been all night?
Don't ask. So?
You dancing? You asking?
I'll get you another one.
Morse, something's come up with a lady from Burridges.
Can I have a word outside? Of course.
Oh...
Suicide, while the balance of her mind was impaired.
Did the coroner say why? Grief, at her husband's death.
A broken heart.
I know a pub.
No.
Thanks all the same.
Home.
I found this.
That should have gone to the coroner.
I forgot. You read it?
It's addressed to you. Where was it?
On the mantel.
The coroner was wrong.
'Died of wounds'.
That's what we used to put.
Those that didn't die at once.
A week. A month.
Years, some of 'em.
Bullet. Bit of shrapnel.
Works its way to the heart.
She died of wounds.
"You should know...
"It was not Ugo who betrayed us all those years ago.
"They said they'd spare Francesca.
"I should have died at the Villa Casabianca.
"I have lived with my sin,
"hidden it from the world.
"And then, I saw you again.
"I just want to be at peace.
"Every life holds one great love.
"One name to hold onto at the end.
"One face to take into the dark.
"It was always too late.
"Remember the girl you knew...
"..and forgive her.
"We were young.
"It was the war.
"Amore mio."
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