I'm Alan Cumming, and this is Masterpiece Mystery!

Cause of death... Ten-inch length of wooden dowel, sharpened at one end, driven into the victim's chest.

INNOCENT: Full moon last night, wasn't it?

Some sort of lunatic?

Stake through the heart?

Garlic?

I mean, that's, uh... Vampires, ma'am?

Something happened here... Something terrible.

(screaming) HOBSON: This is wrong.

I lived here.

This was our house.

INNOCENT: What about Dr. Hobson?

I've known her for more than ten years.

I asked her outright if there was anything I ought to know.

HATHAWAY: She lied.

LEWIS: She wouldn't.

Not Laura.

Laura!

Inspector Lewis, tonight on Masterpiece Mystery!

Captioning sponsored by VIEWERS LIKE YOU (thunder) The city of Oxford, where you can get a first-class education and have a first-class nervous breakdown.

No wonder Oxford looks forward to Halloween, the one night of the year when it's okay to lose your mind-- dress up like a skeleton, paint your lips as blue as a corpse's.

It might even be possible to communicate with the dead.

Which is not something that holds much interest for Inspector Lewis.

"Leave death to the professionals," he says.

Like pathologist Dr. Laura Hobson.

Corpses are her bread and butter, so to speak.

However, it's a different story when the murdered body lying on Dr. Hobson's table starts to seem dangerous.

It's enough to make even an experienced professional lose her grip.

After all, a pathologist can be trained to uncover the secrets of the dead, but the secrets of the living can drive you crazy.

It's risky to get too close to the dead.

(bell tolling) Yeah, that's fine.

(cell phone rings) Hobson.

WOMAN: When shall we three meet again?

My diary says 8:30 at the Turl Club.

Why?

Problems?

Well, traffic's nose-to, and I'm not even out of town yet.

Fog.

HOBSON: Ellen, it's fine.

Don't worry, you've saved me a call.

Late arrivals from this afternoon's pile-up.

Denn die Toten reiten Schnell!

(growls softly) (growls) KIDS: Trick or treat!

(growls) (laughs heartily) Look at you lot!

Fantastic, eh?

Go on, help yourself.

Just a couple each, eh?

WOMAN: Maddie?

Clerval's not back yet, is he?

He's going to meet us there.

I think.

(Maddie giggling) MAN: I mean, have you thought about that?

Yes, damn it, Morningtide!

Morningtide.

What's wrong with that?

WOMAN: I'm sorry.

MAN: Oh, fine!

That's all right, then.

(angrily): So long as you're sorry!

(rock music playing, people chatting and laughing) (laughing) Have you seen Clerval?

No.

(cell phone ringing) (knock at door) WOMAN: Five minutes, Ms. Van Tessel.

He's coming, he's going to be here.

Rowena?

(man laughing spookily) (audience applauding) (gasping) (doorbell rings) (growling loudly) Treat?

Yeah, I'm afraid not.

WOMAN (on machine): You have reached the voicemail of Dr. Ellen Jacoby.

Please leave a message.

(machine beeps) Hi, it's me.

I'm sorry, I've just got a call-out.

You two press on.

I'll be as quick as I can.

(phone beeps off) (faint voices on police radio) Boys.

Doctor, you're looking very, er...

I was aiming a little higher than "er," Sergeant, but it's the thought that counts.

Shall we?

Body was found just before half eight.

HOBSON: Just a quick once-over and that's your lot.

Going somewhere nice?

I do have a life, you know.

A small one, but it's my own.

And I'm running late, so... You'd think I'd be used to it.

Not like this.

Strangers, sure.

You can find some distance, but...?

How did you know her?

Flatmates.

We were at college here together.

Same year.

(sniffles) Thanks.

We were due to meet tonight, believe it or not.

Oh, God.

Ellen will be wondering where we are.

Ellen Jacoby.

When she's in town, we try to get together to meet up, the three of us.

(camera clicks) We're going to need the Twelfth Man in, Dr. Hobson knowing the deceased.

Dr. Rawbone's on his way.

Aberdeen Angus?

Beggars can't be choosers.

So, who was she?

Professor Willard.

Scientist.

Attached to the Institute for Molecular Biology and Human Genetics.

Ligeia Willard?

You heard of her?

Well, in a purely professional capacity.

There's been threats.

Stem cell research.

Not overly popular with some of the more spiritually certain.

(no voice) (no voice) (dog barking in distance) (crib music box playing gentle waltz tune) (woman laughing) (sniggering) She back?

I've no idea.

I've only been home ten minutes, and I walked into all this.

Where the hell have you been?

Hmm?

Oh, something came up.

Oh, it wouldn't have killed you to phone Rowena and let her know, would it?

Have you any idea how upset she's been?

Sorry, what's it got to do with you?

Oh, she's my friend, Victor.

I don't want to see her get hurt.

Ow!

Sorry.

MAN: Careful!

What happened to you?

Oh, some hearties from Beaufort thought it might be larks to start lobbing champagne flutes.

(sniggering) Well, you'd better get a shot.

Tetanus.

Oh, yes.

Thank you, Dr. Clerval.

So what's to drink?

RAWBONE: Cause of death?

Well, it's a close run thing.

First among equals, blunt trauma to the left parietal bone with the resultant fracture.

Massive subdural hematoma.

Someone hit her on the back of the head.

I do know some big words, thank you.

What about the rest?

A ten-inch length of wooden dowel, approximately one inch in diameter.

Sharpened at one end, driven into the victim's chest.

RAWBONE: A friend of Dr. Hobson's, I understand?

Taking it hard, I'd imagine.

Is that it?

RAWBONE: Well, you'd think anything else would be de trop, wouldn't you?

But no, there is something more.

I recovered a foreign object from the victim's oral cavity.

It's a bulb of garlic.

INNOCENT: Full moon last night, wasn't it?

It was.

Some sort of lunatic, do we think?

Stake through the heart, garlic.

I mean, that's... Vampires, ma'am?

So, anything on CCTV from the car park?

Fog.

Lots of it.

Pretty useless.

We're starting preliminary interviews at ten, but James says there'd been threats.

Mostly to do with her work.

Mixed bag, from the devout to the doolally.

There are some genuine, well argued ethical reservations, but the rest are just... Green ink brigade.

There's a whole group of them keeps a daily vigil outside the institute.

(sighs) (demonstrators arguing and talking loudly) LEWIS: When did you last see Professor Willard?

Around 7:30.

I popped my head round the door to say goodnight.

LEWIS: How did she seem?

Nothing bothering her?

No personal problems or... Not that I'm aware.

I gather she was divorced.

Was there anyone in her life at the moment?

Anyone we should be talking to?

Ligeia didn't invite confidences.

Nor share them.

I admired that.

And it's stem cells you're involved in here.

Is that right?

With a view to the treatment of progressive degenerative illnesses.

That's right.

Hello.

Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, motoneuron disease, M.S.

Important work.

We like to think so.

But not without its critics.

Professor Strickfaden?

Science is about the pursuit of truth.

That always threatens someone.

Did you know Professor Willard well?

She was a valued colleague.

Dedicated.

Diligent.

A brilliant scientist.

Personally?

Any change in her demeanor recently?

Nothing worrying her?

Besides the threats?

I think you are better to go and talk to the crazy people that attack us every day as we come and go to work.

Rest assured, Dr. Belisarius.

All avenues of inquiry are being pursued.

Of course.

Now.

(bitterly): Now everything is being pursued with seriousness.

But if the police had done their job properly from the first, Ligeia might still be alive.

RODDY: No, Rowena.

I didn't do it.

Well, it wasn't like that last night, was it?

And I know it wasn't me.

Maddie?

Don't look at me.

It'll just be Victor messing about.

Not guilty.

MADDIE: That'll be a first.

And what's that supposed to mean?

We should call the police.

(laughs) Why?

It's just gibberish.

"Murder"?

"Help me"?

RODDY: Maybe like there was a murder, done here, in this house?

Maybe like when it was built... (laughing) I'm not sleeping in a house with a ghost in it.

Oh... We need, like... like, an exorcist.

Yeah, oh, right, because I'm sure they're listed in the Local Small Ads.

Roddy... Actually, Rowena, it's, um, funny you should say that.

PROTESTORS: Shame!

Shame!

Shame!

Let's have background checks on this lot while we're at it.

Lady over there to see you, sir.

I was waiting to go on.

HATHAWAY: Go on where?

The Old Chapel Theatre.

I'm there all week.

Giving readings.

You're an author, is it?

I am published, yes.

But for the most part it's a conversation with the audience.

I convey messages to them from the other side.

You're a medium.

I prefer "sensitive."

So, what was it you wanted to tell us, Ms. Van Tessel?

You were waiting to go on and what?

You had a feeling, a premonition, was it?

Something along those lines?

She was stabbed, wasn't she?

I felt it.

It was... here.

We're very grateful for your information, I'm sure.

If you'd give your details to Sergeant Hathaway, somebody'll come by, take a statement.

I see.

Well, bye, then.

Oh... she didn't suffer.

You've lost someone-- someone close.

HATHAWAY: Ms. Van Tessel...

It was very quick.

There was no suffering, just release.

HATHAWAY: I don't wish to be rude, ma'am, but this is a very serious offense called "wasting police time."

Is that what you think I'm doing?

I don't doubt you're very well intentioned, miss.

But take my advice, leave death to the professionals.

All right?

(knocker rapping on door) I was looking for Dr. Hobson.

And you are...?

D.I.

Lewis.

Oh, come in!

Dr. Jacoby, would it be?

Yes.

JACOBY: Laura said you'd want the details for Ligeia's ex.

I'm afraid they're on my machine at home.

Oh, it's all right, ma'am.

His number was on her mobile.

Would you know if she was seeing anyone at the moment?

There had been someone, I think, up until quite recently.

But Ligeia said she was "off" men.

And you were all due to meet up last night?

That's right.

Left work about half four, home, changed, set off just before six.

Anyone can confirm that?

Work will tell you what time I left.

Otherwise...

Sad and longstanding singleton, I'm afraid.

Not through any failing on your part, I'm sure.

Laura said you were a sweetie.

(scoffs) And am I right in thinking that you were at college with Professor Willard and Laura?

We shared a house together.

There were five of us.

Three girls and two smelly boys.

You're up.

I'll fix some coffee.

What were the results of Rawbone's postmortem?

They'll tell me at work.

Are you up to it?

What else am I going to do?

It's not like we were sisters.

Ligeia was just... someone I used to know.

I should have been a better friend.

LEWIS: Golf.

Four.

Two.

Two.

Partial registration of a dark-colored saloon noticed parked out there last night from just before eight till just gone nine.

Woman next door had trouble last year at Halloween with kids throwing eggs at the door.

So this year she decided to keep a look out.

Yeah, I've seen her twitching at her window.

Driver was a white male, 30s.

Tried the bell and drove off.

I'll get onto it.

Yeah, run it past traffic.

What's the word on Mr. Willard?

Middle of the North Sea.

Oil rig Lima Bravo.

He's a risk engineer.

There's a daughter, isn't there?

Yeah, Chloe.

She lives with his parents.

And Ligeia was happy about that?

Well, presumably.

Scotland's a long way.

Less upheaval for the kid.

Maybe.

No.

No, there's nothing.

Perhaps I might see the rest of the house?

CLERVAL: Of course.

Follow me.

No.

Yes.

Something happened here.

Oh, God!

Why my room?

Something terrible.

A long time ago.

There's a young man.

There's pain.

And great sadness.

That's why he can't pass over.

His life-force is bound by grief and memories of earthly attachments.

(inhales deeply) (exhales) (inhales) (exhales) VAN TESSEL: You may let go.

All is well.

Go.

You may depart.

There.

Is that it?

VAN TESSEL: Yes.

He's gone now.

ROWENA: I don't care.

I'm not sleeping in here tonight.

VAN TESSEL: It's all right.

Sometimes they just need a helping hand to pass over.

The house is at peace now.

Can you feel it?

No, just going through the background checks that uniform got us on the protesters.

Willard's flat.

Double checking, making sure we didn't miss anything.

Mmm?

Oh, um... Usual odds and... sods.

Minor form, drink driving, shoplifting.

Nothing... serious.

No, I'm still here.

Rowena?

(screaming) BELISARIUS: I didn't think it was important.

What, that you were having a relationship with the victim?

Had had.

Which this torn photograph would seem to confirm.

We, er... kept it quiet.

Ligeia didn't want everyone knowing our business.

But I think Strickfaden knew.

What makes you say that?

He's been so kind to me since... (siren wailing outside) Since what happened to Ligeia.

Why'd it finish?

I asked her to marry me.

I thought that's what she wanted.

Marriage.

Children.

(cell phone rings) HATHAWAY: She turned you down?

Next she says she wants to end things.

Says she could never make me happy.

Which, of course, means I could never make her happy.

Was there someone else?

She said not.

And I believed her.

(camera flash clicks) HOBSON: This is wrong.

Laura, what?

When the address came through, I... thought I'd got the wrong number.

I lived here.

We lived here.

Ligeia, Ellen and me.

This was our house.

This was our house.

INNOCENT: Her friend's murdered, and now this?

In the house they shared?

Devil's advocate, any other investigation...

This is Dr. Hobson we're talking about.

I've known her for more than ten years.

Worked with her.

Maybe that's the problem.

So far she's the only link you've got.

Come on, you don't really think she... No, I don't think.

I follow procedure.

Get a statement.

Her movements, last night and Halloween.

INNOCENT: Hi, I'm just...

I could, um, take her statement.

No.

It's all right.

Probably better coming from me.

Thanks.

There's no sign of a forced entry, but then they don't lock the front and the back.

Too much coming and going, I expect.

Absinthe.

Makes the heart grow fonder.

HATHAWAY: What do you reckon to this, sir?

The girl who found the body was babbling to uniform about ghosts leaving a message.

They even had your friend round, apparently.

What friend?

HATHAWAY: Ursula Van Tassel or Tessel.

What, she was here?

Yeah, Rowena was so freaked out, she spent last night on the sofa.

Now, what do you make of that?

That would be one of those rhetorical questions you're so fond of.

Ah, but seriously, Ursula knew that Ligeia had been (clicks) through the chest.

It couldn't be an educated guess, could it?

A murdered woman?

What are the odds it's going to be a knife attack?

Better than 50%?

It's a numbers game.

As for all that stuff about "Is anyone here with a name beginning with J?"

Yeah, it's a cold reading.

I'm familiar with the technique.

Go on then.

Read that, make yourself useful.

"Lig I Willar"... Ligeia Willard.

"Murder"... murder.

"LHob"... Laura Hobson.

"Help me."

LEWIS: What about the rest?

Well, this is new apparently.

It wasn't here last night.

HATHAWAY: "Find Mary Gwilliam."

Who's Mary Gwilliam?

I was hoping you might be able to tell me.

Sorry.

Doesn't mean anything.

Might your friend know?

Dr. Jacoby?

Ellen?

Well, it's not a name I've ever heard her...

Sorry.

This was Ligeia's room.

Come on.

I'll buy you a drink.

Then I think you need to tell me as much as you can about your time here.

(doorbell rings) Sergeant Hathaway, Oxford Police.

Wondering if I might have a word, miss?

Mrs.... Corwin.

Charlotte.

You're with that lot, then, are you?

May I?

Come in.

(baby crying) CHARLOTTE: I didn't see anything last night.

I'm sorry.

But the one before... Yeah?

No.

No, I can't imagine it's anything.

I was up feeding Harry and looking out the window and... oh, the nursery's at the front of the house, and one of the boys from across the road was coming in, that's all.

What time would that have been?

It was the 2:00 feed, so anything between 2:00 and half past.

Halloween, I suppose.

Do you know which one it was?

I don't know.

At first I thought it was the speccy one, but... VINCE: Here, Char?

Oh, here!

What's with all the Old Bill round the weirdos?

Um, this is my husband, Vince.

This is Sergeant... HATHAWAY: Hathaway.

Yeah.

What's wrong?

It's not Harry, is it?

Oh no, no, he's fine.

That's the baby.

No, one of the students has been killed.

(baby crying) I'm sorry, I'm going to have to... Weirdos, Mr. Corwin?

Well, Goths or Emos, or whatever it is they call themselves.

How well do you know them?

Not at all, really.

We've only just moved in, so...

But you haven't had any trouble?

They have some loud parties.

I mean, we wouldn't mind, but for the baby.

I did have a word.

Not that they took much notice.

Well, look, thanks for your time.

If there's anything that strikes you?

VINCE: Sure.

HATHAWAY: Just ask for Detective Sergeant Hathaway.

Have you tried Mr. Jeffreys next door?

Yeah, I rang the bell.

He'll be at work.

Usually gets back about six, if you want to try again.

Thanks very much.

This your van?

Why?

Need some plumbing doing?

Were you home last night?

No, I was on shift.

Up at the new superstore in Kidlington.

I've got the docket in the van if you want to check it.

No, you're all right.

Who else was with you?

Ellen mentioned a couple of lads.

Oh, Peter and Alec.

Peter Hawkins and Alec Pickman.

Still in touch?

I saw Alec a couple of years back on the Broad.

Not to talk to.

I was driving.

But, um... Where is he now?

Around.

From all I heard, he'd given up poetry to become an artist.

He read English.

Took a gap year and then did his D.Phil.

To be honest, I think the only reason he stayed on was because of Ligeia.

Oh, they were an item?

The item.

For her part, anyway.

Alec was... mad, bad and lock up your daughters.

And Peter Hawkins?

I wouldn't have a clue.

When did you see him last?

(laughs) Now you're asking... Um, couple of days before the after-finals bash.

I came down with mumps, of all things.

So, "Cinders, you shall not go to the ball."

My Dad picked me up and drove me home.

By the time I'd recovered, we'd all gone our separate ways.

So you didn't see him again?

I called him a couple of times, but I never heard back.

People slip through the cracks.

If you're not careful.

Alec Pickman?

D.I.

Lewis.

D.S.

Hathaway.

Oxford Police.

Ligeia?

It was in the paper.

I understand you and Professor Willard were close when you were younger.

And all the world is green.

I haven't seen Ligeia in... Oh, must be 20 years.

Who was it put you on to me?

If I might ask, sir, where were you on Halloween?

Was it a weeknight?

Er, drunk and incapable.

Unless, of course, it was the weekend, in which case I'd have been... Oh, yeah, drunk and incapable.

Last night?

I would refer my honorable friend to the answer I gave some moments ago.

Speaking of which... Can I interest either of you?

No.

Thank you.

"My candle burns at both ends.

"It will not last the night.

"But O my foes, and O my friends, it gives a lovely light."

Cheers!

Do you know a girl called Rowena Trevanion?

No, not had the pleasure, sorry to say.

Why?

Is she pretty?

HATHAWAY: She was.

Only she was killed last night at the house on Nethermoor.

When were you last there?

Eighty-six.

So you're digging up Peter Hawkins and the rest of the Wyrd Sisters, then, are you?

Collect the set.

Wyrd Sisters?

They're the two girls who used to live with us.

It's a pet name for them.

Ellen Jacoby and Laura Hobson.

'Scuse.

Need some air.

Does the name Mary Gwilliam mean anything to you?

Whatever you might have heard, there are some women in Oxford with whom I've not been intimately acquainted.

Although, in truth, I fear I have not always been as kind to the ladies as I should have or, indeed, as they deserve.

They do have this unreasonable need for someone to rely on.

Have you noticed that?

Can't say I quite get it.

Do you?

Actually, I rather suspect you do.

You look the dependable sort.

Petey was a bit like you.

Type that thinks girls need to ask to be kissed.

You know?

The kind of sap whose shirt's always wet through at the shoulder with tears.

"Oh, Petey, you're such a good listener."

You didn't like him?

Best friend I ever had.

Carried a torch for Ligeia all the way through our time at Oxford.

She never gave him a second thought.

Not like that, anyway.

Any idea where we could find him?

He was living with his sister in Banbury, last I heard.

Christine.

Came to visit once or twice.

Good looking girl.

So, is that it?

Am I, um... am I in the clear, or am I still "in the frame," as it were?

What do you think?

I think you're a bit of a fraud, Mr. Pickman.

A ragbag of bits of poetry and lines from old songs.

"A wand'ring minstrel, I," indeed.

"A thing of shreds and patches, of ballad songs and snatches."

(laughing) Half-cut at two in the afternoon?

It's sad, isn't it?

Tragic is what it is.

Well, we'll leave you to your picture painting.

LEWIS: You're not planning on going anywhere.

Laura?

Hey.

What is it?

Oh, nothing.

Nothing.

I'm just being silly.

(laughing): Oh, my God!

Where'd you find those?

Amongst my souvenirs.

My hair!

(both laughing) Call the fashion police.

Where's Petey?

Probably taking the photograph.

Oh, God, look at us.

So young.

So full of... How do we get from that to this?

Life, my dear.

We've not done too badly.

You're happy, aren't you?

I just keep looking at Ligeia and thinking.

Sometimes I got the feeling...

Here.

Don't upset yourself.

(wine bottles clanking) Oh, sorry.

Where did you get to?

It didn't seem fair to be drinking you out of house and home, so... fancy a nightcap?

(chuckles) Better make it a night top hat.

(laughs) I went to a gig.

At The Bear.

What time did that pack up?

'Bout half-eleven, twelve.

I, er... too much to drink.

Ended up on a bench in Botanic Gardens.

Alone?

MADDIE: It was that woman coming.

If we hadn't had her round... (tearfully): We should have just left it alone.

How did you find her?

Victor knew her.

How was that?

I don't know.

A flier in the local paper, I think.

It was just supposed to be a bit of fun.

HATHAWAY: What about Halloween?

I understand you were meant to attend a party in Ambrose Quad.

Well, I know I said I might go.

In the end I didn't fancy it.

So what did you do?

I went to the theater.

The Old Chapel.

There was a seance-y type show.

What time did you get home?

I don't know, round midnight.

I had a couple of drinks after the show.

Is that how you know Ursula Van Tessel?

LEWIS: And how was everything in the house between you all?

No arguments or... No.

We all get on.

Everyone liked her.

What would make someone do that?

That's what we mean to find out.

We've got a match on that car parked outside Willard's the night she was killed.

Oh, aye.

Lover boy, was it?

BELISARIUS: I had been refused some trifling additional expenditure, so I accessed the Institute's accounts.

Accessed, Doctor?

There was no criminal intent.

I simply hoped to prove my argument.

By chance I came upon an irregular procedure.

For the last five years, each department's annual underspend has been set aside and drawn on to make payments to a clinic in Jeddah.

For what?

Embryonic stem cells.

The Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act is quite clear about the use of illegally obtained stem cells.

So why'd you take this to Professor Willard?

She'd been the last person to access the file.

I wanted her advice.

And who would have the authority to okay a payment for something such as that?

God said, "Let there be life!"

ALL: God said, "Let there be life!"

The natural choice is life!

I have to assume that your benefactors would take a dim view of this Institute being involved in criminal activity.

That is, you'll forgive me, quite a naive assessment.

The bottom line for Morningtide is just that.

It's about profit?

It's about results.

Saving lives.

A breakthrough here could help hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people.

But we cannot make those advances without a ready and reliable supply of material.

Look, we're close.

We're so close.

Every month that goes by puts the availability of treatment back by a year.

All those patients, each day becoming more and more lost to their loved ones.

If it were in your power to save them, what would you do?

Is that how Ligeia Willard felt?

I tried to talk her out of it, but she was resolved to go public, to bring the sky down upon all our heads.

I believe she'd lost her faith.

Her faith?

In science.

Yeah, I've got an address for a Mary Gwilliam.

Only one on the electoral roll.

(switch clicking) Dead about a week.

Ten days.

There is some evidence of-- what is one supposed to call it now-- enhanced interrogation technique.

She's been tortured?

So it would appear.

Cause of death would appear to be asphyxia.

You can see where the ligature has bitten into the neck.

It's even driven the chain of her St. Christopher, or whatever it is, into the flesh.

She seems to have been a nurse, sir.

This one was taken at Saint W. of Perth.

Scotland?

Or Australia.

So, who was Mary Gwilliam?

I've got Hathaway looking into her background now, ma'am.

But according to the neighbors, she was a retired nurse.

Divorced, no kids.

Kept herself to herself.

Connections to the other victims?

Beyond the message on the fridge at Nethermoor Avenue, nothing.

It's my feeling that the murderer was getting a bit jumpy that we hadn't found her yet.

So what's he trying to say?

And where does Dr. Hobson fit into it?

Well, we don't know she does for sure yet, ma'am.

All right.

Well, keep me posted.

Oh, Robbie...

I've had the chief constable on.

How did Rowena's postmortem go?

Nothing new.

Formal ID was... never gets any easier, does it?

Parents?

Very decent.

Distraught, obviously.

But they did say she'd been dating that Roddy lad for a bit, before he hooked up with Madeleine.

No residual ill feeling?

Apparently not on Rowena's part.

She'd set her cap at Victor lately, according to the mother.

"Set her cap at"?

It's an expression.

Perhaps they used to listen to the wireless together, sir.

Or step out once in a while to the picture house.

Right.

Just for that, Mary Gwilliam's valuables, bagged and tagged for the exhibits officer when you've got a minute.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

Any joy with this hospital?

Saint W's?

There's 50 different Williams at least.

There's literally hundreds.

From Saint Waccar to Saint Wulsin, calling by Wendolinus, Winifred, Wilfretudis, and all points between.

None so far with a hospital named after them in Perth.

Scotland or Western Australia.

So far.

There is, um, there's one other thing, sir.

I've been going through Mary Gwilliam's outgoing calls.

And?

Well, a couple she made recently to the same number stand out.

One was made seven months ago and one was the last call she ever made.

You don't remember speaking to her?

That's because I didn't speak to her.

When was this meant to be?

The last call was three weeks ago.

October the 8th.

23:10.

Nine seconds in duration.

No.

There was...

I did get this weird message.

But that was eons back.

First call, March the 17th.

20 past 4:00 in the afternoon.

One minute and eight seconds in duration.

Well, I don't know if it was this woman, but it was a woman's voice.

I don't even really remember what she said.

Something along the lines of she'd found my number in the phone book, and if I was the Laura Hobson she was looking for, I'd know what it was about.

Anything else?

Well, sounds a bit odd, but I'm pretty sure she mentioned Rochester.

JACOBY: Rochester?

HOBSON: Well, I've never been to Rochester.

LEWIS: You never called her back?

No, I just assumed she'd got hold of the wrong Laura Hobson.

Look, I know this is going to sound... Can anyone vouch for your movements the night Professor Willard died?

(chuckles) Robbie...

It's procedure.

No, there isn't.

I left work about 6:30 and went home.

I got ready and I was just about to leave for the Turl Club when I got the cl to attend Ligeia.

I phoned Ellen and left a message to say I'd be late and I drove straight to the Institute.

Anything else?

You want me to account for the night that the girl got killed, too?

Please.

I took a valium and had an early night.

Ellen was watching TV downstairs.

She'll tell you I never left the house.

She didn't.

You had to follow it up, sir.

That makes me feel a whole lot better.

So where to now?

Collect the set, Alec Pickman said.

So far the only one we haven't had sight of is Peter Hawkins.

Uniform sent me a last known address.

CHRISTINE: My brother was never the same after he came back from Oxford.

He seemed changed.

Haunted.

In what way?

Our mother died when we were ten, Inspector.

Of what I have since come to learn was an autosomal dominant inherited prion disease.

FFI.

Or, to give it its proper name, Fatal Familial Insomnia.

There's no cure, and it is invariably fatal.

It's caused by plaques developing on the thalmus.

The area of the brain responsible for the regulation of sleep.

Yes.

Everyone has bouts of sleeplessness, but for someone with FFI, it may herald a downward spiral, which leads inevitably to madness and death.

Are there no tests he could have?

Not then.

Peter and I simply grew up in the knowledge that our blood was in some way tainted.

That one day, we might go the same way as our mother.

LEWIS: Can't have been easy.

Well, one lives with it.

Or dies with it.

Even if only one parent has the gene, any offspring have a 50% chance of inheriting the disease.

So... about a year after he came back down... Peter drove out to Wytham Wood... and in the early hours of the morning, ran a hose from the exhaust...

I don't suppose you'd have held onto any of his personal effects still?

My father closed and locked this room 19 years ago.

No one has entered it since.

You'll find Peter's diaries in the bookcase.

He was depressed, yes, but... well, there was something else.

Sadness.

Regret.

For what?

I don't know.

We were sitting looking at the fire one afternoon and suddenly he turned to me and said, "Would you still love me if I'd done something terrible?"

You didn't press him on it?

Well, we gave each other space.

I knew he'd tell me when he was ready.

A week later, he was dead.

You look very alike.

Was he older or younger?

Younger.

By 20 minutes.

James Hathaway, you are a dolt.

HATHAWAY: I've been a bit of an idiot, sir.

I've been looking for hospitals in Perth.

As requested.

But it's not in Perth, it's of Perth.

You know the medallion that Gwilliam wore?

It's not a St. Christopher, it's St. William, sir.

St. William of Perth.

Should I be sitting down for this?

Thank you.

William is this wild youth, but upon reaching manhood, he decides he's going to change his ways and devote his life to the service of God.

Anyway, one morning, on his way to mass, he comes across a child abandoned on the steps of a church and he decides to adopt him.

And this is going somewhere, is it?

In the summerof 1201, he sets out with his son on a pilgrimage to all the holy places in England.

And having spent three days in Rochester, on his way to Canterbury, his son strikes his father round the head, cuts his throat, and robs him.

A local madwoman comes across the corpse and lays a garland of flowers first on William's head and then on her own, whereupon she's miraculously cured of her insanity.

St. William of Perth, aka St. William of Rochester, the patron saint of adoptees and orphans.

And all this gets us where?

Well, up until the late '80s, the St. William of Perth Foundation ran a small number of hospitals, including Holmwood Park Situate Abingdon.

HATHAWAY: It was built in the 1870s as an asylum, before being acquired in the '50s and run as a private hospital by the St. William of Perth Trust.

It's the asylum graveyard.

Developers are in the process of removing the remains for reburial elsewhere.

This was a private hospital?

So far as I've been able to make out, mixed use.

That's a polite way of saying what?

I think admin is this way.

This was a place where the well-to-do could send those relatives deemed for some reason or another to be not quite up to snuff.

The St. William of Perth Trust welcomed all with open arms.

Open checkbooks, more like.

We're after Mary Gwilliam's staff records.

Or any colleagues who were here at the same time.

Yes, it'll point us towards a link with Dr. Hobson.

Right, best of luck.

I'll leave you to it.

Why?

Where are you off to?

Trip to the theater.

How am I meant to get back?

I'm sure uniform'll be happy to give you a lift.

I wouldn't leave it too late, mind.

I think this place'd get quite spooky after dark.

(sighs) MAN: ♫Even if I could tell you♫ ♫I wouldn't say♫ ♫Hey there, darling...♫ ♫Take my blood and let me fly away♫ ♫Keep my love but come back another day...♫ VAN TESSEL: Our loved ones are not lost to us.

They merely wait in a place where there are no goodbyes.

Thank you.

(applause) So what's the trick, Ms. Van Tessel?

Oh, it's you.

I've three people murdered.

Two of who you seem to have been involved with.

Two?

You attended a seance at a house on Nethermoor Avenue.

There was a young girl there called Rowena Trevanion.

And the next morning, she was found murdered.

What?

No premonitions?

No voices in your ears?

I can't explain the gift, Inspector.

You came to us to help publicize your little sideshow.

That was my agent's idea.

Coming to see you was mine.

There was a genuine impulse.

(car tires screeching in distance) I've been trying to call you.

What is it, man?

There's been another attack.

She's alive, just... Not Laura... No, sir.

Dr. Jacoby.

ALEC: And I heard screaming and I just... started running and I found her up the towpath about a hundred yards, face down.

Thought she was a goner, but... Did you see anyone else?

No.

Thank God.

ALEC: No, I... shouting as I went, I suppose, trying to scare the bastard off.

They must've heard me coming and thought better of it.

Alec?

(laughs) Hey.

When can we speak to her?

They're keeping her in an induced coma until the brain swelling goes down.

Could be a couple of days at least.

Well, it's possible that she might not remember anything of the attack, sir.

On the upside...

There's an upside?

What with all the excitement, I forgot.

Mary Gwilliam-- I managed to trace a colleague.

And?

Gwilliam leaves Holmwood Park in 1987.

Dismissed, suddenly, under a cloud.

My contact wasn't specific, but was under the impression that her license to nurse had been revoked.

So get onto the College of Nursing.

Yeah, they'll call me back tomorrow.

But what we do know is that she reappears on the radar in the late '90s, working as co-director of the Rochester House Foundation, agency specializing in re-homing Romanian orphans in the West.

You mean an adoption agency?

Of sorts, but no questions asked if the money was right.

Don't stare, Alec.

Don't.

I know I asked you before about Mary Gwilliam, but it seems she worked at Holmwood Park Hospital.

Holmwood?

What, you know it?

ALEC: Oxford's not for everyone, Inspector.

Hand in hand with the first-class education goes a first-class nervous breakdown.

Holmwood, amongst other things, is where you got sent if you went off your head.

(distant laughter) MADDIE: Victor, we've been looking everywhere for you.

Where've you been?

Victor?

(sobbing) Are you all right?

Get off me!

Come on... Hey, hey, hey!

Get off!

Just leave me alone, yeah?

LEWIS: What did you mean exactly when you said "amongst other things" with regard to Holmwood?

Well, dons of a certain age muttered of it as a place where girls would go who, um... what was the phrase my tutor used?

Um, "found themselves in difficulty."

But you never had any cause to call on their services?

Even if I had, I'd think twice before mentioning it.

There's a rather disagreeable whiff of the Presbytery about you, Lewis.

I'd hate to lower your opinion of me.

In that particular, sir, you might find yourself a bit hard pressed.

ALEC: Oh, I see.

It's like that, is it?

Are you, um... No, no, of course not.

No, she likes 'em a bit wilder, does our Laura.

Sir?

LEWIS: You'll find a uniformed officer posted alongside your boat until this is over, Mr. Pickman.

I think everyone was a bit in love with him back then.

Or infatuated.

Some of us move on.

But Ellen... Ellen?

I thought it... No, Alec broke it off with Ligeia as soon as she'd sat her finals.

It's the one decent thing he ever did for her.

We all knew there was someone else.

It wasn't till years later I discovered it was Ellen.

Did Ligeia know?

It was all water long under by then.

They were close.

I certainly wasn't going to open that particular can of worms.

Laura... We've known each other a long time, as colleagues and, well, as friends, I hope.

You know you can rely on my discretion.

There's nothing else you can think of that I ought to know?

(bells ringing) Peter Hawkins' diaries would seem to bear it out, sir.

Only as far as he's concerned, Alec's new squeeze was Laura Hobson, not Ellen Jacoby.

I know, why would he think that?

I don't know.

Unless that's what Ellen Jacoby told Ligeia to spare her own blushes.

That's assuming that Hobson is telling the truth.

Any reason to doubt it?

Look, sir, I can understand that this is difficult for you... Oh, do you really?

You don't seem to be having too much trouble with it.

I'm just trying to keep a sense of detachment, that's all.

Same as any other case.

There is one other thing.

Hawkins is a fairly diligent diarist, but come the end of his time at Oxford he just stops dead.

He doesn't pick up his pen again until a couple of months before he died.

Right, listen.

Make a note of the date when Hawkins breaks off from his journals, all right?

Check it against when they had this finals bash.

You think it has a bearing?

I do, yeah.

And let's get the Clerval lad in.

See if a line-up can't shake his confidence.

Mr. and Mrs. Corwin, sir.

Ah, Detective Inspector Lewis.

Thanks very much for coming in.

Much appreciated.

Charlotte won't actually have to talk to him, will she?

No, no, no, no, no.

One-way glass.

You all right with that, Mrs. Corwin?

We've been up all night with Harry-- colic.

Oh, my sympathies.

Me and my wife had terrible times with our eldest.

Shall we?

Not bring him with you, then?

Um, no, no.

Mum's looking after.

Sergeant Murray just needs a few details from you, Mrs. Corwin.

Date of birth, home address.

Eighteenth of the third, '86.

I'm sorry about this.

I would let you go in with her, but rules of evidence.

No, sure.

She'll be all right.

Don't suppose you've got a light, have you?

You can't smoke in here, mate.

Course.

Sorry.

I'm going to leave you with Sergeant Woods, if that's all right?

Duty calls.

CUSTODY SERGEANT: Toe the line there, gents.

Those with glasses, please remove them.

Take your time.

So where'd you get to last night?

CLERVAL: I told you, just knocking around.

Oh, come on, Victor, you'll have to do better than that.

We've got two murders and an attempted, and you not able to give a straight account of your whereabouts for any of them.

Let's try Halloween.

You made a statement to the effect that you were at the theater and you got home around midnight.

Yes.

But we've just had positive visual identification, Victor.

You were recognized by someone who saw you come back to Nethermoor Avenue at 2:00 in the morning.

So which is it?

It's my fault.

All of it.

Rowena... We'd kind of been seeing each other and... and then I went to that show.

I hung around the bar afterwards and I got talking to Ursula.

Van Tessel?

Go on.

Well... Well, I don't know, you know.

Had a couple of drinks and... One thing led to another, did it?

(cries) So, that's where you were till 2:00 in the morning.

And the night Rowena died?

LEWIS: What am I looking at?

Hospital admissions.

Look here between the 16th and the 21st of March 1986.

I don't under... She never mentioned...

There's more, I'm afraid.

Given the Mary Gwilliam connection to the Rochester House Foundation and their particular line of business, I took a look at this-- hospital register.

17th of March.

Bottom right-hand corner of the page.

"March 17th.

Birth.

Male.

"23.48.

"Six pounds, seven ounces.

Mother: Hobson, L." It's a mistake.

It has to be.

Check the next entry.

"March 18th.

Birth.

Female.

"00.35.

Five pound, 11 ounces.

Mother's name: Hobson, L." She had twins, sir.

I don't believe this.

But... she'd have told me.

I mean, I asked her outright if there was anything I ought to know.

She lied.

She wouldn't.

Not to me.

Public Records have the birth of two children John and Susan, registered in Oxford in the first quarterof 1986.

Mother: Laura Hobson; father: Peter Hawkins.

Mary Gwilliam helped to have them adopted through the Rochester House Foundation, but not together.

She separated them.

Bring her in.

Sir?

Formal interview down the station.

Under caution.

On what charge?

Obstructing a murder inquiry.

Well, what do we think we're dealing with?

Some kind of bizarre revenge against Dr. Hobson?

For what?

Who knows?

(cell phone rings) Hathaway.

Adoptions Registry.

Yeah, go ahead.

HATHAWAY: Boy, John... went straight from Holmwood Park to a family called Moreau at Woodstock.

And the girl, Susan, at around three months to a couple called the Renfields in Cowley.

Did you get an address?

For the Renfields, Susan's adoptive parents, yeah.

But not for John?

No.

The Moreaus moved from Woodstock in around '89 and then just vanish off the electoral roll.

Went abroad, maybe?

LEWIS: Mrs. Renfield?

D.I.

Lewis, D.S.

Hathaway.

Oxford Police.

May we come in?

We haven't seen Susan for... well, we had a bit of a falling out.

Sir... Well, what's all this about?

Is this Susan, Mrs. Renfield?

Because we know her as Charlotte.

MRS. RENFIELD: It's Susan Charlotte, but she didn't like Susan.

But this is Vince Corwin, right?

Her husband?

No.

No, that's John.

John Moreau.

Charlotte?

OFFICERS: Police!

Vince!

(baby crying) (sound of baby crying stops) LEWIS: Laura!

Laura!

Williams?

Are you all right?

You all right?

Yeah.

Ambulance and backup, please.

117 Valdemar Close.

We have a man down.

See if you can get a trace on her mobile.

It's a mess.

Why didn't she tell us what was going on?

Because she didn't know.

We should never have doubted her.

If anything happens, I'll... (cell phone rings) Hathaway.

Yep, got it.

Hobson's mobile, heading west out of Abingdon, 415.

Holmwood Park.

How could Dr. Hobson not know what all this was about?

Alec Pickman and Ligeia Willard were an item, right?

But straight after finals, he dumps her for somebody else.

Now, who would Ligeia Willard turn to for a shoulder to cry on?

Peter Hawkins.

Right.

But I think that that closeness, her clinging to him for comfort, was more than he could stand.

I think he lost control.

That "terrible thing" he'd done which he couldn't get over, he raped her?

More.

I think he left her pregnant.

With twins.

(struggling) You saw Charlotte at that ID parade.

What was it they said?

She'd been up all night with the baby?

That isn't why she's not sleeping.

She's inherited Hawkins' condition.

Who are you?

Why are you doing this?

What have I done to you?

What did you do?

You gave us a living death.

How long can you hold your breath for, do you think?

Please don't!

Please!

Why didn't Ligeia Willard report it?

Shame?

Who would Ligeia blame for what had happened?

I mean, in her mind, who betrayed her?

So, what, she just checks into Holmwood Park, she gives up the children to Mary Gwilliam, who handles the adoption, but the mother is registered as... (sobbing): Don't... (loud thud) (screaming) (screaming) Moreau!

Get her out of there!

(screaming) Shh, it's James, it's James.

You're fine, you're fine.

You're fine.

You're fine.

You're fine.

(clanking) (thumping) VINCE: Not nice being scared, is it?

To live in fear.

Is that why you did it?

We wanted her to know how it felt.

To make her suffer.

Vince... We gave her enough clues.

Her friends, the place she lived, the messages on the fridge, but she wouldn't admit it.

Laura Hobson isn't your mother!

Ligeia Willard was your mother.

He's lying.

LEWIS: She registered your birth in Laura Hobson's name.

Lying?!

CHARLOTTE: Vince!

Vince... Vince... We lost three kids inside a year.

So we had tests.

That's how you found you were brother and sister?

That wasn't all you discovered, though, was it?

She can't sleep, can she?

VINCE: She should never have had us.

(sirens wailing) We can get you help.

I'm so tired, Vince.

I know, baby.

I'm scared.

Shh, it's all right.

LEWIS: Vince?

You can sleep now.

Vince... We belong dead.

(glass shattering) HATHAWAY: What do you think'll happen to her?

Too ill to stand trial, I suppose.

LEWIS: Hospital.

Madness.

Death in the end.

For want of a nail.

Eh?

Well, if Vince's parents hadn't split up, his mum would never have moved him away from Woodstock.

He'd never have ended up in the same school as Charlotte.

None of this might ever have happened.

Simple twist of fate.

Nah, fate's too easy.

It's lies.

Family secrets.

If Ellen hadn't lied about her affair with Alec... See you in the Trout later?

Laura...

I can't save you, Alec.

I never could.

Do the right thing for once, eh?

Robbie...

Thank you.

If you hadn't... We did.

And we always will.

Blow the cobwebs?

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