Thank you, Susan. I'll take it out to her.
Hi, everyone. Thanks for coming here to Roak Woods.
- Hi, Liv. - Morning.
It's a simple job today. We're looking to dig up this little beggar.
Rhododendron ponticum. Highly invasive. We need to eradicate it at the roots.
So we may have lots of hard digging to do, I'm afraid.
But it'll all be worth it in the end. So, thanks, everyone. Let's go.
Mr Atkins.
Vincent, Vincent.
Liv!
Male, adult. Must have been in there a couple of weeks.
First inspection reveals blow to the front right side of the skull above the temple.
Probable cause of death. All pretty straightforward, really.
It's my day off. I had plans. I was trying to have a life.
Instead of which, as usual, I'm up to my knees in body parts.
Sorry. I don't think there'll be any surprises in the postmortem.
But the grave's pretty interesting.
Body was wrapped in a fine cloth, very fine. And this was laid on the chest.
He was buried with some ceremony, then.
And care.
There's an inscription on the back.
Nulli secundus.
Second to none. Who found him?
Liv Nash. She's a botanist, based at the Botanic Gardens.
And what brought her all the way out here?
They were doing some conservation work.
Are you Liv Nash?
I'm Detective Sergeant Hathaway.
I'm sorry.
I keep thinking that I must have hurt him, while I was digging.
Isn't that mad?
I know I couldn't possibly have hurt him. He's dead.
I'm sorry.
Look, it's a very traumatic thing to find a body.
I've got a... a number here if you need to talk to someone.
Thanks.
Thanks. I will... I will call them.
You don't have a tissue, do you? I'm covered in snot.
Standard issue.
You must see stuff like this all the time.
Yes.
So who do you call?
Good question.
The dead man found in Roak Woods was a Professor Murray Hawes.
Reported missing a couple of weeks ago. And one other thing.
He was ritually buried. Shroud, cross of twigs on the body.
We're waiting for the postmortem. Next of kin been notified?
Yeah, his brother, Reverend Dr Conor Hawes.
He's the chaplain at Carlyle College.
Chaplain? Must know a thing or two about burials and rituals.
Just a thought.
Dr Hawes? I'm sorry to disturb you.
DI Lewis, DS Hathaway.
I'm afraid we have something for you.
My father gave him this watch.
When my brother first came up to Oxford.
He was only 15, you see, and something of a prodigy.
Thank you.
Can you think of anybody who might have wanted to hurt your brother?
Was he in dispute with anyone? No, not to my knowledge.
But I... I hadn't seen him for some time.
When did you last see your brother, Dr Hawes?
I don't know. Um...
Six months? A year?
We kept away from each other.
Your brother was found with a cross made of twigs laid on his chest.
What do you make of that, as a man of the cloth?
That the killer had a conscience.
All right, thank you, Dr Hawes.
If you do think of anything significant, will you ring us at the station?
Oh, yes, yes, of course.
As expected, no surprises.
Cause of death, blow to the head.
There's some bruising and abrasions to the face, which suggests a struggle.
Blood tox? Nothing fatal.
But not a happy picture.
Caffeine, nicotine, alcohol, amphetamines.
Cigarettes and coffee for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
He didn't do things by halves. There speaks the voice of experience.
Whatever gets you through.
Not a happy man.
It's quite spartan for a professor. Mm.
Fallen on hard times?
Mr Murray Hawes?
I take it that's not from Amazon.
'Gracey Books. Lot 92.
The Hunting Of The Snark: An Agony In Eight Fits.
Original working manuscript annotated by Lewis Carroll.
Dated January 1876.'
Annotated by Lewis Carroll. I studied this. This is incredible.
You studied it? I thought it was a poem.
It's a profoundly theological piece of work.
It's theological and philosophical.
It's a 10-man crew in search of a Snark.
And what's a Snark?
That's precisely the question. Nobody knows.
Nobody knows what they're looking for. Sounds familiar.
Nobody knows what they're looking for, the danger is in finding it.
For when they do, they will "softly and suddenly vanish away".
It's about the search for meaning, being and nothingness,
the unanswerable questions of existence.
It's... It's the impossible quest.
He's got 10 copies of it here.
He had quite an obsession.
'The Hunting Of The Snark is a poem
over which a sensitive soul might well go mad.'
A map.
The Oxford Botanic Gardens.
This place was a favourite haunt of Lewis Carroll's.
He used to come here for picnics.
Stupid sodding... Oh!
We're looking for the head of the gardens.
Professor Wright? I think she's in the lodge.
Thanks.
So how are you? How are you feeling? Much better, thanks.
I called that number you gave me. It really helped.
I'm glad.
So what are you doing here?
Well, by a curious coincidence, our man in the woods used to come here.
Murray?!
He was nice. Eccentric.
He forgot his shoes here once, came back for them the next day.
So he was our man in the woods.
How did he end up all the way out there?
Professor Wright? DI Lewis.
Yes.
We're investigating the murder of this man, Murray Hawes.
I believe he has a connection with the garden.
Yes, he used to come here often. He was a Lewis Carroll fan, wasn't he?
We get it all the time. It's a place of pilgrimage for them.
Did you know him to talk to?
Inspector, I'm the director of the gardens.
We have 7,000 plants here.
We are one of the pre-eminent botanical research centres in the world.
I spend my life chasing funding, worrying over visitor numbers.
I have neither the time nor the inclination to talk to crackpots.
What about the police? Do you have the time or inclination to talk to us?
Yes. Yes, of course. I'm sorry.
It's... It's a difficult time at the moment.
I'm... I'm not sleeping very well.
Why's that?
It's personal.
So did you know Murray well? You spoke to him?
Oh, yeah. He liked to talk. He used to monologue a bit.
What about?
He was trying to solve something. I don't know. A calculation.
He was always taking measurements and pacing distances out.
There was someone he wanted to beat.
That's right. He was always talking about winning.
My triumph, my victory, stuff like that.
Did he mention anyone in particular?
Thing is, to be perfectly honest, I used to zone out a bit.
But he had an axe to grind, that's for sure.
What are you planting here? 'Plants and their Uses.'
It's Helena's thing. Botanical history.
Textiles, dyes, medicines.
This is our Doctrine of Signatures flower bed.
The Doctrine of Signatures was...
Great herbalist con of the 17th century.
You know about the Doctrine of Signatures?
No-one knows about the Doctrine of Signatures.
God has signed his intention in the look of things that man may know their purpose.
Healing properties of plants,
most of which have no healing properties whatsoever.
Signatura Rerum.
And he speaks Latin.
I should...
Yes. See you, then.
See you.
Hope you remembered to ask her some questions.
Yes, sir, I did. Thank you. In fact, she was very helpful.
Murray Hawes, it would seem, had a rival.
Mr Gracey?
Bloody mice.
Chewing my books to buggery.
I'll have to put something down.
Oxford Police.
Oh, yes. The Snark.
Well, it was a bidding war, but there were four parties.
An American university, Murray Hawes, a Swiss bank and one was anonymous.
We need an itemised billing for Gracey's Books...
What clinched it for Murray Hawes was that he paid in cash.
The seller was looking to make a quick sale.
He paid cash? How much?
200,000.
When was this? Do you know the date of the sale?
He paid on the ninth at close of business, six o'clock.
And he was supposed to come again in the morning at nine
to take possession of the manuscript.
We had to get it out of secure store overnight.
But he never showed up. So, in the end, we sent it high security.
How did he seem that evening?
He was ebullient, overjoyed, triumphant.
He was going to solve the riddle, wasn't he?
The riddle?
The riddle of the Snark.
Carroll was a great one for acrostics, poems that are also riddles.
There are those who believe
that there's a code to be cracked in the Snark,
a puzzle to be solved.
Look, is that all?
Only, you know, I've been through this once already and I do have to get on.
You've already been through it once? How do you mean?
One of your lot was in earlier asking questions, a woman officer.
A woman? Innocent? Chief Superintendent Innocent?
No, that wasn't her name.
Marland. DI...
Marber. Yeah, that's it. DI Marber.
DI Marber? Strange old bird.
Who the hell is DI Marber?
How did Murray Hawes get his hands on 200 grand in cash?
Heads up, gents. Nutcase alert.
There's a lady with bags waiting for you. Says she has information.
Interview One.
Good afternoon, Inspector, Sergeant.
Forgive the impertinence, but I have some thoughts to share with you.
The dead man, Professor Murray Hawes, was a Lewis Carroll enthusiast.
He had a particular interest in Carroll's epic nonsense poem
The Hunting Of The Snark.
Yeah. Mrs... No, no, Inspector.
I'd like to carry on. I don't want to stop the flow.
You may have heard of the riddle of the Snark.
You may even have discovered that Mr Hawes was trying to solve the riddle.
However, if you are labouring under the assumption
that Mr Hawes died because of the Snark, I'm afraid you're greatly mistaken.
Who are y...
There is only one line of inquiry you should be following, gentlemen,
and that line relates to this man,
Dr Alex Falconer of the Davy Institute of Clinical Medicine,
where Murray was a frequent participant in clinical drug trials.
It's not illegal to run a clinical drugs trial, Mrs...
Marber, Michelle Marber. No, but...
Mrs Marber. Have you been making your own inquiries into this case?
You have to understand that impersonating a police officer
is a serious offence.
No, no, Inspector. Forgive me. I should have explained.
I'm conducting a wider investigation into Dr Falconer.
So you're a private investigator? Not as such.
All right, that's enough. But I haven't finished.
Yes, you have.
Murray's bank statements.
Didn't have much coming in.
There's a payment here from Davy Clinical Medicine for Ј2,000.
And one for 1,500.
And another the month before.
She was right about the drug trials.
Alex Falconer's advertising for new guinea pigs.
Yes, Murray. Murray was a regular of ours for the last three or four years.
What's the most anyone could get paid for taking part in one of these trials?
It's highly regulated.
There's a cap on what we can pay. A couple of thousand.
When was his last trial? Can you remember?
It's a few months ago. The last one he came in for, we couldn't put him on.
He didn't pass the medical. Too much rubbish in his blood.
That fits. When was that?
It was six weeks ago.
You must have got to know him quite well over the years.
I don't know about well.
He was an obsessive. He only had one topic of conversation.
The Hunting Of The Snark? Snark. Yes.
We think he might have had a rivalry going with someone. Did he mention that?
Yeah. Yes, it was... it was bitter. It's what drove the obsession.
It was a sibling rivalry. His rival was his brother, Dr Conor Hawes.
Dr Falconer, there's a phone call for you.
Would you excuse me, Inspector? Of course.
Thanks for your time.
I'm absolutely fine. Everyone's making such a fuss. I'm perfectly all right.
I won't go back to work this week.
I'll take some time off so I can be here to look after you.
All I really need is a cup of tea.
I'll make you some.
Well, then, it hardly seems worth it with only three of you here,
but let's try and make a seminar of it, shall we?
So, is the truth always the highest good?
Kirsty, you always pitch in first.
Give us the benefit of your perspicacity.
The truth has to be the highest good.
It's not an ethical question.
It's a moral choice.
What is the truth anyway?
This isn't A level philosophy.
No, and you aren't Socrates. Go on, Mr Vega, dazzle us.
Did some extra digging last night. Late last night, was it?
Mm.
Honestly, man, give yourself a break every now and then.
Yes, Mum. No, I mean it. Less work, more sleep.
I need your brain, all 10 tons of it, in full working order.
As I said, I did a little extra digging last night.
"The Finding of the Snark" by the Reverend Dr Conor Hawes.
Published last year. He claims to have solved the riddle, and that's not all.
The phone trace on the anonymous bidder for the annotated Snark manuscript
brought up the main exchange for Carlyle College.
Bravo, Vincent. A stout defence.
Everyone give the lad a round of applause.
Come.
It's the feds. It's a bust.
We need to speak to you
about your brother, sir.
Leave.
You told us you and your brother weren't close.
No, we weren't. We had nothing in common.
Not even The Hunting Of The Snark?
You didn't share your brother's passion for it?
My brother's passion for it bordered on the deranged.
He conceived the notion that there was some kind of arithmetical calculation encoded in the text.
Ludicrous and tedious, and wrong.
Whereas you'd written that you'd found the Snark.
Oh, that. Well, I wrote that just to wind him up.
Do you have brothers, either of you?
Did you never give your brother a Chinese burn or hide his glasses?
No. I always liked my brother.
Used to beat me at Subbuteo, mind.
Before he died, your brother placed a bid on a rare manuscript of the Snark.
Well, all right. Yes, I admit it. I also placed a bid for the Snark.
I had a long-running rivalry with my brother.
It began when I beat him at chess for the first time.
He couldn't bear it. He screamed. He wept.
He began to keep score. He kept score for the next 40 years.
And the Snark, of course, is the ultimate puzzle.
Well, for myself I had no interest in it,
but I couldn't just let Murray win.
Not after a lifetime of it.
Oh, for God's sake. You don't seriously think
I would kill my own brother for the sake of a puzzle?
Murray disappeared on the night of the ninth,
sometime between 6pm and nine the following morning.
Where were you that night, Dr Hawes?
The ninth?
That was the night of my cocktails and ethics party.
I throw one once a month.
It's the only way I can get the students in.
They'll only discuss Cyrenaic hedonism if they can practise it.
"Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die."
Aristippus of Cyrene.
What was your name? Detective Sergeant Hathaway.
Dr Hawes? The party?
Well, they were at it until the early hours. Pretty much all night.
I couldn't get rid of them.
"Violation, poison, the dagger and the flame
If these have not wrought their pleasing patterns
Upon the banal canvas of our pitiful destinies
It is because the soul, alas, is not sufficiently bold."
I am bold.
Are they still there?
Yes. They're talking.
Close the curtains.
Thanks.
Forensics. Arid soil, traces of it all over the front of Murray's body.
Arid soil? You're telling me Murray Hawes died in the desert?
No, he died in Oxford. There's only one place in Oxford with arid soil.
The Botanic Gardens. The arid house, to be precise.
How long will all this take? I don't like closing the gardens.
A man's been murdered, Professor Wright.
Well, of course. I'm sorry.
Where were you on the night of the ninth?
I was here, at home, at the lodge.
Did you see or hear anything? No.
I find that difficult to believe, Professor. You are right on the spot.
I was... drunk.
I... I drink every night these days.
Who has access to the gardens after hours?
Only the staff have keys, but it's not difficult to get in.
Students are always climbing over the railings, so it's...
I'm used to hearing people in the gardens at night.
I don't notice it any more.
That's one way in and out.
Hey, Liv!
So, have you heard? I know, it's terrible.
I can't believe it.
They're saying he died here and not in the woods.
It's so awful, and weird.
He died here where I work, and I'm the one that found him.
I'm gonna have to ask you where you were on the night of the ninth.
Of course, yes.
The ninth...
It was a friend's birthday.
I'm afraid I got rather drunk and had to stay over.
Can I get a name? Johnny Reeve.
Johnny. J-O-H...
He's an old friend. I've known him for years, since we were kids.
A friend of my brother's, really, but...
Have I made it clear enough that he's not my boyfriend?
Just making a note of that now.
Oh, um... Yeah.
Have you... ever seen this man at the gardens?
I don't think so. I don't recognise him.
OK, well, if anything comes back to you, or, um...
if you think of any... anything, um,
then, um...
give me a call.
Any time.
Did you just bow to her?
Yeah, I think I did.
Oh, God. Miss bloody Marple.
Mrs Marber, I sincerely hope you're not pursuing your inquiries.
I've been trying to find you.
You didn't let me finish. You didn't hear the whole story.
And I'm not gonna hear it now.
Witnesses have come forward. They're at the station.
But... Go home, Mrs Marber.
Go home and stay home.
Vincent Vega, Mia Wallace.
Vincent Vega?
My... My dad's Spanish.
So you were in the woods when you saw two men behaving suspiciously.
What were you doing in the woods?
We were there for romantic reasons.
We spent the night there.
We joked about what they must be up to, you know, burying a body or something.
And then we read about Murray Hawes. And we know his brother...
Conor Hawes. We're both at Carlyle. We had to come forward.
Could you describe them to us? I've got a photographic memory.
So you could describe them for the police artist?
I could draw them myself. I'm a proper artist.
There's something not right about these two.
They blink too much.
Come on, let's take a stroll over to Carlyle College.
I shouldn't really do this, but I never liked the little tyke.
Why's that?
Well, in my opinion, sir, he doesn't show enough respect for the university.
He never goes to lectures.
Spends all his time on the river, messing around in punts.
Does he now? Thanks, Mr Atkins.
Vincent Vega, Mia Wallace. Pulp Fiction.
Bit slow for you, that. I hope you've got a warrant.
But then again, it's Vincent's room, so on second thoughts, I don't care.
Nobody seems to like Vincent Vega.
Vincent Vega?
Simon Dawkins.
And Mia's real name is Isobel Strong.
Changed their names by deed poll.
Why?
There's this kind of person at Oxford.
They've been told their whole lives that they're one in a million,
Oxbridge material.
Then they get here and find they're one of a million,
cos everyone here is just like them.
"You've been noticed." What are these? Do you know?
Must be Wednesday Club stuff. Looks like it.
Wednesday Club? Are you sure the Wednesday Club exists?
It's this legendary club for geniuses.
Only the most extraordinary need apply. I've heard stories about it.
Everyone's heard stories about it. Things that people'll do to get in.
I thought they were apocryphal. I thought it was an urban myth.
No, no, it exists.
Club for geniuses?
Club for narcissists. How it works exactly, I don't know.
But they talk about it all the time, Simon and Isobel.
They're fixated on getting in.
Maybe messing with the police is their idea of clever.
Where have you been? We've been waiting.
We're star witnesses. We're not just anyone.
Very funny.
Wasting police time is a criminal offence, Simon, Isobel.
Those aren't our names.
Allow me to escort you off the premises.
So that's it? You're not gonna charge us?
The thing is, you want us to, so, no, we're not going to charge you.
You're not worth the paperwork.
Inspector... Timewasters Anonymous.
Please don't dismiss me. Just hear me out.
Give me strength. All right, let's have it.
There was a visitor last night, to the Botanic Gardens.
He let himself in with his key at 12.41am
and didn't leave until dawn.
Dr Alex Falconer.
And you just happened to be passing?
Were you following Dr Falconer?
He's a regular visitor at the Botanic Gardens.
I've seen him there on more than one occasion. Always after hours.
All right, we'll look into it.
But, Mrs Marber, you have to listen to me.
You must leave the detective work to us.
You corrupt one piece of evidence, this whole case could go down.
Do you understand me? Yes.
Gold Cheyne Hall. Seat of the Falconer family since 1465.
Winner of Best New Attraction 2008 and Best Garden 2010 and '11.
And yet he's hanging around the Botanic Garden's all night.
According to Michelle Marber.
Quite a place for a scientist to live, isn't it?
It says here that Alex Falconer
comes from a long line of gentleman scientists.
His great-great grandfather worked with Lord Kelvin
on the discovery of absolute zero.
We'd like to speak to Alex Falconer.
Alex? Whatever for?
I'm Thea Falconer. I'm his wife.
Where is your husband, Mrs Falconer?
He's in the garden, but...
I'll take you through the house. It'll be quicker.
I remember this place from when I was a kid. It was always locked up.
Yes, Alex was away a lot when he was younger. He was a great explorer.
South America, Africa, Indonesia.
He always hated the hall. He was often left alone here as a child.
All alone in a great house like this. Can you imagine?
You can't tell me what this is about, Inspector?
We're investigating the murder of this man,
Murray Hawes.
I don't know him, I'm afraid. You've never met him?
He hasn't come to the hall?
No. Why would he? He knew your husband.
This one, ma'am, is it? Yes, Sam, thank you.
You will be especially careful with this one, won't you?
Are you selling your collection, Mrs Falconer?
Alex did sell a couple, to help finance the work on the gardens.
It's been worth it. Numbers are up. We're even managing to make money.
This one's being taken for some restoration work.
It's the house and grounds as they were in the 16th Century.
The heyday of the gardens.
It was my idea to restore them to their former glory.
Hello, Inspector.
Dr Falconer, we have information
that links you with the place where Murray Hawes died.
Botanic Gardens. Perhaps you could shed some light on that for us.
I am, um...
What's that awful word?
Involved with Helena Wright,
the head of the gardens.
You're having an affair? Yeah.
I take it your wife doesn't know about this?
God, no, no. She doesn't know anything.
Where were you on the night of the ninth?
I was here.
You seem very sure. Most people need to check with dates.
No, I remember. We had a fight, Helena and I.
She wanted me to spend the night with her. I wanted to stay with Thea.
I don't know much about affairs personally,
but isn't it usually the other way round?
My marriage is... it's very difficult at times.
Helena offers me comfort, and I'm weak and I take it.
But I love my wife.
And you'd do anything to keep the truth from her?
Why are you selling your collection?
My collection?
We've only sold two pictures. It's for the gardens.
Not to pay off Murray Hawes? Did he find out about you and Helena?
He needed money to buy his Snark manuscript.
What, blackmail? No, Murray Hawes wasn't blackmailing me.
Murray Hawes wasn't my problem.
Helena, she is my problem.
Helena. What is it? What do you want?
I've gotta go. I found this. It's Murray's.
I don't know what to make of it.
Yeah, he left it behind. I was meant to put it in the lost and found.
I remember he asked for it, but I couldn't find it.
He was always losing things. Yeah.
Give it to me and I'll give it to the police.
Have you finished the orchid house?
Yes. Are you sure?
You wrongly labelled three specimens last week. I had to correct your work.
It's not good enough, Liv. But I double-checked.
And now you're correcting me.
Look, I've got to go out.
I'll be back in a couple of hours,
when I expect to find the gardens pristine.
You'll find him downstairs.
I'm here. I'm here now.
Poor old Alex Falconer. The reluctant Lothario.
Which of these would you trust the least?
Too close to call.
Michelle Marber, the lady with bags... Don't tell me.
I've got two complaints against her.
One from Gold Cheyne Hall, the other from the porter at Carlyle.
She's been harassing people there on a daily basis.
I did warn her.
We ran a check. It turns out she's a serial cop-botherer.
She's got injunctions against her from the Met and Edinburgh.
God only knows what damage she's doing to the investigation.
Get it sorted, Robbie. Now.
It's an incident room.
I like to lie on the floor sometimes, look at the whole picture.
I think if I can see it all in one glance,
I might understand it better.
But I never quite seem to.
We hear you've been out and about with your little notebook again.
I'll check the rest of the house. Mrs Marber?
Oh, Inspector. Yes, sorry. How can I help you?
Would you like a cup of tea? I don't know whether I've got any tea.
We warned you that impersonating a police officer was a criminal offence,
as is harassment.
You've been making trouble again. Sir!
Mrs Marber. Sir.
What?! You've gotta come and look at this.
Oh, for God's sake.
Stevie. My son.
He was found dead in his room.
He was doing his postgrad at Carlyle College.
The coroner returned death by misadventure, an overdose.
But she was wrong. Stevie would never have been so stupid.
It's an over-used word these days, but he was...
He was a genius.
My miraculous boy.
My little pal.
Michelle, why didn't you tell us?
I've learnt it's the surest way to be dismissed.
They give you a little card with a number on it, a helpline.
At least as Miss Marple I got a few extra days,
got a little bit closer.
I started by going backwards, trying to piece together the last days,
but it was all too confusing.
So I started at the beginning.
I must have visited every day of his life since he left me.
But I still don't know why he died.
That was his first day at Davy Institute.
His first day as Alex Falconer's research assistant.
All that promise, all that excitement.
And no idea what was to come.
What happened?
Alex Falconer, never satisfied.
Nothing Stevie did was good enough.
He didn't work hard enough. He wasn't rigorous.
Stevie had his own way of working.
But Alex Falconer is such a narrow...
He sacked Stevie.
And then he came to the inquest and he stood up there in front of me
and told me that my son was a drug addict.
My son did not die of an overdose.
My son would never have been so stupid.
How do you think he died, Michelle?
But you blame Alex Falconer for his death?
I don't know what he did. I don't know how it happened.
You actually think he killed him? Yes. Yes, I do.
With every fibre of my being. But why would he kill your son?
Perhaps Stevie found something out, something about Alex.
Like what? I don't know. I don't know.
All right, I'll put a brew on.
You're rather nice, you two.
Michelle, you've got nothing in.
I can't be bothered to eat. I just need to sleep.
Nip out and get her a bit of shopping in, will you?
I don't know, simple stuff, teabags and milk.
Hello again.
Oh, hi.
Are you all right? Yes. Yeah, sorry. I'm a bit...
I'm in a bit of a rush, actually. I can't really stop.
No, of course. Are you sure you're all right?
Yeah, yeah, just had a bit of a day. Boss from hell.
Look, I've gotta go. But I'll see you round, OK?
Coroner's report on Stevie's death.
Blood tox, amphetamine and cocaine.
Drug-related paraphernalia in Stevie's rooms,
and all his fellow students,
well, they testified that he was well-known for his drug use.
Two-day inquest. Open and shut case.
He had eclectic tastes.
Kurt Cobain.
Da Vinci notebooks.
Ralph Waldo Emerson.
"Science does not know its debt to imagination."
"Love, love, love,
that is the soul of genius."
Mozart.
"You have been noticed."
Wednesday Club.
"You are under consideration."
"You have been chosen."
Sorry to wake you.
Michelle, was Stevie a member of the Wednesday Club?
They were very keen on Stevie, of course.
But Stevie wasn't interested. A club for geniuses?
He knew what he was. He didn't need to be in a club to prove it.
One of the tutors at Carlyle College wanted him to join.
I think he was involved in some way.
He hounded him, in fact. But Stevie couldn't have given a damn.
One of the tutors? Which tutor?
Conor Hawes. The Reverend Doctor.
Well, Stevie was an exceptional talent, but arrogant.
Arrogance is, in my opinion, the grossest of all stupidities.
In rejecting the Wednesday Club, in thinking himself too good for it,
he proved himself unworthy of it.
And yet you hounded him. That's what we're told.
And Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace?
They were down at our station yesterday hell bent on wasting police time.
Were they? Well, yes, that doesn't surprise me.
Vincent and Mia are a couple of self-styled postmodernists.
They're attempting to perpetrate an act of living postmodernism.
An act of living postmodernism.
They're seeking to challenge the authority of the establishment.
In this instance, the police.
But I'm afraid they won't get in. There's no real depth to their thinking.
It's fancy-dress intellectualism.
They're simply not interesting enough.
And yet they're under consideration. They must have done something right.
What are you suggesting?
You placed a bid for the Snark manuscript to goad your brother.
You hounded Stevie Marber.
You've got these kids waiting and hoping.
What I'm beginning to sense from you, Dr Hawes,
is a taste for manipulating people.
You have a morbid horror of talent, don't you?
I see you're wearing your brother's watch.
"Second to none." That's you now, is it, now that Murray's dead?
Don't leave Oxford, sir. We haven't finished with you yet.
Living postmodernism. I've never heard such a load of old cobblers.
That's not what they're up to. That's not how they were gonna get in.
Let's just suppose that Murray was getting close to a solution to the Snark
and Conor has to try and block him.
And then Murray gets his hands on this manuscript that holds the key.
Conor can't let his brother win. He'd rather let his brother die.
And he's got these two kids who are desperate to get into this club.
So he can get them to do anything just on the promise of it.
It's a story.
Yeah, but do people really plot and scheme and kill
over some daft puzzle? A misguided person might.
"Will no-one rid me of this turbulent priest?"
Murder by mistake? Murder by misinterpretation?
Whichever way you look at it, it's murder by proxy.
Tell us about the Wednesday Club. Legendary, isn't it?
This club for geniuses, for the extraordinary.
Maybe it's just a club for people who want to be extraordinary.
It is an elite, for the truly gifted.
You really want to get into it, don't you?
Except that you're only under consideration at the moment, isn't that right?
Not quite gifted enough, I suppose.
Or maybe there are other ways into it.
Maybe it's not about being gifted. Maybe it's about being useful.
"For the Snark is a strange creature
and will not be caught in a commonplace way."
A peculiar creature. "The Snark is a peculiar..."
You know The Hunting Of The Snark.
Quite a little crew we're building up.
Murray Hawes, Conor Hawes, Vincent Vega.
Look, I'm studying it for my dissertation.
Not for Conor Hawes?
Who, by the way, doesn't think you'll get into the Wednesday Club.
Simply not interesting enough. Was that how he put it?
Don't protect him.
If he's manipulated you, made you promises...
You know, in our incident room, we have a white board,
and right at this moment all the arrows are pointing at you.
Then charge us.
If you really had a case, you'd have charged us already.
I already know the answer to this, but do they ever find the Snark?
Baker finds him. And then softly and suddenly vanishes away.
I'll tell you what, I'm getting sick of nonsense, poems or otherwise.
I'm sick of timewasters. I'm sick of speculating.
I want facts. I want evidence.
There must be something we're missing about Murray.
And I want to do a fingertip search of his house.
Just you and me. Not uniform, not SOCO. Just us.
We know what we're looking for. Well, we will when we see it.
There's something about this house, isn't there?
Gets into your soul, doesn't it?
Any luck? None as yet.
Lab H.
Lab H?
Is that a clue? I've forgotten what clues look like.
Yeah, hi. I'm trying to locate a particular laboratory, Lab H.
How do you number your labs?
With numbers. Right, thanks.
No Lab H at the Department of Pharmacology.
No Lab H at the Department of Chemistry.
No Lab H at the Department of Clinical Medicine, Chemistry,
Biochemistry or Pharmacology.
It's looking more and more like a clue by the minute.
A clue we can't solve.
The impossible quest.
I can feel myself disappearing.
Are you all right?
My clothes smell of dry rot. Murray's house.
All these lonely people pouring their lives into puzzles that can't be solved.
Ignore me. I've got a touch of existential flu.
What?
I'm gonna say it just this once.
For your sake, you need a partner, James.
You need someone in your life.
Let's call it a day.
I want to check on Michelle.
I'm just gonna look in, make sure she's OK.
Michelle?
Upstairs!
You must remember to lock your door.
And please stop leaving lighted ciggies all over the place.
You're like a walking public safety warning, woman.
I know, I know. I've just got too much to think about.
Have you got some news for me?
No. No, on second thoughts, don't tell me.
What do you mean?
Stevie dies a hundred times a day in my head.
I see it, his last breath.
It plays on a loop.
And then I fall asleep and I dream.
I dream that I can't get through the door.
If I could get through the door, I could save him.
If I knew how he died, at least I could stop imagining it.
But, then, if I knew, would I not just imagine that?
And what if it's worse?
If you knew, you could think less about his death, more about his life.
This investigation, I'm not finding anything out.
All I'm doing really is retracing his steps.
I go to a coffee bar and I sit in a chair,
and I think, "Maybe this is the chair he sat in."
And I can almost feel his presence.
But as soon as I feel it, it's gone.
It slips away from me like mist under the sun.
Softly and suddenly vanishes away.
My wife.
I think about her every day.
But about it, about the accident,
only every other day now.
I think about her as she was.
Her laugh, her smile.
I miss her.
I talk to her all the time, around the house.
Don't tell my sarg.
But I don't relive it, not any more.
Well, anyway, not as often.
How did you get there? I don't know how to get there.
I think it was when I accepted it.
When I stopped fighting it.
But...
how it happened, I couldn't tell you.
What I said about not wanting to know, I do, I do want to know.
Please don't keep anything from me.
Michelle, we're not investigating Stevie.
We're investigating Murray.
The chances are I won't have anything to tell you.
Yes. Yes, of course. You must do your job.
Is my hair all right? You look perfect.
Ready?
Come.
Hello, my little jailbirds. But where...?
Where is the Wednesday Club?
What did you expect,
men in hoods and high hats?
Pomp and ceremony?
A gathering of bishops and grand high wizards?
This is it?
It's just you.
Just me? Just? That's not a very pretty word.
You decide on a whim who's in?
It's meaningless. It's all completely meaningless.
Yes, my dear. I'm afraid you're nothing special.
You're just another precocious child mistaken for something more.
What, you think you're special?
Oh, my God, you don't even touch the sides.
My brother, my brother, the prodigy, the beloved of God,
look upon his genius and weep.
He has turned death itself into a marvel,
his own death the puzzle of puzzles,
and the answer is me.
He has made me the answer.
But I'm not going to be the answer.
I'm not going to lose this one.
I'm not going to be the one who takes the blame.
For once it's going to be the spoilt brat who gets it.
Don't talk to her like that.
No-one talks to me like that.
Oh...
He didn't go down without a fight.
If I'm not mistaken, this little box is the Wednesday Club.
It's the Wizard of Oz, isn't it?
Just a little man behind a green curtain.
It's looking to me like this Wednesday Club
was just a sorry exercise in mass bullying.
Sir.
"You have been summoned. V&M."
Oh, no.
He had more than one caller last night.
Michelle.
I'll go and talk to her.
With respect, sir, I think it should be me.
You're too close.
All right, yeah.
We found this this morning in Conor Hawes's rooms.
Yes, I went to see him last night.
I went to ask him for his help. You'd given up on me.
And he refused you? He refused to help?
What?
Conor's dead, Michelle.
Alex Falconer killed him.
Conor was going to go and confront him.
Alex Falconer killed my boy and Alex Falconer killed Murray Hawes.
And still you don't believe me.
Alex Falconer has no motive.
No reason to kill your son, no reason to kill Murray and no reason to kill Conor.
None that you know of. Enough.
You have more reason to kill, to frame Alex Falconer.
I've lived with death for the past six years!
I'm sick of it! I'm ill with it.
Do you really think I'd want more?
Where's Stevie's jumper?
I'll get it.
V&M.
Vincent and Mia?
No. We don't wanna be called that any more.
This is you, though?
We found it in Conor Hawes' rooms.
He summoned you last night. Why? What did he want?
To humiliate us.
To hurt us.
To make us take the blame.
And now Conor Hawes is dead.
What's Lab H?
It's one of the labs Stevie used. I've never been able to find it.
Looks like something, but it's really a dead end.
No, it's something.
Michelle, we're gonna need to analyse that blood.
You don't need to take it.
I can tell you, it's Conor's blood. He'd been in a fight.
He was bleeding and he bled on Stevie's top.
I tried to wash it out.
I'll return it to you, I promise.
How did you get those bruises?
Conor. We had a fight.
Two against one? But he won.
No, he didn't.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Right.
Postmortem's in. So now we'll see, won't we?
We visited him last night. Conor's blood.
She said he'd been in a fight. Could you get this to Forensics for me?
You always give me the nicest presents!
Sorry.
Not just any old case, this one?
No. Go on, Laura.
Right. Cause of death, single blow to the back of the skull.
There are some bruises, so there must have been a fight.
Vincent and Mia are covered with bruises.
Then the body fell into the river. Fell in?
So he was killed beside the river?
Yes. There's fresh mud from the river bank compacted into the treads of the shoes.
Then the body drifted some way downstream by the look of it.
Lots of wear and tear after death
and silt in the pockets and folds of his clothes.
Conor was found there.
Square one.
Inspector.
Can I speak to you?
Go on.
I found a notebook... here, in one of the tool stacks.
It was Murray's.
I didn't know what to make of it. He was always losing things.
And Helena explained it away, said she'd give it to you.
I suppose I knew in my bones something was wrong.
And now this.
I'm sorry. Where's Helena now?
She's in the lodge. She hasn't got up yet.
I'm not a dishonest person. I didn't know what to do.
Helena, she's... she's fragile.
She hurts herself. I just didn't know what to do.
Missing pieces of the puzzle are sort of our stock in trade.
Half the time we can't even see what's right in front of us.
Where were you last night?
I was here. I was in bed. I was alone.
You were stood up?
Yes. By Alex Falconer?
Have you spoken to him?
Do you know where he was last night? No.
Oh, come on, Helena.
Look, I don't know where he was. I don't know anything.
Not good enough. Look, I have two murders linked to these gardens.
I have Murray Hawes' notebook hidden here.
And you want me to believe that you knew nothing at all about it?
All right, let's see if a trip down the station gets you talking.
What are these?
These are the seed pods off the laburnum tree.
I have to pick them up before the kids do.
They're full of cytosine. It's highly toxic.
Laburnum anagyroides.
Every single bit of this tree's poisonous.
But it's glorious when it's in bloom.
The flowers are bright yellow. Beautiful.
I think they're laburnum trees in the picture at Gold Cheyne Hall.
There's this hall and then a long line of golden trees.
I'm sure they're laburnums.
The hall was probably named after them.
When the tree was first introduced to Britain, it was known as the Golden Chain Tree
because the flowers hang in golden chains.
So another name for Gold Cheyne Hall would be...
Laburnum Hall? Lab H.
Sir!
It's not Lab H. It's Laburnum Hall. Laburnum Hall?
Laburnum Hall is another name for Gold Cheyne Hall.
Lab H is Gold Cheyne Hall.
Check upstairs.
You, Professor, are gonna show me what this is all about.
Alex.
You told us you'd sold one or two paintings.
It looks like you've flogged the lot.
We have sold a number of pieces, yes.
And how much have you raised so far from the sales?
It's somewhere in the region of Ј2 million, I believe.
You're not spending all that on the garden, are you?
What are you using this for, Dr Falconer?
Alex, don't speak to him. Don't say a word. I'll get a lawyer.
No. No, Helena. There's no point.
The jig is up. The jig is up.
No, Alex, it'll be all right. Please don't let them take you away.
Don't let them take you away from me. Please, please, Alex.
What kind of work are you doing here?
The Signature Of All Things by Jacob Boehme.
This is the Doctrine of Signatures. The healing qualities of plants.
Where did these come from, Dr Falconer?
The laburnum tree.
Laburnum seeds.
Full of cytosine. Highly toxic. Murray Hawes's tox report.
Caffeine, alcohol, nicotine.
What do you always notice about Michelle's house aside from the obvious?
She's a smoker. Always smells of smoke.
Murray Hawes's house smells of dry rot, not cigarettes.
Murray Hawes was not a smoker.
So why was there nicotine in his blood tox?
Yeah, Laura, I need you to do a check
on the blood tox of Murray Hawes.
The nicotine reading. Yeah, can you do it now?
It's just I think the lab might have made a mistake.
I can tell you. It is, it's cytosine.
Yeah, I'll hear it from my pathologist, thank you.
Yeah, still here.
You're right, there is a mistake.
It's a tiny molecular difference. It's not nicotine. It's cytosine.
But it's not its usual state. It's been engineered.
Thanks, Laura.
Engineered cytosine, Dr Falconer?
He's trying to find the cure. The cure for cancer.
Lucrative. Or is it the Nobel Prize you're after, Doctor?
No, it's nothing like that.
It's for me. He's trying to find a cure for me. Skin cancer.
He can't accept that there's no hope.
But I thought I was the only one taking it.
She didn't know. Thea didn't know about Murray.
Oh, God, Alex.
What have you done? What have you done?
Cytosine is a vasoconstrictor.
There's been some good work done
on vasoconstriction as a means of shrinking tumours.
And laburnum flowers are yellow.
It's a yellow plant, full of flavonoids, nature's sun screen.
Yellow. Signature of the plant's purpose.
I know it sounds mad. It's crazy, I know.
I'm crazed.
I can't lose you.
I won't be able to live.
You'll have me.
Dr Falconer, Murray Hawes?
He needed cash and I needed a guinea pig.
We agreed three doses.
100,000 per dose.
He was gonna come here, but I took him to the Botanic Gardens.
I didn't want Thea asking questions.
I didn't... I didn't want to lie to her.
And you, Professor Wright, what part did you play?
None, none. She...
No, I acted... At all times, I acted alone.
So you gave Murray the third dose at the arid house?
The first two doses went well.
I got over-confident.
I raised the third dose.
He began fitting almost immediately. He hit his head as he fell.
So you took the body out of the gardens, you buried it in the woods,
you came back to the gardens and cleared up the arid house,
while the professor, your lover, who lives in the gardens,
saw absolutely nothing?
That's right. She... She knew nothing about it.
I never meant to hurt him. I was trying to save my wife.
You didn't mean to kill Murray, but you killed Conor.
He came to see you, didn't he? He came to confront you.
So what happened?
He came to the gardens. He wanted answers.
He said he was the prime suspect.
He said he wouldn't leave until he'd found out the truth.
He was angry and desperate. He was violent.
And so you killed him.
You killed Conor
and you chucked his body into the river like some piece of old junk?
Yes.
Don't touch her. Thea, darling, no.
I didn't. I didn't kill Conor. No, look at me.
You know I didn't. I didn't kill Conor.
You know me, I... You know I didn't. I couldn't have.
He couldn't have done any of it without me.
He couldn't have managed any of it on his own.
He needed me. You needed me.
For once, you needed me more than I needed you.
I killed Conor.
One blow was all it took. One blow. It was easy.
I did it for Alex.
All for Alex.
And still...
still he doesn't love me.
Stevie Marber, was he another person you didn't mean to kill?
He found out about your experiments?
Stevie? No, no.
He was helping me. He was working with me.
It was the worst day of my life when Stevie died.
He would have got there, you see. He was... He was that brilliant.
If I'd got him working, got him clean,
he would have made the breakthrough.
He would have succeeded where I have failed.
You have not failed.
I thought you'd leave him to me...
I was waiting
for you to leave him to me.
Helena, it was a comfort to me. I don't want him to be alone.
I never saw this possibility, that I'd be the one left behind.
He won't be able to bear it if he can't be with me when...
He won't be able to bear it.
I'm very sorry.
Thank you.
I read the Snark last night.
Didn't understand a word of it.
I've come to think that that might be the point.
Aye.
Apparently a girl once wrote to Lewis Carroll, asked him,
"Why don't you just explain the Snark?"
And he replied, "Are you able to
explain things you can't yourself understand?"
What do I say to her?
How do I tell her the truth?
Tell her with kindness.
You're good at that.