02x04 - DNA of a m*rder*r

[bunniefuu]

PROFESSOR T: 76%, ladies and gentlemen.

For the less mathematically inclined

amongst you,

that is equivalent to three

of every four biological males,

as well as six of every ten

biological females

who have, at some stage in their life,

for one reason or another,

fantasised about committing m*rder.

For women, it is members of their

family or, more particularly,

their spouse's family

who are most at risk

in their deadly imaginings.

For men, however, it is more likely

to be someone at their workplace

who provokes these homicidal thoughts.

Sorry I'm late, Professor.

HE YELLS, g*n ZAPPING

Please.

Of course, only an infinitesimal

proportion of those of us

who have contemplated

an unlawful k*lling

proceed to turn thoughts into deeds.

Which begs the obvious question -

what distinguishes the very few who do

from the vast majority who do not?

In a nutshell, is there such a thing

as the DNA of a m*rder*r?

We're all of us busy people,

officer, that's no excuse!

I've got a serious criminal matter

to report.

Perhaps I can be of assistance, sir?

And you are?

DS Lisa Donckers.

A Detective Sergeant? That's right, sir.

Well, I'm gonna need to speak

to someone more senior than you.

OK.

The first one arrived

at my husband's place of work

three days ago.

The second one came this morning.

Although the postmarks

are the 2nd and the 6th.

Shows you can't even rely

on the Royal Mail

to deliver a death threat promptly

these days.

We'll send them for fingerprinting.

And you've no idea

who may have sent these, Mr Davies?

That's a stupid question.

It's the first thing

I would've mentioned if I did.

Is your husband in the public eye?

You know, the sort of person

who might become a target

for cranks or trolls?

He runs an artisan bakery.

I mean, I say run,

but it's me who does all the books

and handles all the orders.

He just chats bloody sourdough

all day. DS Winters.

All right, Mr Davies

we'll give it our top priority.

Thank you.

"Top priority?"

It was the only way

I was ever gonna get rid of him.

I could see you struggling in here,

boss. I came straight in.

Just bear that in mind,

maybe mention it to Christina.

Thank you, Winters.

Oh, dear.

Are we going back to doing that?

May I suggest you see it

as an endearing little ritual?

Right.

Can you control your thoughts, Jasper?

Of course.

Then don't think of a white bear.

HE SCOFFS Wegner's bear, 1987 -

by supressing a thought,

it becomes inevitable.

Look, this is not a game of chess.

You know, it's not-it's not

psychological one-upmanship.

I can't help you

if you're determined to anticipate

and forestall

every reasonable line of inquiry.

And I cannot be blamed

if your methods are predictable.

Well, your disdain for them -

and for me - is obvious.

I wonder if you'd be happier

with a different therapist

A male practitioner, perhaps.

I fail to see how your

biological sex is relevant.

Like you fail to see the patterns

of your hostility

towards women in general?

I'm not hostile towards women,

merely neutral.

SHE CHUCKLES

You sound like you're Switzerland!

I mean, neutrality does little

to help human relationships

prosper and endure, Jasper.

You need to discover and start

expressing some positive sentiments

towards the women in your life.

Malcolm, I'm wondering why

you left it up to your husband

to report these death threats.

It suggests you're not taking it seriously.

That's probably because I'm not.

Why would that be?

Get death threats every day?

Look, it's probably

just one of my friends.

You know, a bit of banter.

Funny kind of banter.

Funny kind of friends.

Oh, all right, not FRIENDS, then.

Er, acquaintances.

Look, I'm a member

of the local baking club.

Won Star Baker

at our recent awards night.

There's been some sniping

that I should be disqualified

for being a professional.

That, and a nasty rumour that my

sourdough is artificially enhanced.

I figured it was just

one of the baked goods nuts

trying to warm me off.

There are ways that don't involve

a colossal waste of our time.

No other issues or disagreements

that you can think of?

Er, we're in a legal dispute

with our neighbours.

FORMER neighbours, I should say.

But that's been going on for years,

and the solicitors

are handling everything.

SHE CHUCKLES That beard!

See you Friday.

Is it personal or professional? Hm?

You always dawdle when you've got

a question to ask me.

I was admiring the notice board.

You keep it very symmetrical.

And I was wondering

given your recent foray

into online dating,

whether you wouldn't mind advising me

on arranging an intimate evening with

a member of the opposite sex.

Let's see.

Salsa with Estevan tomorrow,

couple's massage with Klaus

on Wednesday.

Ah, yes, 8pm Thursday,

I'm free for dinner.

Ooh, er, I am so sorry,

I did not mean

You weren't seriously thinking

of inviting DCI Brand to dinner

without rehearsing it properly?

Rehearsing?

It's in your diary.

I can't believe Rabbit is making us

follow up on this.

Oh, you've got better places to be,

do you? I do, actually.

Hello.

MAN: Debbie, some idiot's parked

in front of our drive again!

That idiot would be me, I'm afraid,

Mr Sanderson.

I'm DS Winters,

I'm with the Cambridge Police.

This is my colleague, DS Donckers.

They've been asking about Malcolm, hon.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me!

DOOR SLAMS

Seems like we touched a nerve.

You'll have to excuse Steve, officer.

He's a Teddy bear, really.

But Malcolm that is a sore subject.

There's been some kind of legal

dispute we're led to believe.

Oh, it goes a long way back before that.

They were in business together

for a few years -

they ran a small delivery firm.

After Steve was discharged

from the army.

Broke two bones in his back.

He's never been right since.

So what happened? Oh, well,

Malcolm was always a sweetheart.

Unlike his other half.

We've had the pleasure

of Aiden's acquaintance. Yeah.

Steve and Malcolm were chalk and cheese

but they hit it off from the moment

we bought this place.

Workmates, best mates.

Till Malcolm told Steve he didn't

want to do deliveries any more.

Just like that. No warning.

Did you ever get to the bottom

of what happened? Not really.

They stopped talking after that.

Next thing we know,

they're suing us over a fence.

About a year later, they moved out,

started renting the place out.

Do you know how they could have

afforded that?

Well you didn't hear this from me

'That was a stroke of luck.'

'A stroke of luck?

More like a bloody miracle!

'Malcolm's never been known

to bet a penny in his life.'

A bit suspicious, don't you think?

What is?

Someone who makes a big thing

of never gambling would win tens,

maybe hundreds of thousands

on some lottery.

We've only got the neighbour's word

for it.

Who knows what goes on

behind the net curtains?

In case you've forgotten, Dan,

it's not Malcolm Davies

we're supposed to be investigating.

It's whoever's been sending

death threats.

Steve Sanderson seems to have plenty

to feel aggrieved about.

We all have plenty

to feel aggrieved about.

Hm, is that what you'll tell Rabbit?

When he asks how the case is going?

No. I will tell him to stop

wasting our time on petty domestics.

Where are you going?

Home, to see my dad.

Are you coming?

Yes. Obviously I'm coming.

DOG WHINES

I don't do performance art, darling.

No point standing there rubbernecking.

If you've come to borrow

the dog again, the answer's no.

I'm afraid Kafka's

all at sixes and sevens.

I came to see how you were.

What do you want, Jasper?

I do not want anything.

I merely wondered if these bulldog

clips might be of use to you

in your artistic endeavours.

A gift, for me?

Miss Snares was throwing them out.

Well, it's like my birthday,

Christmas and Mothering Sunday

all rolled into one!

Do not confuse sarcasm with wit, Mother.

Don't be so touchy, darling.

I'm delighted with them. Truly, I am.

I was interested to observe

if you might think so.

If this is the result of your therapy,

then it's definite progress.

Only next time,

pearls and champagne, please?

PHONE VIBRATING

Hello. 'Sorry to wake you, Donckers.'

Oh, it's no problem, boss.

You better head in ASAP, there's

been a development in your case.

'What now? Did somebody poison his cat?'

Malcolm Davies has been found dead.

Oh. Jeez.

Can you get a message to Winters?

Yeah, I'm sure I could track him down.

He's certainly the quarrelsome type.

He put up a fence between the properties

without consulting his neighbours,

while they were on holiday.

The Davies' claimed it was

on their side of the boundary.

Won a restraining order.

Sanderson countersued.

It's been grinding

through the courts ever since.

He's ex-military,

and reputedly has a temper.

We've seen that first hand.

He fits the profile.

And yet, here you are.

The dispute's been dragging on

for years.

The Davies' moved out a while back.

It doesn't seem like a trigger

for slashing someone's throat.

For individuals

with extreme personality traits,

no trigger is too small or trivial

to be discounted.

But in a case of premeditated m*rder,

whilst you piece together

the how, where, when, what and why,

you must always be mindful of the "who".

Who amongst the suspects

displays the personality type

that would enable them to k*ll

with calculation?

Anti-social, paranoid, remorseless,

convinced the world is against them.

Turns out Malcolm Davies

was a witness in a m*rder trial

eight years ago.

His evidence was key

to the successful prosecution

of Larry Buckland for the m*rder

of his boss, Sunil Mehta,

who owned a boat-building business.

Larry was sacked for fighting

with an employee,

and heard making violent threats

against his boss.

So how was Malcolm Davies connected?

Poor bloke just happened

to be making a delivery

on the night in question.

He testified he heard raised voices

and saw Buckland leave Mehta's office.

He found Mehta bleeding to death -

stabbed in the neck with a short blade,

something like a letter knife.

And it was Buckland's threats that

convinced them it was premeditated?

That, and 170 grand

missing from the safe.

So we could be looking at payback, then.

Maybe, but I'm assuming Buckland

is still inside? He is.

But guess where his wife

and son are now living.

They're renting Malcolm

and Aiden Davies' old place,

moved in a few weeks ago.

I'd say we get them both in

for questioning.

Really? It's a total coincidence?

You can see why we might find it

difficult to believe, Mrs Gilmore.

No more than I did when I found out.

Malcolm came round to fix the door

on the washing machine.

Mum recognised him right away.

Took him a little longer to place us.

Looked like he'd seen a ghost.

I don't believe in coincidences,

just like I don't believe in ghosts, Jonah.

Why would I lie?

We've moved half a dozen times

in the last eight years.

I was just grateful to find somewhere.

I can imagine.

I only dealt with the letting agent.

If his name was on the contract,

I certainly didn't see it

before signing.

You'd have thought your landlord

might have done a bit more

due diligence.

Except I've gone back to using

my maiden name.

You'd have had no way of knowing

our connection to Larry.

Where were you last night

between 8pm and 12 midnight?

SCOFFS

At home,

doing a college assignment, watching TV.

Anyone who can vouch for you?

My mum was out watching a film

with a friend, got back late.

Mm-hm.

SCOFFS

You know, I'm not my dad.

Whatever it is you think you know

about him, it doesn't apply to me.

"The sins of the father

are to be laid upon the children."

Shakespeare, The Merchant Of Venice.

If you say so.

It must have been painful for you

to be associated

with your father's crime

from such an early age.

To be labelled the son of a k*ller

wherever you went, whoever you met.

You have no idea.

Well, if you have nothing to hide,

I'm sure you won't object to us

conducting a search

of your property, will you?

Oh! I didn't expect to see you here.

And yet this is exactly

where I hoped I might find you.

You were looking for me, were you?

I have something to ask you.

Well, can it wait? I'm running late.

It can wait. OK.

Fancy tagging along?

I have rather a lot to catch up on.

MUSIC: 'La Musica' by Vichenzo Orru

LOUD CHATTERING DROWNS OUT SPEECH

Dan.

Donckers.

Look what the search turned up.

We found that knife

in Jonah Gilmore's shed,

and it looks a good match with

the wounds on Malcolm Davies' neck.

Has it been fingerprinted?

Not yet, but my bet is that

he'll have wiped them off.

He's not that stupid.

Although evidently stupid enough

in your estimation

to hide the m*rder weapon

in his garden shed?

If they weren't a bit stupid

we'd never catch 'em.

He has a motive and no alibi,

Jasper, unlike his mother.

Plus what looks likely to be the

m*rder weapon found on his property.

There's nothing for you to solve here.

I have scrutinised the reports

of the psychologists who assessed

Jonah in the years since the trial.

He is said to be well-adjusted,

conscientious, trusting.

Anything but vengeful,

despite the trauma of his father's

conviction at such an early age.

So what are you implying, Jasper?

That Jonah Gilmore

does not have the DNA of a m*rder*r.

SHE CHUCKLES

Someone is communicating intimate

sentiments towards you, I surmise.

Jasper.

So, er

So what is it that's, erm

that's so important that's made you

want to stay here all afternoon

to talk to me in private?

I wish to ask you to dinner.

If you toy with his affections,

my wrath is a terrible thing to behold.

I-I

I don't think that would be

a very good idea, Jasper.

On the contrary.

My therapist believes that

encouraging positive interactions

with women will help with my phobias.

SHE LAUGHS

I think your chat-up lines

might need a bit of work, Jasper,

but yes, of course,

if it's-it's part of your treatment,

of course I'll come.

Hm.

Screws in here,

how much do you think they get paid?

Are you thinking

of changing career, Dan?

Thanks for seeing us, Mr Buckland.

You've heard we've taken your son

Jonah into custody, I take it?

My wife phoned last night.

HE LAUGHS

What?

You lot.

You're a bloody joke.

Not content on one wrongful conviction,

now you're going for the full set.

And you're still saying you're innocent.

I've been saying it

for eight years, mate.

Buckland admits he'd had a skinful.

Decided it was a good idea

to go and ask for his job back.

And he accepts he lost his temper

when Mehta refused to reinstate him.

Beat him senseless, in his own words.

But he's adamant he didn't stab anyone.

And I am yet to find anything

to prove that he did.

Rather you than me, Professor.

Well, it looks like you could use a hand

with this haystack, Professor. Oh.

Wish I knew which particular needle

we were looking for.

Anything unexplained or inconsistent

with the known facts of the case,

Detective Sergeant.

There's a Steve Sanderson

in reception for you, Winters.

Says he wants to make a statement

about Malcolm Davies.

Oh, fancy sitting in, boss?

More than I fancy

that bloody great pile of paperwork.

I will observe, if I may.

Great (!)

Thank you for your cooperation.

Unlike the other day,

from what my colleague tells me.

When you came knocking,

I didn't know

he was gonna wind up dead, did I?

Or maybe you did.

We'll check out your alibi, Mr

Sanderson, but I have to be honest,

we can't yet eliminate you

from our investigation

cos of your long-running dispute

with the deceased.

Well, that's all over.

Aiden knocked on our back door

the night after Malcolm was k*lled.

He told us he wanted to settle

as soon as possible,

was willing to pay for the fence

to be built in the original place,

even offered

to cover all of our legal costs.

We figured it must have been

the shock of Malcolm's death

that made him act so out of, erm,

you know, out of character.

Yeah, he said he'd just come round

from squaring it off with his tenants.

He'd even been taking a look at

the site in the garden in the dark.

It took us till three in the

morning, but look what Dan found.

It was right at the bloody bottom.

This was taken

at Sunil Mehta's office by forensics

after he was stabbed.

A delivery box

from Mr Mehta to A c*ck

dated five days before

Sunil Mehta was m*rder*d.

Guess who A c*ck turns out to be?

Aiden c*ck.

Freelance accountant, AKA Aiden Davies,

who has taken his husband's surname

but still uses his birth name

for professional purposes.

It was a simple matter

of looking at his website.

If Aiden Davis

was Sunil Mehta's book-keeper,

Malcolm may well have

known about the money in the safe.

Which gives him a motive for m*rder.

And if Malcolm Davies

m*rder*d Sunil Mehta,

that suggests a motive for

Jonah Gilmore to m*rder him in turn.

I cannot believe your impertinence.

I made it perfectly clear

about my professional connection

to Sunil Mehta with the

investigating officer at the time.

We can only apologise, Mr Davies,

if you think we're going over

old ground,

but it was new information to us.

And it was a different complexion

on your husband's association

with the case.

I expect more than

a mealy-mouthed apology, Detective.

I shall be making a complaint

to your superior officer.

You're wasting my time

raking through stone cold ashes

when you should be

focusing on tracking down

my poor Malcolm's k*ller!

Do you mind?

Perhaps I might impose on you

to take us through the events of

the night of your husband's m*rder.

I've been through it countless times.

And no doubt it sounds a little more

implausible with each retelling.

A nanosecond in your company, Mr Davies,

is ample time to ascertain that

you are not the personality type

to let the family budgerigar,

let alone your spouse,

go out in the middle of the evening

without telling you precisely

where they were going

and who they were meeting.

I suspect that your husband

left home to meet Jonah Gilmore

on the night of his m*rder.

What is more, I suspect that

you are fully aware of that fact.

Which bit didn't you understand, Jonah?

"It may harm your defence

if you fail to mention

"when questioned something

which you later rely on in court."

Look I should've said something.

I was in shock

about the knife

turning up in our garden.

I thought if you knew I was

supposed to meet him that night,

well, then case closed.

It's certainly looking that way.

I didn't k*ll Malcolm Davies.

That's exactly what your dad said

about Sunil Mehta.

Maybe cos he was telling the truth?

When Malcolm showed up at our house,

I took it as a sign.

It was time to do something

to prove Dad's innocence.

I started going to his shop.

Weekends, lunch times, pestering him

to see if he remembered something

about the night of the m*rder, anything.

And how did Mr Davies react?

Well, he just ignored me at first.

And then he got agitated, very agitated.

Said he'd evict us if I didn't stop.

So you backed off?

Sort of.

Look, I was thinking

of giving it all up, to be honest,

and then he asked me out for a drink,

out of the blue.

On the night he was m*rder*d? Yeah.

I waited over an hour, some

bloody pub in the middle of nowhere.

He never showed up.

Should be easy enough to check out.

There'll be CCTV cameras at the pub

where they arranged to meet.

Penny for your thoughts, Jasper.

They're worth a good deal more.

I was musing

on the criminological significance

of our inherited biology.

It is not a fashionable view to hold.

Nevertheless,

it is one to which I subscribe

with unshakable conviction.

We cannot escape the destiny

imprinted in our genetic code,

ladies and gentlemen.

Whether foisted on us by nature

or fostered there by nurture.

Some of us are predisposed

to criminal violence, even m*rder,

by the twisted molecular

complexities of our DNA.

The apple doesn't fall far

from the tree, in other words.

Precisely so, in more prosaic terms.

A jury won't buy it.

Dad's a convicted m*rder*r,

so son must be too.

I would advise against

seeking to prosecute Jonah Gilmore,

Detective Inspector.

He's most assuredly innocent

of the m*rder of Malcolm Davies.

Just as his father, Larry

is innocent of the m*rder

of Sunil Mehta.

There is only one man

in these photographs

who fits the profile of a m*rder*r.

You see, inherently quarrelsome

and paranoid people like you, Mr Davies,

do not become peacemakers overnight.

Aiden knocked on our back door

the night after Malcolm was k*lled.

He told us he wanted to settle

as soon as possible.

He said he'd just come around from

squaring it off with his tenants.

He'd even been taking a look at

the site in the garden in the dark.

I suspect you were hiding the knife

in the shed of your tenants,

Jonah and his mother,

when Mr Sanderson saw you.

So you distracted them

with your uncharacteristic offer

to settle your legal dispute

and pick up the bill.

Your neighbours are guileless

and good-hearted, Mr Davies,

but I believe the worst of human nature.

We use darkness

to cover our transgressions.

So he planted the weapon we found.

The knife that k*lled his husband. Yeah.

So if that's true, then

Then he must have k*lled him.

But why?

'Your husband

had not been himself for weeks.'

He was overcome by guilt,

not at having bent the rules

in a baking competition,

but at being confronted every day

by the son of a convicted m*rder*r.

A man he knew was innocent.

You're suggesting my client's

husband k*lled Sunil Mehta?

I'm asserting that he lived

for years with the knowledge

of who did without saying anything.

Malcolm was not a murderous type,

was he, Mr Davies?

Everybody said so.

Oh, Malcolm was always a sweetheart. Hm.

But you most certainly are.

RAISED VOICES

'It was you and not your husband

who was present

'when Larry Buckland

left Sunil Mehta's office.

CLATTERING

'It was you who saw the opportunity

to take the money from the safe.'

I'm sure it was easy enough

to bully Malcolm

into claiming he returned the files

and saw Larry Buckland leave the scene.

There never was a win on the Lottery.

You gave him the money

to open the artisan bakery

he'd always dreamed of

to soothe his ticklish conscience.

And it worked

for eight years.

Until by a remarkable twist of fate,

he was confronted by the son of the

man whose life his lies had ruined.

Poor Malcolm.

You were worried he was gonna crack,

confess everything,

so, you told him to arrange a meet-up

and you went along to keep him on track.

You told him to stop along the way,

didn't you, Mr Davies?

Why are we stopping here?

To talk through what you were gonna say.

This is all your fault.

YELLS

Aiden! Aiden!

SILENCE

Do you have a shred of evidence

to support this story, Detective?

You have less than 11 hours

to charge my client

or to let him go.

He's right, of course.

We don't have enough to charge him.

We'll look again at the m*rder weapon

now we've got his fingerprints,

but I don't hold out much hope.

SHE SIGHS What about the car?

It's his husband's vehicle,

his DNA will be all over it.

The professor has an idea.

Jasper? Let me talk to him.

Perhaps his own lies

in conjunction with the evidence

will uncover the truth.

Surprisingly commodious

though I might not think so if,

like you,

I was destined to spend

the next 30 years in one.

It is switched off, Mr Davies.

There is no way of proving

that the conversation

we are about to have actually occurred.

You can continue to make no comment

on the criminal acts

that led to your arrest,

as is your right under the law.

And you may be fortunate.

The police could fail

to find sufficient evidence

to make the case against you.

It is more likely, however,

that they will uncover what they need

to link you to the scene

of your husband's m*rder.

A sharp object forced

into human flesh at close range

produces what is known

as blood splatter

a sanguineous miasma of tiny droplets

that leaves thousands

of microscopic stains

on anything it comes into contact with.

Who knows?

With advances in forensic science,

they may even find a trace

of Sunil Mehta's blood

on that charming paper knife

you keep on your desk.

Then there is the money,

and your implausible story

of a lottery win.

It should not take much to disprove it.

You would make a fascinating case study

for my students, Mr Davies.

Disagreeable, litigious,

quick to take and give offence,

unburdened by moral scruples.

I do not need Eysenck to tell me

that you are a neurotic extrovert,

capable of icy self-control

and great calculation.

And calculation is what is now required.

Should you stick

with your current strategy,

say nothing and hope for the best?

Or twist, and plead guilty

to the manslaughter of your husband?

As your former neighbours

have testified,

you have proved you are able

to impersonate someone

with agreeable personality traits.

It should not be beyond you

to convince a jury of your peers

that you were psychologically

terrorised by your husband

to stop you revealing

what you knew about his involvement

with Sunil Mehta's m*rder.

If that is the case, Mr Davies,

then you acted in self-defence.

Thank you.

DOOR SHUTS

For the record, can you confirm

that to your certain knowledge,

your husband Malcolm Davies

is guilty of the m*rder

of Sunil Mehta

and that he gave false witness

at the trial of Larry Buckland

eight years ago?

Mr Davies - for the record, please?

Yes. "Yes" what?

My husband k*lled Sunil Mehta.

And did you, Aiden Davies,

in fear of your own life

and the lives of others,

k*ll Malcolm Davies

on the ninth day of this month?

Yes.

I k*lled my husband.

SNIFFS

Of course,

what Aiden failed to calculate

is that sending death threats

to your own husband,

someone you later confess to k*lling,

suggests premeditation on his part.

It will definitely make it

more difficult

to plead manslaughter

rather than m*rder.

Or to persuade a jury to acquit him.

I think we've got him.

Has the paper knife

been sent to forensics yet?

Just now, Ma'am. They think

there's a good chance of DNA.

You never know, we might even get him

for Sunil Mehta's m*rder as well.

Great work, Donckers.

Mostly the professor's, Ma'am.

Lisa? Yeah?

I'm, erm, thinking of putting you

forward for promotion.

There have been times

when your constant need to question

has seemed a little bit

like insubordination,

but I think more recently, you've

been making the right call

more often than not.

Ma'am?

Well, like today,

and on the Tidswell case,

when you worked so well

with Professor Tempest

to get the investigation

back on track, despite my orders.

You know, this isn't, erm

This isn't for public consumption,

but DI Rabbit has put in a request

for leave of absence

while he sorts out

the child custody arrangements

for his granddaughter.

Mum's the word, Ma'am.

So I'll be looking for

a temporary head of department.

You've passed your inspector's exams,

and I think you'd make

an excellent candidate.

You know,

change can be challenging, Lisa

especially for those

we're closest to.

Something to think about, maybe.

Of course.

Are you going somewhere, Ma'am?

I'm, er, on a dinner date.

It's just an old friend.

SPEAKERPHONE: 'My darling boy.' Mother.

'The great giver of gifts.

'To what do I owe this latest honour?'

I was wondering if you could advise me

on the best way to open an oyster?

'With a knife, Jasper.'

Yes, I surmised as much.

'Could I trouble you to be

a little more specific?'

It's all in the wrist, darling.

Prise and wiggle.

'Wiggle and prise.'

You didn't take me literally,

darling, did you,

when I had my little joke

about pearls and champagne?

Of course not, mother.

Then you must be going to

all this effort for someone else.

'I hope you've thought this through,

Jasper.'

You know what they say about oysters.

DOORBELL RINGS

Showtime!

A gentleman always takes a lady's coat.

And you should offer champagne

as an aperitif.

Of course.

Would you like a glass of champagne?

Sparkling water, please. I'm driving.

Ah.

BOSSA NOVA PLAYS

You do not like oysters?

I'm a little surprised you do.

It is part of my exposure therapy

to systematically desensitise

by embracing phobic stimuli.

Right.

Besides, I am reliably informed

that they are

Nutritious and utterly delicious.

SHE SLURPS

SHE GROANS WITH PLEASURE

SHE CHUCKLES

You can't go wrong with them.

Jasper.

What's the idea behind all of this?

What's it all about?

Do you think that I have a problem

with women, Christina?

SHE GUFFAWS

I think you have a problem with

everyone you've ever encountered.

SHE CHUCKLES

I think that's a question

for you and your therapist.

Mm-hm.

Ah, ah!

No shop talk.

I found these old photographs.

I wondered if it might

bring you pleasure to see them.

SHE LAUGHS

SHE CHUCKLES

SHE CHUCKLES

You could make a woman very happy.

I've been trying to find

a time to tell you.

I've started seeing someone.

I need not ask whom.

Simon is very thoughtful

and very considerate. I

I think you might like him.

Simon is an unknown quantity,

and you cannot possibly know him.

I believe you to be

foolishly infatuated.

You are not in a position

to lecture me on my private life.

And you are definitely not qualified

to make that kind of a statement.

Good night, Jasper.

That's Aunty Charnette.

And her daughter Laura-Leigh.

Charnette.

Yeah, Dad, your sister.

And that's you and Mum,

looking about 15.

And there's me.

The proudest day of my life.

What about your wedding?

The proudest day of my life.