02x06 - The m*rder Room - Part 2

[bunniefuu]

Present estimate,

she's been dead for between
36 and 48 hours.

Which means she could
have died at around

the same time
as Neville Dupayne.

Cause of death, obvious...
She was strangled.

The k*ller was wearing gloves
and was right-handed.

- Could a woman have done it?
- Yes.

She's slight.
Her neck's narrow.

It would have taken strength,

but not remarkable strength
or expertise.

Barely more than a child.

Why did you attack
Major Arkwright, Ryan?

Because he was trying
to stop you running?

And why run? Because you k*lled
Neville Dupayne.

At the park, you said,
"She's going to k*ll me."

Who were you talking about?

The Major said
you seemed frightened.

Is he okay?

Yes. Sore head,
but we think he'll live.

I think we should
bring the Major in.

He's not angry with him.

He can talk some sense into him.

Yeah.

She was wearing
a cream skirt suit.

Around 20 years old,

5'3" with long, fair hair,
blue eyes.

I certainly haven't noticed her.

Nor have I.

Mrs. Godby, you're responsible
for signing people in.

- Do you remember her?
- No.

And I do
normally remember visitors.

And I saw her face in the trunk.

It's most likely she would
have arrived at some point

on Friday on her own
or with one other person.

We did check that everyone
had left, didn't we, Muriel?

Of course. We always do.

Is there somewhere someone
could hide if they chose to?

Basement.

There are several tall
archive shelves down there.

Unless you check behind
every shelf, ladies.

We don't.

But the girl was found
in the trunk exhibit, yes?

Well, that means someone
was reenacting the m*rder

- of the prost*tute.
- Violette Kaye.

Just like someone
was reenacting the car m*rder.

It's a crank.
It has to be.

Someone obsessed
with the m*rder Room.

I swear to God,
we're going to get rid of it

when all this is over.

There's a second door
in the mudroom.

It leads to the flat.

But it can't be opened
from the Museum side.

My father used it
when he was alive.

I'm the only one
who uses it now.

It's my refuge from the school.

Much needed.

Does anyone else have a key?

Marcus does.

Neville was given one
originally,

but he lost it years ago.

It leads down
to the m*rder Room.

Dust both sides
for prints, please.

Yes, sir.

Ryan.

Friday night,

after we locked up,
I hung around.

I wanted to talk to him,

tell him how unfair he's being.

Do you mean
Dr. Neville Dupayne?

Yeah.

I wanted him to get
what it'd do to Tally

if she had to leave the cottage,

so I hung around
the heath for a bit.

I knew he was coming back
for his car,

so I waited on the drive
and I saw him coming.

But then I saw her.

Who, Ryan?

Mrs. Strickland.

She came out of the car park
and started talking to him.

So I hid in the trees.

Could you hear
what they were saying?

Not much.
I heard him say, "Stop lying."

And she was trying
to give him something...

A bit of paper,
but he stormed off.

And then she turned round,
sudden like, and she saw me.

- So I ran.
- Why?

Why didn't you talk to her?

Ryan's frightened of
Mrs. Strickland.

She's a b*tch.

She's always trying
to make me jump.

She's always telling me stories
about murders and stuff.

A couple of weeks ago,

when I was cleaning out
the m*rder Room,

she came in
and showed me the trunk.

And then she said,
"Do you wanna open it?"

And I said yeah, 'cause...
'cause who doesn't?

And then she said,
"Do you want to get in?"

So I did, just to see.

Then she closed the lid on me.

I thought she was
gonna lock me in,

but she just laughed
and walked off.

Did she say anything
to you today

about you seeing her
with Dr. Dupayne?

She didn't have to.

She gave me this look like

"If you tell, you're dead."

Marie Annette Strickland.
No criminal record.

But then we checked
the w*r Office records.

We just thought she was
the right age to have served.

She's smart.

Something in the way
she talked to me.

She knows her history.
Interested in the w*r.

And sure enough.

Her military record.

Classified.

So she could have served
in intelligence...

Code breaking, maybe?
She's half-French, sir.

And if she did have
military training, well...

Do we bring her in?

She served in Special Ops,

an exceptionally brave
young woman.

She was undercover in Paris...
1940 right to the end.

A leading light...
One might even say legendary.

She was once arrested
and questioned by the Gestapo

for 48 hours
and walked away free.

They couldn't break her cover.

You're sure
they didn't turn her?

Sure. There's no
evidence for that whatsoever.

She saved the lives
of dozens of our boys.

She'd have known Felix Dupayne.

Yes. Her boss.

He probably had a hand
in training her.

There were rumors
about the two of them.

Unsubstantiated.

Another body in the Museum...

It's unfortunate.

The press will have a field day.

We're trying to
keep it out of the press.

Still. The publicity should
ensure the Museum survives.

Your man could work
from anywhere, couldn't he?

He's the asset, not the Museum.

Why should it matter
if it closes?

Did I say it would?

Keep me posted.

I assume Ryan Archer
has been singing?

Isn't that the expression?

Can you confirm that
you spoke to Dr. Neville Dupayne

on Friday evening around 7:15?

Yes, I can confirm that.

Can you tell us
why you spoke to him?

I had started
trying to give these up.

Turns out I'm too late.

Cancer.

- I'm very sorry.
- It is what it is.

A prosaic death
is a sort of privilege.

I wanted Neville
to know the truth.

That I am his biological mother.

Felix Dupayne
is his real father.

We fell deeply in love
during the w*r,

and it lasted
until the day he died.

Conceiving Neville
was a mistake,

but given that Felix's wife,
was au fait with the situation,

he decided that they should
adopt Neville

as if from an agency.

His real birth certificate.

I tried to give it to him
on Friday,

but he wouldn't take it.

So Neville didn't believe
he was a real Dupayne.

Correct.

What do Marcus
and Caroline believe?

Same thing.
They thought their parents

had simply decided to do
a good deed and adopted him.

I thought that if Neville
knew the truth

that he had Dupayne blood
in his veins,

he might change his mind about
wanting the Museum closed.

So you waited for him
to come along the drive?

Yes.
Didn't go very well, our chat.

I dare say I handled it badly.

Not very good with feelings.

Neville became angry.

Refused to believe what
I was saying and walked away.

To his death, as it turned out.

Look, I don't claim to have
profound maternal feelings

towards Neville.

I gave up my right to those.

But I did feel a...

A sort of bond with him.

Sometimes I thought
that he felt it, too.

Occasionally he'd come into the
m*rder Room and watch me work.

I think he...
He found it peaceful.

What happened
after the encounter?

I saw Ryan spying,

and then I watched him run away.

And then I returned to my car
and drove back home.

Ryan is a stupid boy.

Lazy. Pointless.

I suspect you're too young
to have served, Chief Inspector.

A little, yes.

Well, I'm afraid
the cliche is true.

For those of us who did,

it's a source of constant
and profound chagrin

that this latest generation

are squandering the future
that we gifted them.

Ryan may well have played a part
in Neville's m*rder,

but I can promise you
he doesn't have the intelligence

or the guts to have acted alone.

If Caroline and Marcus thought

that Neville wasn't
really related to them,

they might have found it easier
to k*ll him.

I had the same thought.

The description of the girl...

Where are we with that?

In the papers first thing
in the morning.

Sir, she was so dressed up.

Surely not for a day
at the Museum.

Maybe she was meeting Neville.

Or Marcus.

Marcus has keys to the flat,

so he could well have arranged
to meet her there.

Then for some reason,
she goes through the door,

down the stairs,
into the m*rder Room.

And she looks out the window

and witnesses Neville's m*rder.

And the k*ller looks around,
sees her, and comes for her.

It makes sense.

We have no proof yet.

For any of it.

PM findings.

Our victim was in
the early stages of pregnancy.

And someone had placed
several flowers

inside her bra above her heart.

African violets.

Because of Violette Kaye.

African violets.

I'm not sure
I know what they look like.

Purple, presumably.

I've seen some recently.

Where? At the Museum?

Yes.

Mrs. Clutton,

we have a warrant
to search the cottage.

What? Why?

Step aside, please,
Mrs. Clutton.

You two check through there.
I'll take the bedroom.

We'll be careful.

Dresser in there
we need to go through.

Bag this as well, please.

How long have you had
this plant, Mrs. Clutton?

Oh, two, maybe three years.

And to your knowledge,
is there another one like it

elsewhere in the Museum?

No, I don't think so.

Who else knows
that you own this plant?

I don't know.

I mean,
anyone who's been in here

might have noticed it,
I suppose.

Ryan? Muriel Godby?

Yes, everyone.
Everyone who works here

would have been in
at one time or another.

What is this about?

Is it because of
something Ryan said?

What might Ryan have said?

I don't know.
I don't mean that...

How are your bruises from
your fall on Friday night?

They're getting better.
Thank you.

It's funny that
he hasn't come forward.

Your masked man
who was so keen to help.

We've put out several calls
for witnesses.

That's hardly my fault.

You think I'm lying.

About the car, about...

About being knocked off my bike.

Well, I'm not.
And I resent that.

We're not accusing you of lying.

Oh, be careful.

You really think I could have
m*rder*d Dr. Dupayne?

Set fire to him?
And the poor girl in the Museum.

- You think that I...
- We're doing our job.

But why in God's name
would I do such a thing?

So the Museum would stay open

and you could stay here
in this place

you're so clearly attached to.

Oh, I could have found
somewhere else.

Sorry. Sorry.

Am I under arrest?

No, but you'll have to stay here
until we say otherwise.

And we need your passport
if you have one.

I don't.

You never had one for
visiting your son in Australia?

No.

He's never asked me.

I must ask that you don't
mention our interest

in the African violets
to anyone.

Violet.

If you've done nothing wrong,
you have nothing to fear.

The handbag looks brand new,

not the kind of thing
we normally get.

Then I realized
she matches the description

of the girl in the paper.

It's definitely her, sir.

And there's a younger girl
with her in the photo.

She's in school uniform.

It's Swathling's Academy.

Yes, the one in
uniform is Victoria Mellock.

She's a pupil here.
A boarder.

The other one is her sister,
Celia Mellock.

She was here briefly
a few years ago.

Celia Mellock.
You're certain?

Oh, God.

Is this the girl you described?

She's dead?

We need to speak to Victoria,

and we need a telephone number
and address for her parents.

They're in America.

Mr. Mellock works there.

I'm very sorry to be
the one to say...

unfortunately, your sister
has been found dead.

Okay, Dad. See you then.

Bye.

Victoria, do you feel able
to tell us

a little bit about Celia?

Anything you say
might be very helpful.

Do you remember when
this photograph was taken?

My bi...

My birthday.

She came here
and said she was springing me.

She called this place Alcatraz.

She was a pupil here
for a while. Is that right?

Not for long. She hated it.

Thought it was a waste of time.

So she just messed about

until Miss Dupayne and my dad
thought she should leave.

Does she have a boyfriend?

No.

I mean, she's got
loads of friends,

and they go out all the time.

I think I know
the answer to this,

but did she ever go to museums?

Museums? No. No way.

Your sister was found
in the Dupayne Museum

on the edge of Hampstead Heath.

Do you have any idea
why she might have gone there?

What is it, Victoria?

She said she knew a secret
about the Dupayne Museum.

A secret about Miss Dupayne.

- What sort of secret?
- She was drunk.

I didn't know
if she was serious.

She said I was too young
to hear it.

I have no idea
what she could have meant.

Unless...

Celia and another girl
once walked in here

when I happened to be
kissing a man.

One of the school governors.

Celia was clearly thrilled
by the whole thing.

I knew she'd gossip about it.

The girls are at an age
where sex is

a huge, exciting revelation.

And I'm not married,
and I'm their authority figure.

I'm sure your sex life
is a subject

of a great deal of curiosity
amongst your junior colleagues.

Does he or doesn't he?

What could she have meant
about the Museum?

I don't know.
I can only think she'd heard

about the m*rder Room.

General titillation.

Did you ever introduce Celia
to one of your brothers?

No, I did not.

Celia Mellock was 17
when she was here,

and I do not introduce
underage girls to grown men.

This is a professional school
with an outstanding reputation.

If you're thinking of continuing
this line of questioning,

you can do so
with my lawyer present.

I think you need to
rein in your imagination.

You don't think it could
be Caroline, do you?

Who Celia was meeting?

It's possible.

Thanks.
That was the Yard, sir.

The flowers
for Mrs. Clutton's plant...

They're a match with the flowers
on the body.

And they got a partial set
of prints off the small door...

High up...
Also a match with our dead girl.

- Which side of the door?
- The stairwell side.

So she probably knew
about the flat.

Anything from the flat itself?

Nothing. The only prints
were Caroline Dupayne's.

But they said the place seemed
like it had been scrubbed clean.

We need to make Victoria safe
until her parents get home.

I don't want Caroline
having access to her.

The idea was
launched earlier today

by the crossbench peer,
Lord Martlesham,

who described it
as both workable and urgent.

What we need to acknowledge

is that for many of the poorest
in our society,

the existing credit system
is a trap.

It's a catch-22.

Lord Martlesham,
I accept your point,

but if you would go on

to tell us a little more
about the details...

Yes, quite.
Well, I think the real point...

Seems like someone's having
a bonfire over there.

This is
Chief Inspector Dalgliesh.

How do you do?

I'm not sure what the form is
in this situation.

Sit down, please,
Lord Martlesham.

I'm grateful to have
the opportunity

to clear this thing up.

Mrs. Tallulah Clutton,

the housekeeper
at the Dupayne Museum,

has this afternoon
recognized you

as the motorist who knocked her
off her bicycle

on the driveway
of the Dupayne Museum

at around 7:20 on Friday night.

I have to ask you
if you were there and if...

I was.

And I did accidentally
knock the lady off her bike.

I did stop to make sure
she was all right.

I-I hope she wasn't more badly
injured than I realized.

I assume you heard about
Dr. Neville Dupayne's death

in a fire at the Museum
that night.

We made several appeals
for witnesses.

Why didn't you come forward?

I did think
about coming forward.

In fact, I thought
about little else.

But I honestly believed I could
be of no material assistance.

I'd noticed a fire.

But I thought someone was simply
having a bonfire or...

And I didn't see anyone except
Mrs., uh, Clutton, did you say?

I know now I should have
come forward at once.

I was too wary of my reputation,
I suppose.

Unforgivable.

Another person was m*rder*d
at the Museum that night.

Perhaps you've read
in the newspapers

about the body of a young woman
being found in the area.

We now know that her name
was Miss Celia Mellock.

Oh, God.

We... We'd been
seeing each other.

I'm married.

We... We'd arranged to meet
in the car park at the Museum,

but she didn't arrive,
and I assumed she wasn't coming,

so I left.

I realize how this must look.

Mrs. Clutton claims
you were wearing a mask

over your eyes and nose
that night, is that correct?

Yes. I keep it in the car.

I can't be recognized.

And, well, Celia and I,

we enjoyed the intrigue,
I suppose.

Why the Museum car park?

It's secluded.
It's convenient for my home.

Miss Mellock's body was
discovered in the m*rder Room

inside the Museum.

We believe she entered it
through a door

which leads
from the private flat

belonging to Caroline Dupayne.

Have you any idea
how Celia might have

- gained access to that flat?
- Sorry.

- Do I need to call my lawyer?
- That's your choice.

Celia was two months pregnant.

Could the child have been yours?

She said
when we arranged to meet,

she had something important
to tell me.

Celia and I both had keys
to the private flat.

We obtained them
through Caroline Dupayne.

Why? Is she a close friend?

I'm not a bad person.

Everything I do,
all my work, I do

for the good of the country.
I believe that.

Hand on heart.

Celia and I shouldn't have been

using the flat
for a private meeting.

Shouldn't have been
seeing each other at all.

Because i-i-it's
against the rules.

Against the rules of what?

The Club.

The private club.

The 98 Club.

I'm standing by, okay?

This way.

What's... Can I do anything,
Miss Dupayne?

- Keep walking, please.
- For God's sake.

I'm not talking
to the local vicar.

Yes, a private club where people
meet anonymously to have sex.

Whatever sort of sex they want.

They're all adults.
It's consensual.

No laws are broken.

Many of the members
are powerful people.

People you probably know,
Chief Inspector.

Felt any pressure from above
during your investigations?

Does money change hands?

No, never.
I'm not a bawd.

It's a pretty slim distinction.

How does it work?
You say it's anonymous.

Through a series of P.O. boxes.

Members are allowed to invite
one other person

during the course
of their membership.

Were you aware Celia Mellock
was a member?

No, I wasn't.

She was 20 years old.

Above the age of consent.

How do you know the other
members weren't younger?

Because we run
on absolute trust.

I'd hear about it.

None of us wishes to be involved
in anything harmful or ill*gal.

It's about pleasure.

Release.

Are you aware that
Lord Martlesham is a member?

Yes.
Is that who spoke to you?

Lord Martlesham was having
private meetings

with Celia Mellock at the flat.

They'd started a relationship.

On Friday night,
they'd arranged to meet there,

but Lord Martlesham was late.

When he went up to the flat,
Celia wasn't there.

Coming out of the flat,
he noticed a fire

in the direction of the garage.

He drove away
as quickly as he could.

So he knocked Tally Clutton
off her bike.

But Celia was, in fact,

still inside
the Museum building.

Bored or curious,

she'd gone through the door
into the m*rder Room.

And we believe that
from the window there,

she saw the m*rder*r
leaving the garage,

having set fire to your brother.

So it's Martlesham.

He broke the rules of the 98,
got entangled.

Who knows what
he was capable of.

But the m*rder*r had a key
to the garage

as well as to the flat

and most probably
to the Museum too.

And from what I understand,

the only people in possession
of all of those keys

are Marcus

and you.

- Only me, Tally.
- Oh, Muriel.

I was just thinking are you sure
that you want to stay here?

I do feel... I can't help
feeling concerned for you.

And I do have a spare room
at my house.

Police asked me
the very same question.

But I've always felt
quite safe here.

And anyway, I'm not going
to be driven from my home.

But thank you.

Um,

would you like to come in
for a cup of tea?

What made you start the club?

When my father was alive,

I knew he spent time in there
with his mistress.

Marie Strickland.

Once I started using it,
I realized the potential it had.

It must be a lot of work
on top of running the school.

It's manageable.

And what happens after
one of your meetings?

It must take some tidying up.

You collect up
the champagne bottles, do you?

Get rid of the condoms?

Yes.

I don't believe you.

Somebody helps you, don't they?

- Marcus?
- Marcus knows nothing.

Ryan? Take advantage
of a homeless boy?

Marie? Muriel? Tally?

The very idea
that Caroline could have

m*rder*d her own brother.

I don't understand the police's
obsession with the idea

that the m*rder*r
must have known Neville.

Maybe it's because of the
references to the m*rder Room.

And now that they found
that poor girl in there.

How could she have got in,
Muriel?

I've been over and over it.

And how could
we have missed her?

She must have crept in
without our seeing

and hid in the basement,
as Marie suggested.

And the references
to the Blazing Car

and the violets
on the girl's body...

Hundreds of people must have
read about those cases.

Thousands, even.

Violets on the body?

Yes, I believe so.

Didn't the police tell you about
that when they questioned you?

No.
No, they didn't.

I'm surprised.

Chief Inspector Dalgliesh
mentioned it to me.

It's clearly some sort of crank,
as Caroline said.

Playing a sick sort of game.

Yes. More than likely.

You're tired.
I'll wend my way.

Rather looking forward
to my bed.

I have a headache coming on.

- Am I under arrest?
- Not yet.

Then I'm leaving,

and I'm not saying another word
until my lawyer's present.

- Who are you protecting?
- No comment.

Because whoever it is
m*rder*d your brother

in cold blood,

waited for him in the dark,
threw petrol over him.

Perhaps he said his name,
"Neville,"

and he turned around and he
smelt the petrol as it hit him.

- Shut up.
- And he saw the match.

He knew what was coming.

Shut up.

You think he's adopted.

He's your father's son.

Your father
and Marie Strickland.

- He's your flesh and blood.
- What are you saying?

And now he's been torn from
the world and all his potential,

all the good
he might have done is gone.

We loved him.

You know what?
I've had enough of this.

The amount of my life,
I've spent listening

to people like this,
dancing around the truth,

justifying themselves

with their own warped sense
of importance while people die.

Caroline Dupayne,
I'm arresting you for the m*rder

of Dr. Neville Dupayne
and Miss Celia Mellock.

You have the right
to remain silent.

It wasn't me!

sweeping in from the northwest

and giving way to sunny spells
tomorrow morning.

Warm, overcast conditions
continue in London

and East Anglia.

And it looks set
to be a mild few days

across the whole of the South.

Who else knew about the club?

Who else knew about the club?

Who else knew about the club?!

Mu... Muriel.

Muriel Godby.

Muriel started the 98 Club.
It was her idea.

I was a girl when she worked
at the school I attended.

When my mother died,
it was sudden.

I was 14. I was a mess.

She took me under her wing.

Muriel's not what you think.
She has this kind of power.

She collects information
about people and stores it away.

I asked her if she was involved
in Neville's death.

She said no.

She knew Celia Mellock.

She worked at Swathling's
for a term.

The same term Celia was there.

I remember her saying how
insolent she thought Celia was.

Do you know Muriel's address?

I've got it.
It's somewhere in Camden.

She could be at the Museum.
She could be locking up.

Mrs. Clutton.

Mrs. Clutton.

Mrs. Clutton,
I'm going to move you.

Police, ambulance, or fire?

DS Miskin from Scotland Yard.

We need an ambulance immediately
to the Dupayne Museum.

Come on.

Mrs. Clutton?

She's breathing, but only just.

Please hurry.

Mrs. Clutton.

- Cover the back.
- Yes, sir.

- Right. Quick as you can.
- Right behind you.

Muriel Godby.

I'm arresting you for
the murders of Neville Dupayne

and Celia Mellock.

What on earth
are you talking about?

Turn around, please.

Turn around.

It's all about sex
with men, isn't it?

They're strong, powerful,
clever sometimes.

But that need they have,
that drive,

makes them weak in so many ways.

Yes, I run the 98 Club,

a private club
for consenting adults.

I've done nothing ill*gal.

I wouldn't have k*lled anyone to
protect the club or the Museum.

I had nothing to do with
the death of Neville Dupayne

or the girl in the trunk.

May I have a cup of tea?

Was it all about sex
for your husband, Mrs. Godby?

Divorced after only two
and a half years of marriage.

Divorce granted on the grounds
of your husband's adultery.

I was glad to see
the back of my husband.

For me, it was only ever
a marriage of convenience.

An escape from home.

My husband was a fool.

He's dead now.

He didn't know
the first thing about me.

Father too.

Always lavishing attention
on my little sister,

who was delightfully pretty.

He never saw the strength
he had in me.

Women like me are overlooked.

Plain. Prim.

Invisible.

Who could blame me for
using that to my advantage?

Quite some advantage, too.

Tens of thousands in the bank.

Not bad for a receptionist.

So far, we've identified
eight five-figure payments

arriving into your account
over the last seven years,

all from offshore accounts.

We could only conclude
that you've been periodically

extorting money
from members of the 98.

You may conclude
whatever you wish.

- We'll prove it.
- Oh, she speaks.

It'll only take one
to break ranks,

and then it will all
come tumbling down.

Your execution of the
murders was almost exemplary.

Wearing gloves. Wiping prints.

You only missed two, by the way.

I'd be interested to know
whether your use

of the m*rder Room cases
was premeditated or improvised.

Either way, you must have
thought it was your lucky day

when the man fleeing the scene
mentioned a bonfire.

We've had some luck, too.

Your most recent victim,
Mrs. Clutton.

She survived.

Tally was attacked?

She's recovering in hospital.

I should be allowed to interview
her in just over an hour.

She'll be able to tell me
why she made a 999 call

just before she was hit.

The circumstantial
evidence is mounting.

Your claim not to recognize
Celia Mellock, for example.

And then there's the sweep we're
doing of your house and car.

I expect we'll find traces
of petrol in the boot

transferred from the overalls
I assume you wore.

You won't.

Well, perhaps we'll
find something else.

Soil from Tally's garden
transferred from the bucket

you used to throw the petrol.

We know you made one mistake.

You will have made more.

They deserved it.

Arrogant, dismissive.

But they saw me in the end.

You know, even if you do succeed
in building your case,

you'll find very little appetite
from your superiors

or the judiciary
to put me in a courtroom,

to put me on the stand.

I do know so very much.

You'd be the most
unpopular officer

in the history of Scotland Yard.

I've always felt
that popularity was overrated.

Good work, both of you.

- Thanks.
- Yeah. Cheers, sir.

Do you think she's right, sir?

The powers that be
will block her prosecution?

Cut her some sort of deal?

It wouldn't surprise me.

Hey, you see this?

He's in danger
of getting famous.

He's a dark horse.

I've just been
with the commissioner.

I told him I'd resign unless
Muriel Godby is prosecuted.

You did.

Honestly, I've been
planning to go anyway.

The poetry...

My publisher has plans for me.

So you're leaving?

I'm not.

Godby will stand trial.

There'll be damage.
They'll have to deal with it.

They'd rather keep me
on the inside.

I have a vision of myself
without this job,

disappearing down
emotional dark tunnels,

writing myself into despair.

I need something to hold me
to the world.

Well, good.

Because we need you.

I've accepted a promotion.

Commander.

More importantly, I've
recommended you for a promotion.

Detective Inspector.

The Commissioner agreed.

Right.

Technically, you could
stay on my team

or you could move to a team

where you'd have
more responsibility of your own.

You're ready. More than ready.

I am.

I am, thanks to you.

If I were to move away
from the Met,

I'd be in charge of a lot more
people, wouldn't I?

The promotion
would really count.

Yes, that's right.

Okay.

Thank you.

Kate.

You should be happy.

I will be, sir.