Oi.
Up, down, up, down.
No!
Well, I tell you, I'm on my way.
Give me strength!
This door's jammed! It's a new system. What?
You've got to swipe your membership card.
We've had a lot of thefts recently, so it's for members' own security!
Yeah, erm, wild guess, drowning.
But I'll not be able to say for sure till I've seen her lungs.
This was caught in her costume.
Right, well, she's dressed for the water.
Could it have been an accident? That could.
This couldn't. Bruising round the face, chest and neck consistent with being held or pushed.
And broken fingernails.
Right hand index almost ripped out.
She fought back. She did.
It's a beautiful spot.
My guess is she was washed downriver.
She got beached here by the ebb tide and she's not long dead either.
Rigor mortis not yet established, there's no bloating or decomposition, no animal activity.
Nothing been nibbling.
Right, officers from here to the Wilds of Wanney.
I want to know where she went in. They're looking.
We couldn't reach you.
You wouldn't want us hanging around.
I get rid of mine once they start thinking for themselves. Slippery slope.
It's Kenny. He's found a car. I'll lead the way, then, shall I?
Er, Sergeant Ashworth.
Back pocket, please.
What's that? It's for Kenny. He'll know why.
Who's Kenny's little friend? DC Whelan.
Who? You knew she was starting today. We had a memo.
Well, what's she doing with Kenny?
Well, I couldn't get hold of you. I had to put her somewhere.
Ma'am. Boss.
It rained earlier, but underneath the car is absolutely bone-dry.
So it's been here for hours.
There's a towel.
The bank's muddy, so we didn't want to get too close in case there was any prints,
but DC Whelan climbed down the rocks for a look.
Athletic. It's hanging on a branch like it was left deliberate.
Plates? Yeah.
Car was registered to Jenny Lister.
2 Yale Terrace, Fairbeck.
Right, get it taped, call Forensics. Ma'am.
You're on guard till they get here.
From Billy. Oh, right, cheers.
No dog walkers, no twitchers, and no bloody anglers.
What? You're just always praying it's not a kid answers the door, aren't you?
Jenny Lister live here?
She's at work, I'm afraid. Can I help? I'm her daughter.
We're from Northumbria and City Police.
Best if we come inside, pet.
So you've found Mum's bag?
Bag?
She reported it... You said you were with the police.
I'm Detective Inspector Vera Stanhope.
This is Sergeant Joe Ashworth.
And you are? Hannah.
Does this belong to your mam?
That wasn't in the bag.
She was wearing it this morning.
I want you to sit down, pet.
I'm afraid we found a body by the river.
I am so sorry.
She wouldn't drown. She couldn't!
We think she was murdered.
Now, Hannah. This is hard, I know it's hard,
but it's my job to find out who did this to your mam.
I going to have to ask you some questions.
Is there someone you'd like me to call, someone you'd like to be here with you?
Your dad?
Simon. I want Simon.
I don't know what to say.
Simon. Boyfriend, is it?
Simon? This is Detective Inspector Vera Stanhope, Northumbria and City Police.
Sorry.
I don't take sugar. Just this once, pet.
How long will it take Simon to get here?
Not long, if he can get past his mother.
They're only at the other end of the village.
You'd have passed it coming in.
Big house by the river.
Just him and her.
Like me and Mum.
No partner, your mam? Not for a long time.
What did she do? Social worker.
Fostering and adoption.
I don't understand how someone could hurt her!
She was strong, she swam... all the time.
Keep her figure trim, keep fit?
She's not vain like that.
She just loves it.
It doesn't matter how many questions you ask me.
This doesn't make any sense.
She was a good person.
She made a difference.
Nobody could want this.
Hannah.
OK. OK, I've got you.
It's all right.
Simon, will you stay with her? Yeah.
It's all right, I've got you. I've got you.
So it's confirmed, she was drowned?
Water in her lungs with traces of pesticide.
Run-off from the fields by the stretch of river where the car was found.
So, either she liked swimming in circles...
Or she'd only just got in.
Maybe someone followed her.
Anything else?
Muesli for breakfast. Same sort I have.
Apparently you can get it with cranberries.
Oh, God, he pushes it, that one.
What are we doing?
Big house by the river.
And a mother who doesn't like her lad visiting with the little lass down the way.
Now why do we think that might be?
Hm?
I'm afraid I don't buy at the door, especially not religion.
Oh, that's my sergeant's clobber.
Gives the wrong impression.
We're not the God Squad, pet, we're police.
DCI Vera Stanhope, DS Joe Ashworth.
Veronica Eliot.
Just met your lad, round at the Lister place.
No messing about with him, is there?
Straight to what's required, no fuss.
Still, Hannah's going to be needing that now, isn't she, now her mother's been murdered.
Jenny?
Jenny Lister's dead?
Didn't Simon say?
He was in quite a rush. I can see why now.
Good God.
Hey, I'm sorry.
Were you friends? Different circles.
We only really knew each other through the children.
Yeah, they seem very close.
Yes.
I'm afraid I find the whole thing rather unhealthy.
Far too wrapped up in each other.
And what did Jenny think? Typical social worker...
non-interventionism is a way of life.
She certainly didn't do much to discourage it.
Simon's away at university.
Come the holidays, she lets them live in each other's pockets down there.
I'm more old-fashioned.
Poor Jenny.
Though I suppose one shouldn't be surprised that it came to violence,
the type she's had to deal with.
We were under the impression she worked with children.
But surely you know...
She was the senior social worker in the Elias Jones affair.
Shut up!
Shut up making that noise!
Come on, leave her be.
Anniversary of her lad's death.
She shouldn't have bloody killed him! Come on.
Morning. Morning.
Ah, Kenny, I'm touched. Happy birthday, Joe.
Is this the best you could do? You had a fiver off Billy.
We'll stand you a drink after work. Christen the mug.
Cheers. Right.
Jenny Lister. 41 years old.
Social worker. Wild swimming enthusiast.
According to Billy, she was stunned by a blow to the head,
probably with a rock, and then held under the water until she drowned.
Elias Jones. Six-years-old.
Drowned in his bath by his mother two years ago this week.
Jenny Lister was the senior social worker in the case.
I want to know if we're looking at coincidence or connection.
Kenny. Yeah, well...
You'll all remember this one. Mattie Jones, Elias's mother.
In and out of care all her life.
She was considered vulnerable, but there was never any sign that she was mistreating her son.
She just seemed to be a bit dim.
"Dim"? Oh, I know, pet, you'll get used to him.
At the trial, her defense claimed she'd been punished that way herself in a foster home...
held under the bath water, that she never intended to kill Elias.
She had a boyfriend who'd recently moved out.
The prosecution reckoned Mattie thought if she got rid of the child, the man would come back.
The jury agreed. DC Whelan?
Connie Masters, Mattie's social worker.
Jenny Lister was her supervisor at work.
After the trial, there was an internal inquiry.
Jenny was completely exonerated. "Exemplary practice" was the phrase used.
Connie didn't come out of it so well.
"Significant failings" were found in her handling of the case.
The press hung her out to dry.
Will someone finish the story?
She lost her job, her marriage broke up, she miscarried during the trial.
And then she disappeared.
Not even the tabloids could find her.
They can't have been looking very hard.
That was community liaison on the phone.
It turns out Connie Masters has been signing on under her maiden name in Blyth.
They had her followed. She's living in Barnard Bridge.
Half a mile away from where Jenny was killed.
Right. Joe, with me.
Kenny, Jenny Lister reported her bag stolen last week.
I want you to get on to your friends in Central, see if there's anything to it.
And the rest of you, I want to know everything there is to know about her.
Likes, dislikes, politics, hobbies, allergies - the lot.
This must be it.
Potter's Ground.
Connie Masters? Who are you?
Northumbria and City CID. We'd like a word.
Inside.
Alice, you stay out here.
Murdered?
Christ.
You didn't seem surprised, police on your doorstep.
Were you expecting us?
Why should I be?
What, you think I killed her?
Bloody perfect.
My ex forwards my mail.
The usual, you know...
Bills, bank statements. Death threats.
I thought maybe that's why you'd come, cos he was worried about us.
Death threats, because of Elias Jones?
Anniversaries stir things up.
That why you didn't want the neighbors seeing us?
I changed my name. I live here very quietly.
I give them no reason to be curious about me.
So when did you last see Jenny? First Thursday of last month.
I was in town, signing my divorce papers.
I bumped into her outside the prison.
She was with a colleague, young, fresh-faced.
Reminded me of how I used to be.
And where were you yesterday morning between eight and 10:30?
I have spent two years trying to put myself back together piece by little piece,
so that me and Alice can have a life worth living.
Do you think I would risk losing that? Do you think I would risk losing her?
I think I know how I would feel having to carry the can
while the boss walks away smelling of roses.
Jenny Lister was a brilliant social worker.
She didn't get me the sack.
I did that on my own.
I've read the internal investigation.
You claimed to have sent emails, asking for help, asking for a reduction in your caseload.
Jenny said she never received them.
She probably didn't. The system was always crashing.
"Overwhelmed," that was the word you used.
You were going under and your boss never even noticed.
I should have asked for help earlier.
I shouldn't have been so desperate to impress her.
So no hard feelings?
Despite having lost your career, your marriage and a baby.
Hey. Who's that?
Jemima.
I'm having a baby sister. Are you, now?
Her father.
You're going to help Daddy and Zoe choose a name, aren't you?
Yesterday morning?
Between eight and 10:30?
Here.
Then I dropped Alice off at school.
And then I went into town for a decent coffee.
My weekly treat.
It's the worst thing I can imagine.
Feeling responsible for the death of a child.
All that, and then her ex having a bairn with his new lass.
Hard not to be looking for someone to blame.
So are we calling her a suspect? Not much of an alibi.
I mean, is there enough reasonable suspicion?
"I shouldn't have been so desperate to impress her."
Now, who does that tell us about, hm? Connie or Jenny?
Now, the daughter, Hannah, clear as a bell to me, but Jenny...
I just can't get the measure of her at all.
Just this dazzling image I can't see past.
Well, it's early days. Maybe the others will turn something up, eh?
Bloody mad. Wish I lived by the sea.
So where's home, then?
Only, I've known a few Whelans. Mostly from around Scotwood.
Well, big family. We get about.
A Whelan in every nick in the North, eh?
And a clown like you in every station.
Look, how about I do my job and you do yours, and we judge each other on that?
Hello.
I'm Detective Constable Whelan, Northumberland and City CID.
We were told you sometimes swim with Jenny Lister?
Yeah, but she doesn't do the daytime swims. That's a perk of retirement.
You'll most likely catch her at work.
Actually, there's some bad news.
We wondered if you could help us with our inquiry.
What, that's it? That's what you've got for me? "Lovely"?
It's what everyone said - her boss, her colleagues, the people she swam with.
Well, someone didn't think so, did they?
What about forensics? Nothing. It rained after.
So any prints there were got washed away.
Right. So we've got no suspect, nothing to know about the victim,
and any evidence was washed away by the wrong sort of rain.
What about Connie Masters? Checking her alibi.
Ma'am, I read Sergeant Ashworth's notes of your conversation with Hannah.
You asked if her mother swam to keep her figure,
and Hannah said she wasn't vain like that.
That handbag Jenny reported stolen... Yes, anything to it?
It was snatched from under a table in a city bar. Bog standard.
But in the contents she listed collagen tablets. They're skin supplements.
You know, younger-looking skin. They're like 60 quid online for a month's supply.
Well, it's a discrepancy, isn't it?
Either she didn't care about how she looked, or she did.
What? A woman's not allowed to want to look attractive now?
No. She's right. A little bit of personal vanity, no harm in that.
But she didn't want anyone to see it.
She hid it, even from her own daughter.
Come on, it doesn't even rank as a white lie.
It tells us something!
It tells us she was someone who could conceal things.
Well done.
What? You're saying just cos she didn't admit she was spending money on face pills,
she lied to an internal investigation about those emails from Connie Masters?
I think this is the first time we've been able to see that she was human.
With her little vanities and her little deceptions, just like the rest of us.
And, yes, maybe even human enough
to cover up a professional failing when her reputation was at risk.
What? Human enough for Connie Masters to find a motive for murder?
Where are you going? Down the nick
to see what Mattie Jones has to say about her social worker.
If she's still with us.
Burst appendix. Karma.
Who's she? Visitor.
Go easy. She only just made it.
Appendix, is it?
Does that hurt?
I were crying and everything.
They thought it was about Elias.
He were my little boy. I know.
Are you a doctor? No, pet. I'm police.
But I'm not here to make bother.
I just wanted to ask you about Connie Masters.
Remember her?
What did you make of her?
All right.
Jenny said she's not a social worker any more.
Jenny? Jenny Lister?
Oh... When did she tell you that?
I don't remember.
One of her Thursdays.
She always comes Thursdays.
Why do you want to know about Connie for?
I'm sorry. Jenny Lister has been visiting you in prison?
What, every Thursday?
No other bugger bothered. It's cos of her book.
And what book would that be?
The one she's writing. About me.
If your mam had been working on a book, she'd have told you about it, surely?
Not necessarily.
More likely wait till it was written and then, "Ta-da! Look what I've done."
She was good at surprises.
Mum said there's no terror in the world like fathoms of dark water underneath you.
Once you've beaten that, nothing scares you.
Illegal to swim in reservoirs. It's only trespass.
How did your mam like to work? Hm?
Longhand? Computer?
Laptop. She used it for everything.
That's why she was so pissed off when her bag was stolen.
Her laptop was in the stolen bag?
Yeah.
You don't look so canny, pet. Are you eating?
Can't face food at the moment.
Now, what would your mam have to say about that?
I don't know.
I don't know what she'd say.
Cos that's what dead means.
That they're not here to say what they think. That you never get to talk to them again.
Not even for a moment... not even for one single moment.
I'm sorry, it was a stupid cliche.
I should know better. I'm sorry, pet.
She doesn't sleep, she won't eat.
At night, she just drinks and cries. And... there's nothing I can do.
Well, there's nothing anyone can do at the moment.
Just stay with her, drink with her, try and see if you can get her to eat.
And don't let yourself go the same way.
Are those the same clothes you were wearing when you came round?
I haven't wanted to leave her.
Well, how about Sergeant Ashworth runs Hannah home...
and I'll nip you back to pick up some clean things, hm?
Go on, hop in. You'll only be ten minutes behind her.
Joe, when you're done, go and talk to Jenny's boss.
See if he knows anything about this book she was writing.
And get Kenny back onto the stolen handbag.
Her laptop was in it. We need it found.
Simon, you're meant to be studying. Her mother is dead!
And failing your exams won't help anyone.
Oh!
Oh. I wasn't aware there was anyone here.
I said I'd give Simon a lift back to Hannah's.
How is she? Oh, well...
As well as can be expected, you know.
Ready?
Simon will be a few minutes behind.
Have you ever lost someone?
Not like you... sudden.
Your boss has, hasn't she? She gets it.
Like Simon.
Yeah. Yeah, I think she does.
I think she does.
So Jenny was working on a book?
It was still very much in the early stages, but I believe she'd had interest from publishers.
What was it? True crime sort of thing, about Mattie Jones?
God, no!
Jenny hated that kind of schlock.
It was a collection of case studies. A sort of popular guide to social work.
The press are always either demonizing us or demonizing the clients.
You know, we're useless, they're scum.
Jenny wanted to challenge that.
She would have succeeded too.
She was good at anything she ever turned her hand to.
Sorry. Still hasn't sunk in.
No.
Thank you, Mr. Thompson. You've been a real help.
Craig, please.
She was the best social worker I ever knew.
Her team are in bits.
Anything we can do to help, you just ask, yeah?
If Jenny was writing a book, she'd have it backed up somewhere.
Her home computer is no problem,
but I wouldn't get authorization to trawl through her hard drive here.
Confidential information. Not open to anyone outside of social services.
I'll get on to it. Thank you.
So, Jenny Lister's writing a book. True-life case studies, including Mattie's.
Show the world what social workers are really up against.
Even with the names changed, everyone's going to know who's who.
So who doesn't want this book to see the light of day?
I don't know. Mattie's foster parents, teachers, doctors, us.
Anyone who should have seen it and didn't.
No.
What? Nothing.
What?
What you said to Simon.
Sit with her, drink with her, make sure she eats.
That's MY job description, isn't it?
Well, if you're unhappy in your work...
How old were you when your mam died?
What?
Where's this coming from? Nothing, I'm just interested.
Ten.
Here. I'll show you.
What's that?
Me!
Ah, right. Ten.
Tenth birthday.
Tall, wasn't I? A tall girl.
No, not really. Not for ten.
How did you cope when she was gone?
Oh.
A social worker came over, I remember.
Stood over there, told me to be a good girl for my dad.
Suppose it was different then, wasn't it?
A man taking on the care of a child. Thought he was a saint.
What about this boyfriend?
Simon? No!
Mattie Jones' fella.
Taking on her and the bairn. What's his story?
Michael Morgan.
He's older than Mattie, well-educated.
Was studying to be an osteopath at the time.
What's an educated man like him doing with a scrappy little waif like Mattie?
I don't know. He moved out before Elias was killed.
According to the judge in his summing up, he was completely blameless.
There was no notion that Mattie would hurt her son.
Well, the judge wasn't writing a book, was he?
Jenny Lister was.
And I wonder what she had to say about you, Mr. Morgan.
Found him!
Michael Morgan, osteopath and complementary therapist.
He has treatment rooms at a place called The Willows.
Some sort of health club. Very la-di-da.
That was security from the supermarket where Connie Masters said she parked.
They've CCTV footage which backs up her story.
Plus we've got two positive IDs from staff at the coffee shop.
Rules her out. Right...
Well, I'd better go check out this health spa.
Ma'am, if you need someone to drive you... No!
No thanks, pet. On this occasion I'll be taking Joe.
Er, don't worry. You'll get used to it. Pet.
Kenny.
Bag! Laptop!
Ma'am.
Look at this place! Morgan must be doing all right to be operating out of here.
Yes, all right, pull your tongue in.
Oh, come on.
Oh, hello, Miss Stanhope. Are you wanting to sign in a guest today?
Actually, Yasmin, I'm here in a professional capacity.
Michael Morgan. Could you direct us to his treatment rooms, please?
The doctor said I needed to lose weight.
Cheeky cow hadn't even had me on the scales.
Well, I couldn't risk running into one of you lot down the municipal baths, could I?
So I picked somewhere I knew none of you could afford.
All right?
Satisfied?
Ah, this is it.
Still, if you ever did want to sign us in as a guest...
Don't push your luck!
Hello!
Michael Morgan?
Yes.
DCI Vera Stanhope, DS Joe Ashworth.
We'd like to have a little word.
No whale music?
Perhaps some of my clients would like it,
but personally I find that kind of set-dressing rather...
degrading.
Gets in the way of the work.
And what is the work?
Healing.
You?
Sergeant Ashworth and I have a few questions.
Like what is a man like you...
doing with a girl like Mattie Jones?
Nothing good.
I thought I could make a difference.
A lifetime of neglect, and I thought I could put it right.
Arrogance.
Unforgivable arrogance.
Well, according to the trial judge, you have nothing to reproach yourself with.
Well, perhaps not on paper.
You see, the work I do now, it's a way of looking, of seeing.
There was nothing about Mattie that made me think she could ever hurt Elias.
But she did.
I can't have been looking hard enough, can I?
Did you know one of Mattie's social workers was writing a book?
Doesn't sound very ethical.
But the prospect doesn't worry you, on a personal level?
Like you said, according to the people who supposedly count,
I have nothing to reproach myself with.
My own conscience is another matter.
Why did you move out of Mattie's?
Elias's school were raising concerns about changes in his behavior.
Mattie's social worker thought that introducing a new member into the family
had changed the dynamic.
That perhaps Elias was having trouble sharing his life, his mother, with someone new.
The last thing I wanted was to make things difficult for either of them.
So I moved out.
But you were still seeing Mattie? You were still an item?
I wanted things to be easier for Elias.
I also wanted some space for myself.
You see, people like Mattie...
who've never had enough of anything,
when the full extent of their need is finally revealed...
you realize you're looking at a bottomless pit.
You see...
there are some emptinesses that can never be filled.
Well, thank you very much, Mr. Morgan.
We'll be in touch if we have any further questions.
You hold a lot of tension here.
You'd sleep much better if you could let it go.
He's lying. Aye, but about what?
I don't know, but he is.
"A way of seeing!"
He's all about sniffing out weakness, sniffing out vulnerability, and then using it.
Price list. Michael Morgan? You should definitely try him.
Special rates for members.
A lot of our ladies swear by him. Yeah, I bet they do.
50 quid for half an hour!
Don't tell me he's got nothing to lose.
Door!
Oh, what's this? Decorating?
This place is a dead end if you're young.
They hang around with nothing to do.
They knew you were police.
I suppose they got curious about me, found me online.
Like I said, anniversaries stir things up.
It is a crime. You should report it.
For what?
You gonna send some boys round to help me get it off before the landlord sees?
Why are you here, anyway?
To talk about Michael Morgan.
What did you think of him?
I thought that he was... unhealthy.
Unhealthy?
Manipulative.
Calculating.
He had power and he used it.
What, with Mattie? She'd always kept the place nice.
A bit messy, but nice.
Then Michael moved in and suddenly there was no mess, no toys, nothing.
I asked and she said, "Michael doesn't like clutter."
Then the telly went.
She loved the telly.
That's how I remember her and Elias, on the settee together, watching.
But Michael said that it dulled the mind.
I was relieved when Michael moved out.
I thought he was the reason why Elias had become so anxious.
I'd have been anxious if I'd had to live with a man like Michael Morgan.
What did Jenny have to say about it all?
She said that...
I shouldn't forget that Mattie was a very damaged person.
And that even with Morgan gone, I should keep up my level of involvement.
But I just had so much on my plate.
And I was so sure that Morgan was the problem.
"Unhealthy, manipulative, calculating."
What if Morgan knew about the book, knew what was coming?
That was Connie's opinion, not Jenny's. And how could he know?
Mattie - using her phone calls from the prison to try to impress him.
No, I mean, how could he know it was going to be so negative?
I think Connie's right.
I think he's got a sense of what people are thinking...
about him, anyway, the sly bastard.
This place.
A living death. Not even a pub.
No wonder the devil's making work.
We are partly to blame, though, aren't we?
What? We shouldn't have just turned up.
She was living incognito for a reason.
It's a murder inquiry! What else could we have done?
I don't know. Called ahead? Brought her in? Thought about it?
Are you telling me how to do my job?
I'm just asking if we could have done things different.
Fine line, Sergeant.
Very fine line.
Kenny! Bag! I'm on it.
Why's everyone so bloody quiet?
We're trawling through Jenny Lister's home computer files
for where she might have backed up her book.
Michael Morgan. Any mention of that man's name and I want to know about it.
God!
She's like me mum the morning after.
Where do we hide if she starts chucking stuff?
Look after yourself. Remember the breathing exercises.
Take care. I'll see you next week. Goodbye.
Hello. Is your dad in?
Craig!
I'm sorry to disturb you at home,
but there's something I need to follow up with you.
Can't it wait?
I'm with my family.
Perhaps we can go for a walk, then, eh?
There was a wet suit, hanging on the back of your office door.
Yeah. Hobby?
Yeah. Wild swimming, like Jenny Lister?
Uh-huh.
Didn't mention that the last time we spoke.
Were you having a relationship with her?
No.
So why the secrecy?
We weren't having a relationship.
Not for want of trying on my part.
That's why I took up the swimming.
To have reason to be near her.
Outside of office hours, I mean.
Must have been difficult for you.
It's hard to get over, wanting someone and them not wanting you.
I meant, being married, and having those feelings.
She always kept me at arm's length.
And then one day I just told her.
I told her that I loved her, that I was in love with her.
She said that she was already seeing someone.
"Somebody I shouldn't be."
That's what she said.
So maybe she did like married men.
Just not me.
Seeing "someone I shouldn't be".
What do we think to that?
WHO do we think to that?
What if the boss with the two kids and the pregnant wife was lying?
What if he and Jenny were... He wasn't lying.
Maybe she's turning gay.
She wouldn't have a problem with that.
Maybe she was gay and seeing a man. I've seen this film once.
It's got to be a colleague. It's classic.
110% of people who have affairs do it at work.
Look at Kenny, getting all twitchy, seeing us all in a new and exciting light.
Very good. Hey, could be anybody.
Could be her boss, could be her brother-in-law, could be her bank manager.
They're all taboo in different ways.
But Jenny was a social worker.
And what's the biggest taboo in the world of a social worker?
A client. Or someone romantically involved with a client.
What if it's not about the book at all?
What if...
Joe.
Connie Masters. Call her, get over there - whatever.
Find out what sort of contact Jenny Lister had with Morgan.
Good work with her boss.
So, I'm back in favor now, am I? Teacher's pet?
Oh, grow up. All I did was ask a question.
It wasn't a question, it was an accusation,
blaming me for what happened to Connie Masters.
I'm not blaming anyone.
Are you and Celine having problems?
This has nothing to do with Celine! It's you.
Ever since we went to see Michael Morgan.
Why has he got you so rattled?
Because he's a filthy fake and he's lying!
He's lying to us about something.
Ma'am. What?
That stolen handbag's turned up.
No laptop, but they did manage to pull some prints off the leather.
They ran it through IDENT1 last night. They got a match.
Connie Masters.
Some guy who's selling stolen phones.
They raided his flat and found loads of stuff.
They reckon he's a fence for the town center pickpockets.
Danny Shaw.
I know that face.
Why do I know that face?
So you're saying Jenny Lister did meet Morgan?
Alice had pneumonia.
Jenny covered my home visits while we were in hospital.
How have you been?
You know, you could ask for police protection. You'd get it.
It's not a way to live.
So what are you gonna do?
Alice! Jemima's too near the edge!
You know, the way you are with Alice...
happy with her, happy for her...
not letting your griefs touch her.
I don't know many people who'd have that strength.
Where's it gone?
What's inside there? Let me see.
Nice bag.
Pity the owner's been murdered.
Not by me.
Your prints are all over it.
I haven't killed anyone.
Two words...
Michael Morgan.
I want a solicitor.
I think that's a very good idea.
See, I've got a dead body, a stolen bag and a missing laptop.
And every single stone I turn
points me back the same way - to Michael Morgan.
And from where I'm sitting, you're looking very much like an accessory.
I was taking stuff from the club.
Thieving.
Morgan caught me at it.
He said he wouldn't tell the management...
if I did him a favor.
Steal Jenny Lister's laptop?
Yeah.
She was writing something about him.
I don't know what. I didn't ask.
I took her bag, I gave him the laptop.
I passed the rest of the stuff on to a mate.
I swear to Christ, I didn't know he was gonna hurt her.
Boss! Jenny Lister did meet Michael Morgan, maybe on several occasions.
Do we have enough to bring him in? We have now.
Thank you, Yasmin.
Mr. Morgan?
Aha! The fresh and lovely DI Stanhope.
Blow to the back of the head with that massage stone.
Fell to the floor. Bruising on both knees.
Face pushed under the water and held there.
Contusions where the lip of that trough cut into the abdomen.
Prints on the stone? Gloves.
It's the same, though, isn't it? Same method as Jenny Lister. Stunned then drowned.
Same. Almost definitely the same perpetrator.
Nicotine gum.
Gives a happy tingle and, unlike the patches, doesn't play havoc with the chest hair.
My new friend likes a full pelt.
Do you want to know what I think? I'm not sure. Pelt?
It's conjuring images, Billy.
Fantasies, Vera. Perfectly natural. Breathe and they'll pass.
Oh, we're not looking at some serial killer with a signature.
This person only knows one way of doing it. It worked the first time, so he did it again.
He?
Well, from the force of the blow... probably but not necessarily.
Could have been a strong woman.
And the advantage of stunning someone...
you don't need so much strength to hold them down after.
That's what I always find.
We've had the whole place locked down. Nothing.
Nobody heard anything. Nobody saw anything.
These were hidden at the back of a drawer in Morgan's treatment rooms.
Danny Shaw confirmed they were the items Morgan caught him stealing.
Must have kept them as security.
A phone's a phone...
but see if you can reunite the locket with its owner.
I already checked. It was reported missing from a locker by Veronica Eliot.
No-one gets in without a swipe card.
Cheeky beggars even had a go at the safe.
We've been really careful since the thefts.
There's a safe?
Some items people don't want to leave in the lockers.
I don't suppose Michael Morgan ever put anything in the safe, did he, pet?
Ah!
You little beauty.
Come to Auntie Vera.
Michael Morgan hears about Jenny's book - probably from Mattie.
Steals her laptop.
Sees what he's up against,
realizes it's going to cause serious damage to his 50-quid-a-half-hour business.
So what does he do? Kills her.
Billy said same person almost definitely killed both.
Tries to blackmail her. "If you print that, I'll tell the world we were sleeping together."
We're not sure Morgan's the "someone" Jenny shouldn't have been seeing.
And look what she wrote - exploitative, manipulative, controlling.
Why have anything to do with him? What's the connection?
What's the connection between Jenny Lister and Michael Morgan?
Mattie Jones. Both drowned.
The laptop.
They both had it in their possession.
Michael Morgan hid it in the safe.
It's stolen property. Wouldn't want to get caught with it.
Or because it mattered, it was important.
He'd be naive to think that by hiding the laptop, he'd done away with the book.
Exactly.
The book might have given him a motive to murder Jenny,
but it didn't give anyone a motive to murder him.
So it's not about the book.
It's about something else.
Something in there. Something in that laptop.
Then we'll go through everything. What are we looking for?
Something that'll make sense of this.
Hey, where are you going? Loose end.
Lovely.
Do you garden?
I have a garden. But this...
Oh.
You'd pay entry. How can I help?
Where were you this morning, Mrs. Eliot?
Parish Council meeting.
All morning?
Yes.
Presumably that can be verified?
By the Vicar, his wife and at least ten others. What's this about?
I didn't think I'd see it again.
When I first met you, you said Jenny Lister was a "typical social worker".
What did you mean by that? Oh, I don't know.
I... I just don't like the breed much.
You don't strike me as someone who's had much to do with "the breed".
My youngest son was killed when he was very small.
I was assigned a social worker for a short time.
Greta.
Awful clothes. No imagination.
What happened?
He was hit by a car.
We used to feed the ducks at Thorsgill Reservoir.
Simon slipped.
The water's so... dark there...
I got him out, but Roddy had toddled off by that time.
It wasn't the driver's fault.
Or Simon's.
That's why I can't bear what he's doing now...
cleaving to Hannah in her time of trouble...
even if it means throwing away his own prospects.
It's a misplaced act of atonement for something that was never his fault in the first place.
How old was he... Roddy?
Two.
I didn't really function after Roddy.
Not for a long while.
My husband died a few years later.
Now it's just... me and Simon.
Hard.
Must be.
Simon not really being here, even when he is at home.
Perhaps I'm just plain old-fashioned jealous.
I have never in my life been to anyone...
what Hannah is to him.
You know, Hannah needs people to hold her together at the moment.
And your Simon's round there doing it all on his own.
I'm afraid one's own tragedies don't give one any particular insight into anyone else's.
All the same...
Hannah?
You're so far away.
I want to get back. I do.
I'll...
I'll get it.
Simon's inside.
I don't want to intrude.
I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your mother.
It's very, very sad.
Life is sometimes very, very sad.
Um... soup.
When Roddy died I had awful trouble eating. Couldn't swallow.
I thought you might be able to manage something light.
Simon's been cooking.
Pasta.
There's plenty inside if you're still hungry.
Thank you, no.
I might pop in tomorrow.
See how you're doing.
Look, with Roddy, it made a difference finding out exactly how it had happened.
Otherwise you're just endlessly lost in the moment, aren't you?
Friends at Barnard Bridge tell me the police have been going back and forth,
questioning Elias Jones's social worker.
Perhaps you'll have closure soon.
I hope so.
Oh, how much more? I can barely focus.
Here we go.
Thanks.
Four-bloody-am! You're lucky I found anywhere open.
This Christmas shopping...
Hannah, Simon, Lucy, Gavin, Mattie...
Mattie - soap and...
"No other bugger bothered."
That's what the prison officer said about Jenny visiting Mattie.
Get over to the prison, women's wing.
Look at the visitors log for Mattie Jones.
The officer I spoke to said Jenny visited every Thursday for an hour - never more, never less.
Said she didn't want to mess with Mattie's expectations.
Did Jenny ever have anyone with her? Rookies, students?
No. The prison officer was dead clear about that. Always an hour, always alone.
Lost something?
When I first met Connie Masters,
she talked about bumping into Jenny Lister by the prison on a Thursday.
Said she was with a colleague.
Yeah. What colleague?
If she always turned up at the prison on her own, what colleague?
"Young", she said. "Young and fresh-faced."
Where's that list of members at the Willows the day Morgan was killed?
It's here.
Veronica Eliot wasn't there!
She was at a Parish Council meeting. I checked her alibi myself.
Someone used her membership card.
"Seeing someone I shouldn't."
That "shouldn't" wasn't professional. It was personal.
Emails! Re-check Jenny Lister's emails.
See if there's anything from Simon - Simon Eliot.
Oh, bloody hell.
Hannah.
It's all about not losing Hannah.
I'm just gonna go and get some milk.
Back before you wake up.
OK.
Love you.
Morgan has Jenny's laptop stolen
because he suspects she's written something detrimental about him,
sees this little lot and thinks to himself "Bingo!" he's got all the leverage he needs.
"Print that book and I'll tell the world what you were doing with your daughter's boyfriend."
She wouldn't want that to get out. You'd think.
But despite everything she still had some integrity, some self-respect.
She wasn't proud of what she'd done,
but she wasn't going to let a man like Michael Morgan dictate to her.
She calls his bluff, decides to come clean, and to the person who matters most - Hannah.
But she tells Simon what she's planning
and he's a disaster waiting to happen.
A lifetime of guilt over his brother's death, a mother lost in her own grief.
He's been starved for love till he found Hannah.
He can't let Jenny tell her. He can't. So he kills her?
And then he kills Morgan, because Morgan knows
and what happens if he tells Hannah?
I'll bring him in. Bring him in.
Connie Masters.
Connie Masters saw them together. Simon and Jenny.
Call Joe! Tell him to get over there, get hold of Connie!
Tell him I'm on my way!
Send backup! I'm on it.
Mum!
Mum?
Connie?
Connie!
No, they've both gone. The house is unlocked.
There's blood on the ground. There's tire tracks headed west.
Get on to control.
Put out a call for urgent obs on the car. Then wait.
'What am I waiting for?' Me!
Do you like songs?
Eh? Cos I could sing us one if you like.
♪ Peter hammers with one hammer ♪
♪ One hammer, one hammer ♪
♪ Peter hammers with one hammer this fine day... ♪
Reservoir.
Ma'am, where are you?
They're heading for Thorsgill Reservoir! Thorsgill Reservoir.
Has to be.
♪ Peter's very tired now, tired now, tired now ♪
♪ Peter's very tired now, this fine day ♪
I'm on the reservoir road. I can't see them. I can't see anything yet.
Just keep driving!
Are we here yet?
I'm here. I cannot see them yet.
Joe!
Oh, Joe.
Alice - I couldn't see Alice...
Joe!
Look!
You're all right, pet.
You're all right, Connie. You're safe.
Did you get it?
What? The milk.
Simon?
Hello, pet. Is Simon here?
They're all around, all around the house.
All the windows and doors. What's going on?
Better coming from you.
Then, Simon Eliot...
I'm arresting you for the murder of Jenny Lister,
for the murder of Michael Morgan
and the attempted murder of Connie Masters.
You do not have to say anything,
but it may harm your defense if you do not mention, when questioned,
something you later rely on in court.
Anything you do say will be written down and may be used in evidence.
Do you understand?
I need to hear you say it.
Yes. No!
Jenny was gonna tell you.
Then everything would have been over.
Tell me what?
I didn't love her.
It was...
I don't know what it was.
You did right by Connie's daughter.
You weren't expecting a child to be there, were you?
No.
At first, I thought that... they should be together.
No-one left alone. No-one left to grieve.
Then I remembered what it was like in that water
and I didn't want that for her.
I'm not mad.
I knew it was wrong.
It just didn't matter as much as Hannah.
Nothing matters as much as Hannah.
I love you.
Get him out.
Get him out! Get him out! Hannah!
No! Please, no. Hannah! Come on!
Hannah.
No...
You know...
the question you're asking yourself now...
why your mam did what she did...
that's not the one that's gonna matter to you in the end.
She was a good woman. Mm?
She made a difference...
and she loved you.
I want her back.
I just want her back.
I know, pet.
I know.
Come on. I'll give you a lift home.
Look at you. You can barely walk.
How did she take it - Hannah?
Well, she's broken now. But she'll mend.
There's a girl whose mother taught her how to live.
I can't see Veronica putting herself back together, though.
You didn't tell us about the conversation you had with her.
About Simon's brother at the reservoir.
Oh, just a loose end.
Just tying it up for my own satisfaction.
You know, if you'd told us that information,
maybe I could have put two and two together quicker.
No-one died, Joe.
And there's a girl still got her mam because of you.
It doesn't feel like that.
It feels like there's a child drowning...
and I can't get there in time.
Yeah, I know.
I teach my kids everything I know.
Everything that's in me is theirs...
cos I want them to be bigger, better and smarter than I am.
I can take the sly looks and the "teacher's pet" teasing,
cos I want to learn, I want to learn from you.
But you've got to give us access.
"Tall girl".
That's what my mam used to call me - "my big tall girl".
Is that what they do, then, lie?
Make you feel good, make you feel special?
Yeah. What, I wasn't tall, then?
Well... you're not tall now, are you?
No, but...
I thought it stopped me growing, like. You know, the... the shock.
Losing her.
Listen, I'd better go in.
I phoned from the hospital. She'll be worried.
Hey, Joe.
I'm sorry I forgot your birthday.
I'll remember next year.