♪ ♪
I'm running this London office now,
and I can assure you things will pick up.
We have exactly no clients.
♪ ♪
WILLIAM: We are experiencing an unprecedented level of cases.
ELIZA: William, there you are.
You look tired.
You look beautiful.
WILLIAM: My biggest fear is that I am sending my men
into situations that they are ill-prepared for.
Someone is going to get hurt.
♪ ♪
(thunder claps)
(whimpers)
(click)
♪ ♪
(children calling and exclaiming)
♪ ♪
Mr. Potts! Mr. Potts!
(exhales): Miss Scarlet-- good afternoon.
Oh, Mr. Potts, tomorrow, I embark on a case
with Inspector Wellington, and I require
some background information on one of your cadavers.
There is such a thing as a protocol, Miss Scarlet,
and as such, I will convey any information
directly to the inspector. I do understand,
but hopefully my involvement will hasten
the arrest of the perpetrator.
The sooner I have this information,
the sooner he will be behind bars.
Surely, that is more important than protocol.
Nothing is more important than protocol, Miss Scarlet.
Now, I'm late for an appointment.
Good day.
Mr. Potts!
(muttering): God save us.
(chuckling): We are practically family now, Mr. Potts.
My relationship with Ivy will
and always shall be a private matter.
It should never be used as a bargaining tool.
Now, if you will excuse me, I'm taking tea
with my good friend Mr. Theobald Turner.
We take tea on alternate Wednesdays,
and as I've already said, I am late!
Theobald?
Theobald!
(door rattles)
Out of the way, Mr. Potts.
♪ ♪
So you saw no one leaving the scene?
Well, as I said, the back door was open.
The perpetrator must have escaped from there.
I was talking to Mr. Potts.
POTTS: Uh,
we saw no one.
PHELPS: Oh, good.
You've decided to join us again,
Detective Black.
Feeling better?
(softly): Yes, sir.
You'd better get used to the sight of blood, son.
This is your life for the next 25 years.
First crime scene-- bless him.
I believe Mr. Turner was dead before he hit the ground.
Hm, a private detective
and now an amateur doctor.
How efficient you are, Miss Scarlet.
You wish to talk of efficiency, Detective Phelps,
when it took over an hour for the first constable to arrive.
Now, if I may, I have some further observations.
Do mind the blood.
♪ ♪
I believe the victim was hit here,
knocked to the floor with some force.
POTTS: Poor Theobald clearly struggled to the front of the shop
to get help.
The cause of death was likely a blow to the head.
Have you finished?
No-- the back door shows signs of forced entry,
the cash box has been emptied,
and there are some brass handles missing from the coffins,
which all points to a robbery, but...
It's strange that an undertaker
would be the target of such a crime,
particularly one of his caliber.
Theobald was an excellent undertaker!
Well, thank for your observations, Miss Scarlet.
But I'm sure we would have come to that conclusion ourselves.
Wouldn't you agree, Detective Black?
(weakly): What's that smell?
Uh, formaldehyde from the mortuary downstairs.
(moans softly)
(Black retching, bells ringing)
Shut that window immediately.
You're disturbing important evidence.
PHELPS: What is wrong with you, man?
This is a crime scene!
(quietly): Yes, sir-- sorry, sir.
As a child, the notion that the dead needed a bell
in case they woke up in their coffin quite terrified me.
PHELPS: Well, I'd love to stay and reminisce
about your childhood, Miss Scarlet,
but we will come to our own observations and deductions.
I feel sick again, sir.
(Black retches softly, Phelps sighs)
♪ ♪
Thank you.
♪ ♪
Good morning, Miss Scarlet.
Secret admirer?
Good morning, Clarence, and no, just a little gift to myself.
Some cheer for my office.
Need I remind you, every shilling counts?
The shillings will soon be pouring in, Clarence.
Inspector Wellington has promised me a case.
And I'm quite sure by this time next week,
we shall have plenty more.
Besides, in this line of work, it's important
to remind oneself there is some beauty in the world.
Morning. Inspector Wellington.
I was just talking about you. I'd really rather you didn't.
All good things, I can assure you.
Well, in that case, don't let me stop you.
How are you, William? Fine, thank you. (sniffs)
♪ ♪
You just sniffed.
So, either you're allergic to these flowers
or you have bad news.
We've, uh, we've had a diktat from above.
Budgets are being further squeezed.
Fewer men on more cases.
Recruits are being rushed through without proper training.
And, uh, and no more hiring of private investigators.
Well, what about the case? The one you promised me.
You're, you're aware how much I need it. Yes, believe me
that this is the last thing that I want.
You have no idea of my present workload.
Well, if you're so busy, that's even more reason
to hire me, William.
I'm sorry, but it's out of my hands.
(sighs) But if anything changes,
then you will be the first to know, I promise.
Look, I should get back, I have a great deal of work to do.
Good for you.
How long do you intend to be cross with me for?
A rough estimate will do.
I'm not cross with you, it's just the situation.
Really, I'm sorry.
(door opens and closes)
♪ ♪
(knock at door)
Oh, good morning, Miss Scarlet. Any cases today?
No, but tomorrow, I'm certain.
♪ ♪
(knock at door, door opens)
Anything today?
(knock at door, door opens)
Morning-- anything?
Uh, no, nothing as yet.
(sighing)
(knock at door)
(hinges creaking)
(door creaks shut)
♪ ♪
(flowers drop)
(people talking in background)
(sighs)
I do wish you would calm down, Barnabus-- all this stress
and strain will play havoc on your blood pressure.
It's been a week, and nothing!
My friend still lies in cold store, awaiting burial.
They do seem rather busy.
(talking in background)
Ah, Inspector!
Inspector Wellington.
Mr. Potts, Ivy.
Inspector Wellington, we've been waiting some time now
to speak to Detective Phelps about my friend's death.
Mr. Theobald Turner?
Detective Phelps has been sent up north
on police business, and as far as I'm aware,
Detective Black is now leading the investigation.
Will you please deal with this man?
Thank you!
May I be candid, Inspector?
Detective Black is not equipped to lead this case.
He's not equipped to lead any case.
I'm sure that Detective Black will be available shortly.
Now, if you'll excuse me...
No, I... (exhales): Look at the flush on those cheeks of yours.
I won't be a widow before I'm married, Barnabus.
I'll find someone else to help you.
And I know just the person.
You wish to hire me?
(inhales)
(sighs): Well, the Metropolitan Police
really should be doing their job.
But as I always say, the world is going to hell in a handcart.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Thank you for that,
Mr. Potts. Mm.
I can assure you,
I will do my utmost to solve this case.
Well, as your new client,
I must insist on daily briefings for any developments.
♪ ♪
I look forward to it.
So, do you know of anyone
who might have had a grudge against Mr. Turner?
Someone he worked with, perhaps?
But what if it was just a robbery?
Missing cashbox, stolen brass handles...
That is still a possibility, but as I told Detective Phelps,
a funeral parlor is an odd place to rob,
particularly one that was clearly on hard times.
As I said before, Theobald was an excellent undertaker.
Miss Scarlet is not doubting that for a moment, Barnabus.
She just needs to consider all possibilities.
(exhales, murmurs)
Well, in answer to your question,
I can think of no one who'd wish to harm Theobald.
As for work colleagues, well,
he was increasingly working alone.
He hired in help only when he needed it.
Oh, you did mention his sister.
Oh, yes.
Yes, thank, thank you, Ivy.
Um, a Miss Francesca Turner.
She resides in Bristol.
I presume she'll be at the funeral, but who knows?
Well, why wouldn't she be?
They've been estranged for many years.
Which is why, as executor to Theobald's will,
I was surprised to learn that
he's left his entire business to her.
♪ ♪
MINISTER: The Lord is my light
and my salvation.
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life.
Of whom shall I be afraid?
When the wicked advance against me to devour me,
it is my enemies and my foes...
(softly): I don't see any sign of the woman
who could be Mr. Turner's sister.
(people coughing softly)
POTTS: Over there, by the tree.
♪ ♪
ELIZA: Excuse me, you're Mr. Turner's sister?
I am-- Miss Francesca Turner.
Miss Eliza Scarlet.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
Mr. Potts mentioned you.
A female private detective.
It seems almost as unlikely as a female undertaker,
which I now seem to be.
Yes, I heard your brother left you the business in his will.
Was that something you were expecting?
I suspect you already know the answer to that.
(horse nickers)
I did hear the two of you were estranged.
You do not waste time, do you, Miss Scarlet?
(chuckles): I apologize, but it is my job to ask questions,
and, well, my swiftness is for good reason.
To find out what happened to your brother.
I have not seen Theobald in over 20 years.
There is some regret there for both of us,
it seems, given that he left me the business.
You live in Bristol, I believe-- will you now move to London?
(chuckles): I've no inclination to become an undertaker.
I had quite enough of that in my childhood
when my father ran the business.
I will stay for as long as it takes to sell.
But it may take some time.
There are clauses in the will which I must take into account.
Such as?
Theobald did not want me to sell to a particular funeral home.
Hardcastle's.
Which is a shame, because, according to my solicitor,
they're the only ones to have made an offer.
Why do you think your brother would make such a request?
Theobald and John Hardcastle had always been
old business rivals, as our fathers were before them.
I can only imagine things had somehow
festered further between them.
Miss Scarlet.
(footsteps retreating)
♪ ♪
(knock at door)
I've managed to garner some information
on Hardcastle's Funeral Directors.
(moans softly)
Are you quite well, Clarence?
Yes, yes, uh... (chuckles)
I, I persuaded the clerk of the Funeral Directors' Guild
to have a drink with me.
I am, as a rule, teetotal, but, um,
I thought I should do what I could
for the sake of the company.
(laughs): How very resourceful of you.
And what did you find out from this drink?
Well, Hardcastle's have expanded extremely quickly
over recent years,
buying up smaller funeral homes across the city.
But rumors of malpractice
have followed them round like a bad smell.
(whimpers)
(moans, sniffs)
The clerk told me that there had been numerous complaints
against the firm to the guild.
The latest was, um, from an Albert Edmunds.
He's a former employee of Hardcastle's.
I have his address.
(moaning)
Perhaps I need a little lie-down.
(grunts)
(people talking and calling in background)
EDMUNDS: Oh, I never met Mr. Turner,
but I heard mention of him a number of times.
I know Mr. Hardcastle was determined
to take over the business, but Mr. Turner wouldn't sell.
So, you filed a complaint against your former employer?
I, I was an apprentice for Mr. Hardcastle.
I saw it all.
Him making people pay for funerals they couldn't afford,
introducing them to moneylenders,
and when they couldn't afford the payments,
thugs were sent round to make them pay-- intimidation,
smashing windows.
And the Funeral Directors' Guild, what did they say?
Didn't want to know.
Mr. Hardcastle has them in his pocket.
Is that why you left the company?
Well, I was dismissed for no good reason.
I was just told by one of Mr. Hardcastle's assistants
that I was no longer needed.
If I was looking for someone
who had cause to kill Mr. Turner,
Mr. Hardcastle would be the top of my list.
♪ ♪
ELIZA: Thank you for allowing me this access.
It's, it's most useful.
Theobald and I may not have seen eye to eye,
but I still want
whoever harmed him to face justice.
Why did you not see eye to eye?
You know how it is with family.
No one can vex you like your own flesh and blood.
If my father could see me now.
Owner of the family business.
And your father?
I cannot imagine he approves of your line of work.
My father was a police officer
and later a private investigator.
He was an enlightened man, but he didn't want this life for me.
He knew it would be a difficult path.
In every household, there is at least one resourceful woman.
If more of us were accepted,
Mr. Potts's lament that
the world is going to hell in a handcart
might no longer be the case.
(bell tolling in background)
Miss Turner.
A glazier hired to replace the same windows twice,
three weeks apart.
♪ ♪
One of Hardcastle's former employees told me
intimidation was his trademark.
I believe your brother was being pressured to sell,
and breaking windows was one such tool.
Clarence, I want you to send a message
to Inspector Wellington.
See if Mr. Turner filed a complaint
about his windows being smashed.
Oh, and, um, see if you can get me
copies of the murder file.
I don't hold out much hope that Detective Black
has been particularly comprehensive
in his investigation so far,
but, uh, you never know.
What is it?
Uh, some flowers were left for you on the doorstep.
Inspector Wellington, no doubt.
He does hate it when we're at odds.
They're not from the inspector,
nor from anyone else who wishes you well.
It is, I, I believe, a threat.
♪ ♪
(people clamoring in background)
(shoving, clamoring)
(man snoring softly)
God's sake-- can you please remove
this gentleman from the corridor?
Put him in a cell if you have to.
Yes, sir.
Sir, I have a message from Miss Scarlet.
(exhales): Ah.
It's a question about the undertaker.
Detective Black is leading that investigation.
Give it to him. Actually, sir,
he handed in his notice.
Um, one crime scene was enough for him, so... Where's Charlie?
Detective Phelps is still in Leeds on the Haymarket case.
Fine, get me the file.
It seems like I'll be doing this myself,
with all my spare time. Very good, sir.
And was there something else, Detective?
Actually, yes, um, sir.
An opportunity has arisen, in New York.
They've invited a detective from Scotland Yard
to join their police department for a year's secondment.
Sir. And I thought about applying.
What do you think, sir?
I think the last thing I need is to be another man down.
Ah.
(clears throat): Yes, of course.
I realize this might not have been
the best time to mention it.
Oliver, if you're asking whether I will support your application,
then, of course, I will-- perhaps we can find
a more convenient time to discuss it?
Yes, sir, of course, sir.
So, this file?
Yes! Yes, sir!
♪ ♪
HARDCASTLE: Miss Manners.
Yes-- Mr. Hardcastle, I presume.
My condolences on the passing of your great-aunt.
My assistant informed me you were hoping
I would personally handle
the day-to-day arrangements of the funeral.
But due to my workload,
I'm afraid that's not going to be possible.
Oh, no. But Mr. Ashley here
will look after you
and provide you with round-the-clock assistance.
It was nice to have met you.
Oh, well, if I cannot rely on the services
of the director in charge of the company,
then it is with a heavy heart that I must go elsewhere.
(voice trembling): Which is such a shame,
since I did so want
the best in town to oversee the funeral of my beloved aunt.
There'll be people of great influence
and import in attendance.
No expense will be spared.
(clears throat, stammering): Um, do you know, Miss Manners,
I believe I can rearrange
some of my schedule to accommodate you.
Yes, shall we?
♪ ♪
This is from our premium range.
Handmade from the finest Canadian elm.
Lined with exquisite satin
from the very best manufacturers in Paris.
(inhales)
It's very nice, indeed.
Hm. (knock at door)
Excuse me, sir-- there's an Inspector Wellington
here from Scotland Yard.
What are you doing here?
Do you know Miss Manners?
Well, yes, of course.
Three years ago, you assisted with an investigation
into a theft from my carriage on Bond Street.
Miss Manners, remember?
Miss Manners.
Yes, I remember now.
Miss Scarlet, what are you doing here?
Who is Miss Scarlet?
♪ ♪
What do you mean, she's a private detective?
I believe Miss Scarlet is investigating the case
of the dead Mr. Theobald Turner.
As am I.
(inhales): It's come to our attention
that you were putting pressure on Mr. Turner to sell.
He filed a complaint about
some windows of his being smashed,
and he believed that that was connected to you.
What nonsense.
I know nothing of any windows being broken.
There was merely a healthy rivalry between us.
A former employee claims that you sell funeral plans
to the poor who cannot afford the repayments.
You then introduce them
to a moneylender, who uses strong-arm tactics
when they default on what they owe.
You speak of Albert Edmunds?
Let me tell you, it's nothing more
than sour grapes on account of his dismissal.
The man was useless.
Where were you on the morning of Tuesday
last week, Mr. Hardcastle?
You are not seriously asking me to give you an alibi?
(sighs)
I was coming back from a family gathering in Eastbourne
with my wife and children.
I wonder if you could identify this.
It came with some flowers that were left for me yesterday.
Clearly a warning.
The card matches those used by your firm, does it not?
Well, clearly, someone is trying to defame me.
Why on Earth would I use my own calling card?
♪ ♪
Don't blame me.
All I am saying is that your Detective Black
clearly missed evidence that Mr. Turner
was being intimidated by Hardcastle.
He's not my Detective Black-- I hardly knew the man.
He was drafted in from Essex to address the lack of manpower.
We need at least 15 experienced detectives,
and the super sent us one barely out of uniform.
Have you been in to Scotland Yard recently?
You can hardly get into reception-- it's chaos.
I'm very pleased you've taken on the case, William.
But if you're so busy,
you should never have agreed
to stop using the services of private investigators.
So, you are blaming me.
I have to blame someone.
ELIZA: So, what else have you found out?
That there was a witness who saw a heavyset man
with dark hair and a prominent scar on his cheek
leaving the scene after Mr. Turner's windows were smashed.
That certainly doesn't sound like Hardcastle,
and we've no proof that he arranged it.
Hm.
I don't like the idea that someone is threatening you.
I get threatened all the time, William.
Surely, I've been doing this job long enough
for you to be comfortable with that.
I'll never be comfortable with that.
(knock at door)
(door opens) POTTS: Miss Scarlet.
Oh, Inspector.
(door closes)
Mr. Potts. Mr. Potts.
I, I have come for my daily briefing,
but, uh...
Do I gather by your presence, Inspector,
that you are now involved in this case?
I am.
Oh, that's reassuring, indeed!
Well, thank you, Mr. Potts.
It's nice to know that someone appreciates me.
So, if that is the case, then,
I no longer require Miss Scarlet's assistance.
Firstly, Mr. Potts, please address that question to me.
And secondly, may I remind you,
we have a contractual agreement.
I'm afraid you are stuck with me.
♪ ♪
Yes, well, I should get back to Scotland Yard.
I'll leave you to your briefing.
Yes, thank you, William.
Ah, yes, thank you, Will... Inspector.
(breathes deeply)
So, Mr. Turner did mention
that Hardcastle had tried to intimidate him.
Yes-- on occasion.
But you never thought to mention that to me.
I did... (exhales)
I did not wish to speak ill of my friend.
(breathes deeply)
But I felt Theobald had developed
an unhealthy obsession with Mr. Hardcastle.
Blaming him for the failure of his business,
and, oh, everything in between.
What do you class as obsession?
At one point, he said he was compiling a file on the man.
I had a rising concern
that Theobald had become quite paranoid.
♪ ♪
(knocking)
Come in, Miss Scarlet.
Just finishing off
packing the last of my brother's personal effects.
Can I ask if you've found a certain file
your brother kept on Mr. Hardcastle?
I have, indeed.
I was planning to bring it to your office.
But it's more than just a file.
Complaints to the Funeral Directors' Guild.
Newspaper articles about Hardcastle's advertisements.
So, Barnabus was right.
His friend Mr. Turner
was utterly obsessed with Mr. Hardcastle.
His broken windows.
This must refer to the glazier's receipts I found.
He even has a list of other undertakers
who appear to have their windows smashed in the same manner.
He was obsessed, and thorough.
He even kept the bricks?
They all have the same initials on them.
♪ ♪
"S.P."
(dogs barking, people talking in background)
(foreman speaking Russian)
Excuse me?
Excuse me.
I'm, uh, looking for the proprietor, Mr. Petrov.
He's away from work.
Well, can you tell me when he'll be back?
His wife, she died, and...
Only weeks after, his daughter.
He has not been in good way for months now.
I'm sorry to hear that.
I'm looking for one of his customers.
Dark hair, scar on his cheek?
I don't know this man.
I must go back to work now.
I've, uh,
visited a number of undertakers
who've had their windows smashed with bricks
engraved with Mr. Petrov's initials.
It's clear there's a link to this business and the crimes.
I haven't yet told the police, but will be forced
to do so if my inquiries remain unanswered.
Mr. Petrov himself may be implicated in the crimes,
which is surely the last thing he needs.
(quietly): The man with the scar is a moneylender.
Tomasz Mazelli.
Mr. Petrov owed him for his family's funerals.
He comes for regular payment.
Always takes a box of bricks, which he never pays for.
♪ ♪
(footsteps approaching)
(door opens)
(door closes) (inhales): Tell me, Eliza,
do you think that you'll ever learn to knock?
Um, no.
I've secured the name and work address
of the moneylender Tomasz Mazelli.
He has an office off Long Acre-- shall we?
Well, I'm busy with a great deal of other cases,
including that of a high-profile robbery in Haymarket, so,
I will come to your case when I can.
Of course.
So you'll wait.
No, William.
But as you say,
you're too busy to go and see the man who was, uh,
almost probably the one who sent me those lilies
and threatened my life.
But, uh...
Well, I'm sure I'll be fine
to visit such a dangerous, violent criminal.
Alone.
(footsteps retreating)
(breathes deeply)
(people talking in background)
(door closes)
I'm Inspector Wellington from Scotland Yard.
Tomasz Mazelli around?
(exhales)
He's out.
Well, do you know when he'll be back?
I don't know, darling.
What am I, his missus?
No, you're his clerk.
And if you don't show the lady some courtesy,
then you and I will be talking alone
in a dark room
with no witnesses.
MAN (whimpering faintly): Please help me!
(yelling): Please, no!
♪ ♪
(man yelping)
(grunts, man yelps)
♪ ♪
MAN: Please! No, no, no!
(gun cocks)
Tomasz Mazelli, I presume?
(panting)
You're under arrest.
Mr. Edmunds.
You know him?
ELIZA: He worked for Hardcastle.
(handcuffs locking)
I shouldn't have reported Hardcastle.
ELIZA: This isn't your fault.
You need to see a doctor.
Can one be arranged
when he comes to Scotland Yard to make a statement?
I'm not making a statement.
I can arrange protection-- there's nothing to be scared of.
That's easy for you to say.
I, I just want to be left alone.
This is part of a murder investigation, sir.
Now, I can't force you to press charges,
but I would appreciate it
if you'd at least make a statement.
I don't want anything to do with this.
Just let me be! Mr. Edmunds...
Leave me alone! Albert!
Please just leave me alone!
(sighs)
There must be something you can do.
He's not under arrest-- I can't force him to come.
Let's see what Mazelli has to say.
Excuse me, sir?
A message for Miss Scarlet.
Is there nowhere I can hide from that man?
(sighs) (chuckles)
Oh! Miss Scarlet!
I feared you did not get my note.
I was just on my way to find you.
I came as quick as I could, Mr. Potts.
Is all well?
Oh, not in the least.
Miss Turner came to see me,
to gift me an old board game of Theobald's.
And this is what has upset you?
No.
It was the news she imparted
that caused me this distress.
Miss Turner, contrary to the wishes
of her deceased brother
and my dear friend Theobald,
is to sell the funeral home to Hardcastle's.
♪ ♪
What do you know about the murder of Mr. Theobald Turner?
Don't know him.
Well, a witness has you smashing Mr. Turner's windows.
I believe that that was on the orders
of another undertaker, John Hardcastle.
Don't know him, either.
Hm.
Where were you on Tuesday afternoon?
I was at the Broad Street Hotel.
Went in for a drink.
I like one of the waitresses there.
(chuckles)
(inhales): Oh, I've, uh...
I've dealt with many moneylenders in the past,
and it's my experience that all of them, bar none,
have a deep aversion
to paying their dues to Her Majesty's Revenue.
And as I am sure you know,
as a businessman in the financial sector,
avoidance of tax contributions carries a hefty prison sentence.
You won't find nothing on me.
Well, in that case, you have nothing to fear
whilst we undertake an investigation
into your business dealings.
In the meantime, your accounts
and all your assets will be frozen.
Don't worry, that won't take too long.
A couple of months should do it.
What do you want from me?
Information about the day that Mr. Turner died.
I was at the hotel for Mr. Hardcastle.
He was being bothered by some woman he'd clearly...
You know.
Been with.
He didn't want his missus to find out.
So, he hired me to pay her a visit
to encourage her to leave the town.
I went to her room, 402, but she never returned.
What was her name?
(chimes)
Yes, ma'am.
I'm looking for one of your guests, a Miss Francesca Turner.
Mm-hmm.
WILLIAM: She's in room 402.
Francesca Turner has been having an affair with Hardcastle.
Miss Turner has checked out, I'm afraid.
♪ ♪
The day Mazelli was sent to warn Miss Turner off
was the day that her brother was murdered.
So, she was in London that day, yet she never mentioned it.
Which makes her our prime suspect.
The question is, where is she?
The lawyer who dealt with the will
is likely to have her home address in Bristol.
We can get it from him.
I'll send a message.
For Hardcastle to go to the effort
of sending Mazelli to scare her,
it seems likely she must have wanted something from him.
Or just threatened to tell his wife about them.
Let's ask the man himself.
WILLIAM: I have a signed statement from Tomasz Mazelli implicating you
in the intimidation of Mr. Theobald Turner
in the weeks leading up to his murder.
Intimidation? ELIZA: The statement also claims
you were fraternizing with Miss Francesca Turner.
Something your wife might be interested to know.
WILLIAM: Why did you send Tomasz Mazelli to scare her off?
What did she want from you?
It's a personal matter.
Well, perhaps you'd feel more comfortable if we
invited Mrs. Hardcastle in to join us.
I have never been unfaithful to my wife.
♪ ♪
Francesca and I, it was more...
More than 20 years ago.
And yes, I was engaged to my wife at the time,
but we weren't married.
And yet you've seen Miss Turner recently.
She'd fallen on hard times and come to me for money.
When I was unwilling to help her out,
she threatened to tell my wife about us.
That's why I sent Mazelli.
Plain and simple.
♪ ♪
(fire crackling)
Do you believe it was money
Miss Turner went to see him about?
It's possible.
I suppose if she was desperate for money
and Hardcastle refused,
perhaps she then went to call on her brother
and it went badly wrong?
(clicks tongue)
Something still feels amiss here.
Well, let's see what comes back from Bristol.
As soon as Miss Turner arrives home,
the police will be waiting for her.
(inhales): Right.
I need to update the super on the Haymarket robbery.
You're having a meeting at...
10:00 at night?
Yes, Eliza, this place never sleeps.
Go home.
We'll pick this up in the morning, all right?
(sighs)
(knocks)
Where's the inspector?
I have a message regarding Miss Turner.
What, they found her?
No, but the Bristol police spoke to her neighbor.
He said Miss Turner moved in
when she married her husband 18 years previous.
Her husband passed earlier this year.
PHELPS: Oi, his lordship! I need you.
Charlie-- didn't know you were back.
Miss me, did you? Oh, I'm touched.
Now stop batting your eyelashes at Miss Scarlet
and get a move on.
You go.
I'll give it to Inspector Wellington.
(chuckles)
"Francesca Turner married a Peter Edmunds..."
Edmunds.
♪ ♪
Albert Edmunds.
(dogs barking)
Excuse me. Hm?
Is a Mr. Edmunds here?
No, love.
I'm picking up him and his mother next.
You're picking them up from where?
♪ ♪
(footsteps approaching)
(knocks)
(faintly): One moment, Miss Scarlet.
Cannot talk for long.
Carriage is on its way to take me to the railway station.
You and your son.
♪ ♪
I know you are Albert Edmunds' mother,
Miss Turner.
And I'm right in thinking that
Mr. Hardcastle is his father.
That's why you went to him for money.
♪ ♪
Yes.
Albert is my son.
But from my marriage to Peter Edmunds,
who is now deceased.
You were only married to him for 18 years.
I checked the census-- Albert is 21.
(exhales)
I believe you left London
because you became pregnant by a man
both your father and brother despised.
That's why you were estranged, isn't it?
You were also in London
the day of your brother's murder.
♪ ♪
(sighs)
You went to Hardcastle to look for your son, didn't you?
But he turned you away.
So then what? You went to your brother
to see if he knew where Albert was, is...
Is that what happened?
(bells ringing in next room) (gasps)
When I, when I saw my brother,
the resentment from the past, it gripped us both.
We had, we had an argument.
(inhales): I became angry, and...
(voice breaking): Pushed him.
It was an accident.
♪ ♪
The police are on their way-- I'll...
I'll go to Scotland Yard with you to make a statement.
(bells ringing)
No, no, no, no, I, I want to go now.
(bells continue)
Where is your son, Miss Turner?
Um, he's left London.
I gave him the money from the sale of the business.
He's, um, he's heading to France.
Start a new life.
There's no sense in waiting-- let, let's go now.
Just one moment.
But, please!
I, I just want to get this over with!
(footsteps approaching)
The bells were caused by the draft from the window.
It's nothing.
The window's not open, Miss Turner.
Will you please just take me to Scotland Yard
so this matter can be closed?
♪ ♪
Your son isn't on his way to France, is he?
Where is he, Miss Turner?
I don't know what you're talking about.
(floorboards creaking)
♪ ♪
This is ridiculous!
He is not here, nor has he done anything wrong!
(lid closes)
♪ ♪
Run!
♪ ♪
You're not going anywhere, son.
Albert, no, please.
No, please!
Get him in the wagon.
No, please, please, let my boy go!
He didn't mean to do anything wrong.
It was an accident!
OFFICER: Come on.
Please! EDMUNDS: Mother!
(crying): Please...
EDMUNDS: Please help me, Mother!
Please...
EDMUNDS: I'd just turned 21
when my mother told me the truth.
That the man who died earlier this year
wasn't my real father.
And I was relieved.
He was a horrible drunk.
Led her a miserable life.
Taking on a woman with an illegitimate child
made him think he could do whatever he liked
and she would just have to put up with it.
When he died, she went back to her maiden name.
That's how much she hated him.
So you came to London to find your real father?
We'd rowed about the fact she'd lied to me, and I left.
I traveled here and got a job
as an apprentice at Hardcastle's.
A few months later, I plucked up the courage
and told him who I was.
(voice breaking): I just
wanted him to acknowledge he was my father.
I didn't want anything from him.
But he rejected you.
So, I went to see my uncle, and he turned me away, too,
and I got so angry.
The way they'd treated my mother all these years,
and now me.
The fury just took me over, and,
and I, I pushed him.
And he hit his head.
Your mother was in town that day, too.
Oh, no, no!
She had no part in this, I swear it.
She came looking for me.
Went to Hardcastle's and found out he'd sacked me.
She spent the next few days
trying to find out where I was staying,
but London is a big place.
When Mazelli got hold of me,
he told me he'd been to visit my mother at the hotel.
It was only then that I knew she was in town,
and I went to find her.
♪ ♪
(crying): I told her where I'd been.
And what I'd done.
I needed my mother.
I needed her help.
I was the only man in her life who ever loved her.
And now I've broken her heart, too.
(sobbing)
♪ ♪
That poor woman has lost the only child she had.
She has no family now.
I know what that's like.
I'm your family, William.
Do I not annoy you like a younger sister?
Frequently.
(laughs)
(chuckles)
(knock at door)
Sorry to disturb, Skipper, but I've got news
on the Haymarket robbery-- my snitch from up north
has just come through, he's given up
a possible location where the gang are hiding.
Excellent, Charlie.
Alert the men to come to my office immediately
and let the super know
we'll carry out a raid first thing.
Yes, Skip.
(door closes) I'll leave you to it.
Eliza, I was wondering...
Are you free to dine tomorrow evening?
But we've only just had our monthly dinner.
Well, I can overlook that if you can.
Tomorrow evening it is, then.
(footsteps retreating, door opens and closes)
♪ ♪
(bell ringing)
(sizzling)
♪ ♪
It was nice doing business with you, Mr. Potts.
Well, Miss Scarlet,
I, I'd like to say it was...
It was a relief that the culprit was found.
And that Mr. Hardcastle and his moneylender
will also face some consequences, so...
So, yes, a satisfying conclusion all round.
It was, as you say, a, a satisfying conclusion,
so I wonder if you have any comments
on my handling of the case, Mr. Potts.
What?
You did a very, um,
capable job, Miss Scarlet.
Thank you.
I'm just happy to be able to demonstrate my professionalism.
Hm.
So, if, in the future, Miss Scarlet
did feel the need to call on you
for some kind of dispensation,
for example,
access to the mortuary,
perhaps you will find that she's only
the very best of intentions
and poses no threat
to your protocol, Barnabus.
♪ ♪
(sighing): Oh...
Oh, perhaps we may agree that from...
...now on you are able to enter the mortuary.
Uh, under police supervision, of course.
(sighs)
Well, I must be getting to work.
Oh, and I won't be home for dinner, Ivy.
I will be dining with Inspector Wellington this evening.
What?
Nothing, I just thought
you had your monthly dinner quite recently.
Still keeping count, I see.
Mr. Potts.
Miss Scarlet.
Thank you, my dear.
♪ ♪
Where've you been?
And where's the backup?
I've got bad news, sir.
The super diverted the uniforms to Hatton Garden.
Some diamond heist gone wrong.
Three dead, apparently.
Well? PHELPS: I've been round the back.
From what I can see, they're on the move.
Gathering their things.
This might be the last chance we get
to nab these scum, Skipper.
But there's too many exits for us to cover, sir.
We need more men.
♪ ♪
We're going in.
Charlie, you go around the back-- you, go with him. Sir.
You take the side entrance to the left.
Fitzroy, you're with me-- we'll go through the front.
Remember, lads, we have the advantage of surprise,
so let's show them who they're dealing with.
All right?
DETECTIVE: Yes, sir. DETECTIVE: Sir.
Let's go.
PHELPS: Come on, lads.
DETECTIVE: Right, let's go, boys.
♪ ♪
(door crashes in)
WILLIAM: Police! Put down your weapons!
I said put them down, now! (men shouting)
(guns firing, glass breaking)
(humming)
(bell ringing in distance)
(birds chirping outside)
♪ ♪
(humming)
Detective Fitzroy.
(stammering): Miss Scarlet...
Eliza...
(bell ringing in distance)
What is it? What's happened?
It's Inspector Wellington.
What about him?
(voice trembling): He's been shot.
(bell continues)
They're performing surgery, but...
They're not optimistic.
They cannot say for certain if he will survive.
♪ ♪
(click)
Lizzie!
You've been expelled!
IVY: You're 16 years old, Lizzie!
It's time you grew up!
My name's Detective Inspector Henry Scarlet.
And you are? William Wellington.
Wellington, as in the duke?
Hello again.
Hello.
♪ ♪
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♪ ♪