02x05 - Episode 5

[bunniefuu]

{\an8}James called me today, tried to stop
the interview,

{\an8}told me you were in
immediate danger.

Do I know you?

Helena Moss?

Weren't you friends with, er...?

-Joanne Kemper?
-Yeah.

I got her talking about Ryan Oakley.

I got her to write Dominic Kennedy.

You didn't use your real name,
did you?

Aren't they lovely?

It really is a game.

Our turn, her turn!
Our turn, her turn!

Ms Betts?

How is he, your husband?

-He's away at the moment on a case.
-Where?

-Knight's Path.
-What did you say?

It's a two-word phrase from a small
portion of a document

that I'm pretty sure was encoded
by James.

-Mandy Ziegler!
-Chief's daughter.

DCI Carter's fiance.

-What?
-Sometimes it feels like you're not telling me everything.

I think it's time we met in person.

PATRONS CHATTER

COUGHING

-Jonathan?
-Jonathan, you all right, mate.

Mate?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

{\an8}She had a kind face.

{\an8}Not sure where she got that.

Mandy shared a lot online,

but it's all pretty normal stuff.

He looks different.

That's what pre-loss looks like.

John, there's no way we could've
got this wrong, is there?

Could it be a coincidence

that James wrote down the name
of the road

Chief Constable Ziegler's daughter
died on in code -

and Joanne Kemper, our chief suspect
for a whole string of murders,

visibly reacted when she heard it?

-Yes.
-Very, very, very unlikely.

Yes, but it doesn't fit the pattern.

Mandy has no connection
to any of this.

I mean, what are we saying?

That her father helped cover up
her death,

like he did all the others?

He may well have done, yes.

Russell is not going to
take this well.

That's beyond putting it mildly.

-How can I tell him?
-Well, you can't.

Not yet.

I mean, look, he's not
on to this thread.

He still thinks Joanne Kemper
is just some witness

we're trying to get intel from.

Well, I've slightly alluded

to our thinking she's a baddie.

How slightly?

I-I pretty much said

we think she's responsible
for several murders.

What on earth did you do that for?

The conversation just sort of
naturally flowed that way,

and I trust him.

Oh. Oh, right.

Well, that's lovely that you get
to off-load onto someone.

Who do you think I get to do
that with?

-Don't say you!
-But...

Don't say Henry.

-Probably nobody.
-Probably nobody!

PHONE RINGS

-That might not be him.
-It is obviously going to be him.

It is, isn't it?

-Hello?
-John, I need you at a scene.

It's on Hazelton Street.
It's called Pazuru sushi.

-ASAP.
-Er, OK, yes, I can probably...

John, you need to be here
within 20 minutes

before the super gets here.

You can do it in 15,
but you need to leave now.

Tell Lucy she can run red lights.

I most certainly will not
tell Lucy that,

but your urgency is noted.

You need to take me to a sushi bar.

What will you most certainly
not tell me?

I'm not telling you.

Did he give me permission
to run red lights?

-There's no such thing as permission to run...
-Yes!

There's no such thing as permission
to run red lights!

That last one was definitely
not amber!

What are you doing?

We're going to see DCI Carter.

John!

Actually, on second thoughts,
goodbye.

-Er, just...
-What are you doing?

Yeah, fine.

Hello, ma'am.

W-What are you doing here?

I'm heading up a m*rder
investigation

because I've had to remove my
senior detective from it.

DCI Carter called me and...

Well, you obviously weren't
quick enough,

because now I'm here and he's not.

What do you know, John?

Know, ma'am?

Do you know why DCI Carter was here
during the m*rder

and who he was with?

You will have... No, you do have
my personal guarantee

-of protection.
-All right, yeah.

That's nice. And what about everyone
else around me

who keeps dropping down dead
and vanishing

every time I open my mouth?

Nobody knows you're here.

OK, nobody's going to disappear,
and nobody is going to...

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

OK. Clearly, you know nothing.

That's mildly reassuring,
at least.

Don't ever play poker, John,
will you?

Matt Neville? My brother's
old partner?

Where is he?

He's at the station in
an interview room.

He's now a witness to a m*rder,
as is DCI Carter...

who called YOU before me.

I'm sure that wasn't favouritism,
ma'am.

Although that's probably not
what you were...

Ahem!

We have a crime scene consultant.

Let's get him straight up to speed,
please.

-Is that a conveyor belt?!
-Don't touch anything!

But it's a conveyor belt!

DC Sullivan.

Yeah. Er, our victim's name
was Jonathan McQuade.

He was here on a working lunch
with the rest of his team.

Postgrad data analyst.

University sponsored.

They advise companies on trends.

Apparently this was
a regular thing -

working lunch in here
every single Friday.

It's all right for some, innit?

We have a very nice canteen,
Constable.

Yes, we do.

DCI Carter was present.

Corner table.
Him and a buddy of his.

A DI Matt Neville.

Never heard of him.

There's no reason you would have.

Well, that explains that, then.

Right. Er, midway through lunch,
Jonathan gets up and collapses.

Everyone rushes over.

One of the chefs calls an ambulance.

Our DCI announced himself,

tried to get everyone
to stop crowding.

He still had a pulse. Faint.

I doubt he or anyone else thought
it was anything other than

sudden heart attack or
an allergic reaction.

He died in the ambulance.

We were alerted on arrival
he had visual signs

of Aconitine poisoning.

-Blue lips.
-It's since been confirmed.

He ingested monkshood.

In extract form.

Deadly and fast-acting.

So he ingested it here, then?

Yeah, our DCI was waiting on
a green tea, apparently.

He and DI Neville hadn't eaten.

But the rest of them, I mean...

So the conveyor belt was involved?

And it was on, was it?

And all of this stuff kept going
round and round, did it?

And all of the suspects were
sitting here, were they?

Please don't touch anything.

Why would I touch anything?

I don't want to get poison on me.

Although these have all been
eaten from,

and nobody else is dead.

So we're looking for one
poisoned dish,

preceded and succeeded by multiple
non-poisoned ones,

with only the k*ller knowing
which is which.

Fair enough. But how did they know
that the intended victim

would take it?

I don't know. I've only been here
two minutes.

But I guarantee you that DCI Carter
and DI whatever-it-was

were not connected or involved
in any way.

OK. I don't think it occurred
to any of us that they were.

Well, then, you have excellent
instincts.

Because whoever the k*ller was,

they had to have been sitting
around this conveyor belt.

Your tie...

LUCY MUTTERS

Oh...

No.

What blasts from the past are you
looking for today, then?

Er, a fatal car crash that took
place on Knight's Path

on the 2nd of February, 2024.

I told you, we don't have anything
beyond 2014.

-May the 6th...
-Oh, here it is.

Huh.

Must've been because the bins
were full that week.

You do know the actual story
of the crash

will be in the next day's paper,
though?

g*dd*mn it!

Why don't you just tell me
what this is all about?

I mean, you do realise I've pretty
much figured it out

from all the stuff you bang on about
whenever you descend upon me.

I doubt that you have.

OK, how's this?

It sounds like you have
a detective husband

who, for some reason or another,
you have misplaced.

Your brother-in-law is trying
to help you find him.

And unless I'm completely off
the mark,

I'm pretty certain you seem to think
that our local MP

once drowned someone in a hot tub

and then tried to run someone over
with a car?

Arranged a car accident.

Mm.

Well, that would've been
my second guess.

You don't seem very shocked.

I started on the Sunday Sport.

I'm not making this up, you know?

Well, why don't you just stop
coming here

and go and prove it and get yourself
a lucrative book deal?

I don't want a lucrative book deal.

I want my husband back.

He is really missing?

You can't tell anybody.

Who am I going to tell? My mum?

Lucy, whatever you say to me...

is off the record as long as
you say it's off the record.

-Off the record?
-Mm-hm.

The golden rule of journalism.

I got John to pretend to be James
for two weeks.

But then the whole ruse fell apart
when I was framed

for a m*rder I didn't commit
by the criminal partner

of an IT consultant who,
independently,

was blackmailing everybody else
involved.

I mean, it's pretty much
all blown over now,

apart from the whole
serial k*ller MP thing.

Oh, the relief...

of finally telling somebody
all that

who isn't a Taylor!

Could I write a book about it?

No! No, not in the bloody middle
of it.

No.

PHONE RINGS

-Unless it's important...
-Matt Neville's here.

-What?
-Well, not "here" here.

I'm standing in the doorway of
a restaurant,

about to interview some
data analysts

with the Chief Superintendent.

But here in Cambridge,

drinking green tea with DCI Carter.

Russell doesn't even know
Matt Neville.

-Who's Matt Neville?
-Sh.

-Who's that?
-You sh, too. Sorry.

I-I'm just trying to work out
what's going on.

-Where are they?
-At the station.

Their choice of clandestine
meeting place

inadvertently turned out
to be a crime scene.

And now they're both recorded
witnesses

and their meeting isn't quite
so clandestine any more.

The Super's ever so cross.

Oh, now here come the white people
to take all the food.

What?

I'd better go.

None of his colleagues actually
know he's died yet.

I bet one of them does.

We should tell them collectively.

Then perhaps whoever it is will be
so bad at faking shock

we can wrap the whole thing up
there and then.

Mm.

He died on the way to the hospital,

and we are treating it
as suspicious.

I can't believe it.

You must be joking.

Wait, so someone did this?

-It makes no sense.
-No.

That didn't help.

Can anyone here think of a reason

why someone might want to target
Jonathan McQuade?

No, he's the most junior member
of the team.

-Only graduated a year ago.
-Wait, sorry.

Who said he was targeted?

According to you, any one of us
could have taken that plate.

Oh, God. I think I'm going to be
sick.

Oh, no, I don't mean...

If you'd been poisoned,
you'd be dead.

That much we do know.

Why couldn't it have been one
of the chefs?

We're not ruling anything out yet.

But don't you all come here
every single Friday?

Unless you always cause some sort
of ruckus,

it would be a strange move for the
chefs to poison one of you.

Not a big fan of motives in general,
but most murders do have one.

-Well, none of us do.
-I bet you do.

I mean, not necessarily you.

We're being hunted.

Hunted?!

Say that again, Ms Bako.

Big company in Washington, DC.

Election analysis firm.

They've been looking into us,
head hunting.

We don't actually know that.

Yes, we do.

Well, we do. All of us do.

Whom exactly were they looking into?

We don't know.

You get wind of them sniffing about,
start picking up the signs.

Look.

This department's a pretty
established launching pad.

A big American firm snatches up
at least one postgrad a year.

And was Jonathan McQuade a strong
candidate for this year?

I see.

Who was sitting next to him?

I was.

Er, me, too.

If it wasn't for the possibility
of a double bluff,

that would actually count
in your favour.

Do you always take the same seats?

Er, no. Just whatever order
we come in, really.

Presumably you always eat the same
things, though?

Of course we don't.
Who does that?

You don't?

You sit somewhere different
every time

and you eat different things?

Well, that's my only working theory
out the window.

Don't suppose you've got one,
have you?

LUCY WHISTLES

LUCY GASPS

{\an8}LIFT BEEPS

Come on!

- LIFT:
- Doors closing.

Lucy, how did you...?

How did you get up here?

Nobody stopped me. You need
to have a word.

This is supposed to be
a police station.

How long have you been in touch
with Matt Neville?

Not long.

RUSSELL SIGHS

OK, fine.

I cashed in a lot of favours
to track him down.

Why?

Come on. We're all doing
the same thing here,

for the same reason.

Oh, I'm sorry!

I'm sorry!

I didn't realise that your husband
had gone missing as well!

We're all working the
same case here,

whatever our reasons, Lucy.

I've known Matt for nearly
ten years.

I was at his wedding.

I was basically his bridesmaid.

When I tracked him down, he slammed
the door in my face.

So I would love to know
what you said to him

that made him want to come down here

and have a cosy mid-morning
cup of tea with you.

I offered him £10,000.

You...? You what?

-Hi, thank you.
-Thank you very much.

He's been fleeing around
with his wife and kid,

not accessing any accounts
or using any bank cards.

I figured he could really do
with £10,000.

-Have you got £10,000?!
-Yes, thank you.

Savings I didn't get to spend
on a life

I never got to live, OK?

Happy?

Look, I came here to move on.

But instead, I get dragged into some
big game already in play.

So I'm sorry, but I do not need
a missing husband

to want answers.

-Well, did you get any?
-No, I didn't even get my tea.

So where is he?

RUSSELL SIGHS

He's being held downstairs
in an interview room,

waiting for the Super,

being kept away from me
on the grounds

of not contaminating statements.

OK, let me talk to him.
I can talk to him.

I don't have a statement
to contaminate.

I mean, he's not under arrest, OK?

Carol! She's not going to let you
talk to him!

She's probably never going to let
you do anything ever again,

probably.

Please!

Hi, could you tell DI Matt Neville

that I've got somebody
that wants to...?

Gone?

How long ago?

OK, thank you. Thank you,
thank you.

-He doesn't even have a car!
-Yes, but maybe he can run fast.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me!

Are there any other exits?

No, we work in a giant
steel deathtrap.

-Yes, there are loads.
-I'll find him.

Do you think I could borrow
your sports car?

No, I'm not that desperate.

OK, let's go. Let's go.
You can sneak out back.

DCI Carter, I very much would like
a word with you,

-if you don't mind?
-Of course, ma'am.

Can I have one as well?

No, you can do your job.

Let's go.

Any time today.

What a handy set of suspect photos.

What do they do, these people?
Analyse data?

I don't even know what that means.

Who doesn't analyse data?

Well, that's one of hundreds
that they designed.

Generalised personality
questionnaires

tailored for specific company needs.

That one's for a phone company,

to help them predict upgrade uptake.

-By asking people if they own a pet?
-I don't know how it works.

I presume it does. Who is actually
leading this one now?

-I think it's me, isn't it?
-Obviously not you.

Can't be, can it?

Er...

-M-Maybe.
-I need to see those pictures you took

of all the food.

You went around taking photos of
all the food

before the men in white came.

This just looks like most people's
Instagram.

-What are you expecting to find?
-I don't know.

There's bound to be something.

Why? Why is that bound to be
something?

Because I've never come across
a perfect m*rder yet.

Wait, what was that?

M-Make it go left again.

And now make it go all close.

Zoom.

There! See?

A napkin with writing on it.

Napkins don't usually
have writing on them.

Is this stuff all in evidence?

Can you go and get me this napkin?

No, I can't, and you're not
in charge.

You can't be.

You don't even have a rank.

But it might help solve the m*rder.

-A napkin?
-People write important things on napkins.

Pac-Man was created on a napkin.

Bye!

I'll see if they've got it, yeah.

SULLIVAN LAUGHS

There you are, you slippery
little man.

Matt!

Matt!

-Get in the car.
-No.

What are you doing? What are you
getting out for...?

I will headbutt you, Matt!

-Lucy, just...
-I will headbutt you!

Get in the car!

Normal.

You know nobody wins in a headbutt,
don't you?

COLE: - Hmm. Someone trying
to work out how to split the bill?

With single digits?

It's a high-end restaurant,
not a tuck shop.

I'm going to need you to show this
to the suspects.

Sorry, what are you ordering me
to do now?

Show it to the suspects!

If they all deny ownership,
then it's obviously important.

Then you could ring me.

Toxicology just confirmed it.

The poison was in a single bottle
of soy sauce.

Where's DCI Carter?

He witnessed a m*rder this morning.

He's gone home on advisement.

We need to do one-on-ones now
and start piecing together

the interpersonal relationships
of this lot.

Some will have suspicions
of their own.

So one poisoned item sent round
a conveyor belt

where, somehow, against the odds,
it reached its target.

Do you have enough to be getting
on with?

I've got this napkin.

Good.

Well, there's no point staying here.

You might as well head off and
get your brain working.

I think I'd rather...

DCI Carter can probably
give you a lift.

Oh, right. Yes.

-Wait, he's going home, too?
-Yeah.

Will you send me a picture of that,
please?

And don't forget to ring me
if none of them claim it!

Or if one of them does, hmm.

Bye.

You've got a lot of
explaining to do.

-Ring Lucy, ask if she's found Matt.
-I thought you found Matt?

Will you just ring her, please,
John?

I don't have her number.

PHONE RINGS

LUCY GROANS

-Hello?
-I'm with DSI Carter, who hasn't explained

anything at all yet and wants to
know if you've found Matt -

even though, personally,
I think he did.

Er, well, I drove round and round

and he was nowhere in the area,

so he must have got an Uber.

She drove round and round,

couldn't find him anywhere.

He must have got a...
What was that?

An Uber.

An Uber.

He didn't get an Uber, John.

He's the most paranoid man I've ever
met in my life.

He didn't get an Uber. He's the most
paranoid...

Yes, I heard. Look, I don't know
what to say to you, Russell.

It's hardly my fault, is it?

-She doesn't know what to say.
-Yeah, I heard.

He seems to concur.

Right. Well, anyway, I've got to go

because I'm picking Henry up
from school.

Henry's still going to school?

How long do you think
you've been gone for?

You're just all living normal lives
now, are you?

Hardly.

MATT SIGHS

-Hi, Uncle Matt.
-All right?

Er, I think you'd better get
in the back.

What's he doing here?

It's just here.

Yes, I know it's here, John.

Huh! Nobody claimed the napkin.

I did tell him to ring me, though.

The Chief Super is recommending
a transfer.

Again.

Her solution to everything,
it seems.

I told her, "Get Chief Constable
Ziegler to sign it"

"in front of me and I'll leave
tomorrow."

Drive by his house every night.
There's no sign of him.

Call him in the day. Goes straight
to voicemail.

DI Neville will get in touch again.

He spooked,
but he needs the money.

And tell Lucy I'm sorry.

If it's any consolation,

she's quite annoyed with me
for telling you

our Kemper theory.

Actually, that is some consolation.
Thank you.

Lucy, this is insane.

You won't believe the day I've had.

Well, you'll believe some of it

because you were there, apparently.

Chief Superintendent Shaw
is at her wits' end.

Can't say I blame her.

None of us are behaving that well.

She's trying to force Russell out.

I don't think she wants to.

It's just a whole house of cards
thing now.

He's refusing, though.

She can hardly make him, can she?

Hello, Henry.

Chief Constable Ziegler remains
completely persona non grata.

Russell's still looking for him.

And absolutely nobody knows where
DI Matt Neville has gone.

Oh, there he is.

Er, dinner's ready.

NEVILLE CHEWS LOUDLY

Look,

I'd like to tell you everything.

But the thing is,

I really need that money that
the other guy's offering me.

You do know who that other guy is,
don't you?

He's... He was Mandy Ziegler's
fiance.

Is she related to the Chief
Constable or something?

Because he's in this up to his neck.

Er, yes. She's his daughter.

She died in a car accident.

I mean, it's obviously connected.

-You didn't know that?
-Brilliant, another one dead.

Are there any more, eh? Are we into,
like, double figures yet or what?

Hmm?

And you're just all sat here like
the Waltons every night?

Well, they do know we're on to them.

They don't seem to have
done anything yet.

Are you completely off your trolley?

I don't know where my husband is,
Matt.

-What is it that you know?
-Oh...

We get called to this m*rder.

It looked like it was a b*llet

straight to the back of the head.

It was later recorded
as a bludgeoning.

I knew the name.

Sinclair.

I actually used to read his blogs.

What, on purpose?

They're complete nonsense!

Then why did somebody sh**t him
in the back of the head?

Hmm? Rewrite our report,
frame a burglar

and then k*ll that burglar
inside a locked cell.

Got to open your mind a bit more.

Anyway, James, he started
putting together

the same connections
that Sinclair did.

The Super ordered us to drop it.

I don't know how she found out
what he was doing.

-Holly Pinder.
-What? The miserable IT woman?

Mm. Well, she's dead now.

Right. Are there any more
dead people

that I don't know about?

You don't actually seem
to know anything.

I know what happened next.

All right, yeah. See you in ten.

Get out of the car.

Get out of the car!

Now, listen to me!

I'll keep this simple.

You are transferring your job,

you are moving your family

and you are never contacting
DCI Taylor again.

All right.

I'm not threatening you, Neville.

I'm warning you.

Seems like you're threatening me.

- ON PHONE:
- Matt? Who is it?

Matt, what's happening?

Matt?!

Matt?

Do you know what scared me the most
that night?

Was how terrified HE looked.

And he was the one who almost put
my head through a car window.

And you left the next day?

Yeah, course I left the next day.

That Kemper family is connected.

And I mean seriously connected.

They have been for generations.
You can't investigate them.

You can't even stick a conspiracy
theory online about them

without getting a b*llet
in the head -

and it never showing up on
an official report.

So do you think the conspiracy
theory might be true?

Maybe.

Sorry, just to be clear,

this would be the one about
the family

committing ritual sacrifices
every decade

to maintain their power in society,
would it?

That's a theory.

What kind of detective are you?

Er, a bloody good one, actually!

Your brother couldn't solve anything
without me.

James left us. All of us.

At least you took your family
with you.

Oh, right, yeah. They're having
a lovely time, aren't they?

Hey? Not knowing where they're going
to be sleeping next week.

Meanwhile, you seem to be getting
rat-arsed on Shiraz.

Sorry, what are you implying, Matt?

What, that he did us a favour?

Well, none of you seem
to be very dead yet,

as far as I can see.

LUCY STRAINS

-Thank you for your help.
-Yeah.

I don't really want to stay here,
Lucy.

Yes, well, tough luck, Matt.

Currently a named witness
to a crime.

You can't just leg it again.

No, I can't do that, Henry,
so you'll have to do it.

I'm going to go and get
the blankets.

This is weird, isn't it?

You stood there, looking all
like James.

And your great big evidence board.

What's that?

It's a portion of a coded note
James had written

that was found on Holly Pinder's
computer.

Why, do you recognise it?

Nah.

He wrote loads of stuff like that.

He used to have a whole notebook
full of it.

Yes, we have it. It's useless.

Did you print that thing out?

Yeah. On the printer.

And that?

This is a clue from today's m*rder.

Clue?

Yes, a clue.

Murders have clues.

Everyone denies writing it,

so it obviously belonged
to the k*ller.

Try and solve it, then, will you?

Because I don't fancy staying here
two nights.

The, er... The sums look like
predictability odds.

The sort you get in a betting shop.

They do look like
predictability odds!

Well, what are they trying
to predict?

Who takes the poisoned shrimp?

You can't predict that from
a random selection

on a rotating conveyor belt.

Sure you can.

They are all data analysts.

Basically employed to predict
the future.

There you go, then.

What about the letters
on the second sheet?

{\an8}What do they mean, do you think?

Well, it's not a code.

It's probably some form of
shorthand, I think.

Probably related to the sums.

Must be related to the sums.

Crib notes?

You said they'd been
going there weeks?

Months!

Is it possible?

If you spend enough time
studying people,

gathering data, making notes,

could you eventually have enough
information

to be able to accurately predict
the order in which

people might take food items on
a particular given Friday?

Of course it is.

It's probably how they did it.

It probably is how they did it.

You're welcome.

What do you mean?

I'm the one who just worked
it all out.

Yeah. Yeah, sure you did.

They really are very similar,
aren't they?

And how was your evening?

Oh, you know, same old, same old.

John Taylor. Over here.

We had some one-on-ones yesterday.

They seemed slightly
more forthcoming

with their suspicions when
no-one else was there.

Yeah, to put it mildly.

Do you have any suspicions?

Ahem! Luca's been pretty cagey.

Then again, Luca always is.

I'd definitely look into Luca.

Of course, I have my suspicions.

-Abby.
-Milo.

Ruthless, cold as ice. Wouldn't put
anything past her.

God's gift to no-one.

In Italian, we would call him...

I actually went to Venice last year.
It was wonderful.

Has anyone been acting
strange recently?

-Farida.
-Abby.

She's such a try-hard.

COLE LAUGHS

I don't know if anyone was close
to him.

Er, I know who wasn't. Milo.

You want to look at Farida.

Under the radar, but nobody could be
that nice.

And, Luca, we get it -
you're continental.

LUCA SPEAKS ITALIAN

Could you...? Could you spell that,
please?

-C-O... Oh, him?
-Yes.

Dexter's a hot mess.

You want my opinion?
My honest opinion?

-Please.
-I wouldn't put it past a single one of them.

With friends like these,
who needs murderers?

They're just doing what comes
naturally to them,

tipping the odds in their favour.

Same reason Jonathan McQuade
had to die.

But how did they do it, John?

With a lot of data.

I'm talking months' worth on every
single person

sitting around that conveyor belt.

As impossible as it sounds,

the k*ller had calculated precisely
who would do what and when,

right down to selecting the only
fatal item.

Well, we don't really have months
to generate data.

Yeah.

Especially since they themselves
were using a cheat sheet.

Everything is in there somewhere,
somehow.

Maybe even the doodles mean
something.

Pictorial mnemonics are provenly
more effective

than text-based ones.

Did any of them own a dog?

We didn't think to ask.

Hmm.

OK, so I'm going to need you to go
over to their offices,

get four more copies of this,

and have each one of them
complete it.

Who are you talking to?

Whoever wants to do it.

Why don't you do it?

Why don't you do it, DC Cole?

-I'll do it.
-I didn't say I wouldn't do it.

Why don't you both do it?

Be quicker.

The k*ller does have an eight-month
head start.

You seem a lot more assertive
these days, John.

Sorry.

Well, this is awkward.

Suck it up.

We're both very disappointed
in you, Russell.

DI Neville won't be back.

I know him. I'm surprised you
managed to coax him out

in the first place.

What did you do, offer him money?

His name's going to be all over
those Pinder files,

you know that.

And now it'll be linked with yours
in a crime report as well.

Well, I'm here to be dismissed

whenever Chief Constable Ziegler
would like me to be dismissed.

Ahem. Er, do you know where
the Chief is, ma'am?

Just out of interest.

I think you both know I don't.

We really are going to share a cell
one day, aren't we?

Seems unlikely.

I'd imagine we'd probably be sent
to a men's prison, wouldn't we?

Yeah.

-Probably, John.
-Mm.

What are you doing?

Blue van parked up ten minutes ago.

Fella hasn't got out of it yet.

It's British Gas, Matt.

PHONE RINGS

Oh, they don't know where I am.

Just tell your wife you're alive.

Wives do tend to want to hear
this sort of thing.

Hello?

Yeah, yeah, fine.

I'm just in a sort of cheap,
little dirty motel.

I don't know.

Because I haven't got the money yet,
have I?

Look, no, listen, I'll definitely
get it.

Look, everything's going to be fine,
all right?

Stop worrying. Yeah.

All right. Love you, too.

Bye.

I really need that £10,000.

But you don't have any information
to sell.

You've told us everything.

You'd better bloody have told us
everything.

I have told you everything.

But I have got a little
thumb drive he gave me.

Badgers live in mixed sex groups...

GARETH SIGHS
..of between four and eight animals.

Hiya.

Have you got a key?

No, God. Why? Can I have one?

No, you can't.

I just need you to...

Sorry, just one second.

You can come in. Come in.
Just come in.

Er, I just need you to babysit
this guy for a bit.

You need me to what?

Yeah, he doesn't like to be
home alone,

and I need to pop to the station.

Where are we, exactly?

Oh, East Anglia Advertise.

I'm a journalist now.
This is my boss.

We like to call him The Skipper.

Nobody's ever called me that.

Don't worry, he doesn't know
anything.

-Are you Matt Neville?
-A little bit.

He knows a little bit.

Er, you're going to be fine.
You'll be fine, too.

- LUCY LAUGHS
- Right, I won't be long. Play nice.

All right?

Nobody refused?

Nobody looked nervous?

No.

What are you looking for, exactly?

Anything in here that tallies
with anything on there.

What, the...?

The doodles and the numbers?

Well, and the letters.

I mean, like this one.

Under exercise, she's put
"fortnightly step classes".

Those are her initials. Look what's
right next to them.

-Steps.
-Ah, and numbers.

See? Dates.



She had a step class yesterday.

Is that really going to affect
what she has to eat later?

Ah, and here, look.
OK, this is another one.

This is Dexter Hassan.

So DH.

Question about carbon footprints.

"How often do you drive to work?"

According to the questionnaire,

he car shares, alternating
every three days.

So, ah, I bet that tick means it
was his day to drive.

Is that really going to affect
what he eats later?

No, not on its own,
but Mr Taylor was right.

The k*ller had been studying them,
analysing them,

making secret notes on everything
about them.

And it's all up there.

Yes, it is.

You're really good at this.

Oh.

-Thank you.
-Well...

Bet I can find some, too.

No, I like the way yours matches
with your top.

Mine's... Mine doesn't really.
It's for the East Anglia.

So I see it was manned this time.

Did you have a little word?

Listen, do you know? I think we
should exchange numbers.

This is getting faintly ridiculous.

What are you doing here, Lucy?

So I know where Matt Neville is.

I can even give you the address and
a guarantee that he'll be there.

Right, great. Go on, then.

Well, you might have to pop
to the bank first.

I don't have to pop anywhere.

I've already got the money in cash
in an envelope.

You've already withdrawn it?!

OK, God, so you really were always
going to pay him?

OK. £10,000.

Russell, what is it that you really
know?

Know?

Suspect?

Off the record.

Look, has he got something for us
or not?

Shall I just start talking?

I usually just start talking.

Hello again.

Can I just say I'm not
remotely surprised

that this little academic pool
of yours

gets headhunted by big
American firms.

You're all extremely clever.

In fact, one of you would probably
be the ideal recruit -

if you weren't also a psychopath.

Eight months you've all been coming
here together, every Friday.

Do you know how many days that is?

- ALL:
- 34.



I suppose this really is your
sort of thing, isn't it?

That's 34 lunches

and 34 mornings leading up
to the 34 lunches.

That's a lot of potential intel
for a would-be poisoner

who wants to eliminate
the competition.

You've all been taking part
in an ongoing

observational experiment for the
better part of a year.

Everything you did every single
Friday,

from the moment you came in

to the moment you went home,

has been observed and recorded
by our k*ller -

including what you chose
for your lunch

and the order in which you chose it.

Allowing them only to add poison
to an item

that Jonathan was definitely
going to eat.

Then, like all good data analysts,

it was just a case of looking
for the patterns.

How do the decisions and actions
of the subject pre-meal

affect their choices mid-meal?

Was the vending machine stocked?

Did Luca's call go well?

Was the lift working that day?

Did Dexter waste more money
on scratchcards?

Seems impossible, doesn't it?

It does.

But it isn't, is it?

No, even the four of you who didn't
k*ll him know that, don't you?

There's very little about
human behaviour

that can't be predicted.

As long as you're good enough.

I don't usually flatter murderers,

but one of you was exceptional.

-Which one?
-Well, we can find out.

And ironically, given how much data
there is flying around,

we can do so with a primary school
level sum.

Detective Constable Cole?

Oh, just pop it on there.

BUTTON CLICKS

CONVEYOR BELT WHIRS

Oh.

Use the conveyor belt.

Ahem.

Thanks.

BUTTON CLICKS

It makes complete sense
that the k*ller

would make their notes on a napkin -

something that doesn't look
out of place.

They could remove it and bring it
back again

and ultimately dispose of it
at the scene,

assuming that all their intricate
calculations

would be ignored as a few sums
and doodles.

But see this one here?

This is last-minute.

Done quickly at the table

to work out the only factor

they couldn't find a way to predict.

Where everyone would be sitting.

Our k*ller needed to add the poison
to the dish

before it reached the victim,

and without anyone else
selecting it first.

All this data, all this analysis,

and at the end of the day,

it all came down to a few tiny
little last minute numbers.

How many other people were likely
to select the salmon?

What order were they sitting
in around the table?

And how many seats away from
the k*ller was the victim?

What's the answer to
that equation there?

-Four.
-Four.

One, two, three, four.

I knew you looked flattered!

You should be, too. You're obviously
very good at your job.

Do you mind giving us a sample of
your handwriting, Mr Gesalan?

I've got a sample of
his handwriting.

-Yeah, I do, too.
-Me, too.

Looks like the four non-murderers
are as keen

to get you out of the headhunting
sweepstake

as you were Jonathan.

More flattery.

I want to talk to an attorney.

Those are American. You won't be
needing one of those.

You're not going there any more.

Up you get.

How was that? Was that OK?

You did say you wanted
it done quickly.

DI Neville's name will
still be on that report.

We could do without that.

Yeah, we can't just take it off.

That would just create another
puzzle that someone

further down the line
will want to solve.

You know what people are like.

PHONE BEEPS

Oh...

Can I go home now, please?

-Yeah.
-Thanks, ma'am.

RADIO CHATTER

-Well?
-"Well" what?

Did you solve it?

Oh, yes, I did! It was Milo Gesalan.

Although, you won't know
who that is, so, er...

What are you doing here exactly?

Why am I being asked
to meet Matt Neville

at the East Anglia Advertiser?

Beats me.

I thought he was at our house.

HE SCOFFS

Really?

-OK.
-Can you give me a lift?

Yeah, of course.

Ooh, fishy crisps!

Do you think I'd like these?

I think... they're Scottish.

What?

-What's that got to do...?
-Oh, God!

Ludwig, hello.

I'm Gareth Fisher.
I'm a massive fan.

Massive... fan!

Lucy?

No, no, don't...
don't worry, he's cool.

-Yep, cool.
-Er, this is very much a safe space.

Hmm... No, it isn't.

Have you, er, got the money?

What have you got for me?

I knew it! I knew it!
I knew you had it!

I did try to pat him down.

What is it?

Look, I have seen your brother.

I've seen James
since he went missing.

Just one time.

We weren't meant to make contact,

but a few weeks ago,
he just called out the blue,

said he wanted to
meet for some reason.

Don't know what changed.

He said this was our insurance
policy if anything ever happened.

And that if anything
ever happened to him...

I should give it to you.

Me?

Sorry, if it's intended for me,
why are we paying £10,000 for it?

Ten grand?!

I'm not sure who this "we" is.

So I can buy a caravan! All right?

A static one in Cornwall.

It's an absolute steal.

And I've got me eye on a little
security job at the park there.

Happy days.

Look, I love James - and you -

but, seriously, none of you are
anywhere near as smart as you like

to think you are, or as
terrified as you should be.

The more you keep digging...

more people are going to die.

Just... Just give me
the thing, will you?

What's on it?

Don't know, it's
all code, innit? So...

But, if it helps, you do
already have some of it

on your board at home.

What?

Lucy, listen, you and Henry,

you should really consider
running away and hiding, yeah?

You, try and open your mind a bit.

Be a bit less snippy.

Nice to meet you, yeah?

Thanks for the money.

And I am... really sorry.

"Snippy"?!

That is the same one.

The whole thing.

If it was for you,
how did Holly get it?

How would I know? What does it say?

Give me a minute.

Why is there an old newspaper
here dated February 3rd 2024?

Oh, Russell, I think you know why.

Look, someone who spends
£10,000 on an answer

really, really wants an answer.

What is it that you know?

Suspect?

I've read the official accident
report hundreds of times.

Never questioned it.

Then I meet you, get dragged into...

this.

Want to know what it's about.

And do you know how many
questionable death reports

I've read since? All with that same
tone, same feel, that-that same...

Erm... Not-quite-rightness?

At least three.

A statistically significant
number of coincidences.

I know you can read that,
assuming you haven't already.

-I honestly haven't.
-Read it now.

Russell, do you know how Mandy's
connected to all this?

No. She can't have been.
What does it say?

Y-Your fiancee was on
her way to meet James.

What?

Mandy didn't know James.
What are you talking about?

She did know him.

She was supposed to
meet him that night.

He... He waited for her...

Why? What... What were they doing?

She had "unspecified evidence".

Of what?

Of her father's involvement
in all of this.

Oh, Russell...

DOOR OPENS

Russell!

DOOR CLOSES

Come on!

Let's go!

-Whose house is this?
-Who do you think?!

He's not there!
You said so yourself!

Ziegler! Open up!

BANGING CONTINUES

Stop him, will you?!

How am I supposed to stop him?!

-Ziegler!
-S-Stop it!

BANGING CONTINUES

Stop!

We can't be here.

Did I have a very detailed dream
about Chief Constable Ziegler

being m*rder*d and
us finding the body?

How could you do it?
Cover up your own daughter's death?

The Commissioner leapt on a


and that is absolutely
all the time I can buy.

I hope you have a very
good reason for this.

Chief Constable Ziegler
was m*rder*d last night.

Taylor, of course you'd be here.

He's dead.

I think I might need to
speak to a solicitor.

Joanne Kemper is innocent
and when she's released,

we'll start looking into
more viable suspects.

Is that a threat?!

John, what if James did it?

You can't think...

You do think it's possible, John.

You've already considered it.