"Man that is born of woman
"hath but a short time to live,
"and is full of misery.
"He cometh up and is cut down like a flower.
"He fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay."
Anything?
Anything.
You can take the girl out of the bourgeoisie,
but can you take the bourgeoisie
out of the girl?
Anything.
"For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God in His great mercy
"to take unto Himself the soul of our dear sister here departed,
"we therefore commit her body to the ground,
"earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
"in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life,
"through our Lord Jesus Christ." Amen.
Stay! Everybody stay.
Jesus Christ!
You stupid bastard!
You've lost it, haven't you? You've lost it!
Ricky, what are you doing here?
I've left home.
You'll wake up in the morning, it'll all be a nasty dream.
- I'll call the police. - I don't think so.
He should be locked up.
I don't want to go back. Why won't you listen to me?
- It's your home. - I don't want it to be my home.
She doesn't care about me.
She leaves home in a bad mood and she comes home in a bad mood.
I'm just something to kick around the house.
- I've had it with her. AIII want... - Ricky.
I'm talking to you, Sam.
- You get to your room. - Yeah, I'm going, aren't I?
What's this about?
Don't ask her, ask me! What am I, invisible?
- You're a lying little shit, that's what you are. - Wyn.
- Now get out of my sight. - I hate you.
- Right, you little... - Wyn!
What's the matter with you?
What's the matter with me?
I've got a sick mother to look after,
I have to hold down the world's most tedious bloody job,
and when I get home, I discover that my son
has been suspended from school for being drunk in class.
You're falling apart, Mark.
What would she think of you now?
She'd despise you.
You've gone soft, Bird. You've lost it.
Well, if you don't like it, you can leave.
You'd be nothing without us, Bird.
Now, you were a sad, lonely bastard before we found you,
and you'll be a sad, lonely bastard when we leave.
- Is Mark with you? - No.
- Where is he? - He's gone.
- What do you mean, gone? - I mean gone. Not coming back.
Disparu.
Where is he, Bird?
It's just you and me now, Franny.
- Have I shown you Jenny's ultrascan? - Yes.
The little eyes that light up as you walk into the room.
The deep primeval satisfaction of begetting a child.
The crying. The nappies. The lack of sleep.
And then they grow into teenage boys.
Ricky? He'll be all right.
I'm not so sure. He's so angry.
About what?
Everything. Nothing.
Walter! Walter, come here.
What have you got there, you stupid dog?
Walter, leave, leave!
- Life definitely extinct, Harriet. - Get away.
- What have we got, Tom? - Male. Mid to late 20s.
A bit hard to tell much else. Been there for quite some time.
- Dr Ryan. - Tom.
- Who's this? - Dr Owen, police surgeon.
You must be Samantha Ryan. I've heard a lot about you.
Why aren't you wearing your overalls?
Well, didn't seem a lot of point. I was in and out in a jiffy.
Well, surely the point is you could have contaminated a crime scene.
Yes. Sorry.
Which is what I teach my students in the first hour.
Excuse me.
He's a police surgeon. He should know the rules.
He's also a widower, Dr Ryan, who buried his wife two weeks ago.
Well, I didn't know that.
Can we get on, please? I need to know if this is a murder investigation.
I think that answers your question, Detective Superintendent.
- What is it? - Some sort of ligature.
The body is that of an adult male.
He is naked and there is extensive decomposition taking place.
The right hand and part of the left foot appear missing.
We've got the hand, ma'am. The dog wanted to keep it as a reward.
There are also injuries to the torso and the arms.
Three fingers on the left hand are also missing.
Has the dog got those?
I'll just take the temperature of the maggot mass to establish the speed of development.
Jesus. His skin's moving.
Ma'am! I've found some clothes.
He's missing his little friend, isn't he?
There's some evidence of injury to the chest and abdomen.
Could you roll the body over on its side for me, please?
The rear of the body appears to be clear of any injury.
Okay. Thank you.
Examination terminated 0527.
This is useful. Mark James, 24, Hawksteth Hall.
You know him?
I know the house. Sebastianne Bird's house.
Do you want me to speak to him?
Bring him in.
I think you'll like him.
I've known Mark for years and I've never seen these.
We didn't have mummies and daddies
and photographs of us under the Christmas tree with the cat, did we?
We were all far too special for that.
Look at this one.
Who would've guessed that the world's most immoral man was a choirboy?
Where is he, Bird?
I don't know.
We had an argument, I told him to go, he went.
But he hasn't got anywhere to go. We're everything he's got.
I miss him.
So do I.
I know.
I'll get you, son!
Come on, come on!
Old Bill!
- Not bad, eh? - It's all right.
Get out of the way.
Police.
What a pleasant surprise. Do come in.
- Mark James. - What is it?
The police. They want Mark.
We know exactly where he is. We want to know how he got there.
- Where is he? - I'm afraid he's dead.
There are incised wounds over the chest and abdomen.
One wound runs in a vertical direction
from the base of the neck to the suprapubic region.
And there is a further one running in a horizontal direction
over the lower abdomen,
forming a sort of cross. An upside-down cross.
Tom.
They've just arrested a kid for setting off car alarms.
What are you telling me for?
- Samantha Ryan's son. - You're joking.
Right. Stick him in CID.
- Mm-hm. - Ta.
This way, please.
You know you're entitled to a lawyer?
- How long have you known Mark James? - A few years.
He lived with you in your house. Is that right?
He was my guest, yes.
- When did he leave? - Two weeks ago.
Why did he leave?
He was my guest, not my prisoner.
Was he in good spirits?
Good spirits were in him.
He was drunk?
Well, it was between the hours of midnight and midnight,
so, yes, he was drunk.
- And that was the last time you saw him? - Yes.
Was there anything odd about his behaviour?
There was always something odd about Mark's behaviour.
You don't seem very upset about your friend's death, Mr Bird,
if you don't mind me saying.
You don't have a clue how I feel, Miss Farmer.
And I do mind you saying.
Did Bird and Mark have some sort of argument?
I don't know.
How was Mark the last time you saw him? Happy? Depressed?
He's been a bit up and down. A bit out of control.
I thought being out of control was one of the house rules.
Tell me more about Bird and Mark.
There's nothing to tell.
Don't try to protect him, Fran.
Can I go?
Well, you're not under arrest. You can go whenever you want.
But I'm sure you want to help us.
Fran, you say you've known Mark James for a long time.
You're obviously very fond of him.
So you must want to help catch his killer, don't you?
Well, don't you, Fran?
I need the toilet.
I've put a young guy into the CID room. Richard Ryan, he's about 16.
Now, don't you bother doing the paperwork for it. I'll do it.
- All right? - Okay, sir. Fine.
He knows something.
Well, Fran's really upset, but I don't think she knows anything.
You keeping him in?
His lawyer could get Hitler off a charge.
We'll let him go for now.
Fran?
What's your dad gonna say about this?
You'd have to find him and ask him, wouldn't you?
- Where is he, then? - Don't know.
- You know what I found this morning? - No.
The body of a young guy, about your age.
- Oh, yeah? - Well, I say body.
Wasn't much body left, really. Maggots had seen to that.
He used to jump up and down on cars, didn't he?
Yeah. Yeah, I think he did.
Where's Mark? I want to see...
- You can't come in here, love! - Get her out of here!
Mark?
- Get her out. - Come on, love, out we go.
What's she doing here?
You stay out here till I call. Sit.
Hi, Fran.
Look, there's nothing you can do here. Why don't you just go home?
I don't have a home.
Well, you live with Bird, don't you?
I don't have a home.
And you, don't move, and don't say a bloody word.
Pigs, eh?
I'm curious about these marks on the body.
There's one here, and one there, like an upside-down cross.
- What do they mean? - No idea.
- Someone cut him up? - Someone cut him up very deliberately, I'd say.
Any evidence of sexual assault?
No obvious evidence, but you have to bear in mind the degree of decomposition.
Why strip a body naked, carve an upside-down cross in it
and dump it in a disused building?
Some sort of ritual? Is your suspect weird enough for that?
I think we'd better go and find out.
Oh, Dr Ryan, I almost forgot. I've got something for you.
- We picked it up earlier this morning. - What is it?
Your son.
You get used to it.
I've seen dozens of them.
Smell's the worst thing, of course.
Then there's the bit where they peel the face off. That's pretty gross.
Now listen, wee man.
If you ever lie to me again, I will rip you apart. Understand?
Pig.
What's going on? Why did you tell them I was your mother?
Why do you think?
- She'd go ballistic, wouldn't she? - With every right.
- Oh, you're not going to tell her, are you? - Of course I'm gonna tell her.
- She'll only blame you anyway. - Me?
You're a bad influence on me. Wild child.
Nice try, Ricky. I'm still going to tell her.
Excuse me, boss. Security want a word.
Not as much as I do. You stay here.
All on your own now, then, Bird.
Saw Fran at the mortuary. She's never coming back.
Sorry, sir.
Don't worry about it. He won't need it where he's going.
Sir.
Bye bye, Birdie.
Hello, Daniel.
You look different. I'm not sure how, exactly, just different.
- It suits you. - What do you want, Fran?
Mark's dead.
Jesus.
- He's been murdered. - Oh, Christ!
I don't want to know.
So don't tell me.
Well, can you go now?
Hm? Just go.
Get out of my life, and leave me alone.
I've got nowhere else to go.
I thought I'd take Ricky out this weekend.
- Oh, yes? - If he'd like to.
I'm his mother. I think you'd better ask me first.
What's the matter now?
Well, I might not be the best mother in the world, Sam,
but I do my best.
I mean, five minutes under your influence and he's been arrested,
he's spent hours in a police station, and he's just seen his first dead body.
No, he's not coming out this weekend.
Number three, please, love.
She shouldn't have spoken to you like that.
Of course she should, Trevor. That's my entire point.
Not in front of everyone.
Look, I came here to apologise for my behaviour, not for you to justify it.
You had your reasons.
None of which count. I could have put an entire investigation at risk.
Dr Ryan is a fine woman and a brilliant pathologist,
but sometimes she can be a bit blinkered.
She's an A to Z kind of girl.
Something gets in her way and she just tramples over it.
Including, I'm afraid, people's feelings. Isn't that right, Sam?
You must miss her very much.
What once was warm is now cold.
What was light is now dark.
Cold and dark for the rest of my life.
Anyway, I have been upset lately and this may have compromised me professionally,
but it won't happen again.
I hope you'll accept my apology, Dr Ryan.
- Oh, there's no need. - I think there is.
Okay. Apology accepted.
In my experience, friendships that start badly often end up the strongest.
I hope so.
What do you reckon of these, Richard?
Sam thinks we might have a crazed coven running around the countryside.
I never said that.
She's been in London too long.
Interesting. You should speak to Simon Clarke.
- Clarke? - Not Clarke. The man's as mad as a hatter.
He knows his stuff.
- Who is he? - He's a fellow at All Saints.
Expert in all things occult.
Expert in all things bollocks.
- Thank you. - My pleasure.
Now. There. You see?
Why garrotte them when they're about to be burnt?
If they admitted their guilt and returned to God,
they would be garrotted before the flames reached them.
- What's this around their wrists? - Ah, garlands of ivy.
It was supposed to stop the witches from using their powers against the executioners.
Very big on ivy, executioners.
I'm not sure where this all leads me, to be quite honest.
I think you'll find it would lead you right up to the present day.
There are over a quarter of a million practising witches and warlocks in this country.
Yeah, but they're just a bunch of inadequates
who like to take their kit off in the woods, aren't they?
Everyone needs something to believe in, don't they?
Like witchcraft?
Well, it has a certain frisson, doesn't it?
I had this student here a couple of years ago.
He got sent down for seducing one of the fellow's wives
and selling the photographs to the student magazine.
But before he left us, he wrote rather a brilliant paper
on the occult and contemporary society.
Now, if anyone can help you on this, he can.
Sebastianne Bird.
Mark was unhappy. His unhappiness was starting to make me unhappy.
I pointed this out to Mr James and Mr James took exception to it.
So I said he could jolly well go and live somewhere else
until he sorted himself out.
Was there violence?
There was a brief and ungainly exchange of blows, yes.
Was Mark unconscious when you left him, or when you say you left him?
No. But he was about to open his second bottle of bourbon,
so unconsciousness was imminent.
Mark James and unconsciousness were very old friends.
Was he dead when you left him, Mr Bird?
Detective Superintendent, you've arrested my client on suspicion of murder.
That is an extremely serious allegation.
It's an extremely serious matter, Mr Brewer.
So far, all I've heard is innuendo and wishful thinking on your part.
His blood was all over the dead man's clothes.
A few spots, I think you said.
That's not innuendo, that's fact.
- He explained that. - He came up with an explanation.
- If you've got no further evidence... - Witchcraft, Mr Bird.
Witchcraft, Miss Farmer?
An interest of yours, I understand?
Yes, it's an interest. I have many interests.
Is this yours? I am showing Mr Bird a book.
Yes, that's mine.
Turn to the marked page, please.
Does that have any significance for you?
- Not particularly. - This is getting preposterous.
It had enormous significance for Mr James.
- In what way? - I think you know.
Well, you think wrong.
That's how Mark James was killed.
Strangled with a rope of Indian hemp, stripped naked,
and an upside-down cross carved into his chest.
Mark James was murdered.
You were the last person to see him alive.
Your blood is on his clothes, and this book was taken from your house.
You've gone very quiet, Mr Bird.
Feast your eyes on that.
- Fibres? - Found on Mark James's body.
- Tweed jacket? - How did you know that?
Dr Owen wasn't wearing his overalls.
- Oh, for God's sake! - I know, I know. He did apologise.
Listen, did they find any ivy at the scene?
Ivy?
If Bird committed this murder, he would have done it properly.
- There should be a garland of ivy. - There isn't.
I've logged everything they found.
What we did was the most disgusting and obscene thing I...
I loathed myself.
I loathed Bird and Mark. I loathed you.
I never wanted to see or hear from you again.
- What we did... - We didn't do anything.
- Exactly. - She asked us not to.
She was a kid. A drugged-up kid.
- It's what she wanted. - Don't give me that mystical crap, Fran.
All the pretentious bollocks we talked. Jesus.
She talked herself into her own death.
I'm going to work.
You make it sound like we killed her.
Of course we bloody killed her! All of us!
You'd better get used to this.
You don't like me, do you, Adams? But what have I ever done to you?
Nothing. You just irritate me.
Is this a black thing, Mr Adams?
This is not a black thing. This is a personality thing.
You know he's gonna get me off, don't you?
That wee prick of a lawyer? Maybe.
You think you're better than me, don't you?
It's not for me to say.
You think you're better than all the people who have to work really hard just to stand still.
I bet you wash your car at the weekends, don't you, Mr Adams?
Listen, mate, it's a company car, and it's filthy chasing after bastards like you.
You try living without your money.
You try eating shite like the rest of us.
Then we'll see who's better.
Sleep tight.
You cannot put him at the scene of the murder. You cannot link him with the time of the murder.
You have a few spots of his blood, which he has perfectly adequately explained.
Has he?
It's not for him to prove his story right. It's for you to prove it's wrong.
And what else?
A book of witchcraft, which you will find available at any good bookshop.
And that, apart from an unhealthy dislike of my client,
is all you have.
For now.
Let him go, Detective Superintendent.
I always find "harassment" such a difficult word to spell.
Would you care to borrow a dictionary?
Let Bird go.
But put someone on his house.
Can you give those to Inspector Adams, please?
They're the final postmortem results on Mark James he's been waiting for.
- Certainly, Dr Ryan. - Okay.
- What is this place? - It's... It's something to do.
- Is this what you do? - Yep.
- It's a bit mindless, isn't it? - Yep.
Beautiful night.
Yes, it is.
You cut up my friend, Doctor.
- You shouldn't be talking to me. - I want to talk to you.
I could be an expert witness in a murder trial. Your murder trial.
I won't tell anyone.
Did you kill Mark James?
If I did, you're standing on a very lonely spot with a psychotic killer.
Don't think, Fran. Just work.
I miss them. I miss Mark and I miss Bird.
Carrots in bag.
Carrots in the bag, Fran.
Life is chaos, Doctor. A meaningless, beautiful, frightening chaos.
If you have the courage to accept that, everything else just falls into place.
- Did Mark James have that courage? - Mark?
Mark shone bright. He was a shooting star.
How did you meet him?
My foster parents died and left me a big house to play in.
But first...first, I needed some friends to play with me.
- What happened to your real parents? - I've absolutely no idea.
I was found in a phone box when I was two days old.
A mongrel to the manor born.
When I was younger, I had this idea that there was something out there somewhere,
something to believe in, something to make life worth living.
So I went to Africa, the West Indies, America.
- And what did you find? - Nothing.
- Rootless. Pointless. - Pointless?
You cut up my friend, Dr Ryan.
I performed a postmortem on him, yes.
So these hands have rummaged through the insides of my best friend.
These fingers have pushed through his empty veins into the ventricles of his heart.
That is incredible.
We shouldn't be here.
Did you look inside his head, Dr Ryan?
Yes, that's routine.
And was anybody in?
- So where is he now? - In the mortuary.
No, no, no. Where is his soul?
I don't know.
You spend your time cutting up dead bodies and you don't know where their souls go?
- Have they gone to God? - I don't know.
I think you do know.
I think you know exactly where they go, Dr Ryan. They go nowhere. The end.
Nothing. The great greyness. You just don't have the courage to admit it.
But that's all most people's lives are in the end, isn't it?
An elaborate web spun to blind them from the terrible truth of nothingness.
- Did you kill Mark? - Oh, and all the morality and all the religion,
and the mortgages and the savings accounts.
The summer holiday snaps in the plastic wallets.
Desperately trying to impose a structure on the structureless,
- a meaning onto the meaningless. - Mr Bird...
And the dumb, lifeless marriages to propagate dumb, lifeless children,
conceived in fear, living in fear.
Three score and ten dumb, pointless years lying ahead of them like a desert of tarmac.
Me and Mark and Fran and...
We looked into the heart of the beast and we chose life.
But not a slow dribble into death. Not a life like yours, Dr Ryan.
A real life. Like fireworks in a desert sky.
- Did you kill Mark James? - Yes.
Yes, I think I probably did.
How?
Well, I didn't hold the knife, if that's what you mean.
I've no idea who did that.
How did you kill him?
Without me, Mark James would have been a middlingly successful property lawyer
living in Milton Keynes with a wife he hates.
He'd be getting pissed at the office party
and faxing his photocopied genitals to the pretty little girls in accounts.
Daniel. I was just...
Daniel, no!
How can you eat carrots?
You live the life of the undead.
If you don't like it, Fran...
Jesus Christ, Daniel. Chill out.
- Fran. - No! No! Get off!
- What do you want, Bird? - Well, well.
- What do you want? - I want her.
- Well, you can't have her! - And I want what's inside her. Now.
- Come on, let's go. - No!
- She said no! - Are you speaking to me?
A man who spends his waking hours in a carrot factory is speaking to me?
- Leave him alone, Bird. - You bottled it, Daniel. You chickened out.
And this is your reward. A living dead man.
But it's not for us. Now, come on, Fran. Let's go.
Now!
Stupid bastard.
- Get out of my life, Bird. - You don't have a life.
Fran, I want my child.
You can go to hell, but the child's mine.
- Surely the SOCOs would have picked it up? - They weren't looking for it.
You don't think we should just go to the police like normal people?
I'll go to them when I find something.
- Is he good-looking? - Who?
This Bird bloke.
Marcia.
Just going to a lot of trouble.
Just look, will you?
- What is a garland, exactly? - It's a bit like a bracelet.
Like this?
Clever girl.
Is it Bird's?
What will you do?
I don't know.
Will you go back with Bird?
Hey.
I know you don't want me here.
It's just my way of coping with it. Shut it all out.
You can't shut out life, Daniel.
Fran, I'm sorry.
Fran.
Whoever did this knew their stuff. There should have been ivy. Will it help?
Well, it might, if we could find him.
We had a couple of guys watching his house, but he gave them the slip, the bastard.
Daniel?
Daniel!
Oh, God!