Episode 1

ALAN CUMMING: This is "Masterpiece Mystery."

CASSIE: Who found it?

SEAN: Some builders.

SUNNY: It's caused by some sort of blunt-force trauma.

He was reported missing in 1976.

Sorry, I wish I could help you.

CASSIE: Is a crime less serious because time's passed?

It's a lifetime ago.

Is a wrong... less wrong, because it was done 50 years ago?

MAUREEN: He'd gone to London, but he'd send money to help me escape.

CASSIE: I want to find who took his life, and I want to punish them.

(softly): Oh, wow.

CUMMING: "Unforgotten," (thunder claps) (whimpers) (clicks) Some old bones are discovered in a half-demolished building, and two police detectives have to find out whose they are.

It's an old case, a cold case.

The police are following threads.

Questions are asked, but no one can remember.

It's like... trying to grab hold of fog.

As the police peel away layers of forgotten promises, lovers, crimes, bodies, murders, they're pulled into an ever-growing web of long-buried secrets.

"Unforgotten."

♪ ♪ ♪ All we do is hide away ♪ ♪ All we do is, all we do is ♪ ♪ Hide away ♪ ♪ All we do is lie in wait ♪ ♪ All we do is, all we do is lie in wait ♪ ♪ I've been upside down ♪ ♪ I don't wanna be the right way round ♪ ♪ Can't find paradise on the ground ♪ ♪ ♪ (camera clicks) (camera clicks) (birds chirping) (footsteps approach) (radio playing in background) Oh, Dad, I'm off.

Smell all right to me.

What've you got on today?

Oh, you know, busy, busy.

Losing your touch here, love.

I had to take a work call.

I'll still wipe the floor with you any day, mate.

I'll finish it for you.

See you later, old man.

(kisses) (chuckles) (radio playing in background) (door opens, closes) (indistinct chatter) Okay, will do.

I'll get onto it right away.

Very good.

Morning.

Guv.

(sirens wailing in distance) Late one?

Oh yeah, all-nighter at Whisky Miss.

It's Mist, I think you'll find, Mr. Coolio.

Whatevs.

(Cassie laughs) SUNNY: You're a woman, aren't you?

Apparently.

What is it with girls and crying for absolutely no reason?

Which one?

Gemma, till 1:00 in the bloody morning.

I cried last week with my dad.

Why?

Don't know, really.

Just felt like it.

What did he do?

Gave me a hug.

And that made you feel better?

Uh... Not really, no.

♪ ♪ (camera clicks) D.C.I.

Cass Stuart.

Sean Rawlins.

How you doing?

Good, thanks.

Male, I think.

Who found it?

Some builders looking for the mains supply.

What was the building that was here?

Well, according to a neighbor I spoke to, it had quite a few incarnations over the years.

A private house, a British Rail records office, hostel, DHSS.

So are we talking Richard III or, or, you know, five years ago?

Could be talking 5,000 years.

Seriously?

Bones can survive incredibly well in certain types of soil.

Any sign of trauma anywhere?

Not from what I can see so far.

Okay.

We're gonna need to excavate this whole site, obviously.

See if there's anything else under here.

Just make sure, please, that people are aware until we know different, we treat this as a crime scene.

♪ ♪ ERIC (voiceover): You're gonna have to give me a better price than that, big man.

I'm ordering four crates!

I'll call you back.

Thieving bastards.

Eric!

Oh, sorry, sweetheart!

Grandpa's got a filthy mouth, hasn't he?

MATT: You're haggling over 50 quid, Dad?

Yeah, 50 quid's 50 quid, mate.

CLAIRE: Fifty quid is what we were short of when we bought this place.

Our friend Terry Miller lent it us in the end.

If he hadn't have...

He brought the cash round in pound notes as I remember.

Yeah, God, yeah, forgotten that.

All right, Liv, let's see if we can find some choccie biccies.

LIV: Yeah.

Anyone want another cuppa?

Grandpa would!

See?

(scoffs) You know, long-term memory's the last to go, Dad.

Ask her what she had for breakfast, or if she's had her statins today, or her Omeprazole.

We'll cope.

(scoffs) But you're already not coping.

I'm not being funny, but when was the last time you cleaned the lavs, Dad?

Les.

LES: Well, I'm sorry, but they smell a bit, and if I'm bringing Liv here... We're not going into sheltered housing, Leslie!

Now leave it.

Are Ron Bartlett and his wife coming to the party?

It must be nearly their sapphire, as well.

Ron died a couple of years ago, Mum.

Do you remember?

♪ ♪ (siren blaring) RAY: Come on, boys!

Come on, come on!

Come on.

Focus!

Determination!

Okay, and... (blows whistle) Lovely.

Yeah, blue team on this side, red on that.

LIZZIE: Brandon, get back out there now.

I'm having an asthma attack, miss.

You're not having anything.

It's just your heart pumping oxygen around your body as opposed to skunk fumes.

I'm dyin', I'm telling you!

Brandon!

Come on, man, we need you up front.

I'm not good, fam.

You just gotta catch your wind.

It's only ten minutes each way.

Come on, man, we need you; you're our only striker.

If I croak, Curtis, I'm telling you!

Yeah, whatever.

Oh, here he comes!

Here he comes!

A round of applause for our star striker, Brandon.

♪ ♪ (indistinct chatter) Sir Phillip, I'm so sorry.

The vote went on forever.

How are you?

Very good to see you.

I'm good.

How are you?

Glass of fizz?

Yes.

Long day, thank you.

(quietly): So did the PM ring you?

Ah, no.

Why?

Did he say he would?

Well, he said he'd try, which I suppose is not always the same thing.

Right.

Basically he just wanted to say that he's talked it through with the chancellor and to be honest, we all think it's a superb idea.

Bottom line, we would really love to have you onboard.

Well, that's...

I genuinely think it's a good move for us all, Liam.

How does Lord Cross of Frognal sound?

You know that's not why I'm doing this.

Oh, you'll earn it, trust me.

To our new entrepreneur czar, congratulations.

♪ ♪ (on radio): ♪ The way that I've been holding on too tight ♪ ♪ With nothing in between ♪ ROBERT (singing along): ♪ The story of my life I take her home ♪ ♪ I drive all night to keep her warm ♪ ♪ And time is frozen ♪ (laughs) (phone ringtone mimicking church bells) (music stops) Geoff.

GEOFF (on phone): Robert, hi.

Just ringing to check you got my email.

I did, yes.

Um, I was going to respond tonight, Geoff.

Um, I've got a manic day.

Uh, I know it's tedious, but it would just help me sell your case a bit to the diocese.

ROBERT: Oh, yeah, absolutely.

I'm not quite sure how the accounts are gonna do that, Geoff.

I mean, how do you quantify the cost of buying a group of very lost women some hope?

Well, I agree.

ROBERT: But, yes...

Okay, I will get it to you as soon as poss...

A.S.A.P., Geoff.

I mean, if it were down to me I... ROBERT: Oh, hello?

You're breaking up there.

Sorry, I've lost you.

(music starts) (singing along): ♪ The story of my life I'll take her home ♪ ♪ I drive all night ♪ ♪ To keep her warm and time is frozen.

♪ (siren blaring) Morning.

Hi.

(indistinct chatter, phone ringing) (indistinct chatter) Cheers.

(door closes) ♪ ♪ (mouse clicks) (indistinct chatter) (phone ringing) (indistinct chatter) ♪ ♪ (phone ringing) D.C.I.

Stuart.

It's Sean Rawlins.

CASSIE (on phone): Sean, hi.

What's happening?

There's something you should see.

SEAN: As you can see, it's about an inch-wide and it's caused by some sort of blunt-force trauma.

It couldn't have been from the drill?

I'd expect the bone at the point of fracture would be lighter.

Wouldn't have had time to be discolored by the soil.

So you think this could have been the cause of death?

Would've caused massive blood loss, profound brain damage, and, yes, in all likelihood, I think it would have caused death.

Hm.

♪ ♪ How's business, Les?

Get in the van, Livvy, please.

(car door opens) (door closes) You really think this is about me trying to get my hands on the house?

(muffled dialogue) Just leave them be, Les.

They're happy here.

Are they?

How, how would you know?

I'm the one who's round here every week whilst you ponce off back to London.

It's about keeping them safe, Matt.

Nothing more.

♪ ♪ (car door opens, closes) (engine starts) ♪ ♪ (door opens) Good morning, ladies.

ALL: Good morning.

(papers rustling) Oh, hi, Bob.

Wasn't expecting you in today.

Uh, not stopping.

Just wanted to pick up some bumph for an AGM.

How are they doing in there?

Oh, good.

Nine's our best turnout for a couple of months.

Oh, that's brilliant.

Well done, you.

Did your daughter get ahold of you?

No, I switched my mobile off.

Bishop's on the warpath again.

Said it wasn't urgent-- just wedding stuff.

Oh, well, if it's wedding stuff then it's never not urgent.

I'll call her.

Here.

Buy them some nice biccies.

Always good for flagging spirits.

See ya.

(door closes) ♪ ♪ (siren blaring) SHIRLEY (on phone): Did you tell the kids?

Spoke to Joshy-- he was dead chuffed.

Can't get ahold of Bella, she's probably still in court.

Well, we'll have to celebrate tonight.

I'm making your favorite.

What time do you want to eat?

Got the Cameron thing early doors and then... he wants to meet me.

PHILLIP: So... 8:30?

Perfect.

Can we have it with peas?

Of course.

PHILLIP: Love you, sweetheart.

Love you, too.

(phone beeps) Hello, Belby, it's me again.

Can you give us a ring when you're free?

I got some good news.

Your old man's going up in the world.

CASSIE: Sorry, I'm being stupid.

These, these are the plans for 27 Arlingham Place?

No, these are the plans for the original.

They built hundreds of buildings to this design, but all of them to exactly the same spec.

Right, got it.

So... And this details the depth of the footings, but more importantly, it tells the builder that each cellar would have a three-inch concrete and screed floor laid as standard.

Right.

Can you date concrete?

No.

I just Googled it.

Because in truth, all this tells us is that it had a concrete floor when it was built in...

Uh... 1886.

We have no way of knowing if it's the same floor the builders broke up.

Do you really think that someone dug up the original floor, stuck a body under it, and then re-laid a new one?

Well, it was good enough for Fred West.

Except we haven't found anything else.

And disposing of a body is all about ease, guv.

Yeah, I do know that, Sunny.

I think he was probably already there when the building went up.

And if he was, then I'm not entirely sure what we'd be doing investigating a suspicious death from at least 130 years ago.

♪ ♪ (indistinct chatter, laughter) Sir?

Oh, cheers.

Oh, and, thanks for getting Brandon back on side, yeah?

No worries.

(boys whooping) Yeah, yeah, seen it all before, Joseph.

Bigger and better an' all.

(boys laugh) Haven't I, sweetheart?

(laughs) Curtis.

You all right, miss?

I meant to give you this earlier.

"Of Mice and Men."

You seen it?

No.

When's the exam?

24th.

Might be worth a squint, I don't know.

Always easier to remember quotes from a film than a book somehow.

What?

My mom sold the DVD player.

Right.

She using again, then?

Well, how 'bout you watch it round ours?

I'm in Thursday.

Serious?

Get to spend the evening with John Malkovich, what's not to like?

I'd like that.

Good.

6:30 then.

Play your cards right, might even get a pizza in.

Thanks, miss.

Soft as a pudding, you are.

I'll put this in the car.

(kisses hand) So you think he was wrong?

No, 'cause the logic suggests he's right.

(plate clangs) So what's your cut-off point?

No statute of limitations on murder.

So, I mean, suppose you do date it, I don't know... somewhere in the '30s.

Are you seriously gonna use your ever-dwindling resources to investigate a crime 80 years old?

It was still somebody's son, isn't it?

Might even have his own kids who might still be alive if it was the '30s.

I never knew my father.

I got over it, 68 years ago.

I don't know.

Is a crime less serious because time's passed?

Is a wrong less wrong because it was done 50 years ago?

Or 60?

Or 70?

(sighs) I think if people are still alive who were affected by it, or even if they remember people that were affected, I think a society has a responsibility to take it seriously.

No matter how far back, no matter how old they are.

I don't know.

Feels like history to me.

Ancient history.

Tea?

(dishes clanging) ♪ ♪ JOHN: Hang on.

(brushing) It's going this way.

It looks... like a key.

♪ ♪ JOHN: So we did some very quick tests on the metal.

We found chromium and chromium oxide, Basically, we think it's stainless steel.

KELLY: Earliest common usage of which was around 1917.

But if it is an ignition key, they weren't invented until 1949.

And that was in America.

So this is '50s, earliest?

If it is a car key.

So, we're gonna get this down to a lab in Wapping.

They basically blast it with an X-ray source called a synchrotron, which, amongst many other things, can illuminate traces of tooling obscured by the corrosion.

You mean tooling like a, a serial number?

That would be kinda cool, wouldn't it?

CASSIE: If this key belongs to the victim's car... Yeah.

That would be very kinda cool.

I mean, I wouldn't insist you use the title at home.

Maybe bow once in a while, doff your cap occasionally.

(laughs) You think I'm an idiot, don't you, for giving a toss?

Whatever floats your boat, Dad.

It makes me smile, Belle.

It's me saying it doesn't matter where I come from, I can get it.

What do this lot have?

If I want it.

Why would you want it?

Why would you want any of this?

Hang on, you chose this gaff.

It's close to my chambers, it's convenient, but I don't aspire to this.

And even if I did, I learned every day at school for 14 years that it doesn't matter how you speak or how much money you've got, you can never really make the leap.

If you don't want any of this, and you're embarrassed by your roots... Oh... No, no, no!

Dad.

I'm embarrassed myself sometimes.

What I'm saying is, you've got a great job, you're making a difference.

You're way smarter than me.

Just I never really get the sense that you're... happy.

That's all we want, your mother and me, we just want you to be happy.

(seagulls squawking) ♪ ♪ ...and Ellie turned to her sister, narrowed her eyes and said, "Caro, you are dead, D-E-D, dead."

(laughter) Tragically, I was 23 at the time.

(laughs) So, listen, we just wanted to discuss something about the wedding.

13 weeks and counting.

So, we've been talking, lots about it, you know.

And, um, we wanted to ask you guys how you would feel if actually it wasn't exclusively a church ceremony.

Not exclusively?

What do you mean?

Well, obviously, as you know, I'm not religious.

Of course.

But the vows are still very important to me.

Good.

And so we were just discussing the possibility of absolutely still having a church ceremony, but whether we should consider doing the actual marriage, the legal bit, in a register office.

I think we'd just be more comfortable endorsing our vows in a non-religious setting.

And then having a blessing in church, which, of course, as per, we'd still love you to preside over.

Good, all right.

Yes.

And, sorry, when you say "we"-- why would you not want to get married in church, Ellie?

Uh... well, for Tom.

And if it were just your decision?

(exhales) Well, I mean, if it were just my decision, of, of course I'd get married in church.

And you wouldn't do this just to make my daughter happy?

Well, I mean, yeah, of course, if, if I felt she did want that.

It was just a thought anyway.

ROBERT: Yes, and a very interesting one, certainly.

But, you see, the church is going to look so, so lovely.

More wine?

♪ ♪ You all right, love?

I'm fine.

What's the matter?

Why should anything be the matter, Robert?

You got what you wanted, like you always do.

So how could anything be the matter?

No, I got what Ellie wanted.

And how would you know what she wants?

I mean, how would you know what any of us really want?

I mean, have you ever actually sat down and asked?

I'm not sure what this is about.

Oh, it's about drying my hair on 15-year-old towels and not having had a holiday in six years.

Because everything we've ever had you've given to other people, which is very kind and charitable and everything, but actually I don't ever remember being asked!

♪ ♪ It's about you getting your way for 40 years.

And it's about me sometimes getting just a tiny bit fed up with it.

(sighs): I'll sleep in the spare room.

♪ ♪ CASSIE: "M-S-1-1-6-5-1-7-4".

That cool enough?

Oh, yeah.

That'll do very nicely.

Thank you.

JAMES (voiceover): Actually, key ignition didn't come in till '52, which is your backstop date, but you know what?

We don't need to worry about it because this is quite simple to date.

"M.S."

stands for Morton Spyder.

Right.

The first number's month and year of manufacture, so November 1965.

And the following numbers, I suspect, you'd have to check this with the Morton archive people, I suspect that's simply the number it came off the production line.

So this is 174th in November 1965?

Yeah.

Luckily for you there far fewer cars on the road back then, so you should be able to get the reg with that.

Thank you, that's great.

Thanks very much.

Oh, you're welcome.

(Sunny talking on phone) (phone beeps) Guv?

Just spoke to an old caretaker of the building.

The concrete was ripped up in the late '60s after a burst water main and was definitely not re-laid until 1978.

Which narrows down our burial window to about ten years.

Sunny... Oh, don't.

♪ Yesterday my life ♪ ♪ Was filled with pain ♪ Just give me a rough idea... ♪ Sunny ♪ ...how long you're gonna find that funny.

Several years yet, my friend.

Great.

♪ ♪ Ah.

November '65.

Here we are!

♪ ♪ Was a direct sale from the factory.

12th of January 1966, reg 775UCC to a Stephen J.

White.

Either of those any use?

This could be him, Sunny.

Thank you.

You've been incredibly helpful.

(keys tapping) We're in luck.

DVLA have Mr. White down as the only registered owner.

CASSIE: He's not here.

Nothing?

Nope.

(pen drops) How far back does it go?

Far enough.

Before the '50s.

If anyone ever reported a Stephen J.

White missing, he'd be here.

(sighs) Okay, so maybe he's not our victim.

But if he's still alive, he might be able to tell us if, I don't know, he, he sold our victim his car without informing DVLA.

Or sold it to the man who, who sold it to the victim.

If he's still alive, we're in with a shout.

(birds chirping, dog barking) SUNNY: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs. White.

Good innings?

Very good innings.

Just to get back to the car, the Spyder, we couldn't find any record of it being sold on after he bought it, so did your husband keep it?

Did you keep it?

Keep it?

No, no, I thought you knew.

It was stolen.

Stolen?

From right outside our house and never found.

Christmas 1975.

Broke his heart.

Right.

Stolen.

CURTIS: It's like nearly a hundred years ago.

But what's really changed?

LIZZIE: Curtis, everything has changed.

And you know why?

Because you have education.

(door opens) Which gives you choices those poor buggers could only dream of.

(door closes) Home!

LIZZIE: Hi, love!

Blimey, you still here, ugly?

(laughs) Actually, he's just off.

You've got some revision to do, haven't you, matey?

(groans) Come on there, big man, I'll spin you round to your mum's, yeah?

Oh, thanks, Mr. Wilton.

Put the kettle on, love.

(kisses) Thank you.

Night, miss.

Night, love.

(chuckles softly) ♪ ♪ Here we are.

I know you'd never think of it like this, but I reckon he was lucky, your son, having you guys for 15 years.

That was special.

(exhales) Believe me, not half as lucky as we were, Curtis.

Night, sir.

Night, son.

♪ ♪ (engine starts) (sighs) Okay.

So, let's assume then, for now, it was our victim that stole it.

Right.

So let's go back to the factory records, we'll get the, the chassis number, the engine number.

I mean, even if the number plate was changed after it was stolen, we must be able to find it.

Those cars were collectibles even back then.

So we try, um... scrap merchants, classic car dealers, spare parts dealers.

A car like that doesn't just disappear off the face of the Earth.

But, uh... Why?

What use is finding the car now?

It was stolen.

It can't identify anyone.

There'll be no traceable link.

I don't know.

But right now we got bugger all else.

(indistinct chatter) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (indistinct chatter) Sorry, mate.

♪ ♪ 775UCC.

You have it?

Uh, no.

We did-- according to this, me dad bought it in 1977.

From?

Um... Islington Car Pound.

A police pound?

Yeah, unclaimed vehicle.

Probably towed it in off the street and nobody claimed.

Fairly common for stolen cars.

Why wouldn't they have just returned it to the owner?

Do you know when it was nicked?

'75, and the owner was never informed that it was found.

Human error maybe.

No computers back then, much harder to cross-reference things.

And what happened to it?

Eh, I kept it for spares till '91, then we sold it to a Steve Bennett.

Total restoration job by that stage.

Got his address here if you want it.

CASSIE: And this is it?

This is all that's left?

BENNETT: That was restorable, hm.

What exactly is it that you're looking for?

(birds chirping) Well, to be honest, Mr. Bennett...

I'm not really sure.

(chirping continues) Where's the rest of it?

My son took a few spares off after Dad died.

(metal shifting) (grunting) (dog barking) Hang on, what's that?

Just a bag.

♪ ♪ JAMIE: It was in the boot, wedged underneath the spare.

CASSIE: Don't touch it.

Uh, let's have a look at what we got.

♪ ♪ A shirt.

A comb.

♪ ♪ Some toothpaste.

And a book.

A diary.

No.

1976.

♪ ♪ Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

CASSIE: Better leave it to the lab.

CASSIE: Mr. White's widow says it definitely wasn't his.

So we think it could be our victim's.

Okay, first up we need to dry it, and without doing any more damage.

JOHN: Best option is we freeze it and then stick it in a high vacuum chamber.

But give us a couple of hours and then let's see where we are.

Okay.

ERIC (voiceover): Yes, I know, 45 years.

If I'd killed her, I'd be out by now.

(chuckles) No, it'd be lovely if you could come, Monica.

I'm trying to get ahold as many of the old gang from the office as possible.

(Claire screams) I'll call you right back.

Claire!?

(water running) I thought it was the cold.

Hold on, love.

(gasping) Here, let's have a look.

Oh, it doesn't look too bad.

We'll get some cream on it.

That should pass it... Gimme that stuff there.

Let's turn this off.

(water stops) That should do it.

I'm scared, Eric.

No need to be scared, my darling.

I want to be somewhere safe.

I've told you, sweetheart, we're fine here.

No, I want to be looked after.

You will be.

I can look after you.

(softly): I want to leave.

No, no, my darling, we're not leaving.

We can't leave.

(machine beeping) (machine hissing) (machine whirring) (crackling) (chatter, laughter) (laughing) BRANDON: Hey, yo, Curtis!

Hey, come here, man.

Hey Curtis, where you goin', man?

Yo, Curtis!

What, you couldn't hear me, bruv?

Curtis!

All set?

Got you this.

I've got pens.

Nice to have new ones, isn't it?

Not every day you sit your GCSEs.

MAN: Hey, Curtis!

We'll be late.

(engine starts) ♪ ♪ JOSH: Dad, all I'm saying is that you know what the Yanks are like.

They shoot their wads for a title.

But we just want you on the letterhead.

That's all I'm asking, and then I really think it could push it over the line.

Never asked me old man for a brass farthing.

Wouldn't have dared.

I don't, I don't want your money, Dad.

No, you want my name.

Send the paperwork to the office.

I'll get my CFO to look at it.

Shirl, it's on.

REPORTER (on TV): ...is approaching a national treasure status.

The appointment of Sir Phillip Cross is deemed to be a smart move by the government.

♪ ♪ (door opens, closes) GEOFF (voiceover): By my reckoning, we seem to be about 2,000 pounds out over the last three years.

As you say, I'm sure it is just an accounting error, but if you could look at it A.S.A.P., I'd appreciate it.

I'll get Grace onto it first thing.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a 6:00 service to prepare.

Thanks for your time, Robert.

♪ ♪ CASSIE: Are they all like this?

All.

(sighs) So then we scanned them with infrared.

(taps keyboard): Still unreadable.

(tapping keyboard) So then we tried them with luminescence.

(taps keyboard) (softly): Oh, wow.

JOHN: I always like this bit.

How do you do that?

Oh, certain materials have the ability to change incident visible wavelengths into longer invisible reflected ones if you shine a luminescent infrared light at them.

Ink is one of them.

I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, but I've slightly fallen in love with you.

Okay, go back to the fly page, please.

(taps keyboard) "Happy Christmas, Jimmy.

With much love, Jo-Jo."

♪ ♪ "James Niall Sullivan."

"Address-- wherever I lay my hat."

The last entry's July 12, though there's not actually a lot on the day-to-day pages before that, but we thought you might like this.

(taps keyboard) (gasps) Names and phone numbers.

♪ ♪ Brian Kent.

Mrs. Stevens.

Pool Hall, G.P.

CASSIE (voiceover): Beth.

Sean Collins.

Clive Crowther.

Father Rob.

Trotsky.

Mackie.

Mr. Slater.

♪ ♪ Paul Fleet.

Frankie C. Kev Flemming.

Shrimp.

Rita Monroe.

Guv.

♪ ♪ Hello, Jimmy.

Let's get you home, shall we?

(phones ringing) CASSIE: Okay, listen up, everyone!

So, uh, yesterday evening, we ran the name James Sullivan through, uh, missing person records and very quickly, we found a 17-year-old man of that name who was reported missing in November 1976.

Jimmy, as he called himself, was reported missing by his mum, who I spoke to briefly on the phone last night.

I told her I wanted to come up to Liverpool, where she lives, to take a DNA swab so that we could make a formal identification of remains that we believe to be of her son.

39 years after she last saw him, she cried like a child at this news.

As did I, um, as she told me how she'd missed her boy-- it's her only child-- for every hour of every day of every week since she last saw him.

So I want to find who caused a pain that's very much alive today-- who took his life, who took hers-- and I want to punish them.

39 years later.

♪ ♪ (traffic humming) PHILLIP: Your associates here, did you do your full due diligence on them?

They have the money, Dad.

It's all kosher.

Oh, I'm sure they have the money, it's just...

I can't do business with them.

(footsteps echoing) Why, because they're Turkish?

No.

Because they're criminals.

Um, they're not criminals.

PHILLIP: They or their associates are mixed up in all sorts of illegal activity.

There's no way I can do business with them.

Ever.

I'm sorry.

It's, it's just your name, Dad.

That's all they want on the letterhead.

Just give me a break here, please.

We all feel the same.

There's nothing more to say.

♪ ♪ All right.

So we're concentrating on five main lines of inquiry.

Firstly, family.

As she just said, the boss is driving up to Liverpool to speak to his mum.

Try and get a sense of who Jimmy was.

How he lived his life in the years before his death.

Jake.

We want to know anything and everything about 27 Arlingham Place, from its incarnation as a hostel in 1972 up until the point it shut in the late '90s.

Kaz.

I want you to trace uniform and C.I.D.

who covered that patch in the '70s.

There should be plenty of them still with us.

Was Jimmy Sullivan known to them?

Which residents were known to them?

Murray, there are several missing person report files on him, the first one from 1976-- I want you to follow up on those.

Finally, we need to chase up the names and numbers in this diary.

First up, "Jo-Jo."

Is it a man?

Is it a woman?

Friend, girlfriend?

We need to know.

I want everyone to take a copy of these names and run them past whoever, whoever you speak to.

These are our tangible connections to the past and to Jimmy Sullivan.

Let's start making connections.

(detectives talking softly) Okay, good stuff-- thanks, guys.

(detectives talking softly) You okay, boss?

He'd only be a few years older than me.

All the life we've lived.

♪ ♪ (wind howling) (dog barking) ♪ ♪ (door opens) ♪ ♪ BRANDON: Yo, Curtis.

All right?

Head down, innit.

Have a choke, man.

Help them old brain cells.

(sighs): Maybe next time.

What?

Is she your bitch now?

(laughs) ♪ ♪ Don't never trust them mudsharks, fam.

♪ ♪ (dog barking in distance) ♪ ♪ (car starts) (car door closes) Morning.

Morning.

Okay.

Fe.

Iron.

♪ ♪ (train wheels rumbling on track) ♪ ♪ (papers rustle) (detectives talking indistinctly) (waves lapping) (talking softly) (keys rattling) (door slams shut) ♪ ♪ (bird calling outside) (keys rattling) ♪ ♪ (train announcements running on intercom) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (brakes squeal softly) (engine idling) (engine revs gently) ♪ ♪ (knocks on door) (gulls calling in distance) MAUREEN: I have custard creams, Rich Tea, and digestives.

Thank you so much.

You didn't have to go to all that trouble.

Well, I thought I'd better get a choice, because the corner shop is gone now and it is a ten-minute walk to Tesco's.

Well, you had me at "custard creams."

(siren blaring in distance) Have you kids yourself?

(pouring tea): Uh, yeah, two.

They're, they're grown up now.

Both at college.

(clears throat): I only see them when they want, you know, money or their, their clothes washed.

(laughs softly) There's no word for it, you know.

Single mother who's lost her only child.

It's like... No word would be enough.

Because, I mean, what are you, you know?

What's the point of you?

(clock pendulum ticking) (crying): It is him, isn't it?

We'll know for sure when we've done the DNA match, but...

I think it's pretty likely it is.

Yes.

I'm so sorry.

No, no, no, I want it to be him.

(sniffles) I want it so much to be him.

I got us a plot at St. Matthew's.

I just want us to be able to be together again.

(birds calling, wind blowing gently) ROBERT: How much was in there?

SHEILA (on phone): All the money from the disco last night.

Drinks, ticket money-- about 1,200.

Oh, Sheila.

SHEILA: I normally take it home with me, but my car's still in the bloody garage.

And I never use the bus if I've got takings.

And anyway, I thought, you know... Well, this is their money, the estate's.

Why would anyone want to steal their own money?

Have you phoned the police?

SHEILA: Oh, been and gone.

But really, what are they going to do?

I don't think there's CCTV footage, and it's not exactly Brinks Mat, so... ROBERT: Oh, Lord, Sheila.

I'm really very sorry.

SHEILA: Yes, well, I'll call you later.

MAUREEN: I met his father in 1959.

He'd come over from Barbados after the war.

I was just 15.

When I fell pregnant, my parents disowned me.

But Thomas...

He agreed to marry me.

Turns out it was the last nice thing he ever did.

Pretty soon, the only thing that gave him any more pleasure than drinking was beating me.

When Jimmy got older, beating him.

And so I drank too much, to blot it all out.

And one day I came home from work.

Jimmy was gone.

He left a note.

He'd gone to London to find work and he would send money to help me escape.

(softly): Bless his beautiful heart, he did.

And then one day, the letters just stopped.

And I waited.

I waited even though I knew.

I had this instinct, I had this dread, that something very, very bad had happened.

(pendulum swinging) And after about four months, I think it was, I went down to London and I told the police.

(computer keys tapping) ♪ ♪ MAUREEN: They asked me had we had a row, and I said, "No."

They asked me about his father and I told them about that.

And they said, "Maybe that's what it was," and I said, "No, no matter what his father was like, Jimmy always loved me."

So they told me not to worry, that he'd turn up.

"Like a bad penny," one of them said.

(sighs): And I said, "He wasn't bad.

Ever."

(mouse clicks) MAUREEN: So I kept waiting and waiting.

So because he'd sort of run away once, they decided that's what he'd done again.

Even though I told them... Jimmy wouldn't have done that to me.

Because he loved me.

♪ ♪ And I was right.

Wasn't I?

Yes, you were.

(traffic humming, van door closes) (phone ringing) Well, we moved here in '72.

Right.

COLIN: There's no one in our family by that name.

Right, and no post ever arrived for a-- for a similar name?

Uh, Elizabeth, Betty, Liz?

No, but, um, I mean, I could ask my mum.

She did take in a few lodgers when I went to poly.

Yeah?

When was that?

COLIN: Uh, that would have been '75 to '78.

Well, that would sort of fit.

I mean, I can't promise anything.

She's in a home now and not in the best of health, but I could try.

I would really appreciate that, Mr. Leeming.

COLIN: All right, I'll get back to you.

Thanks, yeah, speak to you soon.

Cheers, bye.

(children calling in distance) (taps knocker) Oh, good afternoon.

DCI Kendrick?

Haven't been called that in a while.

Who's asking?

DC Karen Willets, Bishop Street nick.

I was wondering if you could spare me five minutes of your time.

I need to pick your brains about a case we're working on.

Well, I was gonna slit me wrists in front of "Cook Me The Money," but seeing as you're so pretty... Come in and pick away, love.

♪ ♪ (siren wailing in distance) MAUREEN: Some of these lads, you know, not much older than Jimmy was before he died.

And I've seen them over the years on the telly... And I think of the things they've done.

(trails off): And, and the lives...

It's not just the obvious things, you know, the birthdays, the christenings, the weddings.

It's the little things your friends tell you about their kids.

The cheap holiday Malky got online and the funny video Jason's little girl made for the YouTube.

So much life one person can create, Mrs. Stuart.

And I'm gonna do everything I can to find whoever stole that from you, Maureen.

Everything I can.

♪ ♪ (kisses hand) (traffic humming outside) What?

Frankie C. Rings a bell?

Well, it might if it's the same one.

Who?

I think the "C" stands for Cross.

When he started making a bit of money, he started using his middle name, Phillip.

The "Sir" was still a few years off.

That's Sir Phillip Cross?

He certainly called himself Frank or Frankie C. And how did you know him?

He was just a face on the street.

Ran a stall down Chapel Market.

(laughs) Cocky little runt.

I think he might've briefly been a driver for the Fenwicks.

Who were the Fenwicks?

North London firm.

Protection, prostitution, loan sharking.

Right, so he might have form?

Not sure having form is on the list of requirements for being a government business czar, is it?

So I doubt very much if he ever got pulled for anything.

Right.

But the Fenwicks were nasty.

Not many people worked for them for any length of time... without having to do some pretty horrible stuff themselves, so...

He might not have got pulled.

But that doesn't mean he didn't do stuff, does it?

SUNNY (on phone): What do you reckon?

CASSIE: I'm just watching him on the box now.

Yeah, worth a chat, definitely.

SUNNY: Also, I emailed you some stuff on the Fenwick family, as well.

CASSIE: Yeah, I got it.

Thanks.

SUNNY: So how was Liverpool?

Good-- you know, sad, but...

I think I've got some really useful stuff.

I just need to go through it properly.

But listen, long day.

Thanks for all this, Sunny.

Really, really good work.

SUNNY: Night, guv.

See you tomorrow.

Hi, Dad!

Hi, I made some risotto.

Do you want some?

I'd love some-- I'm starving.

Hard day?

(sighs): Can you imagine anything worse than going to your grave never knowing where your baby was?

Yeah, you wonder how people go on.

(sighs) The mother said to me today, "What's the point of me?"

I guess you look for meaning in other things.

Like?

After our kids, the rest is just, it's filling, isn't it?

(music playing softly) (traffic humming) (door closes) ENDEAVOUR MORSE (on television): Vivienne Haldane, sir, 43.

Husband's a Rufus Haldane, maths don at St. Saviour's, according to neighbors.

Body was found by the postie.

Mm, mm, mm.

MAX DEBRYN (on television): Strangled.

From behind.

(suitcase rolling) (screaming): You evil pig!

What, what?

I know what you are.

I know what you did!

(stammering): Claire!

Sweetheart, where're you going?

I'm going to my sister's.

Did you think I'd stay here another second with you?

(suitcase rolling) (inhales sharply, door closes) What... (door slams) (breathing heavily): Les.

Yeah, it's, it's Dad.

Oh, I, I'm sorry.

It, it's happened again.

♪ ♪ (car approaching) (engine idling) (engine stops, car door opens and closes) I'm so sorry about this, Tim.

TIM: I did invite her in, but she wanted to wait outside.

I don't know where Carol is, Les.

I don't know why this man is in her house.

Carol doesn't live here anymore, Mum.

Should we get you home?

Yes, I want to see Eric-- I want Eric.

Yeah, let's go and see Dad-- thanks again.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (applause on television) You said on the phone you remembered her, Mum.

WOMAN (on television): I really hope it's a blue... MAN (on television): That's uncomfortable, because look... Beth Laws, you said her name was?

I'd have never have rented her the room if I'd seen her head properly.

But she wore a hat.

(television continues) Why did you need to see her head, Mum?

She were a skinhead.

And her boyfriend.

But you wouldn't have known it from when she knocked on the door.

Butter wouldn't have melted.

(softly): I had to get my brother and his mates round in the end to chuck them out.

Only there a few weeks, but the way they was...

The things I could hear them saying about the Pakistanis and the West Indians.

I got the carpets cleaned after they went.

Whole house felt filthy.

(rubbing) ♪ ♪ RAY: Love?

Out in a sec, babes.

♪ ♪ (jewelry clinking) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ JIMMY: All going well, Mum.

I'm staying in Kentish Town with some lads I met from Kirkby.

One of them knows Uncle Robbo and has got me some work hodding bricks...

...Went to see a punk band last night.

It's the latest thing apparently.

Mum, have you ever eaten a bendy burger?

It's brilliant.

You'll be pleased to hear, I went to church last week.

Got chatting to the priest, Father Greaves, who turned out to be an all right bloke, even if he is a QPR supporter...

I watched an NF rally last week from a bedroom window.

It was horrible.

The stuff they were screaming and the police weren't even that bothered... Hope you got the cash okay.

Would have sent more, but I've just bought myself a car!

Your little Jimmy has a girlfriend, Mum.

She's beautiful, and I really like her.

Lots of love, your Jimmy.

(phone buzzes) ♪ ♪ (siren blaring in distance) Lab just texted.

Confirmed it's Jimmy.

Well, BT have identified the number next to Frankie C. From 1973 to 1987, that number was registered to... Mr. Gordon Fenwick.

(drops file on desk) I've counted three murder cases against the Fenwicks.

No convictions.

Okay, that's interesting.

Let's have a catch-up with everyone first thing tomorrow morning.

Sure.

(waves lapping, gulls calling) ♪ ♪ (grunts) (jewelry rattling) ♪ ♪ (shuts box) (door opens) GRACE: Hello?

(door closes) ♪ ♪ ROBERT: Hi, love.

♪ ♪ And these I didn't pinch from a grave.

Thank you.

(chuckles) I might moan at you more often.

(laughs) Okay, uh, Tuesday's Bolognese or Wednesday's fish?

Uh, Tuesday's Bolognese will be fine.

(bottles rattle inside fridge) Late tonight.

Mm.

I was at the food bank meeting.

Of course you were.

(microwave beeps) So are we all ready to go?

Starting next Thursday.

And we got Morrisons on board today as well, which is great.

That's fantastic-- oh, well done you.

I spoke to Caroline today.

She said that you went with her to her scan yesterday.

(chuckles) Just a bit of handholding, you know?

Ten minutes or so.

She was really touched.

Well, just trying to be around a bit more.

Good.

We like having you around a bit more.

♪ ♪ (traffic humming) MURRAY: A Beth or Elizabeth Laws approximately matches the age of the tenant described by Mrs. Leeming, has eight convictions between 1975 and 1978: drugs, shoplifting, D and D, and an ABH.

She serve time?

Six months suspended for the ABH.

Which was?

An assault on a West Indian shopkeeper.

Alongside this man, Vincent Erskine, who, nine years later, was convicted of the murder of a Pakistani postal worker.

Get him up.

And we think this could have been the same man that she rented this room with?

Yeah, his name appears as the boyfriend on several of her arrest sheets.

Anyway, the ABH gave me a probation officer and a social worker, which in turn chucked up a file detailing a name change in 1988 to Wilton.

She got married, and, even better, an address that matches current council tax records.

CASSIE: And Erskine?

Died 14 years ago in prison-- hepatitis C. Excellent work, Murray.

We have our first living link to someone who, we can assume, knew Jimmy.

Well done.

Jake.

No pressure, mate.

(laughter) Two key names so far.

Arlingham Place records confirm that Jimmy Sullivan stayed sporadic nights over a six-month period in early '76.

Last confirmed stay was of June in that year.

And the name "Mr. Slater" in the diary probably refers to an Eric Slater who was a bookkeeper for the hostel for most of its incarnation, but he was certainly working there when Jimmy was a resident.

Okay, well, so now we have Elizabeth Laws' full name, can you also check if either she or Erskine ever stayed there?

Will do.

And, there's, um, a mention of a, a Father Robert Greaves in some of Jimmy's postcards home.

Now, he, he seems to be associated with the hostel in some way.

The records I have obviously only detail paid employees.

Well, see if you can't find anything relating to him.

And, Karen, see if you can track him down through the church, as well.

And lastly, Murray, can you see what the Fenwick family's up to these days?

Okay, I think that's it.

Well done, everyone.

That is really good work.

♪ ♪ (people talking quietly) (splashing) ♪ ♪ (splashing) ♪ ♪ (panting) PHILLIP (voiceover): Maybe I'm just old-fashioned.

To me, it's just a common courtesy to call ahead.

Uh, do accept our apologies, Mr. Cross.

Please, call me Sir Phillip.

So.

What was his name again?

James Sullivan.

But you'd have almost certainly known him as Jimmy.

And why might I have known him?

If we could come on to that.

No, sorry, no, I don't remember anybody by that name.

Can you tell me anything more about him?

Oh, I can, I can do better than that.

(opening briefcase) (papers rustling) Here you go, um... That was taken about six months before he died.

He's 17 years old in that one.

♪ ♪ Sorry, I wish I could help you.

Okay, uh, no problem.

CASSIE: Could I just ask, then, if you recognize this phone number, Sir Phillip.

"01 946 09..." 27."

Well, 01 is obviously an old London number.

Aside from that, no, I don't-- should I?

It was written next to your name in the addresses section of a 1976 diary belonging to Mr. Sullivan.

Uh, sorry, when I say, "Your name," I mean when you used your first name, um... Frank.

Frankie.

(siren blaring in distance) Do I need a lawyer?

Oh, that's entirely up to you.

As, I think, my colleague explained to you, this really is just a fact-finding mission, but...

If you think you need a lawyer, we're very happy to come back.

All that says is "Frankie C." It could be anyone.

Okay, and do you recognize any of the other names?

No, I don't recognize any of the other names.

Okay, no problem.

We done?

Uh, there's just one more thing.

Um, the Fenwick brothers.

You know what?

I think we are done.

I don't know this lad and I don't know anything about what happened to him, but I do know how much you lot love the odd celebrity fish wriggling on your hooks-- doesn't matter if they've done nothing, just makes you look like you're doing your job a bit better than you frequently are.

Will I talk more?

Fine, but I want my lawyers present if we're gonna be dragging up ancient history like the Fenwicks.

Cara, can you show D.I.

Khan and D.C.I.

Stuart to the lifts, please?

Thank you so much for your time, Sir Phillip.

No problem, nice to meet you.

We'll be in touch.

CASSIE: Thanks.

(phone clicks) (door closes) (indistinct shouting) ♪ ♪ Good afternoon.

Elizabeth Wilton?

Yes.

Come on.

Come on, lads.

(players shouting) Curtis.

You're in charge.

Two minutes.

(players shouting) You okay, love?

They're police officers, Ray.

They just want to ask some questions about a... An historical case.

What historical case?

She'll be fine, Mr...?

Wilton-- I'm her husband.

Shouldn't be long.

We're just going to the changing block to find somewhere a bit more private.

Want me to come with, love?

She'll be fine, Mr. Wilton.

(players shouting) How did he die?

His skull was smashed in.

A hammer, baseball bat-- we're not sure, but, uh, blunt-instrument trauma, they call it.

Sorry, no, I don't know him.

♪ ♪ No?

No, uh...

If I ever did, I don't remember him now, I'm afraid.

Have any ideas why your name might have been in his diary?

No.

Okay, no worries.

So where were you living in 1976, Mrs. Wilton?

Various squats and flats around London.

I was a little bit lost back then.

How do you mean, "lost"?

It took me a little while to find my feet when I moved up from Crawley, and I ended up having some problems with alcohol.

Other stuff.

Do you remember ever staying at a hostel in Willesden called Arlingham House?

No, I don't think so.

How about a rented room in Lissom Grove, in the house of a Mrs. Leeming?

No, sorry.

Well, let me help you out.

(soft chuckle) Because she remembers a girl called Beth staying with her.

Beth Laws.

That is your maiden name, isn't it?

Yes.

She remembers a Beth Laws staying for a couple of weeks and then having to throw her out because she wouldn't pay her rent.

Neither her nor, um...

Her boyfriend.

Was this your boyfriend, Mrs. Wilton?

Vincent Erskine?

I went out with him for a few months 38 years ago.

You have a number of co-convictions together spanning nearly two years.

I didn't know this boy Jimmy.

I would never have hurt anyone.

Okay.

Maybe, as you say, you just... You just can't remember.

I'd remember that.

Well, tell me if you remember this.

August of 1977...

Please.

You were convicted of a violent assault on a West Indian shopkeeper.

That was Erskine, not me-- I tried to stop him.

And both sentenced to six months' imprisonment, suspended for two years.

Erskine, a man who only a few years later robbed an Asian post office worker before stabbing him to death.

Did Erskine ever mention staying at a hostel?

I don't remember.

Do you have any recollection of him ever mentioning a Jimmy Sullivan?

I don't remember.

(no audio) Well, have a think about, um... what we've discussed today, Mrs. Wilton.

And if you think you can help us in any way, um, just call me.

How could I be a racist?

You've seen my husband.

Maybe not now-- but then?

No.

Not now, not then, not ever.

♪ ♪ (door opens) (door closes) (indistinct chatter) SUNNY: Yeah, okay.

Yeah, do that-- bye.

(sighs): That was Jake.

According to the records, she stayed at that house eight times between January and November 1976, five of them nights when Jimmy was there.

CASSIE: And Erskine?

Still checking.

♪ ♪ She's a good little liar.

I think we'd all have to give her that.

♪ ♪ GEOFF (on phone): Yes, Father Greaves is very much still practicing.

One of our more dynamic priests, in fact.

Great-- can you give me his contact details, then, please?

(gulls calling) ♪ ♪ (gulls calling) ♪ ♪ (car approaching) (brakes squeak) (engages emergency brake, shuts off engine) (clears throat): So, um... How'd they get your name?

It was in this boy's diary, apparently.

Oh.

But, you, uh, definitely didn't know him.

Right?

I said I didn't remember him, Ray.

If someone mentioned the names of people you'd met once or twice 40 years ago, would you remember them all?

No, probably not.

No, exactly.

(siren blaring in distance) (door squeaks and closes) (traffic humming) (taps pen) Mm... (tapping keys) Hi, love.

Hey.

There's a shoebox on the kitchen table with some letters in it.

They were written to your mum.

20 years ago.

I found them.

(typing slowly) Hidden away after she died.

I'd like you to read them.

Sorry, what'd you say?

I'm off out for the evening!

What are you talking about, Dad?

What letters?

Just read them, love, please.

Don't wait up.

(door closes) (clock ticking softly) ♪ ♪ (box lid hits table) (paper shuffling) ♪ ♪ (picks up phone) (buttons beeping) (phone ringing) (picks up receiver) GEOFF (on phone): Hello?

Hi, it's, um, it's Robert Greaves.

Oh, Rob, hi.

ROBERT: Um, listen, Geoff.

I, I just wanted to, um, put your mind at rest about the bookkeeping thing.

It turns out that Grace, uh, accidentally put a check into a personal account a couple of years ago.

She was a bit overworked at the time, I think.

Anyway, I've transferred the right amount into the diocesan account, so, well, it's all sorted.

Well, well.

Okay, well, that sounds simple enough.

ROBERT: And, uh, I'd, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to Grace.

She's at a bit of a low ebb at the moment, so... GEOFF: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Rob.

No, no, no, it's all right, just, uh... She just probably needs a good holiday, really.

(laughs nervously): We both do.

No problem-- mum's the word.

Oh, good, thanks.

All right, thanks, Geoff.

Oh, sorry, one quick thing, Robert.

Did the police get hold of you?

The police?

GEOFF: Yeah, I got a call from a police officer earlier today asking for your contact details.

Oh, no, no.

Oh, right, well.

They're investigating some historic case, apparently, and they thought you might be able to provide them with some information.

Historic?

♪ ♪ What did they mean, historic?

No idea-- they wouldn't tell me.

Very old case, I guess, but, uh... Hey, I put in a good word for you, so you should be all right.

(laughs): Yeah, thanks.

GEOFF: Anyway, they wanted it quite pronto, so I'm sure they'll be in touch soon enough.

Yeah.

Okay, thanks, Geoff, so, yeah.

GEOFF: Well, night, then, Robert.

Yes, night.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (sighs) (sirens blaring in distance) LIAM: But we asked you-- both myself and the press office, Sir Phillip-- we asked you repeatedly if there was anything you needed to tell us.

And there wasn't-- there's absolutely nothing in it.

How many times?

It doesn't matter if there's nothing in it.

What matters is that by the time the police work out there's nothing in it, we will have lost five points in the polls.

That's why we vet, that's why we ask for full disclosure.

Because perception is as important as reality.

So when we ask you if there's anything you need to tell us, it's not up to you to decide what is and isn't important.

It's for... (drops in chair) I've had a very bad day, Liam.

Don't make me make it worse.

(sighs) (door closes) (exhales) ERIC: Here.

Sleep well, love.

I love you, Eric.

I'm sorry I keep getting confused.

Don't be silly.

We're all allowed to be a bit confused now and again.

We're going to be all right?

Of course we are.

We've got the party to look forward to.

(kisses and sighs) Night, night.

(wheelchair humming) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ WOMAN (on phone): Hi, this is Joanna.

Can't take your call right now.

Please leave a message.

(voicemail beeps) Hi, JoJo, it's me.

Uh, I need to talk to you as soon as possible.

Um...

I'll call you first thing.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (wind blowing) (click) CUMMING: Next time, on "Masterpiece Mystery."

He was a chatty sort.

A real character.

We have a possible motive.

If there was bad blood, let's find evidence for it.

LIZZIE: I watched my boyfriend attack people because of the color of their skin.

PHILLIP: People make mistakes.

That doesn't make me a murderer.

CUMMING: "Unforgotten," next time, on "Masterpiece Mystery."

♪ ♪ CUMMING: Go to the "Masterpiece" website, listen to our podcast, watch video, and more.

To order this program on Blu-Ray or DVD, visit shopPBS.org or call us at 1-800-PLAY-PBS.

♪ ♪