If I might have everyone's attention.
As you know, since the merging of City and County,
to create Thames Valley,
the future of Cowley police station has been in the balance.
I have this day received news from Division.
The station is to be reduced to a skeleton staff
by the 23rd of the month.
And will be closed, permanently,
at midnight on the 30th.
Details of future placements
will be sent to each of you in due course.
I know I can rely on all of you to discharge your duty
with the same professionalism
I have come to so admire these past years.
That's all. Carry on.
It's a remarkable stroke of good fortune
that you should be able to join us at such short notice.
Well, I'm very grateful for the opportunity, Headmaster.
Coldwater has a long history,
but I like to think we live in the present and look to the future.
Of course, Mr Ivory coached the First XV.
Oh, and he was also responsible for the end-of-term school play.
Oh. What play?
Shakespeare, I believe.
That's just the cadets.
Coldwater has a great martial tradition.
Now, in addition to your classroom duties,
you will also act as House Master to Foxhole.
Ah, Mr Bodnar. This is Mr Morse.
The new man with the Lower Sixth. Perhaps you could show him to his room?
Yeah. Of course, Headmaster.
I look forward to seeing you in chapel for assembly.
Right, sir.
Oh, welcome to St Bastard's. "Ye who enter here, all hope abandon."
- Thanks. - Alun Bodnar.
- Fifth Form and chemistry. - Have you been here long?
Long enough not to mind any more.
Found my point of neutral buoyancy.
I lack ambition and that killer instinct.
Don't run, boy!
Though I daresay that could be rekindled.
It's just this way.
- He was married, wasn't he? Mr Ivory. - Yeah, that's right.
Headmaster's letting her stay on at one of the gatekeepers' cottages,
just till the end of term.
Kate. Nice girl.
I hope you'll let me stand you a pint at your earliest.
Yes. Thank you.
You want me to pose as a teacher?
It's Division's idea.
- Bring in an outside man. - How's that, sir?
Someone uninvolved, fresh pair of eyes on the situation.
Seems a lot of trouble to go to for one missing person.
- Who is he? - John Ivory.
Classics master at a boys' school called Coldwater.
Last seen leaving the village pub
shortly after six, on October the 4th.
The local Detective Inspector and his bagman
lost their lives in a road traffic accident with an articulated lorry.
We've found no evidence that connects them but...
understandably, Division are keen to close the case one way or another.
It's all in there.
Just see if you can't get under the skin of the place.
If there was anything untoward, the staff might be more inclined to confide in one of their own.
Oh. There is one more thing worth mentioning.
You won't be alone.
Upstairs think that the women at the school
are more likely to confide in another woman, is that it?
- I suppose. - It don't seem much like proper coppering to me.
Tomorrow's world. Pity.
I'd hoped we might get one last decent collar... together.
This Cromwell Ames character, Eddie Nero. Both if we're lucky.
Maybe they'll cancel each other out.
It's who else they cancel out in the meantime. That's what bothers me.
I've got Fancy on surveillance. Something will give sooner or later.
We should be getting back.
No. Another five minutes will be all right.
God, I love this place.
You should've seen their faces -- Win and the kids --
when I brought 'em here for the first time.
We'd been two-up, back-to-back in the Smoke.
Couldn't believe somewhere like this existed.
Not after bomb sites and soot.
It was like stepping out of black and white and into colour.
So, you still mean to go through with it?
Station closing? Decision's made for me.
Too set in my ways to start over somewhere new.
Besides, Win'd have my guts if I let her down now.
No. Each thing in its season.
You'll be all right.
This undercover caper up the school is only a week or two.
- I went into the village today. - How was that?
The shopkeeper said one of the boys
used to come in on Ivory's behalf most days,
for 40 Fusiliers and a half-bottle of whisky.
Really?
And how was the pub?
The wives of respectable young schoolteachers
- don't go into pubs by themselves. - So what did the landlord say?
Ivory did stop by on the night in question.
He had a couple of drinks, and then left about 6.15
to meet someone called Agnes.
- Agnes what? - Er... Davis, maybe?
The landlord couldn't be sure. Ivory was always bragging about women.
- Really? - The garage was closed.
- What are the boys like? - I don't know. I haven't met them yet.
What are we doing? This is such a waste of time.
Just following orders.
Division clearly thinks this is important.
It's not every day a Detective Inspector and his bagman die in a car crash.
- It's happenstance, surely. Nothing sinister. - Hm.
- Have you checked upstairs? - This afternoon.
There's no sign of the previous occupants. It's all rather Spartan.
The plumbing's positively medieval. The sink's backing up.
We might have to get a man out.
It's just the one bed, I'm afraid.
- Well, I can take the couch. - Don't be ridiculous.
How's that going to look if someone comes knocking?
- "Dearest Mother..." - Give it back!
"Thank you for the ten shillings you sent me for my birthday."
- You know the rule, squit. - Hand it over. - Oi! Stop that at once!
If I have to repeat myself you'll all be on detention
till the end of term. Is that clear?
- What's going on? - Natural selection, sir.
- Survival of the fittest, sir. - Mensch und Ubermensch, sir.
Go on, all of you.
Go on!
- What's all this? - Praetorians' privilege, sir.
- To beast the squits. - Well, if it happens again, you come and see me.
All right?
- Go on. On your way. - Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
Hey. Wait a minute.
- Aggravine. - Adsum.
- Babcock. - Adsum.
- Clunchfist. - Adsum.
- Dakin. - Choir.
- Gaudibund. - Adsum.
- Morris Minor. - Adsum.
You mean Morry Thou, sir.
That's what Mr Ivory used to call him, sir.
- After the car, sir. - It's a joke, sir.
On account of his being a Jew, sir.
- Well, we'll have none of that here. - I don't mind, sir.
- Well, you should. - But he doesn't, sir. - I heard him. Thank you.
Erm... Nero.
- Here. - Adsum, you bloody oik.
- Queach. - Adsum.
- Rowntree. - Absum, sir.
- Abest. - He's not here, sir.
- Where is he? - He was expelled, sir.
- Cast out, sir. - Banished, sir.
- Black-balled, sir. - Consigned to outer darkness.
- I see, thank you. Summerhead. - Adsum. And Zec. - Choir. - Right.
Ovid's Metamorphoses. Lines 225 to 230.
Daedalus and Icarus.
Right.
Oh!
- Oh. Let's get one. - Come on.
Brett Nero? Eddie's kept that quiet.
That could be why Division have taken such an interest.
If Nero's son's at the school?
Mr Bright would have mentioned it if that was the case.
Just happenstance, surely. His kid's got to go somewhere.
Well, if her condition worsens, then please give me a call.
Thank you. I'm sorry, I couldn't find a telephone.
The office telephone is for school business, not personal matters.
But I suppose if it's urgent.
- You're the new man. - That's right. Morse.
- Miss... - Mackenzie. Ravenna.
I think you're supposed to be on break duty?
Ah, yes.
There's a payphone, in the vestibule.
For next time.
Oh. Thank you.
Get down!
Sounds like you had a close shave.
- I've had closer. - Cromwell Ames?
I can't have you pair shooting up the town like it's the Wild West.
- Somebody's gonna get hurt. - I nearly got hurt.
- Somebody that matters. - He's already tried for you once.
- He won't get a second go. - If you know where he is...
It's past that now.
I told you at the start not to take the law.
There's a reckoning due, but it's ours to make.
Better get your skates on, then, hadn't you?
Word is... your nick's going out of business.
Don't get caught on the wrong side, Eddie.
You're no good to your boy banged up, or worse.
Coldwater must be a pricey touch.
- You leave Brett out of this. - For now.
Mind how you go.
Is there any news, sir? News? About Mr Ivory, sir.
- The police came, sir. - Talked to all of us, sir.
- But they couldn't find him, sir. - And now they're dead, sir.
- Who are dead? - The policemen, sir.
- A car crash, sir. - With a lorry, sir.
- It was in the paper, sir. - Yes, so I hear.
- That was bad luck, wasn't it, sir? - Burning to death in a car, sir.
- What a way to go, sir. - The papers said it was an accident, sir.
But was it an accident, sir?
Well, there's no reason to believe otherwise.
Do you think Mr Ivory had an accident too, sir?
I don't know. What do you think?
Well, you liked him, did you?
- Liked him, sir? - He was a master, sir.
- We liked Mrs Ivory. - He was married, sir.
- Yes, I know. - Are you married, sir?
Mrs Ivory? I'm Mrs Morse.
Shirley. My husband's taken over the Lower Sixth.
We're in your old house, Rose Cottage. A letter came for you.
Oh. Thank you.
I'm sure it's the last thing you need,
but I wondered if you might like to come to supper.
It's my husband's first school since we got married,
which makes it my first school altogether.
- I'd be grateful for any advice. - When were you thinking?
Here.
Have you spoken to Mr Bright yet?
He's got a lot on his mind at the moment, with the station being wound up.
Well, no better time, I would have thought.
I know it's a big step... but it's for the best.
- While we still have our health. - I know.
- You're not still fretting over Morse? - No.
I've set him on his way.
- Good. Got some room for rice pud? - Skin on?
Smashing.
Ooh! Charlie called. I said you'd call him back.
I'll get it!
Jim.
Sorry to drop by late, sir,
but it looks like young George has got a lead on Ames.
Shirley? What an enchanting name.
I'm a black belt. 7th dan. Ex-Territorial.
Feel that. Go on.
That's rock hard, that is.
It's like granite.
Well, the police came, of course.
Not that I was able to tell them anything.
I was at home with Ravenna, my daughter, having supper,
and then we listened to a concert on the radio.
That's right. Mahler. The Five.
- Your wife tells me you were at Bamfylde? - Yes. That's right.
Is Old Wilkie still stinking the place out with sulphur?
- I don't remember him. - What about Popperynge?
Pop, the boys used to call him.
To be honest, I wasn't there long enough to get to know any of the masters.
- Matron, all well? - Yes, thank you, Headmaster.
Mr Morse, I am sorry to trouble you.
- Do you have a moment? - Yes, of course.
Would you excuse me?
Armed police! Hands in the air!
- Cromwell Ames? - Who wants to know?
DCI Thursday, Thames Valley Police.
Cromwell Ames, you're under arrest for suspicion of murder.
You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say
will be taken down and can be given in evidence.
It's one of the fifth years. A boy called Stanlow.
Perhaps you could talk to him while I get fresh linen on the mattress.
- He wets the bed. - Ah.
It's Mrs Seymour, isn't it?
We've not been properly introduced. I'm Morse.
How are you and your wife finding Coldwater?
I think she'd be happier if she had a little more to do.
I don't suppose you could use a spare pair of hands?
I might. Part time.
There wouldn't be much money, but...
if you really think it might be of interest, tell her to come and see me.
Liam Flynn. Sometime collector for Eddie Nero's extortion racket.
Stabbed to death in May.
Burt Hobbs, lorry driver. Family man.
Just about to celebrate his ruby wedding.
Had his head bashed in at Waddington Junction
when a mob hi-jacked his load of Killoran whisky.
Lloyd Collins, fence for the whisky.
Stabbed to death in a lock-up in the arse end of Cowley.
A black cockerel was left next to him. Its head cut off.
Sounds like voodoo to me, mister.
- You don't wanna mess with that. - We know what you're about.
- You're looking to take over Nero's turf. - Never heard of him.
I'm just a car dealer.
I'm sorry, sir. I had a nightmare.
- I'm all right now. - It's all right.
What's all this?
Mr Ivory said we should look to the lives of great men as an example, sir.
- Did you like Mr Ivory? - Yes, sir.
Very much, sir.
- He wasn't like the other masters. - Oh? How's that?
He was kind. He used to call me "Dak", sir.
I think it's short for "Daktari".
It's a programme on the television about a vet in Africa.
There's a lion in it called Clarence. That's my name too.
I'll get Matron to bring you some warm milk. Would you like that?
Go on. Hunker down.
Seems a nice boy. Stanlow.
He's troubled, though. His parents are getting a divorce.
Ah. It's difficult for any child.
To some degree they always blame themselves.
The other boys bully him. He's not sporty.
- Something of a teacher's pet. - Oh.
Mr Ivory protected him so far as he could, but...
Why would Mr Ivory protect Stanlow from the other boys?
I don't know, but he did.
- Has Ames said anything? - As little as possible, sir.
His brief is with him now. A big cheese up from London.
- Claiming alibi? - A good dozen witnesses
will swear he was elsewhere at the time of each of the killings, sir.
All bought and paid for, presumably.
- Including the attempt on Nero's life? - In London, sir.
At the... Bunny Club. There's photographs to prove it.
We've let him go, but I've told Fancy
not to let him out of his sight.
There might be some progress with Morse at the school, sir.
The missing persons case.
He's had a shirt left in his desk.
Had a driver pick it up in the early hours.
Over 20 stab wounds... according to Dr deBryn.
- Murdered, then? - Certainly looks that way, sir.
If it's Ivory's shirt...
- Oh, Caesar... - Hence!
Wilt thou lift up Olympus?
- Great Caesar... - Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?
Speak, hands for me.
Aargh!
Et tu, Brute!
Then fall, Caesar!
It's mostly coughs and colds.
Mumps. Measles. Chickenpox.
But anything serious, then we get the doctor out.
Otherwise, it's housekeeping.
Are you sure you won't be bored, Mrs Morse?
Not a bit. And do call me Shirley, please.
- How long have you been at Coldwater? - Ten years now.
Before that I was a district nurse for eight years.
I'd imagine a matron's the eyes and ears of a school.
Can't be much that goes on here you don't know about.
I don't know about that.
What do you think happened to Mr Ivory?
You don't suppose anyone here could have... done something?
There was no love lost between Ivory and Blackwell, apparently.
On the evening in question, they had words.
Ivory was meant to be looking after the film show,
but he ended up ducking out and Blackwell got roped in.
That's hardly motive for murder, is it?
Mrs Seymour thought there might be something more to it.
- Who do you think left the shirt? - I don't know.
It's either someone trying to help. Or it's a threat.
What do I remember about the night Ivory went missing?
Funny sort of thing to ask.
No, not really. Dead man's shoes.
Or dead man's class, in my case. I'm living in his house.
Well, there's not a lot I can tell you.
He was meant to run the film for the boys, but then he said
he had some sort of family emergency and left me to it.
- What did you make of him? - Erm...
- He was all right. - Now, what's this?
Oh. Stanlow won't fire a rifle.
Will you, Stanlow? Arms up, boy!
Up!
Yeah. He's got it into his head he's a little pacifist.
Little coward, more like.
So he's under heavy manners.
See if we can't... correct his thinking.
Make Britain Greater.
Bloody right. We were a force to be reckoned with once.
Not now. Going cap in hand with a begging bowl...
.. taking rubbish from half the places we used to run.
Well, look. I'd best get on.
Give my regards to your wife.
She's a good-looking girl.
How'd you ever manage to snare a piece like that?
Charm.
- How are you finding the boys? - Oh, I think we're still...
getting the measure of each other.
They seem to have held your husband in some regard.
John was very fond of them.
I don't suppose there's any news from the police as to what might have happened?
- Morse. - No.
No, it's all right. I don't mind talking about it.
In a way, it reminds me that it's real.
Sorry.
Presumably, the police spoke to everybody at Coldwater, at the time?
Oh, yes. The usual questions, I'd imagine.
"Any money troubles? Did he have any enemies?"
After a week or so, it just went very quiet.
Right.
Sorry I'm a bit early. Hello. Hello. Hello, Kate.
- How are you? - Morse and Shirley have been spoiling me.
Quite right too.
- Early for what? - I'm here to lead your husband astray.
- A pint or two at the local. - Well, don't let us stop you.
It was lovely to have met you. Hopefully we'll see you again.
I'm glad the lower sixth have got someone nice to look after them.
- He seems nice. - Alun? Yes. He's been very kind.
Hm.
Thursday, CID.
Oh, hello, Charlie. I was gonna ring you.
Everything all right?
Yeah, course. Tonight?
Well, I suppose I can.
Round nine, do you? All right.
Till then.
I mean, what do you think happened to Ivory?
Oh, Christ. Not him again. You're like a scratched record, man.
You said you didn't click. How come?
He spoke to the boys' baser instincts.
- Their lesser angels. - Oh.
And he was a bully.
- He inspired the same in others. - That's quite a charge.
I taught most of the boys in your form.
They were all right till Ivory got hold of them.
Have you ever been bullied?
Aye-aye, Charlie.
Oh, thanks for coming, Fred.
What's all this?
Well... I don't know where to start.
Well, the beginning's usually favourite.
Just tell me. What's up?
- I got took, Fred. - What do you mean, you got took?
I had to borrow some money.
I thought they were on the level, to begin with.
I just got more and more behind.
They said I could work it off through the business.
- What do you mean? - Using the company's good standing.
Credit. Goods.
Loans from the bank.
You've been the front for a long firm fraud.
Oh, Jesus Christ. What about my money?
Oh, no. No, no, no.
A loan, you said. A short-term loan, Charlie.
I thought I could buy 'em off.
It's gone, Fred. I'm going away. We're going away.
Before you get lifted?
What did they do with my money, Charlie?
The cheque. Can it be traced back to me?
I...
You've done me, Charlie!
My whole life. Everything I've worked for.
- You've dragged me into the sewer. - I didn't know.
Don't lie to me!
Look. I'm sorry, Fred.
I had to do it for Paulette. For Carol.
What about me and Win? It was our retirement.
Our life savings.
Now I've got to live out what I got left looking over my shoulder,
waiting for the knock?
Fred?
Fred!
Well, the parting of the ways. Here, you better take this.
- Don't you need it? - No.
I'd find my way back blindfolded after all this time.
Go straight through the woods,
follow the path through a kissing gate, to the cottage.
Safe home.
Thanks. You too.
He got in their heads, Morse.
Ivory.
You see, cruelty's like cancer.
Starts with one cell.
And if it's left untreated...
.. it spreads, till the whole body's riddled with it.
You've got to cut it out. You've got to burn it out.
Kill it at the source.
Late, Fred.
Work?
No. I had to see Charlie.
In London?
Yeah.
All right, is he?
Fred?
How much?
Fred?
I'll just have to work a bit longer than we thought, is all.
You lent Charlie money.
Without telling me?
It was all meant to be paid back by Christmas.
But it won't be, will it?
- Please send in Mr Morse. - Yes, Headmaster.
Sir.
DCI Thursday. DS Strange.
Thames Valley, CID.
I understand from Mr Mackenzie it was you who found the body.
That's right.
Why were you wandering round a graveyard in the dead of night?
It's a short cut from the pub to Mr Ivory's old cottage.
Right. Well... I'll need you to come with me
and explain how it was you came to stumble across such a thing.
You can spare him for a couple of hours?
I'll have to get somebody to cover the Lower Sixth,
but er... yes, of course.
All right, Mr Morse.
All right, then, matey.
Should've known if anyone was gonna find him, it'd be you.
Except I haven't. It's not Ivory.
I couldn't say, when I called it in, because I was on a public line.
But it's a boy called Rowntree.
He was expelled shortly before Ivory went missing.
There's a letter to his parents from the headmaster in his blazer pocket.
- Gentlemen. - Doctor.
What have we got?
Male. 13 to 18 years of age.
Decomposition suggests a time of decease
approximately four to six weeks ago.
- Cause, Doc? - No obvious signs of foul play.
But I think we might assume he didn't put himself in the coffin.
Ivory's clearly been here. And more than once by the look of things.
He had a pupil fetch him 40 Fusiliers and a bottle of Scotch from the village most days.
- Meeting someone up here, you think? - Who? Local tart or somebody?
Rowntree maybe? Looks like he was setting up a rendezvous.
"6.30 UP". Usual Place? Perhaps from Ivory?
All of the teachers mark the homework in red ink here.
- What put you onto it? - The door was open.
But it was also something Trewlove said.
The night that Ivory disappeared, he said to the landlord at the pub
- that he was meeting an Agnes Davis. - Agnes? Older bird, maybe?
No. It wasn't Agnes Davis. The landlord misheard him. It was Agnus Dei.
Lamb of God. Ivory was partial to a Latin joke.
So... now we've got a dead boy, and Ivory's still missing.
Poor show from the locals that they didn't turn up Rowntree.
- Maybe they did. - No mention of it in the case file.
Perhaps there would have been had they lived.
What are you saying? It wasn't an accident?
When was the last time you heard of two police officers dying in the middle of an inquiry?
Is it true?
We were together all evening.
What's this I hear about Cowley?
- Do you know where you'll be? - No. We're expecting letters.
In Oxford, though, still?
Place wouldn't be the same.
- Any more on Ivory's shirt? - 23 separate stab wounds.
Any one of a dozen could have been fatal,
depending on the depth of penetration of the blade.
- But it was his blood group? - Oh, yes.
And made to his measurements by a bespoke shirt-maker on Jermyn Street.
- You've no idea who left it in your desk? - No. Nor why.
Well, I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it.
Furthers and betters on the boy once I've had a rummage.
- How long's all this going on for, then? - Hm?
- You, out here with Shirley. - Until we find Ivory. Why?
Just remember what's what, that's all.
"What's what"? What does that mean?
You know what it means.
Oh, grow up.
You know, if you put as much effort into your police work
as you do into your love life, you might get somewhere.
Rowntree? But that's impossible.
We found a letter to his parents, signed by you, in his blazer.
Why was he expelled?
He was a troublemaker.
He wasn't a bad kid. Bit lippy.
But sooner that than some "Yes, sir. No, sir," little automated,
- "I'd happily watch you die in a fire, sir." - But what happened?
Well, he was Stanlow Mark I.
Thick as thieves with Ivory for a bit.
Ivory shielded him from the worst of Blackwell's attention.
And then, I don't know, about a week or so before Ivory lit out,
they had some sort of an argument, and erm...
Well, Rowntree hit him.
- Hit Ivory? - That's what he said.
I mean, that's immediate expulsion.
Headmaster sent Rowntree home with a letter for his parents,
and Ivory drove him to the station.
And that was that. That was the last we saw of him.
As you were, Nero.
- What's this? Suetonius? - Yes, sir.
- That's not on the curriculum, is it? - No, sir.
Pinched it from the infirmary, for pleasure, sir.
Is it Mr Ivory, sir?
- Out in the cemetery. - No.
It would appear to be this boy Rowntree.
- Rowntree? - Mm.
How? What happened?
Well, I don't know.
Is there anything you'd like to tell me?
I'm not a grass, sir.
Can I go, sir?
Yes. You can go.
It's all right. Don't panic.
I'm not about to "blow your cover", or whatever the jargon is.
- Door to door. - That's fine.
Except we weren't living here when Ivory or this boy were last seen.
I didn't know that, did I?
You OK? I miss you.
It's only been four days.
Yeah, all right. Feels longer.
Do you miss me?
Look, you'd best push off.
All right. All right.
I love you, Shirl.
Rowntree was a sensitive boy.
A weakling, I suppose you'd call it.
That's certainly what Mr Blackwell called him. He...
He what, Mrs Seymour?
He made him run around the field in full cadet kit
until he collapsed from exhaustion.
I wouldn't trust a word out of Matron's mouth.
- She doesn't like me. Never has. - It's not her word, though, is it?
It's here in the infirmary book, in black and white.
You laid into Rowntree so hard he was passing blood for three days.
- What did you think you were doing? - Making men. Real men.
Not lily-livered sissies.
Waterloo was won on the playing fields of places like Coldwater.
That's the problem with this country today.
- It's too soft by half. - Flogging?
Corporal punishment. It never did me any harm.
Bastards! Talking to a man like that! How dare they!
Did that not go well, then?
You know, one day someone is gonna shut that smart mouth of yours.
What the hell are you looking at, boy?
I've got a sick note, sir, from Matron.
I'm excused games.
You are excused nothing, you little weakling.
Steady. On your way, Stanlow.
It doesn't look good for Ivory. Last man to see the boy alive.
- So far as we know. - Or maybe somebody here did for them both.
Possibly. But the "why" of it, that's where I'm coming up short.
Well, whatever's behind it, watch your step.
- We've already got two dead coppers. - Thanks.
Thank you, Mr Morse. You've been very helpful.
We may need to speak to you again. Headmaster.
Nine.
Ten.
11.
12.
Leave him alone!
What did you say?
He's had enough... sir.
Please... just... leave him alone.
Why don't you make me?
Huh? Huh?
Tough nut?
We all know whose son you are.
So why don't you show us all what you're made of?
No, no...
Sir! You'd better come quick!
- What is it, boy? - It's Mr Blackwell, sir.
- No! - Where you going, huh? Come on!
- What are you gonna do? Come on! - What is the meaning of this?
Nero was trying to interfere with me in the execution of my duty.
Matron, you and Mr Morse can see to Stanlow and Nero.
I'm all right, sir.
Then Mr Bodnar will take you back to the dormitory with the rest of the boys.
Mr Blackwell, I'll see you in my study.
It's all right. I've got him.
You're very good, aren't you?
- Sorry? - See, I spoke to old Wilkie.
He doesn't remember a master called Morse at Bamfylde.
So what's your story? Hm?
Who are you? You can tell me or the head teacher can.
I'm with the Education Board.
You should keep that to yourself if you value your position.
- There have been some concerns about Coldwater. - Ah.
It's called character building.
Toughen them up. Make them ready for the world.
The boys know that. It's Ivory who messed with their heads.
If you want to know what happened to Rowntree...
you find Ivory.
They say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.
- Do you think that's true? - It's a pretty grim topic
for somebody painting their toenails.
What are girls supposed to talk about, Morse?
Ponies? Kittens? Boys?
- I saw your boy this afternoon. - Oh, Lord.
I told him not to get too serious.
I thought you liked him.
With the station closing down, I've put in for a transfer, to the Yard.
Have you told him?
It won't change anything. We'll still be able to see each other.
But we're young. We have to put career first now.
- Haven't we? - Oh, a... career won't...
hold you at 3:00 in the morning when the wolves come circling.
Do they come circling, Morse?
I think I should make my bath.
If I found someone...
.. then all of this wouldn't matter at all.
I'm just erm... clocking off, sir.
Ames is holed up at an all-night drinker.
Nights have got it covered. I'll be back on first thing.
Right.
Wait a minute.
This... undercover case.
You've nothing to worry about.
I'm not daft. I've got eyes.
Morse is as decent as they come.
Trewlove's got her head screwed on.
All this with Ames and Nero, I need your mind on the job. Right?
Not fretting over nothing.
You can count on me, sir. I won't let you down.
- I know. - Goodnight, sir. - Night.
Right. Lights out, you squits.
Win?
I'm going to Rene's.
- But you're coming back, Win? - 27 years I've stood by you,
for better or worse, and you do this?
- It was our future. - It was family.
And what am I? You didn't even tell me.
- I was trying to protect you. - Protect yourself, more like.
I may not say much, but I am not stupid.
And you're not the only one round here who's got secrets.
- Your own daughter... - What about her? What about Joanie?
The taxi.
I'll run you. Win...
No.
The boys have got double chemistry with Bodnar, so I'm gonna head into town,
see if there's any more on this Rowntree post mortem.
- Will you be all right? - I can take care of myself.
Yes, I'm sure, but odds are we've still got a killer
on the grounds somewhere. All right.
- It's Mrs Morse, isn't it? - Shouldn't you be in form?
- It's a free period. - Double.
Bunking off to the cemetery for a smoke, is that it?
- Join us if you like. - I don't think my husband would approve.
He's not here, though... is he?
I thought it was off limits to boys.
We're not boys, Mrs Morse.
We're Praetorians.
- And a graveyard pass is Praetorians' Privilege. - Oh, I see.
- Why don't you come with us? - No, thank you.
- Perhaps you don't trust yourself, Mrs Morse. - I beg your pardon?
With three strapping Praetorians.
You're stoned. Your eyes have gone.
Be on your way before you get in serious trouble.
You could be the one in trouble, Mrs Morse.
These woods aren't safe. No-one to hear you scream.
No-one heard Rowntree, did they?
- On your way, Clunchfist. - Mr Bodnar. - That's a month's privs.
What are you doing out in the woods, sir?
- Or shouldn't we ask? - You too, Rackway.
The gatehouse lodge is that way, sir. If you're lost.
And, Mr Queach, that's all three of you.
You shouldn't threaten us, sir.
- What? - Qui non nobiscum adversus nos est, sir.
Go on, back to school, before I fetch the Headmaster.
- You all right? - Thanks.
- It's a good job you came by. - I'll walk you back.
I'm still awaiting results on the boy's blood,
but examination of residue found in the nasal cavity and sinuses
suggests he had... snorted heroin.
Snorted heroin?
Almost 100% purity.
Very likely stopped his heart.
Where the hell did he come by that?
There's something wrong with Ivory's story
that he drove Rowntree to the station.
Why would he take him, if they'd had a physical altercation?
So, you saying he didn't take the boy?
- Then somebody else must've seen him. - No. The reports are all second hand.
All we've got to go on is what Ivory told people.
Well, why would he say he'd taken him if he hadn't?
Information Room from Fancy.
The boy can't have known what he was doing?
Snorting that amount of pure heroin is tantamount to suicide.
- Sir? - Hm?
- Everything all right? - Ah, Thursday.
Anything from the post mortem?
It's drugs, sir, with the boy. Heroin.
Heroin? Good Lord.
Anything further on Ivory?
- You've no idea who left that shirt in your desk? - No, sir,
but something about the number of stab wounds rings a bell somewhere.
23, to be precise, according to Dr deBryn.
Is the number important? A frenzied attack, surely.
Yeah, all right, matey. Stand to. We're on our way.
George says Ames has just pulled up outside Nero's snooker hall,
- mob-handed and carrying. - Could be another attempt on Nero.
Very well.
Draw arms. My authorisation.
Armed police! We're coming in.
♪ Let's pretend that we're together...
Shut that racket off.
Some kind of showdown. Nero's boys and Ames' mob.
Nero.
Drop the gun, Eddie.
Oh... It's empty, anyway.
Easy, Eddie. Save your breath. Don't talk.
- It wasn't me. - What do you mean? What wasn't you?
Oh, no. Ambulance! Here!
George? George, can you hear me?
- What's he doing here? - George!
I told him to stand to.
Come on! George, come on!
Leave him, Morse.
Morse! There's nothing you can do.
He's gone.
Morse.
Is it true?
Who?
- A statement will be made. - Off the record.
I can't.
Just get his age right.
He was 23.
- Bloody mess, this is. - All right, Sergeant.
Seems to have got caught in the crossfire, sir.
- What was he doing here? - Tailing Cromwell Ames.
Some sort of pow-wow gone wrong, would you imagine?
Takeover bid, sir. I think that's what Ames came here for.
Gentlemen. I'll start with George if I may.
We don't want him lying in such company
a moment longer than he has to.
- Have his people been notified? - Devon, sir.
Local boys are dealing.
What's going on?
All the driver would say was I had to come back to the station.
Morse?
No.
Not much of a haul to lose one's life over.
Maybe Ames was expecting more.
Sir.
"Mr J I..." Could that be John Ivory?
"Ros..." Rose Cottage.
"Co..." Coldwater School.
- Ivory was involved with Nero? - Thursday?
The two local CID that died in the car crash.
Was that Nero? Maybe they were getting too close
to any drugs business between him and Ivory.
So, hang on... Division sent us undercover...
.. with only half the story, and knowing that somehow
Nero was involved. So they put us all at risk.
- I didn't know. - We should bloody know.
If Division had put their cards on the table,
I might have played things differently, and George could still be alive.
There's nothing we can do now. Everybody involved in the wretched business is dead.
Go home. Get some rest.
That's an order.
Hell of a thing.
It took guts to go in after Cromwell Ames.
What was he hoping for? Arrest them all?
Whatever he was hoping for, it doesn't much matter now.
You'll give him respect. He's due that.
He was due another 50 years.
A wife. Kids, maybe.
Do you still love this place?
- I should get back to the school. - It'll keep, won't it?
- Today at least. - No, it won't.
How are you?
I thought you didn't like guns.
Mr Blackwell's orders, sir.
If I won't fire them, I've got to clean them.
Stanlow...
is there anything you want to tell me about Rowntree and Mr Ivory?
- Like what, sir? - Anything.
Why did Rowntree hit him?
I don't know, sir.
Unless there's anything else, sir, I've got to get on.
- Clunchfist. - Adsum.
- Dakin. - Adsum.
- Gaudibund. - Adsum.
- Morris Minor. - Adsum.
- Nero. - Oh, he's left, sir.
The police killed his father, sir.
- Queach. - Adsum.
- Rackway. - Adsum.
- Summerhead. - Adsum.
- And Zec. - Absum.
Very good. Thank you.
Right...
Is everything all right, sir?
Is this some kind of a joke?
Joke, sir?
First the shirt, and now this in my desk.
- Mr Ivory's desk, sir. - It's no joke, sir.
- It's serious, sir. - It's deadly serious, sir.
Oh, what? Some kind of a threat, is it?
I'm to believe that one of you have killed Mr Ivory?
I'm supposed to be afraid? Is that it?
- Well, I'm not. - Are you sure about that, sir?
Quite sure. Where did you find it?
- We couldn't tell you, sir. - We didn't put it there, sir.
- Are you quite well, sir? - Perhaps you should get some air, sir?
All all right? Tough morning at the chalk face?
Well, you know. Oh. My wife said she saw you
- in the woods with some of the boys. - Ah, yes.
She was under the impression some of them were high.
Is there much of that here? Dope?
Well, Ivory used to go on holiday to Marrakech every summer.
I think he used to bring a bit back with him.
What? He sold it to the boys?
He's got to underwrite his losses on the gee-gees somehow.
- I thought you were up in school. - Ivory's wallet. Left in my desk.
- Who by? - We'll have it fingerprinted,
- but one of the boys would be my guess. - Think they killed him?
- It's what they want me to believe. - There's no evidence for that.
No, but there were 23 stab wounds.
According to Suetonius, the Roman historian,
Julius Caesar was stabbed 23 times by the conspirators.
The boys are studying that as a school play.
- Coincidence? - Maybe.
In any event, there's a business card for Magdalen Cabs in here.
He was in it with Nero, then. No doubt.
According to one of the teachers, Ivory had been selling hashish to the boys.
- How'd he come by it? - He travelled every summer.
The Roman coast of North Africa. Marrakesh. Tangier. Then Istanbul.
Where he's made a connection to the heroin?
Packages bound for a respectable schoolmaster in England?
- Perfect cover. - Thursday... If I might have a moment. - Sir.
Morse.
Well? What is it?
What couldn't you say over the telephone?
I've been going over ballistics.
I took three bullets out of George Fancy.
Not one of them matched any of the weapons recovered at the crime scene.
Sir.
Morse. Good heavens.
I wondered if we could, erm... if you had a moment?
Yes. Yes, of course. By all means. Come in.
Mrs Bright is out, I'm afraid.
Bridge circle, I think. Please.
May I offer you a drink?
I generally have a lime-juice and gin about now.
- Yes. Thank you, sir. - Right. - Well, I'll just go and wash my hands.
Dulcie. Our daughter.
Sweet little thing.
The tropics.
So what's all this about?
Well, ballistics prove that Fancy was shot
by someone who got away from the snooker hall, sir.
His killer's still at large.
Presumably that will all be... passed to the investigating officer.
Well, he was our colleague, sir.
And we will mourn him.
Cowley is closing. It's out of our hands.
Nothing to be done.
So, there we are.
Your very good health.
Fresh lime, you see. That's the trick of it.
Dad?
Mum said about the station, that you were off mostly.
Thought you might go an early tea.
You've come all this way on the off chance?
A good walk never killed anyone.
Well, there's nothing in. I've not been bothering.
You know you can be expelled for that.
My father sits on the Board of Governors.
He won't sit there long if it comes out you've been using drugs on school property.
He doesn't give a shit about me or anything I do.
Maybe not. But I'm sure he cares about his own reputation.
I've given the wallet to the police. They already have the shirt.
I'm sure they'll want to interview you.
If you were involved in Ivory's murder, that's life.
You won't go to prison first. You're too young for that. But borstal...
Believe me, it's nothing like Coldwater.
No Matron. No privs.
Just bigger boys who don't play nice.
Who'll be the squit, then, do you think?
We didn't do it.
But you did have the shirt and the wallet?
- Yeah. - The police will be taking prints off them.
It wasn't like that. We just found them.
Where? Where did you find them?
By the kissing gate.
Well, how about that?
She'll come back. She's just...
Well...
You're a good girl, Joanie.
- I don't know about that. - I do.
Your mum said...
Well... Not in so many words, but...
.. whatever went on with you last year...
.. it's none of my business.
I shouldn't have interfered.
But it's what fathers do.
It's what you do.
Well, I can't help that.
You're my little girl.
But it's your life.
I've just missed you being in mine this last 12 month.
Oh, Dad.
Who's this now?
Morse. Everything all right?
- Well? - One last decent collar, you said.
- Have you seen Stanlow? - No. He should be here by now.
He has a solo in the second hymn.
I saw him in the dorm, sir.
- What are we looking for? - I don't know,
but somehow Stanlow's the key to all of it.
Sir.
I've seen that equation before on his rough book.
Isn't that the Rifleman's rule?
The calculation which enables accurate firing, uphill or downhill.
And that's Coldwater, isn't it? Chapel. Playing field.
President Kennedy. Lincoln. Dr King.
- Bobby Kennedy. - Ivory told the boys to study the lives of great men.
But what if Stanlow learnt a different lesson altogether?
50 years ago... at the 11th hour,
of the 11th day, of the 11th month,
the guns of the Great War fell silent.
It seems impossible now, at a distance of half a century,
to believe a conflagration that claimed 18 million lives
should have started with a single shot.
The base of the fire arc looks to be the clock tower.
I'll warn them at the chapel. Keep them inside.
Morse!
- I don't - In case you need it.
Stanlow!
Don't. Look, I know you're angry.
- You want to hurt someone. - [Stop! Take cover!]
Get back at them for what they've done, but this isn't the answer.
It will only make things worse.
If you want to take it out on someone, shoot me.
Come on, son, put the gun down.
No-one's gonna hurt you any more. I promise you.
- No! - Don't!
This is finished. It's over.
- Is my mother here yet? - Not yet.
I need to ask you about Mr Ivory.
The nickname he gave you, Dak.
It wasn't for Daktari, was it?
We've just come from seeing Stanlow.
- How is he? - Giving up his secrets.
Seems... Ivory had a nickname for him. Called him Dak.
Turns out it's a Hindi word meaning "post" or "mail".
In the days of the Raj, the dak runner
brought letters from the plains to the hill stations.
Kipling celebrated it in a poem called The Overland Mail.
Ivory was big on Kipling.
- Is that right? - Mm. Ivory called Stanlow Dak
because the boy ran errands for him.
Like Rowntree before him, he picked up his whisky and cigarettes
from the village shop. But he also delivered letters
between Ivory and the Headmaster's daughter.
Ivory was cheating on his wife with Ravenna.
But you knew all this, as your admissions book confirms.
The day Ivory disappeared, Stanlow was taken with a sudden fever.
He was here and couldn't deliver the message from Ravenna to Ivory.
So he sent you instead.
Who was it you followed to their usual meeting place
at the kissing gate? My guess would be Ravenna.
Too risky to tail Ivory from the pub.
So you waited till they were done.
Ravenna came back to the school.
Ivory went back, through the only route he could, to Rose Cottage.
And that was your chance.
He was a monster.
I mean... Blackwell's an animal.
A brute. But Ivory was the Devil himself.
Filling the boys' heads with evil, hatred, cruelty.
They're just children. Drugs, for God's sake!
They thought they were so grown up, but they didn't have a clue.
What put you on to it?
I was a nurse, don't forget. I know what an overdose looks like.
- Rowntree? - He came to the infirmary.
He was white as a sheet, sweating...
heart going ten to the dozen,
and he thought he was going to die.
So Ivory was using Rowntree as the main supply channel
for drugs to the boys?
Until he became a liability.
Or got too big for his boots, maybe.
Whatever the case, Ivory got him expelled,
and then he started in on Stanlow...
.. and I couldn't let that happen again. I...
I had to protect them. I had to protect them all.
Where is Ivory, Mrs Seymour?
Where he belongs.
- Doctor. - Septic tank.
What a treat.
Better start going through the motions.
Do you think Ivory did kill Rowntree?
Maybe the boy got it into his head to try a bit of private enterprise.
Could it be that's what they fought over?
Might just as well have been accidental.
If the kid didn't know what he'd been taking...
maybe he mistook one thing for another. Who knows?
Perhaps Ivory finds him at the cemetery,
already overdosed on heroin meant for Eddie Nero.
He hides the body, then comes up with a story
of having dropped him at the station.
A policeman? Well, Blackwell was right, then.
You were never a teacher. I should have known.
- How's that? - You didn't look beaten enough.
Happiest days of your life? Not much happiness here.
I'd hoped to see you as the first female officer in Cowley CID.
But our loss will be the Yard's gain.
You'll do great things there, I'm sure. Great things.
Thank you, sir.
We shall all miss you.
I don't suppose there's anything one can say...
I'm so frightfully sorry.
Good luck, Constable.
Thank you for always looking out for me.
It has been... a privilege.
I didn't know if you'd be in.
I just... came to say goodbye.
Well, I'll see you at the funeral.
The boy I liked is dead.
I'm not gonna sit and look at a box.
Life is for the living, Morse.
Don't waste time.
It's all we've got.
I'm no good at goodbyes.
Well, then, let's not say it.
Say not the struggle nought availeth
the labour and the wounds are vain.
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
and as things have been, they remain.
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars.
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
your comrades chase even now the fliers.
And, but for you, possess the field.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
seem here no painful inch to gain.
Far back through creeks and inlets making,
come silent, flooding in, the main.
And not by eastern windows only
when daylight comes, comes in the light.
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly.
But westward, look, the land is bright.
At least we gave him a good send-off.
- We can say that. - Yes.
We can say that.
Nicely done, Morse. Your poem.
Gentlemen. Miss Frazil.
Would that you'd never had to write such a thing,
but it was a very fine obituary.
He seemed a decent young man.
No platitude knowingly unexpressed.
It's what we say, Morse, when we don't know what to say.
But we do know what to say. We just can't stomach saying it.
What we want to say is, "Thank Christ it wasn't me."
That's the last of it, is it?
Yes, sir.
Well...
When I arrived here three years ago, I had such high hopes.
What an ignominious end I have led you all to.
- I shall resign, of course. - Sir...
No, I failed him. I failed my men.
The station gone.
My brightest and best cast to the four winds,
and all is...
.. brought to ruin.
Bollocks to that. I won't hear it.
We might be down, but we're not out.
I'll be damned if this is how it ends.
We'll have justice for him, sir.
- Find who shot that bullet. Whatever it takes. - Jim's right, sir.
They can call us Thames Valley till the cows come home,
but wherever we wash up, we're city men, each one of us.
- To our boots. To the last. - So few.
- Enough to give him justice. - We'll find the bastard, sir.
- Your word on it. - My oath.
- And mine. - For George.
That's that. Well, good luck on Monday.
- Any news on your posting? - No. No, not yet.
What happened to the Winchester over the fireplace?
Turning in your tin star?
How did Mrs Thursday take it?
She married a copper.
Things happen.
Didn't seem the time.
With Fancy.
I should've given him more time.
You gave him what you could. He knew that.
I could've been kinder.
Who couldn't?
Right...
I thought handshakes were for goodbye.
Hello.
I just came round.
I can see.
I just thought...
.. maybe if that offer of a coffee's still going?