♪ ♪ (woman gasps) ♪ ♪ I'm still of the strong opinion that the boyfriend's responsible, Carl Sturgis.

He's alibied, isn't he?

Perhaps you might take another look.

THURSDAY: You said you saw who did it.

Yes, I did-- it was a vision.

Like with you-- there's a woman.

In a green dress?

There's just a sadness.

THURSDAY: You were right and I was wrong.

It wasn't the boyfriend.

Well, don't feel too bad about it.

We got there in the end.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (thunder claps) (whimpers) (click) ANNOUNCER: At the Jolly Rajah, we use only the freshest spices, the choicest meat, and the highest-quality vegetables to bring you the very best of Indian cuisine.

From a romantic dinner to a full wedding reception, the Jolly Rajah, only two minutes' walk from this cinema.

(speakers hissing) ♪ ♪ (bell tolling) MAN (on loudspeaker): For a better Oxford and a better Britain, this Thursday, the 18th of June, vote Conservative, because a vote for the Conservative Party is a vote for a better tomorrow.

♪ ♪ (crowd cheering) (crowd shouting) (bell dings, crowd cheers and applauds) STAN: Adam "Danger Man" Sloane!

Oh, yeah!

(crowd cheers and applauds) And, all the way from Africa, it's Johnny Simba!

(crowd cheering, jeering) ♪ ♪ How is she, Doctor?

Perhaps better than one might expect.

There will be good days.

GORMAN: It's no accident that I use the word "invasion" advisedly.

(people chuckling) Because it contains the word "Asian"!

(audience laughing) Since the war, we have been literally swamped with a tidal wave of people from our former territories and colonies.

CROWD: Yes.

We left!

We gave them their countries back!

GORMAN: If the British Movement is about one thing, it's about British jobs for British workers!

(audience cheering, applauding) British homes for British families.

(cheering) And British hospitals for British patients!

(cheering, applauding) It's not the color of your passport that makes you British.

It's the color of your skin!

(audience cheers and applauds) ♪ ♪ (speaking indistinctly) Don't let the food get cold, huh?

(people talking in background) RAFIQ: (speaks world language) (bell dings) (engine starts) PRINCE (on TV): Et voilà.

Tournedos Rossini finished in a madeira demi-glace sauce.

Together with a glass of rosé, very sexy.

This is Oberon Prince wishing you bon appétit.

(man speaking world language in distance) ♪ ♪ (crowd cheering) (grunting) (crowd cheering, shouting) (speaking world language) Where are you going?

Hey!

(speaks world language) Where are you going?

Eh?

Come on.

(laughs) (door closes) (panting) ♪ ♪ (woman singing in Italian on recording) (exhales) (singing continues) Of all the opera houses in all of Venice, eh?

Do you believe in sin?

No.

Damnation?

It's a bit late for that, isn't it?

(chuckles) LUDO: Morse.

Come and meet my wife.

(singing continues) VIOLETTA (voiceover): Some things are unforgivable, though, don't you think?

LUDO (voiceover): Honestly, if I wasn't such a trusting soul, I'd think she'd taken a lover.

But you wouldn't do that to me.

Would you, darling?

(phone ringing) (clears throat) Morse.

♪ ♪ (man speaking indistinctly) MORSE: Well, we'll be in touch.

Thank you.

Thank you.

♪ ♪ (instrumental music playing in background) Sod it.

(exhales) (phone rings, people talking in background) Jolly Rajah.

Silver service.

A chicken vindaloo, pilau rice...

So, uh, one lamb bhuna.

(groans): I'm, I'm sorry.

Chicken, um, jalfrezi, yeah.

No?

Oh, oh, um... (talking loudly) MAN: That'll do, lads.

All-star wrestling.

(cheering, chuckling) Dad-- Dad.

Let me.

I, I've got it.

No, no, it's all right, you just, um... Just take a minute.

Yeah?

Yes, yes.

Yes, sir.

WOMAN (in film): He'll be at it for most of the afternoon.

MAN (in film): He won't be the only one.

WOMAN: Oh, you sore little beggar.

(woman and man laugh) (woman giggling) (porn groove playing, woman whoops) How is he?

Confused, Uncle.

He keeps laying and re-laying table four.

I left a message for Farook.

You don't think it could be a stroke or something, do you?

Your brother Farook will know.

Aziz, that's the last of the night.

Five drops and then home.

(speaks world language) (people talking loudly in background) MAN: Yes, he did.

Oh, my God.

Thank you, mate.

PRINCE: Excuse me, boys.

Boys.

MAN: Yeah?

It's my wine, you buffoons.

(chortles) (gasping) Hey.

How is he?

(sniffs) You all right, Dad?

It's Farook.

Yes, I know who you are.

What do you want?

(sighs) (speaking world language) "Mendip Gardens West."

(people talking in background) (exhales) (yelps) (Sloane cheers) He's more pissed than you, Simba.

(cheering) (car brakes squeak) (engine stops) ♪ ♪ Delivery!

Hello?

Hello?

♪ ♪ (bells tolling) (dog barking in distance) WIN: Joan, um, said to send her best.

Her secondment's going well?

Very well.

There is talk of her staying there permanently.

They all fly the nest.

We had a letter from Sam.

Mm.

Belfast, he's off to.

Seeing the world.

Morse.

Ah, morning, sir.

Anything in?

(door opens) (door closes) THURSDAY: Mrs. Radowicz?

Detective Chief Inspector Thursday.

My sergeant, DS Morse.

We'd met before, I believe, couple of years ago.

You run a hairdresser's.

Salon.

I still do.

What's all this about?

It's about your son Gary-- is he home?

No, no, he's not-- he's at school.

What do you want him for?

Can you account for his movements last night?

He was here.

Home, with me.

You're sure about that?

Quite sure, thank you.

We have an eyewitness placing him at the scene of an assault last night.

Like to have a look at his room, if you don't mind.

I do mind.

You want to poke about in my house, you'll want a warrant, won't you?

And until you've got one, you know what you can do.

(crowd applauding) This is our country!

AUDIENCE: Yes.

Yours and mine.

Yes.

Let's take it back.

Yes!

(cheering, applauding) Mr. Gorman?

And you are?

THURSDAY: Police.

GORMAN: It's all right, Nige.

I'm always happy to help Her Majesty's constabulary.

THURSDAY: I'm sure Her Majesty's very grateful, sir.

We've got a question about one of your supporters.

Young man called Gary Radowicz.

Also calls himself Rogers.

Doesn't ring a bell.

He was at the talk that you gave on Monday night.

Was he?

Mm.

I really couldn't say.

I don't know each and every one of those sympathetic to the cause, you understand.

There was a lot of people there.

A lot of people are very concerned about the state of our country.

Well, we're very concerned about young Pakistani lads getting knifed on the street.

Terrible.

But I can't say that I'm surprised.

You cram all of these incompatible cultures together on one small island, of course it's gonna lead to blood.

And worse.

Sounds like a threat, Mr. Gorman.

It's just an observation.

If the police can't keep the streets safe and defend the indigenous population against outsiders, well, no wonder people take it into their own hands.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a seat to win.

(people talking in background) BRIGHT: Ah, Thursday.

THURSDAY: Morning, sir.

BRIGHT: Morse.

Sir.

BRIGHT: Division have been asking about this Jakobssen case, the cook at the working men's club.

Mm-hmm.

We've got two women who positively identified him as the man who's been exposing himself along the river.

But beyond that... A random attack, as far as we can make out.

Robbery doesn't appear to have been a motive.

What about last night's stabbing?

We got a name.

Juvenile, 15 years old.

Gerwazy Radowicz.

What's that?

Polish, is it?

On his father's side, A.K.A.

Gary Rogers.

He runs with this racialist crowd.

You're bringing him in, presumably.

If we can find him.

At school, according to his mother.

Though if he was involved last night, I'd be surprised if he turned up for assembly.

But we'll take a look.

I see, well, keep me apprised of any developments.

The last thing we need is a public order issue in election week.

Sorry to interrupt, sir.

Couldn't do us a favor, could you, matey?

I've got court in an hour.

What's this?

More about last night?

No, sir, something else.

A missing person, according to uniform.

I see.

Very well, carry on.

THURSDAY: I'll take the school, if you want to... Sir.

Good afternoon, Mrs., uh...?

Uh, her name is Aziz.

She doesn't speak English, that's why I'm here.

Mrs. Sardar, Nuha Sardar.

Detective Sergeant Morse.

A missing person's case, my colleague said.

Mrs. Aziz's husband-- he delivers food for my father-in-law's restaurant.

Right.

The Jolly Rajah?

He left the restaurant just after 11:00 last night with his final delivery run, and never came home.

And how had he been lately?

Anything worrying him?

She said he had not been himself.

In what way?

He had something on his mind, but couldn't tell her what it was.

MORSE: So, this is his final list of deliveries?

Yes.

Just four addresses.

That's right.

And nobody called to say their takeaway hadn't been delivered?

No.

Right.

Has Mr. Aziz been with you long?

A couple of years.

Was he a reliable driver?

Usually.

His wife said he seemed to have something on his mind.

I wondered, is there anything that'd been troubling him at work?

No.

I mean, he did say that he might wish to speak with me, but I'm afraid I just put him off.

Any idea what that might have been about?

Money.

See, his mother-in-law is coming to live with him later this month, and I suppose he thought he might get a raise out of me.

Mmm.

Can I ask who's responsible for taking these orders?

Would you like to see a menu?

Perhaps a drink while you're waiting?

Oh, Uqbah.

All right, all right.

Huh?

(both murmuring) I'm sorry, my brother is, uh, is not quite as in command of his faculties as we're used to.

It's overwork.

Ah, I see, I was just... trying to find out how the orders were dispatched.

How the route is arrived at.

Oh, right, I see, um, well, the orders are all bundled together and sent out hourly, more or less.

Right, but, I mean, the nearest first, presumably.

I believe so.

Yeah, this is all organized by my brother and Mr. Aziz.

I just take care of the kitchen.

MORSE (voiceover): Good afternoon, sir.

Did you order an Indian takeaway yesterday evening?

Good afternoon, Detective Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.

You ordered a takeaway from the Jolly Rajah last night.

♪ ♪ (car door closes) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Hello?

Hello?

The police.

Hello?

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (engine stops) Doctor.

What have we got?

MAX: The cause of death would appear to be a cleaver blow to the back of the skull.

No defensive wounds.

Blood spatter on the wall and what looks to be a print on the doorframe.

THURSDAY: That'd be the weapon?

MAX: I can't say exactly until I see what comes back from the lab.

That's the bloke who delivered my curry last night.

About what time?

Uh... Around 11:00?

Whose place is this?

It's a man called, um, Oberon Prince.

He's a cook, according to the porter.

Yeah, he's off the telly.

He's got a recipes and reviews column in the "Oxford Mail" every Saturday.

So, where is he?

MORSE: Just a few questions.

Do you know Mr.

Prince in number ten?

We've said hello once or twice-- he's friendly enough.

Have you lived here long?

18 months.

It's my dad's place-- one of 'em.

I'm going through a divorce.

He doesn't use it much, so I...

So, you didn't see or hear anything unusual last night?

No.

Well...

Thank you very much, Miss Trent.

DOROTHEA (voiceover): Oberon Prince.

I've only met him a couple of times.

He files his copy by post, always well in advance of his deadline.

Turns up at the Christmas party once in a while.

Family?

Has a wife, I think.

Or had been.

Rosemary, possibly.

One of the herbs.

And this is the only address you have for him?

Far as I know.

There might be a holiday home in Greece.

I can look into it for you.

Can I get a quote?

All right-- we're keeping an open mind.

We welcome the chance to speak to him and urge him to contact us at the earliest opportunity.

Well, I've an inquest to attend once I'm done here, but I'll see it makes the late edition.

Anyone we know?

Farmer out towards Wytham.

Drowned in the pig swill.

You know, this is the sixth freak accident I've attended in as many months.

All relatively healthy.

All in their 30s or 40s.

All single, huh?

Half a dozen in half a year?

Hardly what you'd call an epidemic.

Well, you know best, I'm sure.

(exhales) See you later.

(car door closes) (police radio running in background) Sir.

The food for the third delivery on his list is still in his car.

How's that?

It's, uh, 14 Mendip Gardens West.

No, there's a Mendip Gardens North, Mendip Gardens South, but no West.

Nor East, for that matter.

Could the restaurant have taken it down wrong?

Well, it's possible.

The proprietor's an, um, Uqbah Sardar.

According to his brother, he's been a little off his game recently.

You'd have thought if someone's supper didn't turn up, they might've rung to complain.

Yeah, that's what I thought, but apparently not.

Well, I better report back to Mr.

Bright.

Can you and Jim finish up here?

Get out to ports and airports and see that Prince's photograph is circulated.

Sir.

Oh, um, sir, Miss Frazil's freak accidents, you don't think there's anything in that?

Besides a few thousand on the circulation?

You know what the press is like.

Porter clocked Aziz's car this morning.

He keeps a list of those cars he sees that don't have a right to park here, as some of the residents can get quite beady.

And what did he say about him-- Prince?

Lived here about six years, no trouble.

Last saw him yesterday morning when he took him up his post.

Very popular with the ladies.

So, Prince orders a takeaway and then kills the delivery driver.

Or maybe he was on a promise last night and never came home.

Mr. Aziz was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Perhaps he stumbled upon a burglary or something.

Anything's possible, matey.

MAN (on radio): ...the death of an employee of a popular Oxford restaurant, the Jolly Rajah.

The victim, who is yet to be identified, is believed to be a driver of the restaurant.

A stabbing last night and now this.

Connected, do you think?

Nothing to say so, sir.

Both victims are Pakistani, aren't they?

Yes, sir, but that's as far as it goes.

Well, that's far enough.

Division will be monitoring this situation very carefully.

Was the victim known to this Prince character?

Not as we've been able to establish yet, sir.

Morse and me are gonna brace 'em down the restaurant, see if there's anything there.

He orders an Indian meal and then butchers the man who delivers it.

What is he, a lunatic of some sort?

Food critic, sir.

Well, even so.

Taking an ax to someone's head goes beyond expressing dissatisfaction with the service, wouldn't you say?

He's had some sort of emotional breakdown, maybe?

If it was him.

Well, if it wasn't, you'd imagine he'd come forward as soon as he hears his flat's been turned into a slaughterhouse.

Gary?

MAN (on radio): ...violence in the city within the last 24 hours, as police are appealing for witnesses to the stabbing following a clash between rival gangs.

A young Asian teenager was rushed to hospital having been pursued with friends by a white gang of youths.

In other news, well-known television chef and restaurant critic Oberon Prince has been reported missing... ♪ ♪ (knock at door) MORSE: Good afternoon, Mrs. Sardar.

Might we come in?

Yes, of course.

It's the police.

About Mr. Aziz.

THURSDAY: Detective Chief Inspector Thursday, Thames Valley.

I believe you met my colleague earlier.

RAFIQ: Yes, yes, of course.

My nephews, Dr. Farook Sardar and his young brother, Salim.

You found him?

We did, sir, but I'm sorry to say it's not good news-- he's deceased.

And it wasn't a natural death.

SALIM: What?

Another attack?

MORSE: Well, we can't speculate at this stage, sir.

His car was found outside a block of flats called Tiffin Court-- do you know it?

No.

I've never heard of it.

Did Mr. Aziz have any enemies, as far as you know?

No, he was the mildest of men.

No trouble with any of the customers?

Nothing like that?

No, he saw nothing of the customers.

Only walking through the restaurant from the kitchen to do his deliveries.

And we need to speak to your brother, sir.

Uqbah, is it?

Uh, about a couple of orders he took.

The addresses appear to have been taken down wrongly.

I'm afraid my father's not well, Chief Inspector.

Recently he's been having trouble with his memory, his reading and writing skills.

Well, how's that?

Well... For a few months, there's been, uh, discrepancies when, uh, cashing up.

He's been charging people twice over for dishes on their bill, or not ringing it up at all.

How long has he been like this?

It has got worse over the last year.

We've been trying to talk to him about doing less, retiring even, but...

He won't hear of it.

It would be helpful if we could see a list of the customers that did come in last night.

Certainly.

All the information's at the Rajah.

Oh, uh, when you're ready, we might go to the restaurant.

MORSE: Did you have many bookings?

I suppose three-quarters of the covers early in the evening.

Was there any trouble between Mr. Aziz and any of the other customers?

No.

There was quite a rowdy table, but they had nothing to do with Mr. Aziz.

Wrestlers, I think.

Had they booked?

No.

But they'd been in before, always late.

What time did you close up last night?

RAFIQ: I closed the kitchen at 11:00.

My brother had a, a bit of a turn.

So we called Farook, and he took him home.

And then Salim followed on in his car, and I shut up the restaurant at, uh... Just after 12:00.

So you were alone?

(clears throat) Would that be usual?

Oh, first in, last out-- chef's lot.

The counterfoils, for the credit card and the checks.

Which were the addresses you were having trouble with?

Tiffin Court-- it was ten, not 1C, and, uh, Mendip Gardens West.

Maybe my brother wrote it down wrongly?

Well, thank you for your assistance.

We'll return these as soon as possible.

Thank you.

Thank you.

♪ ♪ MORSE: I won't be long.

Thank you.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ MAN: Sir...

Sorry, who are you?

I'm his wife.

Well, his first wife.

Rosemary Prince.

I believe you're looking for my husband.

MORSE: So, I'm sorry, what is it you're doing here?

Well, I was concerned.

I hoped he might have turned up, come back.

Then all this could be explained.

And when did you see him last-- Mr.

Prince?

I haven't seen him for a while, but we speak.

On the telephone, every week.

Do you mind if I...?

I know it's a little early, but to steady my nerves.

Have you any idea where he might be?

There's talk of a place in Greece.

And a suitcase of his appears to be missing.

Well, he does have a little place there.

Well, who was he?

He was a delivery man from a restaurant called the Jolly Rajah.

Did he ever mention a man called Aziz?

Iqbal Aziz?

No, never.

Does that seem in keeping to you?

That he would order food to be delivered?

Indian, certainly.

We never touched it on the program.

Sorry, the program?

"Et Voilà!"

We started together on the television.

It was my Johnnie to his Fanny.

Oh, it was 15 years ago, nigh on.

The dark ages.

Most people had barely heard of vinaigrette.

(laughs) Look, whatever you think he's done, you're quite wrong.

Only, he has his faults, but this is far beyond his scope.

It's way too grotesque.

If you don't mind me asking, what happened between you?

Oh, it was my fault.

I never cared for the sticky side of married life.

We looked at other couples.

They might have had the physical side, but most of them could barely stand the sight of each other half the time-- we had something they could only dream of, companionship.

And he was the most tremendous fun.

Right up until the sixth whisky sour.

Then things could turn a little ugly.

So, what, he drank?

He drank, he gambled.

But I never stopped loving him.

Was he ever violent?

On occasion, but I don't believe he's capable of anything that happened here.

(softly): I can't, it's not the best time.

I can't talk now.

I agree, there's a lot to discuss.

(out loud): I can't help you-- sorry.

(hangs up) Who was that?

Wrong number.

You don't think we could have got it wrong, do you?

I know, but... Two murders.

Molly Andrews, Tony Jakobssen.

On the same stretch of towpath.

For fear of sounding like a broken record, I think a man getting his throat cut is a world apart from a woman having her neck broken.

We've got who killed Molly Andrews and Naomi Benford.

He's on remand at Farley.

Unless you wanted to drop all charges and have him back out on the street.

How'd you make out at Prince's flat?

Met his wife-- well, his first wife.

Still seems to carry something of a torch for him.

What was she doing there?

Same as us-- wants to know where Prince is.

Shed any light?

No.

But I did turn this up.

Gambler.

Mm, something of a drinker, too.

And violent with it.

Nothing from ports and airports on flight manifests or passenger lists.

If he's already gone, he's done it under a different name.

MORSE: But he's from the television, isn't he?

It'd be difficult for someone like that to slip out of the country unnoticed, I'd have thought.

Unless he's changed his appearance, maybe.

THURSDAY: Anything from Forensics on the bloody thumbprint found at Tiffin Court?

No match for Oberon Prince.

What about the Greek inn, that place he's got out there?

Vrakonisi?

Locals have been up to the villa, but no sign of life.

You, uh, seen the latest?

Oh, yeah.

Still think it wasn't him?

(Mrs. Aziz murmurs) ♪ ♪ (sobbing softly) (woman singing in Italian on recording) (doorbell rings) LUDO: Morse, it's been too long.

I've been wandering the Mediterranean with my, how do you say it, my cap in my hand, my beggar's bowl?

Begging bowl?

All in a good cause, I assure you.

Seeking donations for my family's charitable foundation.

The only relief I got was that Steve was there making a picture.

Steve who?

McQueen.

Yes, it's funny.

The only real person out of any of them should be an actor.

But I have been unforgivably neglectful, and that's why I'm here.

To rectify matters and deserve your forgiveness.

There's nothing needs forgiving.

You're very kind.

But one should keep the friendships that matter in good repair, don't you think?

I've never... Haven't really thought about it that way.

I left messages at your work before we went away.

Come for supper tomorrow.

Violetta has forsaken me once again.

I'm in need of good company.

Well, I can't promise that.

Oh, you sell yourself too short.

Now, a drink, I think.

I took the liberty.

What is this we're listening to?

"La cura per l'amore"-- Tregola.

Ah, in that case, due bicchieri.

♪ ♪ The police have gone.

There's nobody here.

Only me.

I miss you.

Why don't you come 'round and keep me company?

(people laughing inside) ♪ ♪ (rain falling steadily) (person whistling loudly) (whistling continues) (whistling stops) ♪ ♪ Miss?

Bridget, isn't it?

Come, come out of the rain.

(thunder rumbling) THURSDAY: You want to be careful walking alone at night like this.

It's not safe.

BRIDGET: I don't have far to go.

Takes me back to my days on the beat.

Well, nights.

I used to like nights.

Especially after a bit of rain.

Oh, Win told me all about the wrestling.

BRIDGET: Yeah, we had a great time.

Oh, I'm all right from here, Mr. Thursday.

Oh, all right, then.

You mind how you go.

(engine idling) (Bridget and man talking softly) (person whistling loudly) (vehicle approaches) ♪ ♪ Oh.

You were in India, Mrs.

Bright said.

Yes, yes, before the war.

Yeah, yeah.

Whereabouts?

Oh, here and there.

Calcutta, Pankot, Chandrapore.

And yourself?

(laughs softly): Oxford, born and bred.

Yes, well...

I was very sad to go-- we both were.

Good night, sir.

Well, good night.

♪ ♪ (door closes) (chuckles, exhales deeply) He's very handsome, don't you think?

Oh, yes, very handsome, I'm sure.

Are you jealous, Puli?

Desperately.

(chuckles) He says I'm doing much better.

Good.

See?

I told you.

You have to have faith.

(chuckles softly) (Uqbah murmuring indistinctly) (door closes, Uqbah murmuring) What's he doing?

NUHA: Looking for Ammu?

Sleepwalking?

I don't know.

I thought Farook could give him something.

(door opens and closes) You were late tonight, from the restaurant.

Stock take.

♪ ♪ (breathing heavily) (murmuring) (rattling door) ♪ ♪ (talking indistinctly) And when did you see him last?

When he went to bed.

What time was that?

About 10:00.

We heard him walking about.

Afterwards.

And how did he seem?

He had been very anxious, about what happened to Mr. Aziz.

(door closes) What happened?

You were meant to be looking after him.

Told him.

SALIM: You don't tell me anything.

We will get a description circulated to all patrol cars and beat officers.

Try not to worry.

THURSDAY: What about the Oberon Prince case, Morse?

Anything on the ports and airports?

Nothing, sir.

Sir?

He was at the restaurant that night.

Which restaurant?

Jolly Rajah.

Who was?

Prince?

Well, that can't be right.

Moniker here on his credit card slip says different, matey.

But if he'd already eaten at the restaurant, why would he order a takeaway?

SALIM: Oh, yes.

Yes, he was here.

In fact, he had words with that rowdy table I was telling you about.

Party of eight.

Mr. Nayle, was that?

Yeah, that sounds about right.

(inhales deeply) (exhales) MORSE (voiceover): Still no sign of Gary.

THURSDAY (voiceover): And Prince?

MORSE (voiceover): Maybe Stanley Nayle's boys can shed some light.

♪ ♪ How's Mrs. Aziz?

NUHA: Terrible.

I gave her something to help her sleep.

Her kids are with her.

This country, it's not a place for us.

They don't want us here.

You shouldn't talk like that-- this is our home now.

You heard there was a stabbing.

One of our young men on the street-- that's our home.

That's how welcome we are.

Did you help the police?

(shuffling paper) I think so.

They were asking about a man called, uh, Oberon Prince.

I know him.

He's off the television-- he's a chef.

What about him?

That's who Mr. Aziz was delivering to at Tiffin Court.

And they think he did it?

This Prince?

He's gone missing, apparently.

STAN: If he tries to turn that into a half nelson, you know what to do-- drop it right down... THURSDAY: Stanley Nayle?

Yes, gents.

THURSDAY: DCI Thursday, DS Morse, Thames Valley.

You ate in the Jolly Rajah in Oxford on Monday night.

Yeah, after we'd finished at the venue.

We heard you had words with another patron, a man called Oberon Prince.

BOBBY (voiceover): He was taking the mickey.

I told him to knock it off, but he was drunk.

You know?

He got a bit lippy with us.

So what did you say?

I don't know.

I suppose I just said, "Knock it off, mate," or summat like that.

You know, nothing heavy.

So you didn't threaten him?

No-- that's not Bobby's part, in the ring or out.

And when you left the restaurant, where'd you go?

BOBBY: Well, it was getting late by then.

Most of us just went back to our digs.

Where would that be?

Oh, we're all over, uh, ones and twos.

Couple of us here, couple there.

Not everyone's keen on having... wrestlers under their roof.

MORSE: You said most of you.

Some of you didn't, presumably.

Well, I think a couple of the lads went to a drinker we sometimes go to.

Adam and the Noble brothers.

Adam...?

Adam "Danger Man" Sloane.

And where's he?

BOBBY: He tops the bill, so he's not with us tonight.

Stan, our gaffer, wanted him to rest up.

MORSE (voiceover): Well, we'll need addresses for their lodgings.

Well, I'll have to check me paperwork.

All right if I phone it through?

Look, there's some B&Bs we use on the semi-regular whenever we're in town, but I'll have to check and see who was where.

Some of the lads double up.

But I will have a look, let you know.

(siren blaring in distance) You ever go to the wrestling?

What do you think?

Faces and heels.

That's what the Yanks call them.

Like the white hats and the black in the cowboy pictures.

Good guys and villains.

Just like the opera.

It's the face in a bout the punters can root for.

The heel gives them someone to boo.

Sir, Morse.

Your warrant came through for Mrs. Radowicz's.

♪ ♪ RADOWICZ: He's entitled to his opinion, the same as anybody else.

They're just not like us.

THURSDAY: In what way are they not like us, Mrs. Radowicz?

All ways.

They don't talk the way we do, and they make a noise till all hours, coming and going, and, and their food smells funny.

Their food smells funny?

RADOWICZ: Well, it does.

But you wouldn't know about that, because people like you don't have to live on the same street as them.

THURSDAY: Look, do you want to see your Gary get into even more trouble and end up in Borstal?

(front door closes) (shushes): Stay there.

GARY (in distance): Mum?

♪ ♪ Smoke?

No.

Before we start, we've got witnesses can put you at the scene at the time in question.

So, before you answer, you might like to think about that.

I wasn't there.

I don't care what anybody says.

Who else was there, Gary?

I wouldn't know, would I, seeing as I wasn't there.

Look, it's easy to follow the pack-- older boys, men-- you want to fit in, be one of the lads.

Tell us about Martin Gorman.

What about him?

Well, you like him.

I'm not a queer.

I mean... You admire him, then.

GARY: He talks sense.

About what?

About the foreigners, immigration.

The blacks, pakis, coming over here, taking all the jobs and the houses and that.

What, you don't care for them?

I don't care for people ruining my country, no.

Is that why you stuck a knife in one of the Asian lads?

I didn't stab anyone.

"Gary Rogers."

What's that about?

You want to go around my school with a Polish name?

See what it gets you.

You were bullied.

"Gerwazy Radowicz."

You had that hanging round your neck, you'd call yourself Gary Rogers and all.

I'm British, not Polish.

How do your parents feel about that?

What I call myself is none of her business.

And your father?

Died, when I was five.

Oh, sorry.

There's no need.

He's nothing to me.

He should be.

Why?

He's your father.

You never knew him.

She only took up with him for the money she could screw out of him.

Look.

I didn't stab anyone, I wasn't there, and you can't put a knife in my hand.

No, we can't.

But we do have a group of Asian lads who can pick you out of a lineup, and they will pick you out, Gary.

(knock on door) Sir.

(whispering indistinctly) ♪ ♪ But I thought this boy had been recognized.

Well, no, the eyewitness who named him now isn't sure it was Gary after all.

They've withdrawn their earlier statement.

Someone put the frighteners on, do you think?

Maybe, but whatever the cause, we've had to let him go.

OFFICER: Sarge, the Sardar family are asking for an update.

I better get that.

THURSDAY: Never the buggers that load the gun, is it?

How's that?

Always the ones that pull the trigger.

That tripehound Gorman's every bit as responsible for the stabbing as the boy was.

Filling his head full of rubbish.

But nothing ever sticks to those bastards.

"British Movement"-- he's a movement, all right.

It may have been Gorman put the knife into his hand, but it was Gary that stuck it into another human being.

You know, a boy not so different from himself.

Different enough.

Boy doesn't know what he is yet.

Whether he's coming or going.

English, Polish.

Growing up for the most part without a father.

Well, everybody has a choice.

Do they?

I just hope the lad sees sense about Gorman and his kind.

Got time for a pint?

Um, no, I can't, not tonight.

Oh, no?

Date, is it?

(chuckles) I'll see you tomorrow, then.

♪ ♪ LUDO: Morse!

Good to see you.

Hello.

Welcome.

VIOLETTA: Ludo.

(door closes) LUDO: Oh, I spoke prematurely.

La Bella Signora has returned to me.

♪ ♪ Perhaps you should think of flying the flag.

Hello again.

Hello.

To indicate that she is in residence, yes?

Like Her Majesty.

Exactly that.

(chuckles) You've been in Monaco, Ludo says.

Monaco, Antibes.

Right.

Well, look, I've no wish to intrude upon a happy reunion, so I'll... LUDO: Nonsense.

We're delighted to see you, aren't we?

VIOLETTA: Of course.

What would you like to drink?

Whatever's going.

LUDO: You shoot?

Birds?

No-- people.

(both chuckle) It's a little early for game, isn't it?

Come-- come.

Pull!

(gun fires) (disc shatters) Did you see, darling?

Did you see that wonderful shot?

I saw.

LUDO: So how's the world of criminality?

I read something in the press about Oberon Prince.

Can that be right?

Yeah, do you know him?

Slightly.

All right, I suppose.

He's no Robert Danvers.

What's this?

Someone was murdered.

This Prince fellow is suspect.

Will you catch him?

I expect so, sooner or later.

(chuckles): What a blood-soaked life you lead.

Pull!

(gun fires) MORSE: Yeah, it's that, all right.

No matter how many cases you solve or bad people you put away, there's always another one standing right behind him.

There speaks a devil sick of sin.

I just wonder if I've stayed too long at the fair.

Why do it, if you hate it so much?

I suppose because I'm no good at anything else.

And because the dead deserve justice.

There's a delivery man's lost his life and a, a woman left a widow.

LUDO: Life, death, rich, poor.

It's all a roll of the dice, Morse.

There's no reason to any of it.

You're not responsible.

Some people are just unlucky.

Pull!

(gun firing) (TV playing in background, canary chirping) All right?

Fred?

Yeah, I'm gonna take a turn round the block.

What's up?

Uh, it's, uh... Just work.

I'm here, you know, if you want to talk about anything.

Whatever it is, you'll put it right.

It's what you do.

♪ ♪ I owe you an explanation.

(chuckling) "No questions," wasn't it?

I mean, a goodbye might have been polite, but nobody died.

You don't owe me anything.

Can I see you?

I don't think so.

He's a friend.

Affairs with married women, I'm sorry, it's just, it's not my, not my scene.

LUDO: I thought we'd crack open the Margaux.

VIOLETTA: I'll leave you to it.

It'll have to be another time, I'm afraid.

Work.

You approve?

Violetta.

Oh, yeah, you're a lucky man.

Yes, I am.

God knows what I did to deserve her.

If I lost her, I don't know what I'd do.

Then don't.

No.

I don't intend to.

(clears throat) We'll go out.

Tannhäuser at Covent Garden.

Look, you can't be running around London getting drunk with me.

Your wife's back now-- take her.

LUDO: Violetta hates the opera.

Next week.

Let's do it, come on.

Best seats in the house.

(engine starts) ♪ ♪ OFFICER: Sir?

(rain falling, thunder rumbling) (man whimpering faintly) ♪ ♪ (crying) Mr. Sardar?

We've been looking for you.

Oh, thank heaven.

I want to go home.

Of course you do.

Come on-- you're drenched through.

There you are.

THURSDAY: You're lucky we got a report about your wanderings.

Anyway...

I forget things.

Well, I'm, I'm sure we all do that.

I...

I'll go into a room, and I can't remember what I come in for.

Or I'll put me pipe down, and damn me if I can remember where I left it.

It's more than that, I can't remember...

Words.

You know, conversations I had five minutes ago.

Your eldest son's a doctor, isn't he?

Overwork, he says.

Well, there you are, then.

I feel like I'm... fading.

Like there's a darkness on the edge of sight, slowly creeping in.

And the more you look out of the corner of your eye...

The more it slips out of view.

But I know it's there.

Come on, let's get you inside.

He had been taking money, I think.

Who had?

Mr. Aziz.

Skimming, you call it now.

Everyone thought it was me forgetting, but it was him.

Not enough to stand out, but... Over a long period of time... You should have said.

I should have paid him more.

♪ ♪ So, all that about Uqbah coming up short when they cashed out of an evening in the restaurant, was likely down to Mr. Aziz having his fingers in the till.

I've run a registration check on cars parked illegally outside Tiffin Court.

MORSE: Yeah, where's this come from?

STRANGE: The porter, Mr. Comer.

We got a few frequent customers.

The most regular a cream Mercedes.

Saturdays and Wednesdays, roughly the same time.

Any idea who it belongs to?

(car doors open and close) ♪ ♪ ILSA: I really don't know what I can do for you.

Dr. Sardar.

You on a house call?

If you forgive me, my private life is none of your concern.

It is if it has anything to do with what happened to Mr. Aziz in flat ten the other night.

Why don't you sit down?

And you, Miss Trent.

ILSA: We really don't know anything about that.

Really, we don't.

So, were you here on Monday night, Doctor?

We can easily find out if your car was.

He was gone by 11:00.

Did you see anyone loitering about the place?

No.

Look, I have not broken the law.

MORSE: You denied ever having heard about Tiffin Court.

Why would you do that, unless you had something to hide?

What should I have said?

Me and Ilsa know nothing about what happened to poor Mr. Aziz, okay?

Just a coincidence.

So what is it that you didn't want us to know?

I know Prince.

I've seen him once or twice, we play cards together.

THURSDAY: Where?

Here and there.

It's nothing regular.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I really do have patients to see, and there's nothing else I can tell you right now.

So if I may?

All right.

For now.

We know where to find you.

(door opens) MORSE: Where did you two meet?

My father runs a floating poker game.

High stakes, for local business types.

Who's your father?

Look, my father's got nothing to do with this.

I'd as soon as not say.

We can easily find out.

That's my dad there.

THURSDAY: Did Oberon Prince ever play at your father's poker game?

ILSA: I think he was a regular, yeah.

Not much of a card player, though, Dad said.

(chuckles): Which made him the perfect addition.

♪ ♪ (woman singing in Italian) VIOLETTA: What you do.

The people you meet.

They've done bad things?

MORSE: Hmm, some.

And you forgive them it?

I'm not very good at forgiveness.

Would you forgive me if I did something bad?

That depends what it was.

Mm.

And if there was contrition.

Genuine contrition.

How would you know if it was genuine?

(whispers): Do you want to get something off your chest?

(laughs) Because if you want to confess, I'm sure there's a hundred churches in the city.

139-- I counted them.

I don't want to confess.

I just want to know that you'd forgive me.

(woman continues singing) (phone ringing, opera continues playing) (man singing in Italian) (phone continues ringing) VIOLETTA (over phone): Morse, it's me.

Morse?

♪ ♪ (bicycle bell rings) Whoa!

Watch out.

(ducks quacking) MAN (on TV): A police murder investigation is continuing into the death of a Pakistani delivery driver who was found dead in the home of television chef and renowned food critic Oberon Prince.

The chef has not been seen since the night of the murder.

In other news, the victim of what is believed to be a racist attack is still critically ill in hospital.

The teenager was with a group of friends in the city when... ♪ ♪ (engine stops) (car door opens and closes) You came.

Where does he think you are?

Seeing a girlfriend.

The lies come easy once they start, don't they?

They do when it matters.

What was it that couldn't wait?

You said it was important.

I needed to see you.

Alone.

Why?

To see if I still felt the same.

Look...

If you are unhappy, you should just make a clean break of it.

I'm not unhappy.

I'm afraid.

Of what?

Letting something slip through my fingers.

Something good.

(sighs) Venice was Venice.

You stepped out of your life for a minute, and then you found yourself in mine.

And it was wonderful.

But it wasn't real.

It was for me.

(chuckles) Tell me you don't want me.

I don't want you.

Tell me again.

I can't save you.

♪ ♪ Then no one can.

(breathes deeply) (car engine starts) ♪ ♪ (pop music playing inside) GORMAN: You started smoking?

It's a dirty habit.

I married who you wanted me to marry.

Look how that worked out.

I'm not gonna live like a nun.

You're not gonna live like a slut, neither.

I hear things, Ilsa.

I don't care what you hear.

I can see that.

Look, I've got a reputation to maintain, what with the election and everything.

Don't you think about that?

How do you think it's gonna look if you're carrying on with all and sundry?

If you've just come to bawl at me, I'm going to bed.

You can let yourself out.

(door closes) (kids calling) ♪ ♪ (girl exclaims) ♪ ♪ (latch unsnaps) (flies buzzing) (bells ringing in distance) GORMAN: It was a private game between friends.

Was Oberon Prince amongst them?

From time to time.

Oberon's a heavy roller.

He'll bet on anything, anywhere, anytime.

He'll bet on two flies crawling up the wall.

Chaps like him, it's a disease.

You play with the Sardar family, I believe.

Pakistanis.

THURSDAY: So your prejudice ends at the poker table.

I'll take cash off anybody who's got it.

Black, brown, yellow.

There's an old saying: Money has no smell.

What, everyone's equal before the cards?

Well, that's the nature of chance.

Still, not something I imagine you'd want widely known, is it?

Well, it's not your place to blab, is it?

When did you see him last?

Prince.

Well, we were supposed to play last Saturday, but what with this, the game got bumped.

The previous week, he had hosted the game at his place, but I was busy with the election campaign, so I missed it.

Although I heard from a friend of a friend that he won big.

Cleaned out one of our tinted types.

Who?

I don't know.

Like I said, I wasn't there.

I want a list of your regular players.

I'm sure you do.

Look.

These are wealthy individuals.

They buy and sell people like you.

Really?

Can't imagine it would do your election campaign much good if it got out that in your private life, you enjoyed playing cards with Pakistanis.

You're bluffing.

You're a copper-- it's beyond your remit.

MAN: Boss.

Indiscretion is second nature to me, Mr. Gorman.

Especially when speaking to members of the Fourth Estate, I assure you.

I don't believe you.

You should, Mr. Gorman.

We're the police-- we don't bluff.

He better come up with that list of names and addresses.

Well, while we're waiting, we might get something from the poker chips and playing cards in Prince's flat.

There's more than one way to skin a donkey.

Gorman's daughter?

You must be mad.

Or in love.

Oh, please.

Love?

You think love will save you from her father's thugs?

Wake up, Farook.

This place is finished for the likes of us.

Yeah, not for me.

No, no, of course not for you.

You're the great British doctor.

(chuckles, mutters) Don't kid yourself.

They tolerate you because you're useful.

That's what, that's what they mean by "tolerance," right?

Putting up with something they'd sooner not.

I don't want to be tolerated.

I want to belong.

Salim...

I'm getting out.

I'm going home.

Home?

To Bengal?

And you call me mad?

I've been talking to Cousin Arik.

Oh, Cousin Arik the nationalist.

We could be part of something, all of us.

Something good, something new.

What does Nuha think about this?

SALIM: She'll follow her husband, in all things.

You mean you haven't told her.

No.

He hasn't.

Is that what all these late-night calls have been about?

We're not talking about this now.

(exhales sharply) I won't go back.

This is my home now, and I won't be driven out.

You should tell him, not me.

He's your brother.

And he's your husband.

♪ ♪ MAX: Is this all?

Enough, isn't it?

An elegant sufficiency, thank you.

Insofar as we appear to have one torso, together with both legs and arms.

But we are deficient to the tune of one head and the mountain range one might expect to find, as the old geographer's joke has it, at the end of a Cockney's wristies.

His Andes, Sergeant.

I'll know better once I've got him laid out.

But in the inside compartment in the suitcase, there's a B.E.A.

airline ticket and a passport in the name of Oberon Prince.

BRIGHT: If there's nothing else, Doctor, I think we'll leave you to your jigsaw and move upwind.

By all means.

Shall we say 2:00?

How can someone do that to another human being?

He's already done the worst thing.

That might turn our stomachs, but the victim's long past caring.

BRIGHT: So what do we imagine has taken place?

Delivery man stumbles upon something, and then whoever killed Oberon Prince had to silence him?

STRANGE: Possibly, sir.

I don't think he stumbled on anything, sir.

I think Mr. Aziz was sent there.

How's that?

Well, I suspect someone sent him on a wild goose chase on his third delivery.

Mendip Gardens West?

Yeah.

Why?

Well, if I was killing two people, it would be easier to deal with them separately, don't you think?

So, whoever it is kills Prince, waits for Aziz to arrive, then does for him?

Assuming whoever it was wanted both of them dead.

Two birds.

♪ ♪ In the flat, I asked you if he'd ever mentioned a Mr. Aziz.

Now, in light of these recent developments, I'd like to know if he knew anyone of that name.

No.

If he did, he never mentioned anything to me.

Did your husband have any enemies that you were aware of, Mrs.

Prince?

I mean, he might have given the odd bad review that some restaurateur took exception to.

He could be quite difficult if the mood took him.

But nothing to warrant something like this.

You're definitely sure it's Oberon you've found?

You couldn't be mistaken?

Well, we've strong reason to believe it is.

Did he have any distinguishing features, Mrs.

Prince?

He had a, a port-wine birthmark on his left thigh.

Is it that bad?

I'm very sorry.

No, thank you.

(breathes deeply) Somehow I always knew he'd come back to me in the end.

One way or another.

Not so much dismembered as butchered and jointed.

With a rudimentary proficiency and no small amount of luck.

Where?

At the flat, presumably.

Place would've looked like a slaughterhouse, wouldn't it?

Well, the bathroom.

Well, of course, that's the traditional locus, for obvious reasons.

I'd be very surprised if Scene of Crime didn't get a result from the U-bend of the bath.

How long would it take?

Oh, not that long.

Provided you've a decent knife and a passable bone saw.

Yes?

Duxbury's.

The undertakers.

Here about a car crash?

Female-- Whittaker.

Ah, yes, drawer six.

I'll show you-- excuse me.

♪ ♪ CARL: Hey, can I have a word?

The court's been in touch.

About Molly, uh, the trial.

Early in the new year, they're saying.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Will they want me to testify, you think?

Only as to what you know.

Look, I don't know what's going on, but your guvnor's following me around.

No, you're imagining things.

I was at the picture house Monday.

He was there.

I've seen him watching my work, too.

I've spoken to a solicitor.

It's harassment.

I don't want to make any trouble, but unless he lays off, I'll have to talk to his superiors.

Make a complaint.

♪ ♪ Oi, love, why don't you go home?

MAN (on radio): Police investigating the stabbing of an Oxford teenager have now launched a murder investigation following the death of the boy in hospital.

He had been admitted after a racist attack.

GORMAN: Oh, I don't believe it!

He's done it again!

(laughing) Another win.

(others talking in background) GORMAN: Gary!

What are you doing here?

Come here.

Make yourself useful.

I'm out of smokes.

Nip along and get me a packet of Guardsmen and some Slim Panatellas, will you?

I'll give you the money when you get back.

(men talking in background) He's a good lad.

Drinks!

(men talking in background) (knocks softly) No, thanks.

(door closes) So, you were made by Carl Sturgis.

At the picture house on Monday.

I fancied an evening at the flicks.

X-rated smut?

Since when did you become part of the plastic mac brigade?

What's going on?

I just want to be sure.

Sure of what?

That we were right about Molly Andrews.

Well, Sturgis is threatening to make a complaint.

He won't.

What if he does?

Let him.

I know you wanted it to be him.

But you're obsessing about the wrong man.

You've got to let it drop.

Who do you think you're talking to?

♪ ♪ (door closes) (birds singing) No, wait.

(grunts) (panting) ♪ ♪ Mrs. Radowicz.

What is it now?

More lies about my Gary?

♪ ♪ (whimpers) (crying) He's... he's cold.

Why is he so cold?

You, you need to warm him up.

Fetch him a blanket.

Why, why don't you give him a blanket?

He'll wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up, wake up!

Mrs. Radowicz... No!

(crying) You did this!

You did this!

You killed him!

Who did this?

(sobbing) Who hurt my boy?

(sobbing) I hate them.

I hate them all.

I hope they die screaming!

THURSDAY: WPC Jarvis will see you home.

My sincere condolences.

(continues sobbing) ♪ ♪ THURSDAY: Jim.

STRANGE: Thought you'd want to know soon as.

There's a match come through on the thumbprint at Oberon Prince's flat.

So you were at the town hall, you did your wrestling, then you went out for something to eat.

Remember?

Yeah, I remember.

An Indian restaurant.

Yeah.

I said I remember.

THURSDAY (voiceover): There was a bit of an argument with one of the other diners.

You remember that?

SLOANE (voiceover): Vaguely.

MORSE (voiceover): A man called Oberon Prince.

If you say so.

Where'd you go after the restaurant?

Back to me digs.

Anyone vouch for you?

Yeah.

I were bunking with Johnny Simba.

Right.

Well, that's interesting, because according to this, Mr. Simba was sharing with the Singh brothers.

And you had a single occupancy.

(sighs): Right, well, it changes.

We stay in so many places, it's hard to keep track.

But you just went straight back to your digs.

Yeah, that's right.

Well, I wonder if you can tell us, then, how your bloody thumbprint left an impression on a doorframe in a block of flats called Tiffin Court.

A flat where we found a man dead, murdered.

I don't know anything about it.

Well, we know that you were there.

So why don't you just tell us?

(softly): All right.

(voiceover): Well... Oberon were drunk, and he'd been hassling the lads, but... (wrestlers laugh, whoop) I could see it were a front.

(footsteps approaching) ♪ ♪ You got somewhere?

Just like that?

Why not?

I knew him from off the telly.

My mum likes his programs.

He gave me his address, and I said I'd drop by later.

Your mates, the other wrestlers, they know about your preference?

Some.

Nobody cares.

I don't know about the last time you looked, but we get paid to roll about with blokes wearing only our underpants.

Wrestling's just another part of show business, that's all I'm saying.

So long as you bring the crowds in, nobody cares what you get up to in your private life.

So what happened?

Right, well... Me and a couple of the lads went to the drinker for an hour or so.

I got to his flat about 1:00-ish.

Only I couldn't get a reply out of his flat.

So I buzzed a few more till somebody answered the door.

He said there'd be a key under the mat if it were late, and I should let myself in.

♪ ♪ (saw cutting) (voiceover): There was somebody there, I could hear 'em.

Sounded like, I don't know, somebody sawing wood.

But you didn't see anyone.

SLOANE (voiceover): Apart from the dead guy on the floor, no.

I wasn't gonna hang around and make introductions.

So, what happened to the knife?

SLOANE: I got rid of it.

Where?

I stuck it down a drain.

It's where Sloane said it was.

It's the killer's, then?

That was the telephone exchange.

They've run down the numbers that called the restaurant, and two came from the same telephone.

♪ ♪ (phone booth door creaks) Order two takeaways from the Jolly Rajah only 20 yards from the phone box?

STRANGE: Why two calls?

Well, the first is to the bogus address at Mendip Gardens West, the second to Oberon Prince's flat at Tiffin Court.

Which means that whoever made the calls needed to buy themselves time.

Yeah, they needed to keep Mr. Aziz distracted while they got to Tiffin Court first.

We'll get forensics out.

Needle in a haystack after four days, but we might get lucky.

Having a takeaway delivered to Tiffin Court, well, it's not much of a plan, given that Prince had already dined at the restaurant.

No, you're right, it's not much of a plan, but our killer didn't know he had dined at the restaurant.

How come?

Because the chief stoker never leaves the engine room.

(speaking world language, pan sizzling) UQBAH: Rafiq.

Evening, Mr. Sardar.

Could you come with us, please?

I can't just leave the restaurant in the middle of service.

I'm afraid you're gonna have to, sir.

(speaking world language, man responds) ♪ ♪ MORSE (voiceover): You were the only person on the staff who didn't realize that Mr.

Prince had already been in the restaurant that evening.

You ordered Mr. Aziz to deliver a takeaway to a man who'd already eaten with you.

We also recovered the knife you killed Prince with.

How much were you into him for?

13,000 pounds.

I try to keep away.

But the cards get under your skin.

I broke the golden rule.

Don't chase your losses.

"Next time, the hand will be better."

You always think your luck will turn.

And there was nobody in your family that could have loaned that to you?

Loaned?

That was mine by right.

My half of the business, what should have been my half.

The profits.

If my brother had remembered our agreement.

All I wanted was my fair share.

50/50, that is what we agreed.

But your brother went back on his word.

He said, "Don't worry yourself with overheads and loans, "and credit and debit and... "Just concentrate on the cooking, leave the worrying to me."

You felt cheated?

I was cheated.

He said he couldn't remember our arrangement.

He said, "Don't worry.

You will be sorted out, you will be looked after."

My nephews, taking care of their uncle?

Like I am some beggar man?

So you began stealing from the restaurant in order to pay your debt to Oberon Prince.

THURSDAY: It wasn't that your brother was losing his faculties and getting the sums wrong.

You were stealing from him.

What was it, Mr. Aziz discovered you?

He saw me.

THURSDAY: Did he blackmail you?

No.

He gave me a chance to come clean and tell Uqbah, or he would.

So you came up with a plan to solve all your problems.

Two birds with one stone.

MORSE (voiceover): You kill Oberon Prince, which eradicates your debt, and you frame him for killing Aziz, so your brother never discovers that you were stealing from him.

You think it's going to be easy to do this to someone.

And it is easy, in your head.

But with another human being...

It is not easy.

No.

One minute, they are a living, breathing creature, and, and then, they're just meat and bones.

It's a bad thing I've done.

A wicked thing.

And I feel a shame for it.

It is one thing to know yourself to be weak.

I am a gambler, I am a thief.

But it is another thing when the people you love know what you are.

I gave in to temptation.

How could I ever look them in the eye again?

I had no choice.

What could I do?

Look, uh... What you said earlier.

Oh, I was speaking out of turn.

No, no.

Maybe you're right.

All this with Carl Sturgis.

You just get obsessed.

Sometimes.

I'll let it go.

All well, is it?

With you?

Always.

See you tomorrow.

♪ ♪ MAN (on loudspeaker): For a better Oxford and a better Britain, vote Archibald-Lake, vote Conservative.

'Cause a vote for the Conservative Party is a vote for a better tomorrow.

GORMAN: Whatever the result tonight, you can see what happens when you mix their culture and ours.

(audience murmurs in agreement) Not 24 hours since, we lost a foot soldier, a good patriot-- young Gary Rogers.

RADOWICZ: Radowicz.

Gerwazy Radowicz.

Mrs. Radowicz.

(audience members gasp) (crying): He was my boy.

You killed him just as much as they did.

Filling his head with all this.

We all did.

♪ ♪ My only brother stealing from me.

And killing poor Mr. Aziz.

If only I had... SALIM: It'll be all right, Baba.

It'll be all right.

I'll make sure he's looked after.

He can come and live with us.

"Us"?

Me and Ilsa.

We're getting married.

So, when you leave... We're staying.

All this anger, all this violence, and all this hatred?

In the end, it defeats only itself.

It burns itself out like a stubble fire.

We'll see Baba's looked after between the both of us, and Salim will take over the restaurant, with my help.

A good husband always listens to his wife.

As you'll find out.

(woman singing in Italian on recording) (doorbell rings) (exhales) (clicks pen) (singing continues) (singing continues) (singing continues) (person whistling in distance) (object clatters) MAN (on TV): It's 10:00, the polling stations have just closed, and if the exit polls are to be believed, we are in for a very tight night and a remarkably close contest.

(whistling continues) (screams) ♪ ♪ (click) ♪ ♪ THURSDAY: There's been another one.

Still think we got him?

MORSE: It doesn't mean that...

It means maybe you're not so smart as you like to give out.

I need your help.

My wife, I think she's seeing someone.

I thought you caught the towpath killer.

I wouldn't advise taking matters into your own hands.

(man and woman grunting) (gun cocks) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ANNOUNCER: Go to our website, listen to our podcast, watch video, and more.

To order this program, visit shopPBS.

"Masterpiece" is available on PBS Passport and on Amazon Prime Video.

♪ ♪