LONDON
1940
The term autopsy actually derives from the ancient Greek autopsia,
meaning to see for oneself.
Julius Caesar's proved it was the second stab wound,
the one to the heart, that killed him.
Making it highly unlikely he had time to say: 'Et tu Brute?'
Not that anybody really cares.
But there you are.
If it's useful, it's yours. Free gratis, as they say.
Do you want some pie? I'll never finish it.
Bloody Germans. Who invited them?
And these Anderson shelters are so damp and smelly.
I live just round the corner.
Ships that pass in the night?
Let's be having you!
Chop chop!
Women and children first.
Get into the shelter as soon as you can.
We'll leave them to it, shall we?
Get into the shelter as soon as you can.
I don't even know your name.
- Lennox. - Jane.
What's that?
Oh, him.
That's just, um... Alfred.
Where are you going? There's a raid on.
I'll take my chances.
I've got a bottle of beer in the... cupboard.
Oi! Get to the shelter unless you wanna get blown to pieces.
Dr. Collins?
DI Freddy Wilkins. I've been calling.
We've got a murder. Boarding house in Kennington.
Come on.
I hope I didn't interrupt your evening.
Professor Stephens wasn't available.
Not in the least. I've been hoping for a decent murder.
I haven't got close to a crime scene yet.
Well, there's nothing natural about this girl's death, I can assure you.
Landlady's called Clayton.
The usual lot, shop girls, servicemen, some theatricals.
Lodger by the name of Ziegler found the body.
Evening.
She's all yours.
Time of death would be a good start.
The onset of rigor mortis is variable.
So I can only give you a window in which death occurred.
Professor Stephens always gives a definite time.
Well, I'm not as experienced as he is.
So my opinion will have to be based on fact, not intuition.
Do we have a name?
Mary Williams.
Umm, Let's establish a common approach.
Nobody should walk across this floor.
No, it's all right.
We don't mind a little bit of blood on our shoes.
I'm protecting the crime scene, not your brogues.
And uh, could I have that sandwich bagged. I'll need to examine it.
No need, Sir. That's mine, that is.
This is a crime scene, not a Lyon's tea shop.
Brady, go and clear the stairs or something, will you?
I'll go.
Right you lot, down the stairs,
come on, Sir! That's the way. There you go.
Keep going. Keep moving.
This is a crime scene.
Excuse me, Miss.
D'you mind? I just need to get to my room.
I need to change my stockings.
I'm sorry but...
Look! They've laddered right to the top.
On you go. Yeah, fine.
Right, everybody else down the stairs,
thank you very much.
Rigor mortis in the small muscles of the right lower jaw.
Elbow stiffening.
I'd say she's been dead between four and six hours.
Don't touch that, please.
It may have been used to strangle her.
Don't upset yourself, Mr. Ziegler.
It must have been awful finding her like that.
I'll get you a cuppa.
It's always good to calm your nerves.
Sshhh...
There appears to be some damage to the tongue.
Bloody Nora.
And you are?
I live upstairs.
- Mrs. Clayton? - Yes?
Who is this young lady?
Isn't she with you?
Right. Out! Go on. Get out of it!
Go on! Get out!
Collect all trace evidence.
Makeup, hair brush, clothes, pillow cases, everything.
Hang on, Hang on.
Professor Stephens doesn't ask for all these things?
Well, he should.
- Are you the Pathologist? - Yes.
Mind if I ask you a few questions?
Yes.
My editor'll give me a right bollocking
if I don't get a half decent story.
One quote from you and I'm saved.
Sorry, I'm not the only one trying to make a good impression.
Now, go on, please.
Most girls I know would've passed out at the sight of that corpse.
You didn't bat an eyelid.
Always had a strong constitution, me.
True Crime. Get it every week.
That's what I really want to do.
Write crime stories.
Guy's Hospital! Quick as you like.
Get in then.
We're a bit shorthanded,
apparently there's a war on.
Can't say I noticed.
Well, It's the mortuary assistant's wedding anniversary.
- So you'll have to do. - Do what?
Your name again?
Molly, Molly Cooper. From the South London Gazette.
Trouble is Miss Cooper,
nobody really wants to work in a morgue.
But the war's given us a unique opportunity
to expand our medical knowledge.
Horrible as it is.
You do have typing and shorthand, don't you?
- Why? - You'll need them.
Just a few questions!
The victim? What was the nature of her injuries?
You can see for yourself.
Type up my notes as we go along.
Erm, use that.
- Your notes? I'm here to... - Hurry up, I haven't got all night.
Right, ready?
Caucasian,
female,
late twenties,
brunette.
Blue eyes,
no birthmarks on the anterior aspect.
Small mole on the left shoulder.
There's a subcutaneous bruise to the neck possibly caused by a thumb.
And a strange odour which I can't place.
Tongue.
Cross resembling a Swastika incised on the dorsal aspect.
There is a stamp. Ink.
The letter 'M'. Right hand.
Been dancing then, has she?
Excuse me?
The stamp. They do that to prove you've paid.
She must have been up the West End.
The Masquerade, The Morocco, one of them.
Bleeding minimal,
gravity is the only thing moving the blood at this point.
Victim was well accustomed to sexual intercourse.
You can't talk about the poor girl like that.
She has external signs of venereal disease and chronic liver damage.
Even so, she was out most nights with freshly painted nails and
traces of previous dance hall stamps on her hand.
Mary Williams was a good time girl.
Corpse can tell you a lot if you know how to listen.
Night then.
Thanks for the interview.
I'll see you tomorrow morning. Nine sharp.
You will? why?
I'm going to need an assistant
with good typing and shorthand and
no objection to blood and guts. You fit the bill.
I've already got a job.
Thanks.
I'll match your current wages out of my own pocket.
Come on, Miss Cooper.
I'm going to be at the heart of every important
investigation in London and you'll be there with me.
Can't think of a better education for a crime writer.
Can you?
I won't be coming into work today,
or tomorrow for that matter.
I know it's short notice,
but I've decided to become a land girl.
I'm off to the country. Bye.
Ahh.
You must be the new girl?
Charlie Maxton, the mortuary assistant.
Take this across to the photography department, would you?
Of course.
- What's in it? - Mary Williams's tongue.
Best not to get too attached to the stiffs, miss.
Just put it anywhere you like.
- And you are? - I'm Dr. Collins's new assistant.
Bit of advice, don't wear anything you cherish to work.
Blood, innards, the dread brains. That's all I'm saying.
Use this, then throw it in the bin.
Thanks.
What happened to her?
Husband bludgeoned her to death with an axe handle
and then claimed it was bomb damage.
How horrible.
Almost as horrible as the decor.
What was she thinking? And the saucepans were reeking.
It seems odd to chuck people in jail for bad morals
but not for being physically dirty.
Personally, give me a clean prostitute over a dirty housewife any day.
The swine will probably get off on the grounds his wife
was a filthy so-and-so with no taste.
I'm joking.
It helps in this job.
I hope they hang the bugger.
I'm Issy by the way.
I should buy you a drink after work.
It would be rude not too.
'There are three waves in an investigation.
The first is the study of the clues.
The second is the study of the crime.
The third wave, is the study of the psyche.'
The suspects patterns of behaviour
need to be taken into consideration.
We need to share information with other departments.
Psychology for instance.
We can help each other...
Working solely with the police is the most affective way of securing convictions.
Too many mistakes are still being made.
With all due respect.
I fear the only mistake I've made recently,
is appointing you to the teaching staff.
You're only here because the war has taken our best men.
Nobody in this department publishes an article without my approval.
You remember that.
And smarten yourself up. You look like a vagrant.
That sounds like Professor Stephens all right.
He likes to be cock of the walk.
Y'see his opinion is taken as being indisputable.
They say he can tell the cause of death
just by smelling a corpse. Ugh!
There's not much about killing he doesn't know.
His evidence has sent many a man to the gallows, Miss Cooper.
The voice box fractured.
Blood clot on the upper horn.
Pressure was applied to the throat like this while the victim was alive.
- Not the scarf, then? - No, manual.
Scarf wouldn't have caused a fracture.
The pressure was sustained,
blocking the upper airway,
causing the victim to asphyxiate quickly.
Indentation of the thumb indicates with the right hand.
Lie on the floor, please.
Trauma to the left abdominal flank
suggests somebody knelt on her,
using the left hand to
carve the Swastika into her tongue like so.
Thank you, Miss Cooper.
Only one thing doesn't make sense.
You wouldn't use a knife with your weaker hand, would you?
Could be ambidextrous?
My cousin Alfred is. He can write with both hands.
Thick as a plank though.
Crimes like this aren't usually committed in pairs so it's possible.
Exactly, who's ever heard of Jack and Jill the Ripper?
Word is she had a different man back every night.
The other tenants heard voices coming from the kitchen,
but nobody actually saw the man she was with.
He was in the kitchen?
In that case, I want to go back to Mrs. Clayton's boarding house right now.
Why?
Locard's Exchange Principle.
The most important factor in the development of forensic science.
Exchange of evidence.
If the killer was in that kitchen with her,
he'll have left a little piece of himself behind.
Even a fibre from his coat may help identify him.
I'd be happier with a witness.
Oh, this is much better than a witness, Inspector Wilkins.
Physical evidence cannot perjure itself,
it cannot be wholly absent.
You too, Miss Cooper. Quick as you like.
Looks like a 250 pounder, what d'you think?
Oh, bugger.
That's Wilfred Ziegler. The one who found the body.
Landlady said he was always pestering the girls.
Mr. Ziegler?
Everything's gone,
everything.
Can we have a word about Mary Williams?
I warned her.
I told her, 'Stop seeing those men. They don't respect you.'
But she wouldn't listen.
Are these yours?
I collect them.
They're artistic.
Just out of interest, how did you come by the name Ziegler?
- My father was German. - Hm.
But I was born here.
What d'you make of that?
'I warned her'? Practically a confession.
I wouldn't say that. Seems to me, he liked her.
- I wasn't asking you. - I wouldn't jump to conclusions, Inspector.
He's left handed, it's unlikely he strangled her.
And if the killer was ambidextrous, like she said?
She's got a name, y'know.
Well, I think we can assume we've found the kitchen?
Although preserving the crime scene might be a bit tricky.
Well, I think I know what the 'M' stands for.
Metropol.
That makes sense.
It's a nightclub in town, mostly a young crowd.
Mary William's last port of call by the looks of it.
It's dated the night she died.
Why would he incriminate himself?
His name is Ziegler
and there was a swastika carved on the tongue.
Lots of people with German names. Doesn't mean they're fascists.
If he was, he'd have been interned by now.
I'm going to check out the Metropol. See what I can find.
Mind if I tag along?
Ladies and Gentleman, the Metropol is proud to present
Mr. Ken 'Snakehips' Johnson.
Got a light?
I don't want to ruin your night but have you ever seen the lungs of a smoker?
Disgusting, swollen and blacked with tar.
A simple yes or no would have been fine.
You don't happen to have a light, do you?
Now that's what I call a gentleman!
Hello darling.
Bloody singles night apparently!
Nobody wants to come forward.
They're all worried their wives or husbands
will know they've been out painting the town red.
We don't even know if she met her killer here.
I don't follow. You want to know what soap we use?
It has a very distinctive smell.
That's because it's scraps.
Mixed into a bar.
- Like the government said we should. - Which kinds?
We use whatever we have.
Pilot and Sunlight.
And to be honest, I add a bit of coconut oil.
I like the smell.
Thank you.
The killer washed his hands here, I'm positive.
- Brady! - Guv?
I want to see everyone in the building who was here last night.
- Everyone! - Hm
Now!
Consider it done.
Ooh, You look Ritzy.
Sorry I'm late.
Bloody Nazis bombed our crime scene.
I've had enough of this blitz, haven't you?
It's completely ruining my social life.
They even set up a makeshift morgue at the back of my house.
As if I don't get enough of it at work.
Of course, a bomb hits it and there's arms and legs
and god knows what else all over my mother's azaleas.
Said she'll never eat red meat again.
- How are you settling in? - So far, so good.
My worry is how will we ever find a husband stinking of dead people?
I don't want a husband. I want excitement.
In a morgue?
I want to be at every crime scene,
every autopsy, every trial.
I can get some great ideas for stories.
I want to be a writer, y'see.
In the meantime,
we've been rationed long enough,
let's live a little.
Madam, I'll be two minutes, all right?
Well, most seem to have a convincing alibi.
Brady's going to check them out.
But...
there are three that cannot prove their whereabouts
for the time Mary Williams was murdered.
Danny Hastings. He owns the place.
He's got a criminal record from a few years back.
She was seen dancing with that soldier.
Private Norman Beckett.
He claims to have gone on to another club
but he can't remember what it was called.
And this chap. Our final suspect.
Pawel Rosanski.
Polish emigre. Lives nearby.
Comes here most nights.
He left early and went home. Alone.
He studied at the University in Warsaw,
escaped through France. Now works in a munitions factory.
I had no choice. I had to leave.
They were killing intelligentsia.
They will do the same here when they invade.
I can assure you Mr. Rosanski,
they will not find it so easy to conquer Britain as they did Poland.
May I see your hands?
They don't look like you work in a munitions factory?
I scrub them.
I'm not so used to the dirt, to being a robotnik.
So, what was your relationship with the deceased?
My relationship?
I like to have a chat with the customers.
But I don't remember anybody called Mary.
And you were here asleep, in the back room all night?
My lodgings were hit. So this is home for the time being.
It's safer down here than Churchill's bunker.
Do you mind if I ask... Not that I'm being cheeky or nothing...
But why would I want to bump off my own customers?
And you claim to have never spoken to Mary Williams?
I spoke to lots of girls.
What's so special about her?
And where did you go after you left this other club?
Straight back to the barracks.
We can't all be in a reserved occupation, can we?
Somebody's got to do the fighting.
- Did anyone see you come in? - They were fast asleep.
Now if you don't mind, I'm sorry this girl got herself done in,
but I've got a drink out there.
So what d'you make of that lot?
Rosanski wears his watch on the left wrist
and Hastings has tar stains on the right fingers.
So both probably right handed.
- And Beckett? - Beckett's a cocky bugger.
Her name is Iris Radcliffe.
She recently had a baby.
Eh?
Green ration book for pregnant women
and nursing mothers only.
Good time?
Can't remember much about it.
What did mine do again?
Gunner, I think.
Of course he was.
I always go a bit Khaki Whacky with the hooch in me.
Could do without Freddy being so grumpy.
My brain's gone AWOL.
That smell again.
And the tongue's been mutilated.
A Nazi Strangler?
Miss,
I'd be grateful if you kept your opinions to yourself.
It's talk like that will make women hysterical
as soon as somebody looks at them the wrong way.
People are jumpy enough as it is.
Put that down.
If you have to pick something up, use rubber gloves.
It's a crime scene not a bloody church fete.
Guv!
There you go, make yourself at home.
No...
- What you looking at? - Iris Radcliffe's tongue.
From the relative absence of bleeding and
the lack of any inflammation, I'd say the tongue was cut after death.
Hmm.
It was the same with Mary Williams. He must have
come back to cut the Swastika.
How was the Cafe De Paris last night? Busy?
Who says I was at the Cafe De Paris?
Well, you were dancing cheek to cheek somewhere? You've got...
stubble rash and you smell of Charter House aftershave.
Lipstick on your neck, your own, somebody was getting pretty amorous.
Cafe De Paris seems like the most likely spot
as you don't have a stamp on your hand
and it's one of the few places that doesn't use them.
If you're so interested, I'll take you along next time.
Two left feet.
Anyway, I'd prefer to have you at your best in the morning.
And I'd prefer if you'd keep your exchange principles for the stiffs.
Look what I found on the bandstand.
Jigger button from a double-breasted suit.
Not only that...
Human hair, dyed black. Not the victim's.
We should be able to trace the dye.
So if you match that hair to one of our suspects, you've got your man?
Not quite.
Hair's not as good as a fingerprint. But could narrow things down.
So if Freddy finds a suspect with a double-breasted suit
missing an inside button, who dyes his hair.
Then...
The basement everybody. Chop, chop!
Could all staff please make their way to the shelter.
Have you noticed he wears the same thing to work every day?
Charlie thinks it's the only one he's got.
And look at the state of it? Hardly the swankiest.
When I die I'm coming back as a man.
- It is so much easier. - Isn't it?
I mean, it's not as if he isn't
attractive or brilliant or anything,
but imagine the pillow talk,
all murder and mayhem. And who'd really want that?
Really?
You don't wonder what effect all that cutting up has on the cutter upper?
This is Mr. Carver of Home Intelligence.
And Mr. Granger, one of his investigators.
He's interested in the double murder you're working on.
Home Intelligence?
We've been set up by the Ministry of Information
to report on the state of morale.
I see.
The public are nervous, Dr. Collins. They see Fifth Columnists everywhere.
We'd like to make sure this case doesn't get too much publicity
and comes to a conclusion as quickly as possible.
Inspector Wilkins seems to think he's got his man.
Half German, probably a Nazi.
He leaves a Swastika on the victim's tongue.
The Swastika isn't only a symbol of Nazi Germany, off course.
It's widely used in Hinduism, Buddhism.
It can be traced back to Ancient India and found in Roman mosaics.
But we're not at war with the Roman Empire, Dr. Collins.
Your job is to support the police. Not impose your own theories.
We need this man locked up.
He'll be executed, Professor, not just locked up.
So?
We're just sending faulty goods back to the manufacturer, aren't we?
Surely you can find some proof that this man Ziegler
was in that girl's room that night?
Unfortunately, the girl's boarding house has been destroyed in a raid.
So any transfer of evidence that may have happened is been lost.
Transfer of evidence? Enlighten me?
Well, for example,
that cigarette butt that your colleague Mr. Granger stubbed out,
could prove that he was here this afternoon.
Fingerprints, I presume?
There may not be a clean print.
Because it's his brand?
No. Pall Mall's common enough.
He means we might be able to tell his blood group
from his saliva depending on whether he was a secretor or no.
Not only that, Professor. It'll have traces of hair tonic on it,
the same tonic Mr. Grainger uses every morning.
It that may just be enough to sway a jury.
Hmm.
Keep me informed of your progress.
If you don't mind?
Probable cause of death is strangulation.
Small purple subcutaneous bruise
on the right side of the neck, and four small ones on the left
suggests a right handed attacker.
Rigor mortis was advanced.
She died within hours of Mary Williams.
Two in one night?
I take it Ziegler hasn't confessed?
Not yet. We're going to hold him a little longer.
I'll need hair samples from him, Beckett, Hastings and, erm...
Rosanski.
That won't be possible just yet, I'm afraid.
Beckett's been reported Absent Without Leave.
Little bit suspicious, don't you think?
I'll let you know when we find him.
Oh!
Some of those papers you wanted.
An innocent man could hang for this.
It wouldn't be the first time.
♫ I hear you knockin' but you can't come in ♫
♫ I know you've been drinking gin ♫
♫ You been cheating round with other men ♫
♫ I'm busy and you can't come in... ♫
- Recognise any of them? - Can't see any sign of Rosanski.
But that's Hastings, I'm sure.
Follow me.
Try not to say too much, you'll stick out like a sore thumb.
- Good evening. What can I get you? - Gin and Tonic, please.
Would you like one?
Don't mind if I do.
Haven't seen you here before.
First time.
You one of them women coppers then?
I take that as an insult.
My Uncle Fred's in Pentonville for something he never done.
No offence.
Just that the 'old bill' have been all over the place
since that poor cow was done in.
You're forgiven. I'm Molly, that's Isobel.
I'm Danny.
D'you fancy a dance?
Private Norman Beckett to see you.
He was found in an opium den in Soho. Regular apparently.
Light, Charlie.
Greenish hue in the right iliac fossa.
That would take at least two days to appear.
He must have died just after we questioned him.
Overdose?
It's rare to die from smoking opium,
but if he's injected a derivative, which
I think he has, then it's possible.
Still think he's our main suspect?
This doesn't mean he didn't kill those women.
If nobody claims the body, I'd like to keep it.
Research into the affects of drug addiction.
What are you smiling for?
I'm just wondering what you're doing here?
We don't always get the best sorts, y'know.
I can look after myself.
My aunt Queenie's got a punch like a docker.
Well, as your aunt Queenie's not here,
I'll have to walk you home.
It's a bomber's moon and no mistake.
Still you ought to carry a torch when you are out.
The Dilly's ain't safe these days.
With troop ships in and out, you gotta watch.
They're using the blackout to rape and murder,
and it's nothing nobody can do about it.
It's the taxis I'm more worried about.
They're bloody lethal.
To be honest, some people are doing very nicely out this bleeding mess.
It's not a bleeding mess, it's a war against Fascism.
Well, my old man died in the last one. Didn't do me much good.
And all I was left with was a whore of a mother.
That's no way to talk about your mum.
You didn't know her.
She was from Malaya.
My old man met her when he went out there to work in the tin mines.
Tiny little thing. But what a temper.
Beat me black and blue, she did.
I can make the rest of the way on my own.
Are you sure?
Sorry. I didn't mean to go on like that.
It's all right.
I was wondering, umm.
D'you think we could see each other again?
It's 'Ladies night' on a Tuesday.
Drinks are half price?
Maybe.
But like I say, I'm fine from here.
I'll see you then.
Oh, you can tell your friend Isobel she can stop following us now.
Good night, ladies.
Very nice too sweetheart, thank you.
Come on, grab what you can. We ain't got long.
Blimey! What the...
Come on, quicker.
Let's get out of it!
So I've been thinking, Guv...
somebody might have put her here deliberately
hoping we'll think she was killed in the raid.
I don't think so.
See what else you can find.
OK, Guv.
I spoke to Danny Hastings last night.
- You what? - I wanted to get under his skin.
Like you said in your article 'Three waves'.
The third is the psyche.
That was irresponsible and dangerous.
Well done.
His mother beat him black and blue, apparently.
Seen this, Dr. Collins?
This girl. I saw her the night we were at the Metropol.
Swastika?
Yes. And the lack of bleeding suggests
the tongue was cut after death.
The wound to the temple area, though,
appears to be ante mortem.
Our killer may have got some of that blood on him.
Time of death?
Vaguely.
I'd say about 48 hours ago.
That's when we were in Hyde Park.
That's after Beckett died, but before we picked up Ziegler.
Guv!
When will you lot learn? Put it down.
- This is a crime scene. - Yes, I know.
It's not the victim's, she's still got hers.
That could belong to our killer.
Specks of blood on the visor.
Let's get it back to the lab.
Hopefully, we'll find some saliva on it.
And if it matches Ziegler's, that'll be the nail in his coffin.
Don't you find it strange he keeps dropping these cards about?
Excuse me!
A young woman was attacked round here last night.
- Did you see anything? - Maybe.
But we can't talk here.
I was with a regular.
In the alley behind the department store.
That's where we usually go.
And I saw he had stains on his jacket,
so I says to him, 'What's that then?'
And he says a man came out the dark
with blood on his hands and ran straight into him.
This regular, what's his name?
My customers hear I'm bandying their names about, I'll lose trade.
Not to mention the 'old bill'.
I can't go to prison, I wouldn't last a week in there.
We'll keep you out of it, I promise.
Well?
I'm not a charity, you know.
This is just for information, right? You sure you don't want
anything else?
No, information's fine. Thanks.
He doesn't give a name.
He doesn't have too. He's famous.
Ronald Terry.
Now, he won't want people to know that he's a queer.
He'd be finished playing the hero then,
wouldn't he?
My darling, don't cry.
It won't be forever.
I'll be back soon, I promise.
Dry your tears, and remember,
we're young,
we have the rest of our lives ahead of us.
Good grief. I hope this isn't a wild goose chase.
I wouldn't know, Inspector. That's your department.
Ssh.
Not even this damned war.
Dear heart, these men have been in my eye line through the entire scene!
What on earth are they doing here?
You must understand, I didn't come forward about what I saw
because there wasn't much to tell.
Mr. Terry, importuning means prison.
With all due respect, you're protecting yourself.
The police aren't interested in you.
Are they, Inspector?
Three young women have been murdered.
The man you bumped into may have killed them.
He could kill again.
You need to tell the police what you saw.
If I give evidence, my career will be over.
This man you saw, what was he wearing?
Does this jog your memory?
Did he have a limp?
I honestly can't remember.
Could you pick him out in an identity parade?
I'm not sure.
Mr. Terry, you were seen in the vicinity of the crime
covered in the victim's blood.
You're not only a witness, you're a possible suspect.
If not this man,
it must have been you.
I suggest you take another look.
Perhaps. It could be.
Do you have somewhere I can examine the jacket you wore that night?
For this to work I need total darkness.
Turn the light out.
- How did you do that? - Luminol.
It reacts with iron stored in red blood cells.
I guess Terry needs to get himself a better laundry service, doesn't he?
Turn the light on.
Jigger button's still there
but it's new,
sewn with a different thread.
Well, what do you know.
I could see what you were doing. You intimidated him.
He'll say anything to save his own skin.
And at last, we have a witness.
He's a suspect too. You just said it yourself.
I said what needed to be said.
I'm charging Ziegler, that's an end to it.
- You can't. - I'm sorry?
Terry replaced a jigger button on this suit.
He lost one, we found one.
If the blood on this is the same as the victim's...
No murders have been committed since Ziegler was taken into custody.
If I release him he'll kill again
and I can't live with that.
Wilfred Ziegler, I'm charging you with the murders of Mary Williams,
Iris Radcliffe and Wilma Grey.
Do you wish to say anything in answer to the charge?
You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so,
but whatever you say will be taken down in writing.
Charlie?
Looters.
Someone must have left a window open.
The gas mask?
The one we found at the bombed department store.
Sweet dreams.
Well, if he's acting now, he's bloody good!
Leave it.
I need that towel.
Slight swelling to the right side of the head.
Traces of stage make-up
on the right ear lobe and the upper right neck.
Wounds to the left and right wrists,
severing the arteries.
But there don't look to be any hesitation marks.
Hm, note that the front of the victim's shoes are scuffed.
A man like Terry would never go out with scuffed shoes.
And er... Pall Mall.
Could be useful.
Thank you, Miss Cooper.
Well,
dust the knife for prints. You may be looking at murder.
You're not serious.
There's very little blood around the sink.
If that's where he cut his wrists, there should be.
Somebody knocked him out,
dragged him into that room, and cut his wrists.
You have to ask yourself Who and why?
The Nazi strangler. Because Terry could identify him.
In fact that the Nazi Strangler He is in a cell under arrest!
Wilfred Ziegler is not the only suspect.
Hastings and Rosanski do not have proper alibis either.
Dr. Collins, this is pure speculation.
Terry killed himself.
I'm telling you we've got our man.
He was wonderful in London Cavalcade, wasn't he?
My good lady wife always wanted his autograph.
Could be tricky.
What was that one with Flora Robson called again?
That gas mask hasn't turned up, has it?
No, that wasn't it.
Good Queen Bess!
Marvellous, that was.
I'm talking about the gas mask they found near Wilma Grey.
The girl found at the department store.
Oh, that.
No, definitely gone, Miss Molly.
Blood patterns depend on numerous factors.
The size of the knife,
force used.
I'm aware of that.
But those aren't the only signs of a suspicious death.
Because his shoes were scuffed?! Morning!
Morning, Professor.
I see nothing to suggest he died anywhere
but the theatre by his own hand.
Save your skills for a more deserving victim.
I don't understand.
The man was a pervert.
As far as I'm concerned, he got just he deserved.
What if this is linked to the Ziegler case?
Terry was a suspect.
A witness at very least.
He could have been killed to stop him giving evidence.
Look, our department has bomb blast victims piling up in the corridors.
Now you do your job! You deal with them!
As I thought. Mr. Terry couldn't have done it.
Arthritis of the hands. Limited use of the fingers.
Couldn't have strangled a kitten.
Hastings smokes Pall Mall. He gave me one in the Metropol.
- You're very sure it's him. - Aren't you?
And Rosanski?
Hastings knows the girls at the club.
They trust him.
Dr. Collins, Miss Er...
Er... My office. Now, please.
Not you, darling. You can stay put.
Well, it was only a matter of time before the story leaked.
Was it? Why?
These women have family and friends.
And your secretary was, until recently, a journalist.
You still have friends in the press, Miss Cooper?
I do,
but I haven't spoken to them about this.
The last thing the Home Secretary wants to do is gag the press.
But it may well come to that.
I'm sure Miss Cooper wouldn't do anything to damage the investigation.
Yes, perhaps it would be better if Miss Cooper were to find employment elsewhere.
Absolutely not. I couldn't hope to find anyone as good as her.
It's not a request, Collins.
I'll decide who works in my department. Not you.
Well, if she goes, so do I.
It's not my intention to have anyone sacked.
I quite simply want to know how this got into the press
and to make sure that any further details do not.
Are you ready to confess, Mr. Ziegler?
Confess?
I didn't kill anyone.
We have evidence that says you did.
One of those postcards you like to collect
was found near the second victim and the third.
And to be honest, the judge isn't going to like
that German name of yours one little bit.
He's going to hang you.
But if you save us the bother of a trial,
that will go in your favour.
You'll get a nice cosy cell for the rest of your life.
Plenty of room for postcards.
Life
or death.
You choose.
Ziegler just confessed.
If they go ahead with this, I'll have to provide
reasonable doubt for the defence.
What defence?
He's admitted it.
I'd have sworn it was Hastings.
Doctor, how can I help you?
Mr. Hastings.
Ronald Terry, the actor,
he's been found dead in suspicious circumstances.
And what's that old pansy's death got to do with me?
You knew him well, then?
You'd be surprised what you learn about the great and the good in my business.
He could have identified the man who killed those women.
Are you trying to say I killed those girls as well?
No.
But, uh,
just to eliminate you from the investigation...
..I would like to take a sample
from underneath your fingernails.
You keep this up
and you're liable to upset me.
Never mind.
This will do.
You really are a tonic, Dr. Collins.
Thanks.
As much as I've enjoyed our chat,
I think you should stop making these accusations about me.
More for your sake than mine.
I think people might think you're a bit crackers.
Is that your father?
Mm-hm.
The lady with him?
She looks Asian.
Yeah. That's my mother.
She's very beautiful.
Skin deep, as they say.
My mother was the same.
Didn't spare the rod either.
Leaves a great deal of anger, doesn't it?
I'm not sure what you're talking about.
Ernie will show you out.
Hello.
Can I help?
Oi!
You there!
Stay where you are!
Bloody hell! What happened?!
Did a house fall on you?
Bruising of the lower abdomen and ribcage.
Left side of the jaw swollen, loose tooth.
Nothing serious. I'll live.
I hope, for your sake, we don't have an air raid right now.
Ah, just in time.
I want something taken down.
I have traces of skin and hair from the fingernails from
one of the attackers.
A blue substance on the nose.
Chalk.
And one piece of lining from an overcoat.
Silk.
Orangey, bluey-brown.
Don't know what colour that is.
Manufacturer should be traced.
I've seen some of the corpses looking better than you.
Have these.
You can't go home like that.
They belonged to the gent in fridge three.
Hit by a tram.
Just a bit of blood on the collar, that's all.
Where were you when all this happened anyway?
I made a visit to Hastings.
Without me?
I just thought I'd ask him a few questions.
Put him on the spot, see how he'd react.
That was a bit irresponsible and dangerous.
Well done.
Considering he was playing billiards at the time and
the powder on my face is cue chalk,
I'd say I touched a nerve.
Oh, better be off.
See you tomorrow.
Cafe de Paris again?
No.
Issy is taking me to a new club.
But don't worry. I'll be tucked up in bed by ten.
Night!
Mind that picture of misery!
There'll be another frame up tomorrow.
Sounds like a carve-up.
Well, it's time some of them are hung up.
I can name three for a start.
Sit down and take the load off.
Now who will be the next victim of the demon?
You look like you need a drink.
Issy gave me the recipe for a homemade dry martini.
And Issy would know.
To be honest, it's not strictly a dry martini.
It's absinthe, rum, and paregoric.
It does the job.
I bet it does.
All work and no play.
It's not good for you.
Chin chin.
I saw a file on your desk
about people that have been hanged.
Do you know any of them?
No.
That's a relief.
I thought your old man was Crippen or something like that.
I'm...
studying cases in which there was reasonable doubt and
they still hanged.
I imagine what I'd do differently.
Was all the evidence tested? Anything missed?
If we have the science, the knowledge,
to eliminate mistakes, there's no excuse not to.
The guilty don't have to escape and the
innocent don't have to die in their place.
I'll drink to that.
For all staff and patients
please make their way to the shelter in the basement.
Come on, man.
Hurry up!
What I don't understand is
where does Hastings get the nerve
to beat up a Home Office pathologist?
Technically, it could have been one of his minions.
Either way, he thinks he's above the law.
There are villains in the East End who never get collared.
You know why?
Because they're informants.
That was close.
Whether or not he's an informant is something I doubt we'll ever know.
My mate Billy dabbles in the black market.
He'll know what the talk is.
Really?
Dabbles?
He's more sort of up to his eyes in it, to be honest.
Danny Hastings?
You got to watch yourself, Molly.
You don't want to get involved with him.
I just want to know what you've heard.
Nothing good.
He keeps the coppers off his back by dropping everyone else in it.
Do you mind?!
He's not averse to slipping them a few bob when he has to.
The man has not go a single scruple to his name.
Watch out!
Watch it, Stan!
Those ciggies managed to fall off the back of that lorry without breaking!
If Hastings wasn't friends with Jack Spot,
he'd be dead by now.
Jack Spot the gangster?
Thick as thieves, they are.
They got carte blanche in the East End.
That's French, by the way, for doing whatever you want.
Violent?
He can be when he needs to.
What about a girlfriend?
Not that I've heard.
He's not the pipe and slippers type.
I'd stay well clear of Danny Hastings.
He's a dangerous man.
Careful.
She looks like she was in the water for quite some time.
- Give me a hand. - Come on.
Thank you.
There's no swastika cut in the tongue.
She was probably drunk and fell in.
Let's get her back to the morgue and find out, shall we?
She was at the Metropol, Inspector Wilkins.
Photograph the hand stamp, please.
Listen.
The Commissioner gave me a right earful this morning.
He wants the Ziegler case closed, now.
What's the big rush?
I suppose you know Danny Hastings has coppers on his payroll.
That's a very serious allegation. I'd be careful what you say.
Somebody could be protecting him.
We don't protect killers simply because they give us information, Miss Cooper.
Just promise me you'll look into it.
What a bleedin' cheek!
The bruising on the neck is exactly the same as the other killing.
Looks like a strangling.
I'll know more when I get the voicebox out.
No swastika?
No.
That could be deliberate.
So we think it's a different killer
and Ziegler takes the blame for the first three murders.
Maybe.
What is this?
Tongue.
If we eliminate Rosanski as a suspect,
and you make a strong case that this is the same killer,
the police will have no choice but to look at Hastings.
Maybe even release Ziegler.
You've got a devious streak, Miss Cooper.
I like that in a woman.
There's nobody in there.
What are you doing?
How did you do that?!
Tricks of the trade.
What trade is that exactly?
It's a big place for somebody who works in a munitions factory.
Looks like Mr. Rosanski can't afford the furniture.
Can we go? I'm not cut out to be a house-breaker!
What do you make of this?
Some sort of sequence.
A code maybe.
What's a clerk at a munitions factory doing studying code?
Do you think he's a spy?
Far from it.
The truth is,
he's a brilliant young mathematician.
One of the few from the Biuro Szyfrow in Poland to survive.
He has the potential to crack the German military codes.
If we do that,
we can stop the invasion.
This information, of course, is classified.
We're protecting him from the Germans.
If they find him, they'll kill him.
We've had a breach of security,
which is why he's based at his flat and not Station X.
I hoped he wouldn't get dragged in, but he appears to be a fan of...
Snakehips Johnson.
Well, I understand now why
you didn't want the story leaked to the press.
But he's still a suspect.
He's watched night and day.
Rest assured, Collins, he hasn't killed anyone.
He's not your man.
Polski?
Me? No.
I'm just...
..looking something up for a friend.
I come to read the old Polish magazines.
It reminds me of home.
Would you like if I bought you a drink?
No, thanks.
I have money. I can spend it on you.
If I want a drink, I'll buy it myself, thanks.
Perhaps I'll see you here again, yes?
I went to check the international papers.
To see if Rosanski's name cropped up in any cases back home.
It didn't, but there he was. The man himself.
Doey-eyed, pining for the old country.
Forget Rosanski, he is being watched closely by Home Intelligence.
We have a bigger problem.
I thought there might be some truth in what you said about Hastings.
So, I raised it with my superiors.
He's been taken off the case.
DS Brady is in charge.
I don't know what's going on.
I couldn't get the men I needed to find that gas mask.
Then I was given a backlog of old cases.
I get the feeling they don't want me looking into this matter too closely.
Hang on.
If Terry slit his own wrists,
the wounds would be left to right and right to left.
- Mm. - They're not.
The change and depth of the incision tells us which way
the blade travelled.
They're both right to left.
Somebody else did it.
Miss Jenkins.
Can I help you?
We're investigating the death of Mr. Terry.
Can we have a quick word?
You were here on Tuesday evening, weren't you?
Usually I work late mending the costumes.
Anything strange?
Did anyone visit Mr. Terry in his dressing room?
I worked with Mr. Terry for 15 years.
He was a lovely man.
He had nothing to be ashamed about. Nothing.
I agree with you.
We both do.
Tell us, what happened that night?
What did you see?
He drank, you see.
I think it gave him confidence.
That night, he'd had more than usual to drink.
He couldn't stand up.
Two men had to help him back to his dressing room.
Two men, what time was this exactly?
Just after midnight, I'd say.
I should have checked on him!
But I thought I'd leave him to sleep it off.
Two men, Brady. The strangler was right-handed.
But whoever carved those swastikas was left-handed.
We're not looking at an ambidextrous killer. Two men working together.
The same men that killed Terry killed those girls.
Can't rule it out.
You should know
Ziegler is going to be charged under the new Treachery Act.
Giving assistance to the enemy. He'll hang in a matter of days.
Well...
Just keep us posted, will you?
I'll try, but treachery cases are held in camera. No press.
Better go.
See you tomorrow, guv.
- Everything pointed to Ziegler. - No, it didn't.
You should have listened to me.
You know, when I was a reporter, I had to cover some awful stories.
A bus full of children being evacuated was hit.
An entire street of kids gone.
The whole area knew what had happened, but it never made the paper.
The government covered it up.
And?
I'm just saying you can't always trust them.
I'm going this way.
Got your torch? It will be dark soon.
Yeah.
I'll see you tomorrow, then.
And...
Change your suit.
Poor bloke needs to get buried in that.
Charlie, get me the towel from Terry's dressing room.
I don't know why I didn't think of this before. But...
If there are traces of Terry's blood on that towel,
It could mean the killer used it after he slit Terry's wrists
to wipe his hands.
Terry certainly didn't.
If we can find fibres of that towel on Hastings' clothes,
we can prove he was in that dressing room.
Then we may have enough for a conviction
and save Ziegler from the noose.
Anything?
Blood.
I'll bet you a shilling it's Terry's.
We need to get into the Metropol
and find something Hastings might have been wearing.
Like his coat.
Do I have to remind you he's already had you beaten up?!
Next time, he might just kill you!
Which would be a shame,
because I'm getting to quite like the pair of you.
Can I do you now, sir?
Go away, Mrs. Mop. Can't you see I'm busy?
Come back when I'm not. Can't I darn your dickie, sir?
What on earth...
Wait!
Hello?
Boss! Out here.
Sorry.
- Any luck? - No, no luck.
No saliva traces. Nothing.
You'd better have a look at this.
Good evening. I really hope you get Pierrepoint.
He'll hang you nice and quick.
Some of them, they get the weights wrong.
And rip your head right off.
Are you ready for your last supper?
No!
That's not...
That's not right! I...
I...
You're lying!
They said they wouldn't hang me!
- They promised! - Oh, pipe down.
I didn't do anything!
Wait. We do have something on the strap though.
A tiny trace of... earwax.
- Oh? - Pure gold.
I didn't know earwax was that valuable.
Grey wax and your man has Asian blood like Hastings.
Amber and he's African or Caucasian like Ziegler.
- Helps pinpoint our killer, Charlie. - Who'd have thought it?
Amber.
Definitely African or Caucasian.
Oh, blimey. Here we go again.
There's something else in it.
Molly!
Sounds like a heavy one tonight. We should get down the shelter.
An innocent man may hang, Charlie.
I need to get this wax tested now.
You man the fort.
Hello?
541212.
Detective Freddie Wilkins!
- Detective who, Miss? - Wilkins!
Sir.
- Hello. - Freddy!
- Molly, where are you? - The Metropol.
I think he's after me, Freddy!
Who is?
I can't hear you. Who?
Molly? Molly? Get yourself somewhere safe!
Now!
Do you hear me? Now!
Fancy a drink?
I need you to take a look at some earwax.
It's a bit an emergency.
- You're not serious? - Very serious.
I know a basement joint round here that stays open during the raids.
The... Metropol. Have you heard of it?
Walls are three feet thick. It's safer than a shelter.
Mind if I have my coat back?
I don't usually like girls who steal from me.
I'll let you off this time.
Truth is, Molly, I've taken a shine to you.
Come on.
I'd rather die with a drink in my hand. Wouldn't you?
Molly! Molly, wait!
Well?
You're right. The usual traces of dead skin.
But... I'll... need to do some further tests to confirm
the particles you found.
Well, go on, then. Quick as you like.
Oh!
Molly!
Wait!
Molly!
Go straight down to the platforms!
Quickly! Quickly!
Quickly! Come on! Everybody!
Straight down to the platforms!
Tests confirm high levels of potassium nitrate.
Which is a major component of gunpowder.
It would seem that the earwax belonged to a man -
- Who worked... - In a munitions factory.
Rosanski.
Quickly!
Plenty of room for everyone!
Hello again.
Hello.
Inspector Wilkins called.
Wanted to know if Molly had turned up.
She called from outside the Metropol.
Said something about being followed.
Thanks, Charlie.
Get down the shelter now!
I'm staying here, if you don't mind, in case they call back!
She's got to be round here somewhere.
Search the whole place!
This will be apt to suffocation. Follow me, I know a place.
We'll be safer there.
Keep looking.
This way. We're nearly there.
I am glad I had the chance to speak with you again.
After what happened at the library,
I thought you didn't like me.
I haven't given it much thought, to be honest.
No?
But you work for the Home Office pathologist, don't you?
How do you know what I do?
You! Where is Molly Cooper?
Never heard of her.
You know who I'm talking about! Where is she?
Wilkins, leave him. We've got it wrong. It's Rosanski!
The Pole?
I've just see him.
He was going down the tube station after your girl!
Come on, let's go!
In some ways, I admire them.
The Nazis.
They believe that human sympathy perpetuates only the mediocre.
Makes them strong,
capable of anything.
I respect their ability to rise above ordinary morality.
People who can do that are inherently superior.
You see,
we only pretend to care about others
because we are told that is the human condition. But...
It's not.
We take pleasure in pain.
I'm not sure I follow, Mr. Rosanski.
Well,
I think I'll go back. I'm not sure I like the company here.
No.
Aaagh!
Miss Cooper!
She wear red jacket! Has anybody seen her?
Can anyone help?
Molly!
Help!
Can anyone hear me?!
Miss Cooper!
Molly!
Help!
Molly!
Aagh!
I am sorry.
I am sorry, Molly.
Aagh!
I thought you...
were supposed to be saving me!
We'll need your statements as soon as possible.
And Ziegler?
The charges will be dropped when they see your evidence.
Rosanski didn't act alone, did he?
Somebody else carved the swastika.
We're taking Rosanski into custody by order of the Home Secretary.
This is now a matter for military intelligence.
I don't think you understand, Mr. Carver. Rosanski is the killer.
Ziegler killed those women. And he's going to hang for it.
Do as they ask.
You knew.
You've been protecting him all along.
Without him, we may lose the war in the air.
If that happens, invasion is imminent.
- But why didn't you stop him? - We tried.
Put him under house arrest, but he kept on slipping through the net.
We gave you another chance!
Do you realise what you've done?
What is wrong with you, man?!
Left hand.
The swastika.
You.
I did what I had to do.
And what about those women?
Don't their lives count for anything?
Miss Cooper, this man could save thousands of lives.
Including yours.
It's all in there.
And your proof is what? A trace of earwax found in a gas mask
belonging to who exactly?
An innocent man is going to hang.
He's a German who collects dirty postcards.
Better men than him are being sacrificed every day.
I'll go to the press.
This is the BBC Home Service.
Here is the news.
Wilfred Ziegler, the man responsible for the murders of three women,
is to be hanged at eight o'clock this morning in Pentonville prison.
Time to go.
You made a mistake!
Mr. Ziegler.
It appears to be your lucky day.
I see.
Ziegler?
He's to be interned on the Isle of Man for the duration of the war.
Beyond that, they won't say.
You saved his life.
Have you been to the Isle of Man?
We should go to the Cafe de Paris tonight and celebrate.
Two left feet, remember?
Let's put that to rights.
Step.
Slow.
Slide, turn.
Quick, quick, slow.
- Oops. - It's all right.
Can't be good at everything.