02x03 - Dry Bones That Dream (1)

[bunniefuu]

You'll want overshoes, DCI Banks, it's like an abattoir in there.

Have frontal lobe on my instep.

As greetings go, DI Morton, I've had warmer.

Morning.

I'm thinking of starting a campaign anyone convicted of a serious crime committed during anti-social hours automatically gets another five years.

I'm sure your husband would agree.

Victim's daughter said the sh*t was fired around midnight, it took her four hours to get to a phone, so we had a lie-in.

Who found the body?

Ooh, that bad?

Pretty bad. Morning, Boss.

You'll need.

Overshoes, yes I know.

w*apon?

Shotgun, probably sawn off.

Definite ID?

Keith Andrew Rothwell, freelance accountant.

Why hasn't that been bagged?

We were waiting. For?

I like to be sure every scrap of intel is extracted on scene, before any goes to forensics.

I don't bag until the last minute.

Lives here with his wife. Last night was their 25th wedding anniversary.

And also the daughter, Hannah, 16, I spoke to her briefly.

Happy anniversary.

I trust we're circulating a description of the suspect. Or do you prefer to wait on that too?

DS Chapman put it out an hour ago.

What there was of it. You can call me Win, you know.

He was a big man, smelt musty, barely spoke. Sounds a bit like you, sir.

Techies on their way, Win.

So how much do accountants earn these days?

No sign of robbery.

Hannah says not, but we'll have Mrs Rothwell verify it when she gets up.

Gets up? Doctor says she wasn't ready to talk to us. Requested sedatives.

Though we'll need a good photo of Mr Rothwell.

Preferably from when he still had a head.

I'd wait.

Hannah Rothwell, DCI Banks, who I thought was resting.

Mum wanted me to keep an eye on things. Sorry, Hannah.

Sorry for your loss.

Do you remember what time the doorbell rang, Hannah?

Ten-ish, I thought dad was on his phone, as usual, and mum had forgotten her keys, so I answered it.

And then he pushed me inside.

Tied me up.

And put tape on my mouth.

Did he do anything else?

Just sat there, waiting.

And then he tied mum up, and dragged dad outside.

And it went very quiet, until...

Hannah, can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt your dad?

Not really, though I didn't know him that well, I mean we weren't exactly...

He works a lot.

Worked.

You'd better talk to mum, it's usually just me and her and...

Tom when he's around.

Tom?

My brother, he's travelling across America, but we're not exactly sure where he is, at the moment.

So you'd - Better talk to your mum.

Don't worry, we will.

Morning, both.

Morning, Ron.

Another day.

Another decapitated accountant.

Roadblocks have been set up on approaches to the airport, mainline stations, and major routes out of the area.

Extra resources have been made available, so anything you need, just let me know.

A few more hours in bed wouldn't go amiss. Those old bones starting to creak, Inspector?

You don't care about my body, you pay me for my mind.

You joining us for the briefing, Ron?

No, but I do want to be kept fully updated on progress, please.

Are you going to personalise this a bit?

Why?

Well - We're looking to get one of those interactive white boards now.

Yeah? Great.

Now? Now that we have a resident intelligence expert keeping us up-to-date.

If it ain't broke... New day, Alan.

We have to wipe the sleep from our eyes, and embrace it.

Can't afford to get left behind, isn't that right, DI Morton? Yes, sir.

Where are these extra resources coming from?

I've learnt not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

And neither should you.

Before, and after.

Gut reactions, what does this look like to you?

Sort of like a jelly baby, after its head's been bitten off.

'A hit. Blowing someone's head clean off with a shotgun is not as easy as it looks, you need to know you're doing. So the question is, why would someone take out a contract on a Yorkshire accountant?

'Depends if he's any good, or not.'

All right, lets start with the current client list.

There's not even a parking ticket on the system, he's been freelance for the last five years, 20 before that he was at Hatchard & Pratt, on the high street.

Get down there. We need to find out who Keith Rothwell was, and who benefits from his death.

And if he really bought that house by filling out tax returns.

We need to look at the whole family, so we need to locate Tom Rothwell asap.

Helen. Well, I'd like the Rothwells online history for the last three months, including what social media the kids have been using.

Quick result on this - Superintendent McLaughlin might even put a few quid behind the bar.

Should anyway, we need to welcome the new arrival.

Oh, no. I don't like pubs.

Banks.

On my way.

SOCO have found something.

This way, this way.

Yeah, this is a very fast moving enquiry.

At this stage I would simply urge anyone with any information to contact the police immediately.

Thank you.

That's the only comment I'm prepared to make at this stage, thank you very much.

I'll just get on, thank you.

See, I'm one of those weirdoes who only uses his phone to phone people.

Right.

You do all that, do you?

Social media.

Mmm.

You're not twittering now, are you?

Tweeting? No.

Only when I'm doing something, or I'm with someone really interesting.

Well, none of the stuff that I've seen qualifies as interesting.

Bored people typing, 'I'm quite hungry', when they could be making...

But it's about connections, DCI Banks, and that's what we do, isn't it?

We find them, we make sense of them.

Now that piece you just did to camera, it's already being watched on various platforms worldwide.

Can we drop the DCI Banks from this platform, please?

Boss is fine, or Alan, in the pub.

I don't - You don't like pubs.

It's wadding, once part of the shotgun cartridge.

Obviously you can buy them, but you can make your own.

And this is not commercial, looks like it might have been made from a magazine.

So why do it yourself?

To save money, or because you're a g*n enthusiast.

You got a magnifying glass?

Is that a...?

I think it is.

And that could be a -

Penis, DCI Banks.

First time I've seen one through a magnifying glass. You?

I'm more interested in the sub-machine g*n standing next to it.

Gained entry to the house, around 11pm, last night.

Police appealed for potential witnesses to come forward.

This is a very fast-moving enquiry.

At this stage, I would simply urge anyone with any information to contact the police immediately.

Thank you, that'll be all.

That's the only comment I'm prepared to make at this stage, thank you very much.

That's it. Can we just get on?

Thank you.

Boss.

Anything? Deliberately locked files on this one.

We've taken everything.

Well, liaise with DI Morton please.

Sure.

Well, I hope you're taking a note of everything that you take.

I really don't think there is anything else.

You can't come up with a single word about a man you worked with for two decades?

I've given you one.

Apart from ordinary.

Um... Keith was a bit tight, truth be told, with money.

Uh... but the fact is there is nothing to say about him, he kept himself to himself and uh...

I expect he had a lot to put up with.

Why?

Have you met Mary?

She's very particular. Proud, I suppose you'd say.

At least she gets adjectives.

Did you socialise with the Rothwells?

Not really. Not at all after he... after he left.

Uh, but I've known Mary most of my life. Mr Hatchard, our founder, my uncle's partner, he was her dad.

Is that how Keith got the job?

Through Mary?

Nothing wrong with that, is there?

There you go, Keith's client file from the time he left us.

Why did he leave you?

You'll find out anyway, won't you?

He was asked to go, in the end.

Sacked, I supposed you'd say.

The restaurant was average, it was Keith's choice.

He had carbonara, which was unusual, he usually had Bolognese.

I had a lasagne. We're more interest in last night's events after you arrived home, Mrs Rothwell.

I thought Hannah had covered that.

Can I ask you then about your husband's business dealings?

You can, but I don't know anything.

Still. Keith was an accountant, he didn't... Well, I didn't pretend to be interested, and he didn't expect me to.

What about aside from the accountancy?

Are you aware of any sidelines that he may have had?

If you're looking for skeletons, my husband's cupboard will prove disappointing.

He had no vices, he hardly drank, never even smoked.

We're simply trying - You're wondering if this was all paid for legitimately.

Well, Keith was good at what he did, and he was always... careful with money.

He'd never even holiday abroad, he preferred the Yorkshire coast.

What about you, Mrs Rothwell, were you satisfied with that?

We hadn't been away together for years.

Do you expect this to make the newspapers?

Yes. Yes, we hope so. Given that we are trying to catch the k*ller.

You've managed to gather yourself remarkably quickly, Mrs Rothwell.

And you consider yourself a sensitive reader of people, Detective?

Only Hannah said you first spoke to her whilst wiping her father's brain off your shoe.

Shame you weren't awake to look after her. DI Morton!

Excuse us.

It's worth remembering that, irrespective of anything else, she has just lost her husband, and Hannah her father.

Why don't you make sure the local intelligence gathering is being handled properly?

I don't call going door to door intelligence gathering.

Them make up a name for it, and I'll meet you back at the station.

I'm sorry about that, Mrs Rothwell.

Is this postcard from your son?

May I?

Yes.

Is this the last communication that you had from him?

Yes.

And how long has he been away?

Three-and-a-half months.

18 years old, travelling on his own, you must miss him.

Of course.

And your husband?

Well, Keith was never much for discussing his feelings, but yes, I imagine so.

So Tom leaving his father's name off this, sent ten days ago, is just an oversight?

You'd have to ask him.

We will, when we find him.

You seem very protective of your son.

Very protective of both my children, Inspector.

Despite what some may think.

He hated him.

They hated each other, as far as I could see. You sure you don't want a drink?

No, I'd like to get this done as quickly as possible, for your daughter's sake, thanks.

That's all I know, really.

I only cleaned there a few months.

But long enough to witness regular arguments, between Mr Rothwell and his son.

Hear 'em, anyway.

You couldn't help it.

And were they about anything in particular?

Don't know, it wasn't like I had time to stand and listen.

I was too scared to stop for a second. Everyone up there was scared.

Scared of what?

Of her. Mrs Rothwell.

You felt sorry for him. It was like he was trying to keep out of the way all the while.

In his own house.

Ready for an update?

You're keen.

Anything on the wadding, Ken?

Within the hour, boss. We're still waiting on the techies too.

And I thought the whole point of computers was that they were faster than this.

Right, Keith Rothwell was notoriously mean, but there had to be something more.

I strongly suspect you'll find specialist p*rn, or reference to it, on his machines.

It could well be that that's where he was making his real money.

Which now all goes to Mary Rothwell.

If pushed I'd say either she, or the son, or both of them, hired our sh**t, who used that wadding to make some kind of point.

You think that Rothwell had it in him to get involved in something illegal?

Win? He was sacked from H&P for fiddling timesheets.

Could have been stuck off if Mary hadn't stepped up and asked Daddy's firm to keep quiet and protect his reputation.

So, almost certainly domestic, possibly with a bit of dirty money.

That's my instinct.

I mean, America is awake now, so it's just a matter of time before we find Tom Rothwell.

Could well be a long day, but I reckon we'll have a result by the end of it.

Excellent work, Inspector. You going along with this, I presume.

Well, we haven't really...

DCI Banks - A bit formal.

Settling in all right?

Yes, very well. In fact, it was Helen, doing good old-fashioned door-to-door enquiries who confirmed Mary Rothwell hadn't exactly been truthful to us about relations between father and son.

Helen, what have you got there?

It's from the press office.

They've had a call about the photograph, in the first editions of the Post.

Of Keith Rothwell?

The man we found in the garage.

Keith Rothwell. Not according to a woman in Leeds.

She say that this is someone called Robert Calvert.

It must be difficult for you.

Moving to a different department, getting used to new people.

Say if it was me, I'd just say, "You're not fitting in very well, are you?"

Have you heard from DS Cabbot?

Yes, she's doing well.

You must miss her.

Of course.

But we all have to carry on, or else...

Annie's a good colleague.

And what exactly makes a good colleague, do you think?

DCI Banks.

You actually want me to tell you how to fit in?

Well, um... Suffer a trip to the pub for a start.

Using nicknames is good, or at least don't refer to your colleagues by their rank all the time.

cr*ck a joke or two, preferably at someone else's expense.

Buy a round of coffees, it's really not... rocket science.

What's this?

It was found in Rothwell's jacket.

He put spent matches back in the box.

Turned round the other way from the live ones.

Mary Rothwell wasn't wrong when she said that he was careful.

She also said that he didn't smoke.

In her 70s, smells of sprouts, only talks to cats.

Oh, hi. Yeah, come in.

Yeah, it's him.

Robert Calvert? Yeah.

You're absolutely sure.

We were in a relationship for six months.

So, have they printed the wrong picture?

We gave it to them, Miss Jefferies.

It's Keith Rothwell.

He was sh*t dead in the early hours of this morning.

When did you last see him?

About four months ago.

Did you know that he was married?

Not that it would have necessarily mattered.

Could you describe what he was like?

He was fun, funny.

Adventurous.

Makes sense, his being married.

I travel a lot, and there was a limit to what we could offer each other, maybe that's why it worked.

Except you split up?

Because I got the feeling that I wasn't the only one, and married or not, all I asked was that he was with me when we were together.

Have you got any photographs of you together?

No, why?

What do you do, Miss Jefferies?

Play the clarinet, Inspector.

You don't believe me, do you?

That's why you want to see photos.

Where did you meet?

Leeds town hall, at a Tchaikovsky recital.

Robert loved music.

All different kinds of music.

You played in these concerts?

Yeah.

You've performed at Sydney Opera House? Yes.

Yeah, I hope to again in a couple of months. Budapest first. I leave in a few days.

You didn't strike me as a classical musician.

Whereas you do strike me as a policeman.

I thought you lot did courses on not judging books by their covers.

Is there any reason why you don't have a very high opinion of us, Miss Jefferies.

Have you had previous dealings with the police?

No, but I do tend to try and avoid people who choose to spend their days being suspicious of others.

Ella Fitzgerald.

Wasn't enough that she was a world class singer, she played the clarinet. And the trumpet. Yes.

Win, can you give me a minute, please? Thanks.

He had a flat.

Do you think you could take us there?

Yeah.

Rothwell's computer files have been unlocked. There's no p*rn, there's just pages of numbers and letters.

They're being analysed now, but I think they are account details.

There's one code that appears on most of the documents, NCLF LS1.

There's a solicitor in Leeds, LS1.

His name's Norcliffe. I thought while you were in town...

Can you text the address to Helen?

That's great work, Win.

Cheers. Ken wants to talk to you.

Dirty squad have sent a sample of the material that the wadding came from.

It's Dutch hard-core, pretty niche.

Gynaecology meets a*t*matic weapons, and it's at least ten years old.

I mean, most of this stuff you can get online now, apparently.

Contact cyber crime, tell them that you need a list of relevant sites, and start requisitioning databases.

You want payment details, as well as user names.

Most men won't give their actual identities.

I'm sure Ken doesn't need an intelligence expert to tell him that.

First exotic companions, now g*n p*rn. Do I look like a sexual deviant?

Yes. Yes.

Yes.

Win, we also need everything you can get on a Robert Calvert, please?

Right. And Pamela Jefferies.

Will do.

Thanks, Win.

Right, see you later.

There you go.

Thank you.

It's probably best not to touch anything.

He had a complete tin ear.

He loved listening.

Hmm.

Mr Norcliffe is not in any kind of trouble, is he?

Would you be surprised if he was?

Of course.

It's Robert.

And was this Robert as well?

And was he man who left his CDs in a mess, or one who put spent matches back in the box.

You don't seem very worried, Mrs Graves, considering you haven't heard from Mr Norcliffe since yesterday.

He's the boss, he does what he likes.

And does he often do what he likes?

He's out of the office a lot, yes.

And you don't always ask where he is even though you're his secretary?

It's why I'm his secretary.

So this is nothing unusual?

He does answer his phone to me, usually.

But he hasn't today?

Faster on the train, and the music's better.

Did you see any CDs or records at the Rothwells?

Why?

You left a search team at Norcliffe's?

Yeah, and we're running his mobile numbers now. Nobody honest needs three phones.

Also...

Alan, I believe you already know DCI Stuart Burgess from SOCA.

Yes.

And this is DI Helen Morton, joined us recently...

From regional Intelligence, we've heard good things.

Tell us about Norcliffe, Alan.

No sightings of him after he left his regular restaurant, three hours before the m*rder.

Searching is underway, although obviously he has a start on us, locating him is now a top priority alongside our gunman, and Tom Rothwell.

We've found him, I was about to tell you, in San Diego, through Facebook.

He's been advised to return.

You'll have to explain to Banksy what Facebook is.

I assume this is where the extra resources came from.

So why are SOCCA sending people down to the death of an accountant?

You know who this is, I presume?

Martin Fleming. Salt-of-the-earth politician who'd have you believe MP stands for man of the people.

And subject of a two-year investigation into serious fraud and money-laundering of fences.

Don't tell me that you voted for him.

Of course you did, he's right up your street.

Everyone's in it for themselves in the end, Banksy.

You'd know.

It seems that Mr Fleming was at Cambridge with one Daniel Norcliffe.

Any connection gets flagged up on our system, including your headless accountant.

Norcliffe would have needed certain expertise to set things up for Fleming.

A non-entity like Rothwell would have been perfect.

Until he didn't need him anymore.

I don't know. I don't care, for that matter. We're in it for the big fish, we don't need you disturbing the waters by chasing Norcliffe and your sh**t.

That's why I'm here, make sure you keep us up-to-date, and stay well away from Martin Fleming.

As I said, DCI Burgess, we're happy to cooperate.

Yes, I can see that.

You wouldn't know it, but Banksy and I are old friends. We trained together.

Interestingly, he seemed to like me less and less the more I got promoted.

At some point Detective Burgess started hunting personal glory, rather than real criminals.

Yes, one could never accuse you of hunting glory. No of fence.

Well, don't worry, we'll give Fleming a wide berth, but I'll also give him the benefit of the doubt. Not only because, given the severity of the crime we're investigating... but also because it's perfectly possible that he's a corrupt businessman, and a good MP.

You do realise you've just stormed out of your own office?

Initial fingerprint comparison between Calvert's flat and Rothwell's body.

Perfect match. Looks like we're chasing the k*ller of the world's most interesting accountant.

OK, listen up. I'm heading into Leeds. DI Morton is in charge in my absence.

Right, the search of Norcliffe's property hasn't turned up much.

But SOCA have been working all night with Rothwell's computer files.

SOCA? Who called the cavalry?

He's been depositing considerable sums, offshore, over a number of years.

All right, how about this? Rothwell and Norcliffe are working happily together then Rothwell starts creaming money off the top.

Norcliffe finds out that he's being ripped off, decides he doesn't need a partner anymore.

So he hires someone to k*ll Rothwell.

Sorry, sir. Calvert's flat was broken into overnight. That was the caretaker.

Apparently they made quite a mess.

All right, Win. Get forensics down there.

I'll call in while I'm in town, then you and Helen go to Arkbeck Farm.

Did Mary Rothwell know Norcliffe?

Oh, and I want you to check through their music collection.

Norcliffe doesn't do criminal cases, does he?

It might be worth finding out who he referred them to.

Maybe that's where we'll find our sh**t.

Who says that looking at p*rn all day rots your brain?

Obviously makes your hair fall out, though.

You can't really think that he was having an affair?

We're not in a position to go into details, Mrs Rothwell, but there may several things he kept to himself.

Well, Keith had no imagination whatsoever.

Except where it came to timesheets, apparently.

I'll repeat the names. When you're in a position to reveal what you think you know about my husband, I assume I'll be the first to hear it. Pamela Jefferies. I hope I won't have to read it in the papers.

No.

Robert Calvert?

I told you once.

We can finish this at the station, if you prefer? I've never heard of him.

How about Daniel Norcliffe?

Think about it this time.

Uh, no.

What about your son?

When's your son back?

Tomorrow, for the funeral.

We weren't sure he'd bother, given what we now know about his relationship with his dad.

If you had children -

I have.

I look forward to meeting Tom.

Hopefully he's got a better memory for names.

Ma'am.

It's as though reality doesn't actually touch her.

Isn't that what money does insulates you?

I wouldn't know, it's distinctly drafty since I bought a house I couldn't afford.

And a mortgage even a loan shark wouldn't give you these days.

How old are they? Your kids.

Is that relevant?

No, I suppose not.

Hi.

Do you want some sugar?

No, thank you.

There you go.

Thanks.

I do have some more questions, I'm afraid. OK.

Did Robert ever talk about his business dealings?

No.

What about Daniel Norcliffe? Did he ever mention that name?

Never even told me his real name.

Me and Robert didn't do reality.

So what did you do?

It's important that I try to understand, or get a sense of why this careful, controlled man, would take a huge risk.

What have you come up with so far?

Necessity, I suppose.

I think he felt trapped by how people saw him, and perhaps how he saw himself.

And maybe came to realise that he wasn't actually being true to who he really was.

He was still controlled, though.

I mean, he must have been, to keep two lives going.

"Let's keep it in the moment," that's what he used to say.

Maybe that's why he loved music so much, because... it holds you in the moment.

You know, you remind me of him.

I've got something to show you.

So wherever I am in the world, I make sure there are two things with me - my instrument, and this.

This is Ella Fitzgerald singing live at a club in Hollywood, in the early sixties.

This is seriously rare.

Yeah, I think I've got a copy of this on CD. Yeah, me too, and digitally, but neither of them sound like this.

Nothing could sound like this, that night was supposed to be on vinyl.

You know what I mean?

I'd love to hear it.

I've got a rehearsal.

Oh, yeah. No, of course.

I'm home tonight, though, if you...

Um... I'm not actually sure.

Take it with you now, and you can give it back to me it when we next see each other.

As long as it's before I go to Budapest.

Hello.

Ah, DC -

You took your time.

I'm not responding to a call.

There's been a break-in.

Some time after our lot left last night.

Same technique as at Calvert's?

Yeah, I've left forensics down there but I don't hold out much hope.

Looks like we're not the only ones searching for Daniel Norcliffe.

Did you get anything from Pamela Jefferies?

Well, nothing to speak of.

Mary Rothwell seems to think Keith having an affair was impossible.

She would.

Mind you, he was punching well above his weight.

Maybe they shared something that went beyond what Mary Rothwell and others can understand. The music at Arkbeck - half her CDs probably came free with the Sunday papers.

It's exactly what you'd expect.

Is there any particular reason?

I've got the details of that criminal lawyer that Norcliffe referred clients to.

I'll get a full client list, and get DC Blackstone to cross reference it against the p*rn data.

Go Banksy.

Did you just call me Banksy?

You said -

Well, don't.

Please.

Not ever.

Tell you what, just e-mail it to me, yeah?

Well, I'd better phone home Ken.

Looks like we're in for a long night.

OK, I'm going out for coffee.

Who wants what?

Not for me, thanks.

No, thanks.

Uh...

Uh-uh.

No, thanks.

No, cool, good.

I've got to talk to you.

I don't want any trouble, right, so you just tell me what I want.

Then I'll be gone.

Why don't you tell me? Because I'm not leaving until you tell me.

Don't tell me you don't know!

Don't treat me like I'm stupid!

Where is he! Where is he!

Please, please...

Somebody has been following us.

We have to trust each other, and I know nothing about you.

Things got out of hand, and I hit him.

You have to come and hear me.

In Budapest? Come with me.

You have to leave now.