Inspector Morse

I burn the past.

Andreas...

Goodbye, my darling.

It's over.

It has to be.

I burn the past.

Patti.

You screwed up your own life, kid.

It wasn't my fault.

I burn the past.

Nicole.

No more uncertainty.

No more fear.

I burn the past.

Alistair.

Alistair.

What?

Oh...

For the end of boredom.

I burn the past.

And, May.

Trash.

I burn the past.

Very close now. I promise you

the worst of the pain is over.

That's the toughest thing you'll ever have to do. Now, can we all join hands, please?

And the directive is: concentrate. Think, each one of you...it's past...

..it's been destroyed...

it's lost its power.

Midnight.

Congratulations and full marks to everyone, and the best is to come.

You've got one hour.

Abandon and enjoy it.

You're released.

No. No.

Honest, Russell, not me. I can't.

But it's a deal, Patti. You signed a contract.

Yeah, but I didn't know my own limitations at the time. I cannot go zooming off into the woods.

Let me take Maureen. Come on, Maureen, show me the ropes.

- There are no ropes, Patti. - On you go, Patti.

- Drinks and food back at the villa in an hour. - Be free. Be yourself.

Russell, you are all kinds of a skunk.

Alistair.

ls anyone there? Hello?

Sto cercando mio marito.

Sono fuori in giardino, signora.

Ah. Grazie.

Alistair!

Alistair!

Accidental death, Mr Lawrence.

I take it you are satisfied with the verdict of the Italian court?

Er, yes. I er...expressed my satisfaction at the time.

And you're confident the full investigation was carried out by the Italian authorities?

Yes, I am.

Do you know of any reason why I, on behalf of the Oxford court,

should not simply make a formal endorsement of that verdict?

I'd like to make my position perfectly clear.

In what way?

You were in Oxford at the time of your wife's death?

Er...yes. My business, the bookshop.

My wife and I spent every summer in Italy.

We rented a house there.

She found it easier to write.

But on this occasion, she was attending a course...

..run by The Selfhood Trust?

She thought it would help her.

Um... She was a popular novelist.

She didn't value her popularity.

Mr Lawrence, you mentioned...

your ''own position''.

There was some conniving, some pressure. There were threats.

You were threatened?

I had no choice...

a-a-at the time.

If...If there are to be repercussions...

..then I...I want...

Perhaps a day's adjournment would be in order while you compose yourself.

He's scarpered. Like a bat out of hell, back to Italy.

The coroner's agitating for a follow-up.

We know exactly where he is, do we?

Who, Lawrence? Yeah, sure. He checked in with the local police in er...

Oh, where is it? Vy-senza.

Vicenza, sir.

Oh, you know it, do you? Good, cos you'll have to go and talk to him.

Italy? What, both of us, sir?

What did Lawrence say when he checked in?

Well, he claimed he was off his head with shock.

He'll apologise in writing and the coroner can go ahead with the rubber stamp.

That's it, then, isn't it? Accident. Open-and-shut case.

Still wide open, if we're lucky.

- Lucky? - Mm.

- How long for, sir? - Two weeks.

- Two weeks? - Yes.

After that you'll get snarled up in red tape. Avoid it.

Now, here's all the bumf we've got.

So it's general inquiries, sir?

General and particular.

Take a look at the first name on the statement list.

My God.

Russell Clark, as ever was.

Director of The Selfhood Trust?!

It's a sort of happiness club.

A load of rich neurotics from all over Europe and the States go there to get straightened out.

Mrs Lawrence got straightened out with a metal spike.

Who's Russell Clark?

Who's Russell Cl...? He's the biggest bloody shyster on the books.

Arrogant with it. We nailed him, though.

It was 1985, wasn't it, Morse?

He got six years. Should have been ten.

He ended up doing three after remission.

- Fraud, sir? - Mm.

He used to operate from a semi on the Oxford bypass...

taking widows for the insurance.

Set up by his girlfriend, probably.

- Maureen Dyson. ls she still with him? - Mm.

Mmm.

Something else?

No, only another name I recognise.

Significant?

Not obviously.

Nicole Burgess, the opera singer. At least, she was.

She had some sort of breakdown.

Opera singer? You stay out of the byways, Morse.

You're going straight for Clark.

Attenzione, prego...

Listen.

An Italian voice on a tannoy. Sounds like a poem to me.

Yeah?

There's our man, sir.

How are you feeling now, Lewis?

Me? OK. What do you mean?

I mean the heavy silence on the plane,

the intense concentration on the paperwork.

Well, sir, stuck out here for two weeks, and it's only a checkup.

We haven't got any muscle.

It doesn't merit it anyway. It looks pretty straightforward.

Nothing that involves Russell Clark is straightforward, Lewis.

Chief Inspector Morse. Welcome.

- Claudio Battisti, Dottore. Vicenza police. - How do you do?

- Ah. Sergeant Lewis. Welcome. - Pleased to meet you, sir.

Your hotel. Please.

It is to your taste, I hope.

There's everything you need here.

Excellent choice, Dottore. Thank you.

It's a bit up-market for visiting policemen, isn't it?

The luxury is justified since you will be here so short a time.

There's scarcely any work for you to do.

Now, you will wish to unpack and er... what is the American phrase...freshen up.

My driver will wait and conduct you to my office. Welcome again.

- Judith... - Oh, darling, my magazines.

- I've just seen them in the lobby. - Every single one of them.

- You're so good to me. - Listen.

The two policemen from Oxford, they've arrived.

Now, complete rest.

Doctor's orders. I had to promise him before he'd let me out of the hospital.

- Judith... - No, I mustn't be upset. Not at all.

I told him, ''You don't know my husband.

He'd banish the clouds from the sky for me.''

They'll be asking questions.

Now, it's important that we don't contradict one another.

I wouldn't dream of contradicting you, darling.

Nicky, car keys.

- (Stops singing) - I disturbed you?

Forgive me, darling.

- That is wonderful. - Where are you going?

Russell says the English detectives are here, but don't worry.

Where the hell are you going?!

Contessa needs advice. She sacked her decorator.

He ravaged her dining room.

We made a deal after the last cease-fire.

You swore you'd see me through all this.

- I'll be back for your triumph. - But they'll want to talk to me.

So? You'll charm the English detectives. You'll make a statement. It's nothing.

It's another bloody distraction!

- What are they compared with an audience? - There's been no audience for three years!

Relax! Call Russell. He'll help.

The Contessa lifts her finger, I must go. It's business, right?

If it's business, well, then she pays! Tell her about the rent!

Go on, tell her about that here!

Say the maestro's waiting for his expenses!

- Bills and expenses. They'll all be paid. - If I ever work again!

And stay off the chaise longue. Last time you screwed her, you got cramp for a week!

Una Bella città, Agente Ponso.

Sono contento che le piace, lspettore Morse. Prego.

You spent much time here, sir? Italy?

Not enough. And never here, precisely.

We must take in the sights, Lewis.

Aye...if there's time.

Morse.

I knew if anybody came, it'd be Morse.

ls that bad?

Well, let's say it's a challenge.

He had me put inside in Oxford.

Oh, my God.

Look, l-l-I'd better leave. We shouldn't be seen together.