Endeavour

Concerto No.4 in F Minor, 'L'inverno', by Antonio Vivaldi

Admit men into our women's college,

you would invite the wolf inside the citadel.

We cannot underestimate this.

The barbarian is at the gate!

Within this college we are safe, we are free.

Beyond the pale, we are neither of these things.

We are prey.

Broken neck.

There are wounds adjacent to the jugular.

Bruising at the trauma site

suggests the attacker sucked,

or attempted to suck, her blood.

Still think we got him?

It doesn't mean...

It means maybe you're not as smart as you like to give out.

We've got a passer-by who heard someone whistling

along the towpath last night.

Antonio, would that be?

# Antonio He's gone away... #

That's right. Why?

In here! Carl Sturgis...

I'm arresting you for the murder of Bridget Mulcahy.

Examination of the ladder upon which he stood

shows that it was old and in poor repair.

There are no suspicious circumstances pertaining.

And accordingly, I record a verdict

of death by misadventure.

It's not helpful to reopen the debate.

They're just requesting that we speak to the student body.

I just don't understand why they're asking us again.

Of the nearly 40 colleges in Oxford,

only five are open to women.

Five!

And yet, the faculty are once again entertaining the idea

that Lady Matilda's should open its doors to men.

I say, no!

No, no. Maggie...

No! I'm sorry, Warden...

this is a place of women.

And its precincts should remain inviolate.

It's just a straw poll, Mags, of the student body.

Advisory at best. Advisory?

Well, this is my advice. Drop the idea.

Because, I promise you,

I will fight any attempt to make this college coeducational.

I will fight it to my last breath!

There were grounds to believe

that the person responsible for the murder at Corax House

also killed the barmaid, Molly Andrews, on the towpath at New Year,

as both women were known to that individual.

It was the flasher that threw us off the scent.

Tony Jakobssen.

He had his throat cut. Completely different MO.

Of course, it's now clear that Jakobssen was got rid of

because he'd strayed on to the killer's hunting ground.

It's all very well the Yard picking over our work

with the benefit of hindsight.

The important thing is Carl Sturgis is on remand

at Farnleigh Prison, awaiting trial.

He can do no further harm. That's what matters.

We got him in the end.

We would have got him a deal sooner if we'd been listened to.

Morse meant well, of course, and his record speaks for itself.

I'm not suggesting any repercussions for him.

Not for a moment, no. But...

we invested too much faith in his abilities.

Backed his instincts too wholeheartedly.

We gave him his head. Overindulged him.

And he was wrong.

And it was a week before he was due to walk me down the aisle.

The past year, it's all he talked about.

It was no-one's fault.

That's what the inquest said.

But I can't help but blame myself.

How's that? Money.

We've never been well-off, but he did want to make it nice.

The wedding.

He was working all the hours.

Sold his big car for something smaller.

He even cashed in a couple of life policies he had.

He was alone when the accident happened, is that right?

Yeah. The pulley went on the block and tackle.

Dad had been saying it needed replacing, but...

..just never got around to it.

These, er... freak accidents of yours.

I've taken a look. There's nothing there, as far as I can see.

No grounds for opening an investigation, leastways.

Really?

None of the deceased were known to each another.

And there's nothing that links them. Well, I'd like to keep at it.

Not really our place to go looking for work, is it?

Not when there's real cases going begging.

Well, I think these are real cases.

Then we'll have to disagree.

We all make mistakes sometimes, get things wrong.

Even you. Is that right?

There's no shame in it.

It just makes us be double sure of a thing next time.

How did you know about the song Antonio?

How did you know that's what the passer-by would have heard?

Because that's what I heard when I followed Sturgis.

That's what he was whistling? That's what I heard.

That's not the same thing.

I lost sight of him, I heard the whistling.

So, it could have been someone else. No, it couldn't.

We have four people who can stand him alibi

the night his girlfriend was killed.

Four people can put him at that New Year's Eve party

until the early hours of the morning. They said they did.

Not to mention the taxi driver that dropped him off

and picked him out of a line-up.

It's past debate now. Is it?

Then, how could he be in two places at once?

It was him. Why, because you say so?

That's right. All right. Well, what about evidence?

What about Molly Andrews' crucifix, for example?

We've turned his place upside down and we couldn't find a thing.

Not a thing!

It's Sturgis. He's been charged. And there's an end of it.

Well, I hope you're right. Really, I do.

But I think a jury are gonna want more than your gut

when it comes to court.

And I'm not wrong. These freak accidents, they are connected.

ha! About time.

I don't think I'll ever quite get used to this place.

It's not as if I can come to your house. He might drop by.

Five months. She should be back soon, shouldn't she, your friend?

New Year sometime.

What does she do again? She's a dancer.

Where?

Some discotheque in Beirut. Why?

Does it matter?

No. I don't suppose so.

Come in, number 23, your time is up.

What's that? Nothing.

It's something they say on the boating lake

when you've had your hour.

You know how it works. Yeah...

Ludo and I might be away.

Did I say?

For Christmas.

Cortina d'Ampezzo.

Skiing...

Nice.

It won't always be this way.

Well, we will have to tell him sooner or later.

The longer it goes on...

It would kill him.

We're all adults.

These things happen.

It's nobody's fault.

It's funny.

I think it's you he'd mind losing...

far more than me.

I'm sure you'll have made plans of your own,

but you're very welcome to have Christmas lunch here with us.

You're here, are you? I didn't hear you come in.

Joan should be home.

Thursday.

'There's another body.' When?

You know, it's nothing extravagant.

Where? Just enough food for everybody.

And the children get out a game or two for after the Queen,

and Fred has a doze in front of the big film. Right.

We've got to go. I haven't done your sandwiches.

They'll have to keep. Mrs Thursday.

There's been another one along the towpath.

Sir. Morse.

A cyclist found her about an hour and a half ago.

Undergrad from Lady Matilda's it looks to be.

Name of Petra Cornwell.

19.

Her digs are a quarter of a mile up the towpath.

Anything from witnesses or passers-by?

Nobody's come forward as yet.

Nobody heard the whistling or...?

As I say, it's too early.

Doctor...

Time of death between eight to 12 hours.

At first glance, cause of death would appear to be asphyxia

by means of manual strangulation.

Not like the last one, then?

Well... No blood, no blood drinking.

That's something, isn't it? I mean, that's something.

Let's not. How's that? Let's not what?

It doesn't matter. No, no.

Let's not what?

Let's not clutch at straws to save our blushes.

Three women, one man.

It's the same killer for all.

Whoever killed Molly Andrews killed this young woman.

Yeah?

You'd like that to be true, wouldn't you?

Show me up.

"The old man's losing his touch." Is that it?

I didn't... I didn't say that. You don't need to.

But before you get all high and mighty,

let's not forget you had all this down for Naomi Kane's killer.

Yes, I know.