Part 1 Silent Witness

All you need to remember...

is that I am not going anywhere.

And neither are you!

We've had some trouble, that's no secret.

We've all read the papers, and the bank's not making life easier.

Why would they? We are going to get through this.

This place...is my life.

It's my name on the label.

-So let me make it clear - from the horse's mouth.

-Horse's arse!

LAUGHTER You're not wrong.

But at least I'm YOUR horse's arse!

So with your help, the help of Kenny Barber and his union - YOUR union...

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

..we are going to fight for this place. AWA! Yeah!

CHANTING AND CHEERING

You squeeze me and squeeze me till there's nothing left, Kenny.

Don't you sell us out, you greedy bastard.

Do you know what kind of a fight I'm in?

-I'm trying to keep this company alive!

-They made YOU rich!

30% pay cut or 30% job losses, you tell your membership!

You're just dressing it up to sell...aren't you?

I'm trying to save it, Kenny!

CROWD SHOUTS AND CHEERS

-Mr Briggs, this way.

-Hello, Annette.

-Evening, Michael.

-John.

-Any luck?

I'm trying to stop them, but they're going to print with the story.

-They say it's in the public interest.

-Prurient bastards!

I'm not going to keep you a secret any more.

-They say you trade on a family image.

-Can we get an injunction?

The QC thinks it's unlikely.

It's Kenny Barber and his union behind this.

You're just dressing it up to sell, aren't you?

This is a gentlemanly bout - no hits whilst on the floor,

there are absolutely no elbows, do you understand?

-BELL RINGS

-Separate into your corners.

You know Peter Hornsby from the bank.

And Emmett Schwartzman from Wetherby Capital.

CROWD CHEERS AND SHOUTS

Mr Schwartzman is interested in the brand.

Well, Hornsby thinks it's an old-fashioned brand, don't you, Hornsby?

That's why the bank turned the taps off.

I'm sure Mr Hornsby and Mr Schwartzman have had a good chat about it.

I never said that brand was...

Don't make any difference at this point, does it, Hornsby?

As long as the price is right, you can say whatever you want.

-Have you seen my offer?

-Hmm?

I'm not going to let you rape my company the way you raped

those care homes you bought.

CROWD JEERS AND BOOS

HE GASPS

KLAXON BLARES

BELL RINGS

CROWD CHEERS

You like that?

Pathologist?

Forensics.

Victim.

# Testator silens

# Costestes e spiritu

# Silentium. #

He hit the corner of the table as he fell.

Instinctively puts his hand to his head, it's bleeding.

He transfers the blood to his hand so when he falls again

he leaves it on the carpet.

He's trying to get to the door.

I guess it's plausible.

-I try not to guess.

-Isn't that a relief(?)

His name's John Briggs, owns the candy company. Well, used to own it.

65 years old - good shape!

He's had some help.

-Big night?

-Car accident.

KNOCK AT DOOR Not yet. Don't want to contaminate the scene.

Paramedics thought it was a heart attack.

-Police think it's a crime scene?

-Mmm.

-You do?

-Yes.

Lots of people unplug telephones in their hotel rooms.

He owns a big company - he's used to giving instructions, not doing things himself.

Why doesn't he tell reception not to disturb him?

He could have, he didn't.

Old man gets on his hands and knees, crawls under the desk,

unplugs the line. Why does he try to make a call? He knows it's unplugged.

He forgot? He's having a heart attack, he panics, he forgets.

He's having a heart attack, he panics, he forgets.

Plausible.

Where is the photographer?

I tried to call you last night.

How did the dinner go?

Did they make a deal?

I should have been there, Annette!

Why did he exclude me?

I left messages for him, he's never called me back!

Your brother's dead, Phillip.

They found his body in his hotel room this morning.

I'm sorry.

I need to contact his daughter.

-Cocaine?

-Talcum powder.

-Sure?

-Want a taste?

-That's great, thanks.

-Good morning.

Detective Sergeant Seetha Gold.

-This is DC Gus Cook.

-Nikki Alexander.

-Forensics?

-No, that's...

-Jack Hodgson.

-Nice face(!)

-Sorry.

-Oh, no problem.

-So was he staying in the room by himself?

-According to reception.

God, hotel deaths are a pig, aren't they?

Next of kin, all that guilt, would he have been all right

-if he'd stayed at home?

-No sign of forced entry.

-Oh, I love these!

-No!

-It's a crime scene.

-I'll decide if it's a crime scene!

-Drug use?

-No...

-No paraphernalia.

-I'll know more later.

-Kinky sex?

-Now I know what counts as kinky.

-Found by the chambermaid?

-Yeah.

-Blunt trauma injury to the head.

-He fell.

-I'll know more later.

-The victim is...

-John Briggs, yes. Already on the web.

One of you on retainer or do you tip them off a la carte?

-You're not really insinuating that one of us...

-Of course not.

It'll be the chambermaid or the girls on reception.

Not a policeman?

I'm just trying to break the ice. It's broken!

OK, so we have an old, white man,

dead in a six-star hotel room,

no sign of forced entry, no drug paraphernalia. Why are we here?

-It's a murder.

-Of course it is.

What do you think?

-She'll know more later.

-Are you insinuating something?

I'm not insinuating at all.

You're a doctor - you won't go out on a limb,

you'll wait for a consensus and then agree.

-Now we know why his face looks like that!

-I like you.

I won't be able to definitively establish cause of death until...

-After the postmortem, OK.

-Well, I hope so. No guarantees.

So what part of what I said was wrong?

We're making cuts across the board.

There's no escaping it, Professor Dalton.

The Lyle Centre will need to change or die.

Apt choice of words.

I'm sorry?

Oh, yes, I see what you mean.

-Are you all right?

-Oh, yeah.

Bad meeting. Funding review.

-Down.

-Never gets reviewed up. I've worked here

for a long time. I... I thought I was doing a good job.

You're not fishing for compliments, are you?

You sit there and you listen to the review and everything,

EVERYTHING is quantified, measured.

Like a postmortem, I suppose.

You are! You're looking for compliments!

And at one point they called the way I did things "old fashioned"!

We've got state-of-the-art equipment!

You're not doing a good job, you're doing a brilliant job.

-You're one of the most amazing doctors I've ever met.

-Stop it!

-Really. Insightful, diligent.

-They thought, given the skills and equipment we have,

that we should be doing more.

We're down a senior member of staff. They know that, right?

It's not so much the amount that we do, but the way that we do it.

No, they thought that the way I run things was old-fashioned

and unimaginative, that is the cold, hard truth.

You're considerate, good with families and imaginative,

-then there are technical skills.

-Nikki, stop it, seriously.

I AM being serious! There's no-one better than you!

No-one I could learn as much from, no-one I'd prefer to work with.

Really?

See how much better you feel?

-See, I knew you were winding me up!

-No, I'm not, Leo!

We're just too embarrassed to say the nice things that we think.

Or to hear them.

They told me that the Lyle Centre needed to change or die.

-Harry knew that - probably why he left.

-That's rubbish!

Harry was offered a full professorship in New York.

As much as I love you, if they'd offered it to me, I'd be calling Virgin Atlantic!

Well, that really cheers me up(!)

No, what I'm trying to say is that it's nothing to do with you

and everything to do with him. End of.

OK.

So?

So?

We change. Well, we're not going to die, are we?

We change, Leo. There's nothing to be afraid of, everything changes.

We change.

How are we going to change?

No idea.

-WOMAN:

-Can I help you?

Swipe card entry to the rooms.

Hotel employees use their ID cards. We'll need the electronic records.

-We can compile a list of suspects based on access.

-Jack.

I'll also need any CCTV covering reception

-and access points to the upper floors.

-Jack.

-Presumably there's a phone record for calls in and out of the room.

-Jack!

-Yeah?

-I admire your enthusiasm.

I wouldn't call it enthusiasm, it's just normal.

-Enthusiasm was a euphemism.

-Was it?

I'm the detective and you're the scientist.

-I tell you what to do, not the other way round. Have you got it?

-Got it.

Good.

-You know, I thought you were more... robust.

-Robust?

-Yeah, it's a euphemism.

-For what?

Not an arsehole.

Now I'm an arsehole.

That's good we cleared that up.

You get to work with me. Lucky boy!

Creams, lotion, soap, everything.

Try the telephone.

Television remote.

JACK SIGHS

Bed.

Bag 'em.

I didn't know you'd be here.

I thought I should be. We're family.

I'm... I'm sorry about your father.

Thank you.

-He'd been trying to reach out to you over the last few months.

-I know.

Your father left explicit instructions

in the event of his death.

He left his shareholding in the family trust to you.

You run the company.

Why? I don't know anything about the company.

-Why would he do this?

-It's his final insult to me, isn't it?

I've drawn up a document appointing your uncle, Phillip, as chairman

and chief executive.

The funds set aside for you and your sister in the trust will be

-released upon the sale of the company.

-My sister?

-I didn't know about a sister. Did my father remarry?

-No!

-I wasn't speaking to you.

-Not that I'm aware of.

Just here.

It's important that we effect the transition of leadership quickly.

Your father was in the middle of selling the company.

We don't want any delay in concluding the agreement. They might withdraw the offer.

I also need your signatures on the documents with Wetherby Capital.

They're the buyer.

That company was his life.

Do you want to sell the company, Phillip?

Absolutely. I mean, it's the right thing. It's the only thing to do.

-And I sign here and it puts Phillip in charge?

-That's right.

I haven't seen him in 19 years.

19 - I counted them on the train.

He never spoke about the business, never involved me.

You've worked here all your life. He knew you wanted to sell.

Why am I here?

Why has he put me here?

It's me. There's a photo of me in the paper. What's this about?

Just call me back.

Phillip.

-I'm very sorry.

-Thank you.

But you don't have to pretend, Michael.

-Schwartzman called, sends his condolences.

-That was good of him.

The headlines could damage the value of the company.

You need to sign the heads of agreement right away.

He's put his daughter in charge.

His daughter?!

-I didn't know...

-I thought you knew everything, Michael -

everything about everyone.

You contacted his daughter?

Well, I had to. Corporate governance.

Then how much does she know?

Well, Mr Briggs was going to tell her

but she never responded to any of his messages.

I don't know how to handle it.

Will she sign?

Do you think he suffered?

Sorry?

In your professional opinion.

Do you think he suffered?

I don't know.

I don't know either.

I can't decide if there's any point in knowing.

I mean, the suffering's over now. For him.

Have you lost a parent?

Both.

Snap. I'm an orphan.

Mind you, I lost him a long time ago.

Or rather, he lost me.

I don't feel anything. Is that strange?

Not so strange.

Did you? Feel?

Eventually.

Peace.

So deceptive.

It almost looks as though he might be...

good.

-Hi.

-Hi. How did you get in?

Loading bay. Door is locked.

-They lock it for a reason.

-Really? Not just to be awkward?

-You read that?!

-I'm done with it. Do you want it?

Reading that is like sniffing glue. Why would I want it?

Filling myself in on Briggs.

Quicker than asking the detectives.

-Apparently, "we're doing everything in our power".

-I already knew that.

-He had a taste for escort girls.

-Is that right?

There's a photo of a girl coming into the hotel lobby.

Apparently, she was going to visit him.

Have the police found her?

How do you think they got that photo? They didn't know he was going to die.

Private detective following him? Extortion? What do you think?

-Do you like conspiracy theories?

-I wouldn't say I like them.

-From his bathroom.

-Oh, thanks.

-When's the post-mortem?

-This afternoon. Why?

-My theory is falling apart.

-To be fair, it wasn't really built on very much.

-Cheers(!)

Does Detective Gold know?

She wasn't really a believer in the first place.

-No, I think you were the only one that was.

-Cash tap is closing fast.

I have to get "budget sign-off" on every test I want to run.

A sure sign they're letting this one go cold.

No evidence of murder, that's what Gold's saying.

Two sets of towels used. Organic material on his sheets.

I'm sure there was someone in that room with him.

Doesn't mean that he was murdered.

The guy lives in Surrey, he has a driver, but stays in a hotel.

-A lover?

-A hooker.

-How does that get you to murder?

-Do you know how bad you look?

-Yeah.

I'm guessing that's why your security guard wouldn't let me in.

Sometimes it's best to let a very thin theory go, particularly

if there's no science to support it.

There was absolutely nothing on the phone jack. No finger prints.

-Nothing organic.

-Nothing?

well, that SUPPORTS your theory.

Somebody's DNA should be on it, even if it is

-the guy who's installed the phone.

-Unless you consciously decided to wipe it.

-And that's what you think?

There were no fingerprints on the furniture, the TV remote,

-any of the flat surfaces.

-Get something off the sheets?

Possibly, but it won't prove intent,

not the sort I'm after anyway.

Your theory's not falling apart. It is just not getting anywhere.

They have to get under the desk to unplug the phone.

They get down on their hands and knees. It's carpet.

The last person to touch the carpet would have been the one to unplug the phone.

I've got to go.

Did you really not think about sampling the carpet for DNA?

Of course I did.

-I'm very sorry to hear about your father.

-What do you do?

I work with the media. Helping with image and brand.

My name is Michael Trenter.

-I was your father's adviser for the sale of the company.

-I see.

Will you make lots of money when the company is sold?

I think I need to update you on where we are with the bank,

and the kind of pressure your father was under.

The heart is enlarged and diseased,

although not beyond what might be expected in a man of his age.

And we found high levels of histamines in the heart.

Oedema in the larynx and glottis,

causing restriction to the airways,

dilation of the peripheral blood vessels in the arms and legs,

all contributing to the strain on the heart, leading me

to believe that the most likely cause of death is anaphylaxis.

-Shock caused by an allergic reaction.

-Shock.

-Were their elevated levels of MCT?

-Yes.

Allergen specific immunoglobulin E?

Just trying to help.

-He died of an allergic reaction?

-Yes.

A lack of oxygen to the organs would have caused shock to the heart, stopping it.

-But the underlying reason is anaphylaxis.

-Something he ate?

Possibly. Probably.

I'll run tests on the stomach contents, allergy tests on the body.

-How much will that cost?

-You'll need to speak to Professor Dalton.

What are these marks?

Hyperpigmented macular skin markings,

possibly as a result of blunt trauma injury.

And it appears that he might not have been whipped in the past...

-Whipped?!

-Yes.

-I looked at the carpet at the crime scene.

-Ran some tests.

-Who authorised the tests?

There's not enough probable cause for me...

-How did the newspaper get the photograph of the escort girl?

-Can you let me finish?

To feel comfortable making additional expenditure.

-Do you know who she is?

-They could just be making a story up.

They don't like Briggs.

He threatened to sue one of the tabloids last year

and they've had their shock troops on hurting him ever since.

-It might be worth following up.

-To what end? Can we place at the scene?

It would help if we knew who wish she was.

I don't have any finger prints or DNA on any of the flat surfaces in the room.

-None on the telephone itself.

-You've got no evidence.

When did a lack of evidence become evidence?

-Are you saying he died of an allergy?

-Allergic reaction.

Well, that's bad luck. Not a crime!

Is the phone plug was wiped,

then it must show intent to prevent detection.

We found the unknown DNA on the carpet by the phone jack.

It would be useful

if you found the unknown escort girl the newspapers are banging on about.

Sorry to disturb you.

Did my father really want to sell this?

He wanted to protect it, so he was willing to let it go.

I don't really care much for the money.

I only cared about what he thought.

That doesn't make much sense, does it?

Not if you haven't seen him in 19 years.

Did you know my father well?

Yes.

Yeah, yeah, I guess I did.

I didn't.

Did he speak about me?

Yes.

To lots of people?

To me.

Did he think I'd let him down?

He thought he let you down.

Wouldn't it have been nice if he had told me that before he died?

Did he tell you why?

-You know she's not my sister?

-Yes.

I have her phone number.

How, how?

She contacted your father...

..five months ago.

And...what did my father tell her about me?

I'm not sure, exactly.

Gentlemen.

So, er, I don't get the fancy restaurant?

Too common, am I?

Sorry I'm late.

-What are you drinking?

-Sparkling water for me.

So you've, er, dragged me out on a miserable night,

taken me to a shithole of a public house to be served by foreigners.

So I'm clutching at straws that there might be

something at the end of all this that makes it worth my while.

Bit more than a glass of fizzy water, eh?

Shall we play Let's Make A Deal, Mr Schwartzman? You can start.

I've come to listen to you.

Can you hear that?

That's my sensible brain telling me to go home.

No point staying further.

Oh, sorry about your brother, Phillip.

No, you're not.

He's right. I'm not.

Nasty piece of work, that one.

He was a nasty, mean little man lurking behind the "family brand".

Bollocks. Serial shagger.

Sounds as though he died like he lived.

Still, at least we won't be getting humped by him again.

So, you think about what makes my members happy

and give me a call, eh?

Gentlemen.

Is he coming back?

What do we know about him?

What do we know we can use, Michael?

Miss Briggs?

I'm going to head home.

You can call me Geraldine.

Do you need anything, Geraldine?

Er, did Phillip know about my sister?

John told him she was a love child who had tracked him down.

But that's all he knows.

A love child?

OK.

-Good night.

-Night.

It's OK.

Have you seen what they're saying about me?

You've got to make them stop.

Why don't we take a walk?

I think the best thing is you go away for a while.

I'm in every newspaper as the escort girl linked to John Briggs.

If I go away, they're going to start thinking that I killed him.

It's the story of the moment. It'll soon pass.

Besides, you need to go away. To get over your grief.

-Right. Well, I'm going to need some money.

-Of course you do.

Wait! I didn't do anything.

If they start saying things, you've got to tell them the truth.

No-one needs to say anything. You are a secret.

You do realise that, Deanna? A family secret.

You know, it's a Pandora's box.

There are certain questions it would be better not to ask

and others it would be better not to answer.

-Silence really is golden.

-Yeah. It's going to need to be...

Leave it with me.

Why don't you go some place with a beach until this has passed? OK?

Don't speak to anyone.

When Pandora opened her box, all the evil escaped.

-And you know what was left?

-You're messing with me, right?

-Hope.

That's you, Deanna. For Geraldine Briggs, that's you.

-Morning.

-Morning. Seen this?

Some journalist has got an inside track.

-Somebody needs to talk less.

-Yeah.

How would you go about ascertaining a deadly allergen in someone

who has already proved it to be...

-well, you know...deadly?

-Briggs?

Definitely a victim of anaphylaxis.

-I want to isolate the allergen.

-Do you need to?

Well, something is not right. I think it's possible it's foul play.

-Instinct?

-Not just mine.

-The other detectives?

-No. Forensic bloke.

-"Forensic bloke"?

-Well, scientist.

-Ha, ha! The one who lost the fight?

-I guess.

"But you should see the other guy!"

Actually, I think the other guy came out of it OK.

-Any good?

-Jury's out.

See if you can narrow down the potential allergens.

Speak to the relatives, family, work colleagues.

They may know something, particularly if the allergy was potentially deadly.

-OK.

-And then when you've narrowed down the list...

..We can test the body.

So he wasn't murdered by an escort girl?

No. An allergic reaction.

The escort girl sounded so much more exotic.

-I'd wondered if you might know what caused it.

-He couldn't eat nuts.

Couldn't have peanut butter. Ironic, isn't it?

You know, one of our biggest sellers is Brigg's Balls. Peanut butter.

It was the first product he couldn't actually quality control.

-You know, our first ad campaign was "Lick our balls".

-Funny(!)

Well, my brother was a churchgoer.

Had a living relationship with God, whatever that means,

so the ad shocked him.

It took me months to convince him to go with it.

We ran an ad in the magazine Nuts. Whole page. One issue.

Then pulled it.

We got more press from pulling it because it damaged

the family image of the business than we would be able to afford.

Genius.

You know, they actually study it in advertising courses.

Something to be proud of.

Do you have any idea of where he had dinner that night before he died?

MOBILE PHONE RINGS

Hello?

-Deanna?

-'Who's this?'

It's...your mother.

Oh, er...

'Sorry. I don't really know what to say.'

'I would like to meet you. Would you like to meet me?'

Yeah, I would... I'd like it a lot.

Great.

Well...can you come now?

OK. OK. Well, let's meet at the Briggs building.

Yeah, I can see you there.

OK. I'll see you soon.

-OK.

-'Bye.'

Bye.

KNOCKS ON DOOR

Sorry.

When do you need me?

Soon.

Um...

Very soon.

As soon as you can.

Yeah, I'll be right there.

Sorry about that.

Are you going to invite me to interview with you?

-Of course, when I get it down to a shortlist.

-How is it going?

Slowly.

We'll put the gastric fluid through the sieve

and then we'll test the blood for specific antibodies to nuts.

And how are you getting on?

Fine.

Not too much on?

No.

Nothing.

I'm sure it's been difficult without Harry.

Who's Harry?

I miss him too.

No-one I interview comes close.

-Leo...

-I can't help but compare.

We agreed to move on.

-We did.

-So move on.

I am.

Not fast enough.

Nothing. No indication of allergen.

-Jack?

-Yes.

-Leo Dalton.

-Professor Leo Dalton?

-That's right.

Holy shit.

Sorry. It's just this is a great honour for me.

Well, that's very kind.

When I was at university at Imperial,

we studied several of your cases,

and that paper you wrote 20 years ago, assessing the benefits

of amalgamating forensic pathology with the other forensic sciences -

very interesting to see how allied the separate disciplines are, how they reinforce each other.

You're always being called a forward thinker in lectures.

So, do you actually do science any more?

Work in the lab, get your hands dirty,

-or are you stuck in an office pushing papers?

-Oh, no, I get my hands dirty.

You're a legend! I stand here talking to a legend.

I don't quite know what to say.

Probably better not to say anything, you can only go downhill.

-You know what I mean.

-Absolutely.

-You don't read this, do you?

-Me? No.

-Nor do I. You don't mind if I...?

Of course.

-Hiya.

-Hi.

-You two have met?

It's nothing he ate.

How he came into contact with it may help us understand

-whether it was an accident or not.

-Feels like or not.

Does science really feel, Jack?

Test everything he may have come into contact with in his hotel room,

-sheets, towels, soaps.

-I'll get started right away, Professor Dalton.

Professor Dalton.

He's a nice lad.

I like him.

Ah.

-Thanks very much, we will be in touch.

-Thanks.

Dr Alexander, Mr Hodgson, am I closing this file?

The fact that they haven't found the allergen does not mean that it wasn't an unlawful death.

No, of course not. But we are not able to do anything about it, are we?

-Jack, it could have been a tragic accident.

-He was profoundly allergic to nuts.

-He was allergic.

I'm more inclined to think it was a result of multiple insults.

-Are you saying he had heart disease?

-Common at his age.

-The phone, lack of prints...

-A reasonable theory.

-It's more than that.

-Not much more.

-Bed sheets?

-Briggs' DNA.

-Only Briggs?

-Someone was in that room with him.

-That alone doesn't mean anything.

-Why haven't they come forward?

-Do I have a suspect?

-No.

-No.

We agree on something.

Dr Alexander is right to push for scientific facts,

But here's what my gut says. The sweets which he liked so much...

-Peanut butter ones?

-..were put out in an open bowl to try

and lead the forensic pathologist astray in the hope that even if

anaphylaxis was identified as the cause of death,

its allergen source as a premeditated act of murder would not be discovered.

That is something I hadn't considered.

Professor Dalton?

I'm just...listening.

Have you checked the sweets for DNA or prints?

It hasn't been authorised and it may have been contaminated.

You have a possible suspect you haven't found or spoken to.

How can you close the file?

Is that the incident room?

Yeah, that woman that you're looking for, her name is Deanna Collier.

Yeah, I know where you can find her.

Deanna?

I never wanted to lose you, you have to believe me.

I believe you.

I was made to let you go...

and I am so glad you've come back.

-Do you think Jack Hodgson is selling stories to the press?

-No.

At least...

..I hope not.

Is that "no" or is that "I hope not"?

Let's stick with no... I hope not.

-Now try.

-Thank you.

Day after a day of salacious stories in the press about Briggs and the company.

None of which is true and I am trying to work with editors.

It doesn't matter if it's true, it's damaging.

It reduces the company's ability to meet its obligations.

It not impacting on the sales.

We won't be able to extend you any further time on the restructuring.

We have seven days,

at which time I'm afraid we will ask that you be put into administration.

-Why isn't Geraldine here?

-She's got to sign. She has to sign.

-Somebody has to explain it to her.

-Where is she?

She's with her daughter.

I didn't know she had a daughter.

-Detective Sgt Gold.

-Hello.

We are looking for this woman, we believe her name is Deanna Collier.

We had a phone call to say we might be able to find her here.

-I am Deanna.

-She's my daughter.

I was looking for my birth mother... I had tried when I was a teenager

but I didn't get very far.

I knew that I had been a church adoption,

I knew vaguely the area and the date. I narrowed it down.

I wrote letters, one was to Mr Briggs and then Annette contacted me.

He didn't want anyone else in the firm to know.

He wanted it kept private.

Mr Briggs loved her...

He loved her like a daughter.

Granddaughter?

We have got Briggs' DNA, it should turn up as a familiar match.

-She doesn't think she touched anything.

-She remembers?

It's his granddaughter. No, it's confirmed.

Anybody want anything?

-No.

-No thanks.

That's peculiar.

Got to go.

Cheers, mate, see you at the weekend.

-Want a coffee?

-Tea, please.

What?

Nothing.

You could use some arnica.

-Do you mind me asking how you really got your...?

-I like to fight.

-Sport.

-I see. A beginner then?

-What do you think you're doing?

-Being a good daughter.

You look nervous,

why don't you go somewhere with a beach

while I pour a little hope back into my mother?

You're making a mistake.

-Am I? Doesn't feel like it.

-You'll get found out.

You worrying about me or you?

Pleased to meet you, come this way.

-You are a union hotel?

-Allied Workers Alliance.

-Everyone?

Front of house, cleaning and housekeeping.

You know that photo of Deanna Collier, the one the newspapers were all using?

It was taken in the lobby of your hotel.

-That employee is no longer with us.

-What, AWA?

-Yes, I'm not worried.

Gross misconduct, they won't cause any trouble.

Perhaps they already have.

-Have we got the printout of the swipe card entry to the room?

-Yes, I'll get it for you.

She's going in.

And leaving.

Briggs leaving for dinner.

And then...

..we found this.

-What do you need, Philip?

-A little support, Michael. Too much to ask?

-Where did she come from?

-Who?

That girl. Geraldine's daughter.

I heard John was looking for her, she tracked him down...

-So they were both looking for each other?

-Hmm.

Convenient.

So she suddenly appears out of nowhere.

I'm going to find out about her. Everything about her.

If there is anything I can do to help, just let me know.

This company should be mine. My brother built it up.

I should be making the decisions, not her.

Because of that girl.

Do we want to sell the company, Philip?

Just stay focused on that.

-I pay you too much.

-Nice talking to you, Philip.

-I'm Philip.

-Oh, I don't think we've met. I'm Deanna.

Geraldine's daughter.

Yeah.

Family secret.

Every family has secrets.

They lie to each other and to themselves. Don't they?

My brother had plenty of secrets,

we are particularly good at them in this family.

You're John's brother.

Do you think the long-lost granddaughters of poor people

bother to track them down?

Philip!

I don't want you to speak to my daughter,

be alone with her try to develop any kind of relationship with her.

BOTH LAUGH

You know, when I lost you, my father gave me this bracelet...

..as though it may somehow replace...

There's a charm for all of my memories.

All the places I've been and all the things I've seen.

And I'd like to give these memories to you.

Come quick!

You think it was an accident?

SHE SOBS

Two deaths in one week, that's a lot of bad lot for one family.

-What sort of mood was Deanna in when she left you?

-Laughing.

Did you argue?

There are no more obstacles, Philip Briggs wants to get this done.

-We need stability.

-That's not going to happen.

-Wasn't it a dark family secret?

-Not any more.

Your man Cook leaked stories to the press.

If you can't prove it, keep your mouth shut.

We all have to work together.

Uh!

You can't fight them. They make up stories,

if they can't find a newspaper they put it on the internet.

-Clarissa Mullery.

-How do you know Jack Hodgson?

-I work with him.

We need to find out where Deanna died.

We are trying to triangulate the last known position of her mobile phone.

-Shit, I'm wrong.

-What do we do if floods?

-Run.

# Testator silens

# Costestes e Spiritu

# Silencium. #

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