Endeavour Page #8

We'll need more

than a telephone number

to make it stick.

Unless...

Her outfit.

If Lovell was this

secret admirer,

and we can find

who sold it to him...

Well, we can

tie him to Mary Tremlett.

McLeash come through with

that list of stockists yet?

Yeah, should have.

You get onto that.

I'll put Crisp in the picture.

You tracked the outfit down?

Then we've got him.

What?

Whelks.

Mary Tremlett's last meal.

Eaten an hour or so

before she died.

That's not my idea

of breakfast.

Is it yours?

Well, what are you saying?

That she didn't die

Sunday morning?

But the vet saw her

at the bus stop.

Well, yes.

And no.

Either way, it wasn't Lovell

who killed her.

The awful thing is

it all started as a joke.

A wager between two fools

who should've known better.

How much?

Five pounds.

You're on.

Flattered by

Stromming's attentions,

perhaps even believing herself

to be in love with him,

Mary Tremlett threw herself

into their affair,

abandoning the young man

with whom she had hitherto

been close.

Distraught, Miles Percival

confided his fears

to the one person he thought

might be able

to bring Stromming to heel.

Mrs. Stromming,

can we have a word?

Doubt that she believed him.

But gradually she came

to realize the truth.

Rather than

confront her husband

and risk losing him forever,

another idea took hold

of her mind.

So she began.

# Un be! di, vedremo #

# levarsi un fil DE fumo #

# Sull'estremo

confin del mare... #

Have a wonderful day.

# E poi... #

The substitution of the

puzzle was the easiest part.

What she really needed was

someone to take the blame.

Well, she already had

the perfect candidate.

Will you drop that in

for me when you go?

Thank you.

The rest fell out

exactly as she planned.

On Saturday evening, Mary

Tremlett left Samuels's party

for Bagley Wood,

expecting to meet her lover.

Only it wasn't Dr

. Stromming she found waiting.

Mary.

Mary!

Believe Rosalind Stromming was

waiting for her

with some kind of crowbar.

She stripped Mary Tremlett

and left the green and white

party dress by her body...

a dress, rather than the dress.

There were two.

The following morning,

anyone passing the bus stop

would have seen exactly

what Rosalind Stromming

wanted them to see...

a redhead in a green, black

and white chevron print dress.

To be taken for Mary Tremlett.

The wig and dress

doubt we'll ever find.

The stage was set

for the final act.

All that remained...

was to provide the police

with Mary's murderer.

# Chi sara, chi sara... #

It was the perfect crime

in all respects bar one.

It was essential to her plan

that the two dresses

appear identical.

But what she failed

to take into account

was that she is

two sizes smaller than Mary.

The shop girl

remembered at once.

The beautiful woman

with the diamond earrings.

# Per non morire

al primo incontro #

# Ed egli alcontro in pena

chiamera, chiamera #

# Piccina mogliettina

olezzo di verbena #

# nomi che mi dava

al suo venire #

# Tutto questo avvera,

te lo prometto #

# Tiente la tua paura #

# lo con sicura feds #

# I'aspetto. #

Brava.

Bravissima.

Divine.

So... what's this about?

Your decision to resign

from Her Majesty's government

and retire from public life.

My What?

We thought

"grounds of ill health. "

Spare everyone's blushes.

She was 15, Dickie.

It was just a bit of harmless...

Fun?

A schoolgirl coerced into bed.

'Round from one

dirty old sod to another

like the Sunday sprouts?

Fun?

For you and your mates, maybe.

This is ridiculous.

Ridiculous?

A government minister

at a sex party.

Writing his telephone number

on the hand of a teenage girl.

Now that's ridiculous.

We've kept your name out of it.

So far.

But there's a young

copper chasing this,

and he's not so willing

to play the game.

Morse?

Explain to him.

I've tried.

Not for sale.

You do the decent thing,

his governor might be able

to rein him in.

We'll see what Harold

has to say about it.

This is what he has

to say about it.

There's two ways out.

This one, don't have to get

blood on my shoes.

What time's your train?

It's quarter past.

Sleep?

I'd have worked things through

sooner if I'd have realized...

Stop.

The if game's

no good to any bugger.

You keep on, it'll drive you

round the twist.

Know.

Rosalind Stromming

was dead from the moment

she decided to kill

an innocent girl.

Or dying, at least.

Inside.

Whatever was good of her.

Come on, then.

If you're going

to make that train.

Mind if drive?

Carshall Newtown.

That really what you want?

Don't know.

Was thinking might pack it

all in.

Pick up my degree.

The world's long

on academics, Morse.

But woeful short

of good detectives.

Things as they are,

could use a permanent bagman.

Mean, we did pretty well

this time out.

Give or take.

I'd see you right, of course.

Make sure we get you through

your sergeant's exam, eh?

With the proper encouragement,

who knows?

What you've got to ask is,

where do you see

yourself in 20 years?

Morse?

Endeavour!

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