Now, we've got to be ruthless, Scruffy.
Esther wants this clutter halved.
So...come on, let's crack on.
Now.
Right.
Chest expanders.
- Follow through.
And now it's Brian Lane, going for his third World Championship.
How's it going? You've been out here ages.
Oh, Brian.
I'm so glad you got me to do this, you know. I'd forgotten I had half of this stuff.
You're not going to keep all...
# It's all right, it's OK
# Doesn't really matter if you're old and grey
# It's all right, I say, it's OK
# Listen to what I say
# It's all right, doing fine
# Doesn't really matter if the sun don't shine
# It's all right, I say, it's OK
# We're getting to the end of the day
ln the late 1970s, there was a serial killer on the loose in south London.
The pattern of the killings had all the classic hallmarks of a psychopath.
There was a particular MO and the victims all seemed to be chosen at random.
The only difference from the norm was they were all dogs.
Oh, yes, I remember the fuss.
Yeah, well, another dog last night was found with the same MO
in the bushes on Hampstead Heath, which makes three killings in the last two weeks.
So, it's a current investigation.
- Yeah, based on original files. - Well, I wouldn't touch it.
Nor will any other department in the Met. SO6 claim it's down to SO7,
who reckon it's not within their remit.
And the DI of the Special Enquiries Team is threatening to resign so, hey, it's come to us!
They're having a laugh, aren't they?
I mean, I was a junior detective at the time and I worked on some of those cases.
It was a total bloody nightmare.
Yeah, well, you can tell us all about it at the venue.
You know why we've got this case, don't you?
It's the dog's revenge. The top brass must think you've got some special insight into killing dogs.
Just give me the facts, Gerry.
Well, actually it's very much like the original case.
The killer started with nasty dogs like pit bulls, so nobody took much notice.
When did the headlines start?
Well, when he moved on to nice dogs with nice owners.
Yeah, the press went berserk. That's the same old story, isn't it?
The great British public care more about animals than people.
That's why it's the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals
and only the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.
Anyway, the killings logged up, the police were caned from pillar to post,
and every department in the Met was diving for cover.
- Apart from your lot? - Yeah.
The press were all over us like a rash.
We had to drop everything - that's murder, rape, burglary -
just so we could scour all the parks looking for some bleeding dog killer!
- Did you ever come close? - No.
No, and then just as suddenly as they started, the killings stopped.
Well, what do you think?
Well, I'll need to go back over the original files, but it looks like the same MO to me.
How could anybody do that to a poor, innocent animal?
- It's been a long time, Jack. How're you doing? - Oh, I can't complain.
I've a touch of arthritis in the old knee.
- Well, at your age... - And I've got my arrhythmia, of course.
And I'm getting this funny tickle in my chest.
Then you should see a doctor, Jack, not a vet. What can you tell us?
Not so much, I'm afraid. I think it was a pit bull, Doberman cross, maybe a bit of Staff in there,
and all the major organs other than the heart have been removed.
- Same MO, then? - The killer would've been covered with blood?
Oh, no, not necessarily. The organs were taken after death, not before.
- How taken? - Well, it's a very neat job.
A textbook mortuary incision. I couldn't have done it better myself.
Well, 30 odd years ago there was no weapon, no forensics and no witnesses.
The only leads we could come up with all had collars on 'em.
Uh.
Now, the original investigation just put one name in the frame.
John Fletcher. A weirdo who worked in the meat trade.
- You mean, like a butcher? - No, I mean like a slaughterman in an abattoir.
- Doesn't necessarily make him a psychopath. - With teenage convictions for cruelty to animals.
- Dogs? - Cats.
It's a classic profile. And I'll tell you something else about psychopaths.
They might begin with animals, but they nearly always move on to humans in the end.
Well, we couldn't make anything stick.
Well, why don't you go and see if you can make a better job of it this time?
Yes, ma'am.
I feel bloody stupid.
Tell me about it.
At least we're better off than them.
Mr Fletcher?
Gerry Standing and Brian Lane from the Unsolved Crime Squad.
What do you want?
A dog was killed on Hampstead Heath the day before yesterday.
So, one down, five million to go. Have you got a dog? Then, I'm not talking to you.
Forget pooper-scoopers. I'd make the bloody owners lick it up.
- Have you got a dog, too? - No, I never really...
Fine. What do you want to know?
Where were you between 9pm and 1 1 on Wednesday night?
At home. Alone. On the Net. You can't check my hard drive without a warrant.
And I know how to change the log anyway.
All right, what about Tuesday 21 st, when a Rottweiler was killed?
- Will you make him stop looking at me like that? - Like what?
Like he hates me.
Perhaps I'm strangely prejudiced against people who don't like animals.
- I'm prejudiced if you don't like people. - You approve of the killings?
- I can understand the reasons behind them. - What reasons?
Well, apart from the fact that canines harbour 1 5 different serious diseases, you mean?
Well, did you know that the money this country spends on dogs
would give every child in Africa their vaccinations?
And provide their family with clean and safe drinking water?
- He agrees with me. - I what?
Your mutt must cost you what, £1,500 a year?
How much do you give to Oxfam and Save the Children?
- I do my bit. - What do you get in return?
A slavering, fawning slave, who encourages all your worst fascistic tendencies.
What, I'm the fascist?
Do this, do that, sit, stay, beg, love me, make me your Führer.
- If it's any consolation, I don't like cats either. - No, I know.
Look, you're obviously an educated man. Why do you work in an abattoir?
Because I enjoy it.
- Mr James Farlow? - Yes.
Hello, I'm Detective Superintendent Pullman and this is Jack Halford.
- Thank you for agreeing to see us. - I can't believe this has started again.
- Do come in, please. - Thanks very much.
Do come through.
Oh, I'm sorry about the...the mess.
Mmm, something smells nice.
Ah, you've been to the Arctic!
Antarctic. I was an animal welfare officer on one of the...
survey teams.
But you were the Canine Society field officer at the time of the original dog killings, yes?
- That's right. Do sit down. - Thank you.
Yes, I used to go out on patrol and investigate any reports of canine cruelty
that were phoned through to us.
And you were first to raise the alarm?
I tried to, but neither the police nor the authorities took me seriously.
- Thought I was some animal crank. - That must have changed, though?
Oh, yes, once the killings hit the press, it was mass hysteria.
- So why do you think they stopped? - I don't know.
Maybe it became too dangerous for the killer. By the end, there were police everywhere
and people had stopped walking their dogs anyway.
- Why do you think he moved on to family pets? - I don't know.
If he'd stuck to pit bulls and Rottweilers, no-one would've bothered.
I think he wanted to send out some sort of message.
What kind of message?
Have you ever heard of the Human Liberation Front?
- Sandra? What?
The Human Liberation Front.
It was a shadowy organisation set up in the mid 1 970s
to oppose the growing animal rights movement.
Their slogan was "Put People First".
So they'd picket animal charities, leaflet dog owners in the park,
and promote vivisection on the grounds of human benefit.
- Still around? - No, they folded in 1 979.
Ah, just before the dog killings started!
Membership was secret, but guess who their press officer was.
John Fletcher?
The very same. And he calls me a fascist!
All right. Brian, you stay with Fletcher.
Gerry, Jack, I'd like you to go up to the heath and talk to anyone who uses the park regularly.
OK.
Here, Brian, look, one dog year equals seven human years, right?
Once they're fully grown.
I've just been looking at the victims of the original investigation and look at this.
1 3-year-old pit bull.
1 1-year-old mastiff. 12-year-old ridgeback.
1 3-year-old Doberman.
Oh, cheers.
What I'm saying is, these dogs are practically geriatric.
I mean, what's so special about old dogs?
See you later.
Brass Phillips, brass Phillips.
Silver standard. Non brass standard.
Well, new jar of your very own, in you go.
- Ah!
Sod it!
Come on, Scruffy. Let's have a cup of tea.
Ah. Hang on, hang on.
Put you there. That'll fool her.
And you there.
Come on, Scruffy.
Scruffy?
Scruffy...
Scruffy.
And I think it's how Scruffy would have wanted to go.
But I'm going to need some time off, you know, for the arrangements.
Yes, of course.
What arrangements?
Well, the funeral and so on.
After the service, Esther and I thought we'd scatter Scruffy's ashes
at the bottom of the garden,
under his favourite tree.
Service? As in remembrance service?
It's not compulsory, you know.
Oh, I was just thinking...
He means, of course, we'll all be there.
You take all the time you need, Brian.
I'll put it down as compassionate leave.
Thank you.
Just make sure you nail that bastard Fletcher.
We will. I promise.
What?
Just don't ever take up a career in bereavement counselling, will you.
ln our day, we never spoke to the press, did we, Jack?
Yeah, well, we need witnesses.
Down the pub, over a pint, perhaps. But never on the record.
Oh, for God's sake, it's not the nationals. It's just the local rag.
- First, they give the villains a dopey nickname. - Like the "Canine Crippen".
- Then we get bombarded by weirdos. - Then they doorstep you.
I'm so glad to see you've embraced modern police methods so wholeheartedly.
Morning, ladies and gentlemen!
I've prepared a short statement!
On Tuesday, the 1 6th of May, the body of a Rottweiler was found on Hampstead Heath.
All its organs had been removed.
One week later the body of...
We should have ducked out of this.
I cannot believe we'd go to a dog's funeral.
Just stop whingeing.
Now, show a bit of respect, turn your phones off.
OK, let's get on with it.
l think dogs get a bad press.
People talk about dogsbodies and...
..dogs' dinners and things going to the dogs.
And if you're ugly, you're a dog.
If you're mad, you're a dog.
If you're cringing and pathetic, you're a dog.
Well, as far as I'm concerned, that's all slander.
Sorry, Gerry, am I boring you?
No, I'm sorry, mate. You're right!
No, I thought Scruffy was the dog's bollocks. I...
Yes, yes, he was.
Because to be...
true as a dog,
to be loyal and loving as a dog,
that's more than most people can aspire to.
Bloody hell, Gerry. If you behaved a bit more like a dog and a bit less like a thick copper,
you might even pass muster for a human being.
- We've got to get out of here. - Because you've just embarrassed yourself.
- I told you, phones off. - They're trying to get hold of you.
There's been another dog murder.
Well, it's the same method.
The only difference is this time it's not a stray or a pit bull.
It's exactly the same as the original case.
The killer started off with vicious dogs, then moved on to family pets.
Judging by the meat between the teeth, this one's a pretty posh one.
His last meal appears to have been fillet steak.
That doesn't sound right. The owner was a single mum living on benefits.
And again, there's no weapon, no witnesses. Any idea how old it was?
Er, 1 3.
Another old one. You'd better check out Fletcher's alibi. Jack, are you all right?
Yeah, I just keep getting these coughing fits.
If you were a dog, Jack, I'd be worried about distemper.
But speaking as a vet, why don't you go to the chemist?
- Or doctor. - Or a funeral director.
Well, there's no-one more expert on "coffin fits", is there?
Same as last time.
Home. Alone. Surfing the Net.
Here's a search warrant. I want your phone records and hard disk.
Be my guest. She's new.
Animal lover, too, is she?
Ooh, yeah, but she hasn't got a dog.
Where's your last oppo? "Man's best friend's" best friend?
- Compassionate leave. - Oh, lost someone close, has he?
- Yes. - The killer only chooses old dogs.
- Why do you think that is? - Stupidity.
If he really wanted to make a difference, he'd start with puppies.
If neither of you two are going to arrest me,
I need to speak to a solicitor about a possible case of police harassment.
Bloody hell!
I spent years in the murder squad and never got more than a few dozen.
Yeah, but four dead dogs and we're buried.
Look, I mean, letters, logged calls, e-mails, texts...
- It'll take us weeks to work through this lot. - And Fletcher?
His phone records and his hard disk do prove that his computer was logged on to the Web.
But it doesn't mean to say he was sitting at the keyboard, does it?
- And I'd like to see that James Farlow again. - Why?
Well, he might give us an insight into why all our victims are old.
Ah, Mr Farlow. I'm sorry to bother you, but there's something I'd like to clear up.
Yeah, what is it now? I've told you everything I know.
It's just a quick question. It won't take a minute.
This really isn't a very good time for me. That's my wife.
I'm sorry, I didn't realise...
- They're bringing her back from the hospital. - Of course, I understand.
- Perhaps we could arrange for another day. - I don't know... She's dying.
I am sorry.
I do know what it's like to lose a loved one. I'll come back later.
No, no, I saw the local paper.
And Claire, my wife, she'd want me to do everything I can to help.
Could you just go to the kitchen? I'll be with you in a minute.
Thank you.
Dog owner number seven.
- Hi, Mr Christie? - Yeah.
We're from UCOS. I believe you're expecting us. This is Gerry Standing, I'm...
Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman. I remember from the papers. Nice picture.
Thanks.
Please, come in.
Cheers.
Can I get you a glass of wine?
- Ooh! - Excuse the cliché, Mr Christie,
- but we're on duty. - Tom. And so am l.
- Sorry? - I'm a wine dealer.
The Value Wine Company.
Yeah, I got a couple of bottles off your website.
You haven't got any of that '79 Pinot kicking about?
No, but I'm just tasting a white Burgundy that I wouldn't mind a second opinion on.
- Gerry! - Well, how can I be on duty?
I'm not a policeman any more.
- So, Mr Christie... - Tom.
Please.
You were walking your dog on Hampstead Heath the night of the dog murder?
- That's right. - So what did you see?
- Well, nothing much. - When you say nothing much...?
- Bloody hell! - You like?
- Yeah. - Did you get the oak?
- Absolutely. - And the gooseberry aftertaste?
- You know your stuff. - I didn't always.
I used to be in haulage, continental runs.
Friends started asking me to bring back a couple of cases for them when I crossed the Channel.
- I hope you paid the duty. - Oh, always.
I started picking up a couple of bottles for myself,
then I booked a wine-tasting holiday in the Loire Valley.
Now you're swilling and spitting with the best of 'em.
I found a bit of a niche supplying the armed forces.
I even ship a few cases up to your mob in Hendon.
But those probationers wouldn't know a Pinot from piss.
But you, on the other hand, I reckon you'd care about quality.
Right now, all I care about is what you saw on the heath.
I told you, there's nothing to report.
Why did you come forward?
You might want to use this place as a surveillance point. The view from the bedroom...
Mate, you do not want a load of coppers tramping through your bedroom.
Don't I?
It must be hard living without a diagnosis.
It's harder dying without one.
At first they thought it was some kind of brain tumour.
- And now? - They just don't know.
But whatever it is, it's starting to attack her joints.
Tell me, do you remember anything about the ages of the dogs that were killed?
No, why?
We get the idea the killer only chose old dogs and we wondered if you'd noticed anything.
It didn't strike me at the time, but I can't recall any puppies being killed.
Anyway, what kind of psychopath could do such things to any innocent creature, young or old?
Now, I'd like your opinion of this.
Here we are.
If you wouldn't mind. Careful, it might be a bit hot.
Oh. Cheers.
What do you think?
- It's very tasty! - Doesn't need seasoning?
- No, no, it seems perfect to me. - Perfect!
Then you should have some.
Oh! Thank you!
You're right. You've got a fantastic view of the heath.
Spend a lot of time watching your neighbours, do you?
I'm hardly ever here. That's why you're more than welcome to set up shop.
OK, thanks, I'll bear it in mind.
Now, I always thought I might make a good detective.
ls this some kind of Munchausen by proxy thing, because surveillance is just that?
There'll be no car chases or shoot-outs.
Glad to hear it. It's just there's a bit of sleuthing in the wine business.
Really? All those criminal Chardonnays and elusive Merlots?
It's a game I play with my clients.
What they drink, how they drink it, tells you a lot about their character.
Guvnor, are you ready to go?
OK, go on, then. lmpress me.
What's your favourite wine?
Chablis.
I drink the way I dress.
Seriously.
Well, it would have to be a good Bordeaux.
You notice the word "good". You know how to treat yourself.
- You don't get swayed by fashion. - You wanna read my fortune as well?
What about me? I like a nice, fizzy Lambrusco.
No, you don't. No, you haven't met your favourite wine yet.
Because no-one's had the class to buy it for you.
Well, I hope it's not expensive. She drinks it by the bucket load.
- Thank you, Gerry. I'll be in touch... - Good.
..if I need to use your bedroom... for surveillance.
Yeah?
This has just been delivered for you.
Thank you.
Well, aren't you going to open it?
Yes, I am.
In private.
TOM: Dear Sandra, the thought that you might actually
be knocking back cheap Lambrusco has been haunting me ever since we met.
Allow me to offer an alternative. I think you'll find a new favourite amongst them.
- That's fantastic, thank you very much. - Thank you, bye.
Excuse me, I'm working for the police.
Sorry.
Well, well, well. Look who we have here!
I can't take a short cut home through the heath now, can l?
You can go anywhere you like, guvnor. But first can l...have a look in your bag?
Yeah, go on, go on. Take a look.
I use them for work and they needed sharpening.
There's nowhere to sharpen knives in an abattoir?
Of course there is. But I prefer to use my own whetstone.
- Why? - It gets a keener edge.
Do you know how many spring lambs we killed last week? 500,000.
Not to mention 200,000 piglets, 50,000 veal calves
and 1 0,000,000 59-day-old chickens.
But that's all right. Just as long as we're nice to dogs.
Listen, those knives you were carrying are domestic.
- So what? - They wouldn't be used in an abattoir.
Well, they're sharper than the knives they supply.
Of course, Health and Safety won't let me use mine. So I have to sneak them in.
And you expect us to believe this load of old cobblers, do you?
Can I see you for a moment?
Excuse us.
They found another dog.
They reckon it was killed about two hours ago.
He's been here for at least three.
Shit.
- How old? - 12.
Remember the fillet steak? Stuck between the teeth of the last one?
Well, it turns out this dog had had the same final meal.
- Now, that can't be a coincidence. - No.
So I decided to analyse it and the meat was doped. Traces of mandrake root.
What's that?
Well, it's a rarely used, but very powerful, analgesic.
- But it could still kill 'em, right? - With a big enough dose, yeah.
So, like a lot of poisons, mandrake in small quantities has medicinal properties.
You ought to try it for that cough of yours. Kill or cure.
That's pretty much what the ancient Egyptians thought. They used it for everything.
From a cold cure to an anaesthetic for serious operations.
Really? Did it work?
Oh, yes. Nobody uses it nowadays, though. Except hippies and homeopaths.
So we're looking for a compassionate serial killer.
Compassionate? Even without an alibi, it doesn't sound like Fletcher to me.
So, what kind of rescue dog did you have in mind?
- Erm... - I don't care.
White, brown, black, mongrel.
Any sort will do.
That's so good to hear. So many people traipse in here
with a shopping list, as if we run up dogs to order.
Not us. Any nice puppy will do.
Puppy?
Mmm, delicious. You know, there's something very nostalgic about beef tea.
That's not surprising, since no-one's drunk it since my great gran was alive.
My mum always used to give me beef tea when I was ill as a nipper.
Beef tea, the latest Billy Bunter story and two weeks in bed with mumps and measles.
- I bet you had the lot, didn't you? - I went through the card.
You know, I almost enjoyed being ill as a kid.
- Hello! - Hello, Brian.
- Brian. - How are things?
Bloody awful.
I've been trying to find a puppy to replace Scruffy.
- Yes, I can see that would be hard. - Hard? It's impossible.
The last place me and Esther went to
had a policy of turning down anyone over the age of 50.
- 50? That's ridiculous. - You'd have no chance!
No smokers. Because passive smoking is bad for the dogs.
And they don't want you to drink either.
What's passive drinking?
I've no idea. But since hanging around with you, I'm certainly suffering from it.
They want dog owners to be young teetotallers who don't smoke, but are married,
home all day, with large gardens, but have no children.
I tell you, it's easier to adopt a bloody kid.
So I'm coming back to work.
But you're on a doctor's note.
Yeah, well, I'll sign myself on again.
Brian, I'm afraid you can't.
It's nothing personal. It's a health and safety issue.
And the paperwork's already been filed.
So you don't want me either.
Erm, Brian?
Brian, erm...
what do you know about mandrake root?
Nothing.
Except it was sacred to the Egyptian dog-headed God, Anubis.
- He was the keeper of the poisons, you know? - No, I didn't know.
Well, I bet John Fletcher knows.
Look, Brian, erm...
..if it helps, maybe you shouldn't think of Scruffy as dead,
but as gone to another place.
It doesn't help.
Not one word. I feel bad enough already.
ln that case, I really do need to see a man about a dog.
Whoa! Whoa!
- Are you all right? - Yes.
I just felt a bit dizzy.
I must have got up too fast.
Jack, you weren't sitting down!
Well, whatever.
Oh, thank you, that's so kind of you. I can't promise Claire will notice, but do come through.
The doctor's with her now. So we've got a few minutes.
I haven't come about the murders. This is a personal matter. I can come back later.
- No, no, it's fine. - It's just that a friend of mine recently lost a dog
and being quite senior himself, he's having trouble getting a rescue puppy.
That's the policy these days, I'm afraid.
I was hoping you might be able to pull a few strings with the Canine Protection Society.
Oh, no, they don't have a dog pound.
No waifs and strays, I'm afraid.
Oh, well, I'm sorry to have bothered you.
Oh, not at all. And thanks for the lovely flowers.
Oh, by the way, this is probably nothing, but when these killings first started,
I remembered one of the owners asking me to take her dead dog and remove all his organs.
Really?
But it wasn't something we as a society could countenance.
Can you remember the name of the owner?
No.
But her dog was called Osiris.
Osiris, now...
Oh!
Oh, I'm sorry,
I keep getting these dizzy spells...
Oh, I don't like the sound of that. Shall I get Claire's doctor to...
No, no, no. Please, please, if I could just sit here and get my breath...
Yes, of course. I'll get you a drink.
You haven't eaten anything.
I'm not hungry.
Well, leave it there. You might change your mind later.
I won't.
Let's go for a walk. Help you get your appetite back.
I don't want to go for a walk.
- I'll get your paper. - Look, I'll get the...paper.
- God, parking round here's a nightmare. - Gerry?
I made copies of the original files for you to pick at.
Then you can make a start on these.
All right?
You mean work on the QT?
No, certainly not.
But I can't see how Sandra could object to a little light filing.
Tea, Gerry? - Oh, yes, please, yeah.
Look, we still don't know why the killer moved from strays to family dogs.
Or why he only clobbers old ones.
Mmm, I wonder why he leaves the hearts behind.
Oh! Isn't that typical?
They don't give the cause of death here.
- Kettle's on. - Nor here. Bloody amateurs.
- What kind of investigation was it? - Look, he's getting better by the minute.
He's never happy unless he's moaning - and even then he's not best pleased.
Brian seems a bit chirpier.
Gerry, do you remember a dog called Osiris in the original spate of murders?
Mm, it does sound vaguely familiar. Stupid name for a dog.
Well, I've been looking it up...
- Listen, mate, you've got to see someone. - I'm fine. "Osiris" is Egyptian.
Now, the pathologist said that mandrake root was used by the Egyptians, didn't she?
Yeah, yeah. Coincidence?
No such thing.
Professor Styles is an expert in Egyptology. Well, she's the curator of this museum.
And Osiris was her dog, yeah?
Fourth victim. December 5th, 1979.
Osiris disappeared when we were out for a walk
and that was the last I saw of him... until they found his mutilated body.
I can't tell you how upset I was.
I couldn't sleep for months.
How old was he, Professor?
He would have been 13. That's him there.
What, that little statue?
That's not a statue, Detective, that's his mummiform.
His what?
On his earthly passing, Osiris was mummified
so his essence and his shrunken body will be preserved for all eternity.
Do you believe in reincarnation?
No. I believe the Great God Anubis will guide me to the life beyond.
So I preserve all his canine descendants, or at least as many as I can.
I'll show you.
Here we have Ammut who passed on in 1992.
lsis, Nefertiti, and Tutankhamen you probably passed in the lower gallery.
Do you mummify them all yourself?
No. It would be too distressing.
And under UK law, it's not permitted anyway,
so I have to send them to America for the blessings of the hereafter.
And when you pass on, you're expecting to join them?
Yes, I have a provision in my will.
But of course it could be years before our time comes.
Isn't that right, Horus?
Er, excuse me, what are you feeding him?
Fillet steak.
What else would you feed a descendant of a god, Detective?
So you reckon the probable cause of death was this mandrake root?
That would be my working hypothesis, yeah.
But I can't be absolutely sure without analysing the liver.
Which isn't there.
Well, could that be the killer's motive for taking it?
He doesn't want us to find the cause of death.
It's possible, I suppose.
But in that case, why bother with the rest of the organs?
He removes everything apart from the heart.
Spleen, pancreas, lungs, kidneys, the lot.
To begin with.
ln the early cases the selection seems random.
But in every instance, he always takes the liver.
Who would want dog liver?
Old dog liver.
How long does it take for this mandrake root to have an effect?
Well, that depends on the size of the dog, of course.
But with a large breed, I'd guess five minutes?
You'd best keep this on the QT.
- What, the cause of death? - No.
The fact that I've been here.
Oh.
So, the victim was poisoned somewhere which is five dog minutes from here in any direction.
Right.
No, no, no. Dogs don't run in a straight line, do they?
Cos, they're sort of hunting, tracking, sniffing things out.
Right, so it's like two steps forward and one step back.
Right.
No, no, no,
Scruffy worked in squares, didn't he?
Yeah, triangulating the corners.
Of course. Right.
So what do you think?
The dogs are anaesthetised with mandrake root prior to the removal of their organs,
which just happens to be the first step in mummification.
And that certainly puts Professor Styles in the frame.
Plus she'd know all about the use of mandrake root in Ancient Egypt.
OK, so she's got the know-how, but where's the motive? And why kill your own dog?
To put us off the scent, maybe?
All right, why move from strays to family pets? And why choose only old dogs?
Yeah, he's right, it's all circumstantial.
- We haven't got enough evidence to arrest her. - Yet.
I was just trying to be a dog.
Jack, what's going on in there?
I mean, she's getting drink delivered by the case load.
I know. I carried one in for her.
She was very cagey about it.
- I mean, she's not becoming an alchy, is she? - Well, she spits it all out again!
Blimey. A bulimic alcoholic!
Maybe she's moonlighting as a wine taster!
- Yeah, but where is it all coming from? - The Value Wine Company.
- Ah, Tom! - What?
That's the bloke who's got a house on the heath.
Yes, funny that. He's not sending me any wine, is he?
Maybe he doesn't fancy you.
Oh, you should have seen the way he looked at her. That's a thought.
What?
There's something about our wine expert that doesn't quite add up.
Hello?
- Sorted. - They only think I'm the bloody dog killer.
No, they don't, no, they don't. I just vouched for you.
- Here, you can have this back. - Fillet steak, Gerry.
I bet it's dosed with mandrake root. Come on, we'll go and tell Sandra.
Hold on. Have you been working on the case?
God, she'll have our guts for garters. She'll know I put you up for it.
I'll say I happened to be walking on the heath, passing the scene of the crime, and...
No, no. You leave the cheating to the man who's got three ex-wives. Come on.
So, completely off your own bat,
you decided to borrow a retired police dog from the Met sanctuary and take it down the park?
Yep, make myself a target.
And then Tootsie here noses out a couple of pounds of prime beef,
- possibly laced with mandrake root? - That's right.
- Good work. - Yeah, I thought so.
- But there's another thing. - What?
Tom, the wine shipper, the one who sends all the booze?
Yep, none of your business.
Well, Tom, hasn't got a dog.
What?
Well, think back to when we were at his house.
Did you see a dog basket? A food bowl?
Any leads? Hair on the sofa?
No,
cos he hasn't got a dog.
And the neighbour confirmed it.
Hello, Tom.
- Hello. - Fancy a walk? A nice walk with the dog?
No, mate, no. It's getting a bit dark.
It'll be even better. A nice stroll under the stars, a hound trotting to heel.
- And he's at the vet's. - Oh, no.
Tell me,
what's your dog's name?
Rover?
All right, I've never owned a dog.
- So why did you say you did? - It wasn't to cause trouble.
- Then enlighten me. - I saw you in the paper.
- And? - I liked what I saw.
- Yeah, right. Pull the other one. - Do you mind?
I want the truth.
It is the truth. I saw you and I knew I had to get to know you.
So you made up a pack of lies?
That's always the way I like to meet new men. It bodes well for the future.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
I can't be the first bloke who's stretched the truth to impress a woman.
- You leave me out of it. - I thought you'd find it romantic.
Me risking arrest and public humiliation, just so I could meet you.
It's a better story for the grandkids than we met in a pub or Tesco's.
- Do you realise this is all going down on tape? - Yeah.
- A whole new meaning to "police harassment". - Will you stop enjoying this?
Nope, it can't be done.
I don't know whether to charge you with wasting police time
or bring in the men with the white coats.
OK, interview terminated.
Hang on. Can I see you again?
You're free to go, Mr Christie.
Sorry to bother you again, but something you said has been preying on my mind.
Well, as I explained earlier, we really can't help you.
I know, because I'm too old for a puppy.
That's right.
What about an old rescue dog?
Say, something ten or 1 1 years old?
- I'm sorry. We don't have any. - What, none at all?
Strays don't get old, Mr Lane.
They either die or get put down long before they reach that kind of age.
So you never see any really old dogs?
I'm afraid not. No.
That's answered my question, thank you very much.
I've been thinking about motive.
Now, Professor Styles believes in the Ancient Egyptian concept of the afterlife
and worships a dog-headed god.
- So she says. - Ah, but which one?
ls there more than one?
There are two. And if she worships the one I think she worships,
I may be able to give you a perfectly rational explanation for these crimes.
Now, the more famous of the Egyptian dog-headed gods was Anubis here.
And as far as I can work out, he was the god of embalming.
But there was another one called Wepwawet, who was more associated with the jackal.
You see, when a master died,
his prestige in the life to come
depended on how many slaves and animals were sacrificed to go with him.
But before mummification, it was Wepwawet who consumed their corporeal organs
in order to release their souls from earthly corruption.
That's handy. She's not in!
Oi! That's virtually breaking and entering.
Not if you knock.
You stay here, I'll go and find her.
And don't touch anything!
So, if Professor Styles is standing in for Wepwa-thingummibob,
the more animals she kills,
the more comfort and companionship she secures for herself in the after-world. Right?
Exactly. And if I'm not mistaken,
this is a Canopic jar...
Jack, you've got to see a doctor!
I mean, this might have been priceless.
ln fact, it might be. Look at that!
You're right.
All the major organs apart from the heart are preserved in the jar.
Fillet steak, mandrake root, mummification... Yeah, all beginning to fit.
Except these aren't animal remains, they're human.
I've been dreading this call for 25 years.
I knew you'd catch up with me in the end.
- You're prepared to make a full confession? - Of course. No point in lying about it now.
- You were acting for Wepwawet? - Yes.
I knew it was against the law, but I had a religious duty to perform.
So you started with dogs and then moved on to humans.
No, I started with Henry.
- Henry? - My husband, Mr Styles.
Those are his organs over there.
It was his dying wish to be mummified.
And I suppose he also told you that you should go round
killing other people's dogs just to keep him company?
Of course not. My husband loved dogs. As I do.
So you're not confessing to the dog murders, then?
No.
Then what are you confessing to?
lllegally interfering with a corpse, contrary to the 1 847 Burial Act.
And failing to apply for a home burial licence under the 1 968 Public Health Act.
Do you think they'll put me in prison?
Brian, Brian!
ls he all right?
- Well, he's not allergic to dogs. - What's wrong with him?
All the symptoms point to some sort of brain tumour.
Symptoms, what symptoms? Nobody told me anything about symptoms.
There's nothing specific. A bit of dizziness, nausea.
But they won't know for certain until they've done some tests.
All we can do now is keep our fingers crossed.
I'd no idea it was serious.
Mary?
No, no, it's me, Sandra.
I thought it was Mary.
He's too old for a medulloblastoma.
And acoustic neuromas only affect women. So it's probably a glioma.
Now, they come in three kinds. There's astrocytomas...
Brian, listen, mate, I know you're worried - we all are -
but can we talk about something else?
Yeah, sure.
Thank you.
Bloody hell, I hope it's not a meningioma!
Sorry, sorry, Gerry.
I'm no good at just waiting around.
Who is?
Here, did I tell you?
I think I know why the killer went on to family pets.
- No. - He only wants old dogs.
We know that.
It's got to be easier to kill a mangy old stray than one with an owner, isn't it?
But there aren't any, Gerry. Dogs have to be loved and looked after to reach old age.
Don't we all?
Jack's got his scan results.
Well, the good news is, I haven't got a brain tumour.
So what's wrong with you?
That's the bad news. They don't know.
Anyway, they're keeping me in for observation. (Coughs)
If you lot really want me to feel better,
you won't come back until you've made some progress in this case.
Well, Brian thinks he's found something.
The reason the killer moved on to family pets is you just don't get old strays.
But that doesn't explain why he only wants old dogs.
- I think he wants the liver. - What?
Right from the earliest cases, the selection of organs has just looked random.
- But he always takes the liver. - What's so special about old dogs' liver?
Yeah, it's hardly foie gras, is it?
I can't find my copy of Home Of The Blizzard by Sir Douglas Mawson.
I've had that book since I was a kid.
- The Arctic explorer? - No, the Antarctic explorer.
It was my favourite book when I was ten years old.
- I would never have chucked that away. - Well, it's gone now.
This charity box was full yesterday!
I know. So I put a few more things in, some books, took it down the shop.
Oh, no, I was keeping all that!
Well, why didn't you put it in the "keep" box, then?
I did!
This is why I say, don't give or chuck anything away without checking with me first.
You never know when you might need something.
Which charity shop did you go to?
Gerry. Did you ever read a book called The Home Of The Blizzard by Sir Douglas Mawson
when you were a kid?
I barely got through the Beano.
It was one of the first genuine mysteries I ever came across
and I suppose I've been fascinated by them ever since.
Brian, what's your sad, anorak childhood got to do with anything?
Because his colleague, Xavier Mertz, was killed by Sir Douglas Mawson.
Only that didn't come to light till 60 years after the event.
Really?
Ah.
Oh, hello! What are you doing here?
I heard you were in hospital
and when I came to pick up my wife's prescription, I thought I'd look in.
- That's very nice of you. - Not at all. Are you all right?
Well, they think I've got a bit of a virus. But I'm feeling a lot better.
Good, good.
Sorry I didn't have time for grapes, so...
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Well, I'd better be going.
You look after yourself, all right?
I will. Thanks again.
It's very kind of you.
- Bye. - Bye.
It's a rare thing for anyone to take an interest in Sir Douglas Mawson these days.
You amaze me.
What's it got to do with dead dogs?
Everything.
Because it's a classic tale of derring-do.
Charting Mawson's epic journey across 2,000 miles of unexplored polar waste.
Now, when Mawson and Mertz lost their supplies,
they were left with a single team of huskies, miles from base camp.
At first, everything looked hopeless,
but they trudged on, killing and eating their sled dogs as they went.
Then Mertz grew weak very quickly.
Mawson insisted that his friend eat something.
He said he should take the soft parts of the dog, like the livers.
But he got worse.
He started suffering dizziness, nausea, stomach cramps.
Then his skin started to crack off in handfuls.
Get to the point, Brian.
Mertz died a hundred miles from base camp.
Mawson soldiered on alone, finally arriving to a hero's welcome.
Now, what killed Mertz remained a mystery
until an obscure article in the New England Journal of Medicine
suggested that Mawson himself had inadvertently killed his colleague.
- So, there's something wrong with dog livers? - They're lethally poisonous to human beings.
So, instead of a psychopath, we're now looking for a poisoner?
Yeah. And the reason why the killer only wants old dogs
is that the older they get, the more poisonous their livers are.
Why?
Because all the excess Vitamin A a dog gets from eating other animals is stored in his liver.
Now, if we eat those livers, we ingest a lethal amount.
And, apparently, one single dose of dog's liver
delivers 30,000 times the recommended daily dose of Vitamin A for adults.
How long would that take to kill someone?
Well, obviously, that depends on the dose, but the pathologist said two to three months,
which was just about the length of the first spate of dog murders.
So we need to go back and look over medical records
and see if we can find the death certificate
of anyone who died of a mysterious illness at some point during 1 979.
Oh, forgot my purse!
No, I've got money, don't worry.
- Oh, look what the cat dragged in. - I don't think so.
- What are you doing here? - I got tired of waiting for you to find the killer.
- Go home, Mr Fletcher. - But I've come here to help!
Yes. Lassie can't be expected to solve the case all on her own.
- Get on with it. - I did it.
What?
You did it?
I am the killer. The man you're looking for?
I killed the dogs, every one. This is what you people would call a confession.
Shall I start whining, stick my tail between my legs?
- Sandra. - Hang on.
As Mr Fletcher is so keen to have a look at the interview room, will you please show him in?
Here's the list.
Mysterious deaths in '79.
Blimey, is that all?
Well, it's all they'll admit to.
Think Harold Shipman, though - hundreds of people murdered and nobody knew.
- Jennifer Farlow. - Excuse me?
- Third on the list. Jennifer Rose Farlow. - Farlow.
Yeah, that's the same name as Jack's contact. James Farlow.
Yeah. The dog protection officer.
It's got to be.
Right, Gerry, get onto it. I want everything.
Background, health records, family history, the lot.
- Brian and I will go and deal with Mr Fletcher. - Right.
It was so easy to fool the pathologist about the time of death.
A little dose of this, a little dose of that.
I killed all those dogs. Every single one of them.
So why don't you run us through the details of your method, then?
Oh, no. Not until you arrest me and set the PACE machine running.
You don't want me to get off on a technicality, do you?
I thought you didn't talk to fascists like me.
That's right, I don't.
I've got to admit, you had me fooled.
At last!
I can begin to see what you're up to now.
- Very clever. - Thank you.
Well, you had the knives, the motive, the opportunity.
- Of course. - And you made perfect incisions.
- Well, I'm trained to. - Just one question, though.
When you were removing the organs of the dog, why did you always leave the liver behind?
What, the liver?
- Yeah, why did you do that? - Well, I always leave the liver behind.
You always leave the liver behind.
But why?
Mr Fletcher, is there anything else you would like to confess to?
- Shergar, Cock Robin, Bambi's mum? - How many times do I have to tell you?
You see, what really interests me is the kind of dim inadequacy
that leads someone to indulge in such a pathetic fantasy.
ls it the oxygen of publicity or is it something to do with your mother?
You rattle my cage and I'll rattle yours.
I had you down for a monster.
But you're not, are you?
You're just a pathetic little runt.
Could have been a result, though. You don't get many of them now, do you? Remind me.
What's the police clear-up for muggings and burglary?
That doesn't matter, though, does it?
They're not serious crimes!
They only involve people.
So, James Farlow was married before and his first wife, Jennifer, died in 1 979.
And the dog killings stopped after her death.
According to his bank, she had a large life insurance policy,
which, of course, paid out on her mysterious demise.
A year later, he remarried Claire Haslam, 1 5 years his junior, who is the current Mrs Farlow.
Guess where he worked before coming to London?
He was in the Antarctic,
employed by the South Australian Survey Group to be their husky welfare officer.
Of course he was.
So he would have known all about Douglas Mawson.
He could practically have written a book on it.
But instead, he decides to poison his first wife and claim the insurance money.
The canine protection officer?
- It all fits together, Jack. - It's almost the perfect murder.
We have to work out how he managed to administer the poison
and we're ready to nick him.
What do you give someone to eat when they're already ill and they've got no appetite?
Jesus Christ, Jack! How much of that stuff have you had?
Farlow!
- Police, open the door!
Farlow!
Please be quiet. I don't want Claire upset.
She loses her appetite so easily these days.
- Appetite? - You're poisoning her!
How is Jack?
A little remorse will go a long way, especially where you're going.
Remorse, oh, I did away with that a long time ago.
- So it was all just for the money, was it? - Do you know, it was.
And you had another go with wife number two.
Well, how often do you realise you can commit the perfect crime?
Don't flatter yourself. "Perfect" is when you don't get caught.
Oh, come now, that's rather graceless.
It's taken you a couple of decades.
I should imagine the mandrake root puzzled you a little bit, eh?
Do you know how the ancient Greeks used to uproot the plant?
No. Perhaps you'll enlighten us down at the station.
I love trivia. All those little tit-bits that no-one knows about.
Like, Britain is the eighth largest island in the world
and the boiling point of water is lower at high altitudes.
- Fascinating. - And the liver of aged dogs kills beautifully...
without a trace.
You should have joined a pub quiz.
No, because I'm not a dullard like my wives or that idiot you sent to question me.
You should have heard him, "What a delicious beef tea. Please sir, may I have some more?"
But you got caught!
True, but there's a certain satisfaction in how things turned out.
I always hated having to hide my light under a bushel.
Perhaps I'll write a book.
I am arresting you under suspicion of murdering Jennifer Farlow.
You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence
if you do not mention something which you later rely on in court.
- Oi, what are you doing? - I'm discharging myself.
- Are you sure you're well enough? - I've never felt worse.
Can you believe it? He tried to kill me!
He poisoned me, Gerry!
And do you know what really pisses me off? I let him do it.
I sat and let him systematically poison me!
And do you know why? Because I made a fundamental error.
I committed the cardinal sin.
I felt sorry for him. Me!
You'd think I was old enough to have more sense!
- Jack, you flushed him out. - Flushed him out? I'll flush him out!
I'll flush him down the nearest flushing lava...
And this bloody cough!
Listen, I'm a bit tied up.
I've got a client here for a tasting.
That's OK. I just came by to return these.
I have to tell you, you've made me feel like a right prat.
I rather think you did that to yourself.
- So, which one did you like best? - Guess.
- The Semillon? - That was lovely, but not my favourite.
- The Chenin Blanc? - Nice, but nah.
- Not the Zinfandel, surely? - Not that either.
Go on, then. Put me out of my misery.
It's the glass of dry white plonk I'm about to share with my mates.
- Sorry. - Tom, I thought we were going to open...
Oh.
That's your client, is it?
Yeah.
I've got a bit of a thing for women in uniform.
I'm a plain-clothes detective.
I know.
A man can dream, can't he?
So, in the end, it was just a standard insurance job, wasn't it?
It's like life, isn't it? Things look complicated, but actually they're quite simple.
Well, I, for one, will be happy if I never see another dog in my life. But...
..sadly, that's not going to happen.
Brian,
this is for you, mate.
Oh, where'd you get him?
Well, remember when you sent me down the heath?
This little old lady had this dog, and she wanted to find a good home for him.
- What's he called? - Well, it could be "Scampy", couldn't it?
- ''Scampy in a basket". - Scampy?
Scampy. Are you Scampy, cos you're a little scamp, aren't you? Yes, you are.
I tell you what, Jack, you've still got those sores on your face.
- Sores? What sores? - Very kind of you! I'll have a pint.
# It's all right, it's OK
# Doesn't really matter if you're old and grey
# It's all right, I say, it's OK
# Listen to what I say
# It's all right, doing fine
# Doesn't really matter if the sun don't shine
# It's all right, I say, it's OK
# We're getting to the end of the day
# High tech, low tech, take your pick
# Cos you can't teach an old dog a brand-new trick
# I don't care what anybody says
# At the end of the day