The Oxford Murders Page #5

of the highly-gifted subjects.

He was in the presence|of pure thought,

without grooves,

but he couldn't understand it.|The problem

was his own brain.

He saw everything from the outside.|To understand

those symbols, he had|to see them from the inside.

There was only one way of|achieving it: to erase the grooves.

The idea might seem grotesque,

but not to a person|who has been told

that he's suffering|from terminal cancer.

His bones were rotting like wood

infested with woodworm.

All he had to look forward to

was the amputation|of his limbs, one by one.

He was euphoric, he laughed,|nervously, like someone about

to discover something incredible|who can't contain his joy.

It was then

that I realized that my friend|had gone completely mad.

He wanted to lobotomize himself.

His only problem|was how to ensure

that the brain damage|was not excessive.

He had to perforate|the skull and reach

the brain, with something like

a small harpoon.

He asked for my help|and I refused,

although I did promise I would try|to collect the messages he wrote

from the other side.

He used a nail gun.

What does he write?

The symbols are becoming|more and more illegible.

In all this time he's never drawn|a logical symbol or a number.

So what are they, then?

Four letters that|he repeats over and over.

A woman's name.

Where were you last night?

Beth, what are you doing here?

I was waiting for you.

I'm sorry. I was out and...

I thought you felt|something for me.

More than pity,

but I was wrong.

Of course I feel something|for you. We're friends.

I want to help you, but...

"We're friends,|you want to help me".

That's worse than saying|"you disgust me".

- Beth, please.|- Don't touch me!

The kinder you try to be,

the more humiliated I feel.

Beth, I don't mean to humiliate you.

Then treat me like a woman. You all|treat me like I was a little girl.

Maybe this isn't the time for...

Now is the f***ing|perfect time for this, Martin.

What's the matter?

You're embarrassed to be seen|with me? Is that it?

Don't worry.|I'm his mother.

I'm just making sure|he does his homework.

Be quiet!

Beth, wait!

Found your killer yet?

Lorna? It's me, Martin. Do you know|anything about Seldom's friend?

Kalman?|What's wrong?

He's been murdered.|Today, at two fifteen.

No... Wait a second.

Sorry, Sherlock,|but he's alive.

Are you sure?

Yes, he's right in front of me.

If it's not him, then who?

It would have looked like|death from natural causes,

if we hadn't discovered|this little detail.

It's an intravenous injection,

and he wasn't receiving|that kind of treatment.

What sort of poison|was administered?

We don't know. We'll have to wait|for the post mortem report.

We know the time of death?

Exactly as it said on the note:

quarter past two.|It says so

- on the wristband.|- Where did they find the body?

In the ward,|before it was brought here.

All of these people|have died in the last few hours?

Well, it's only to be expected.|This is the terminal illnesses ward.

At least a couple|of patients die every day,

according to|the senior nursing officer.

He knew my movements,|which encouraged him

to commit the crime here.

If he had meant to harm me,|he would have killed Kalman.

Or he could have seen you

enter the ward and didn't know|which of the two was your friend.

A terminal patient

on the point of death.

A murder that wouldn't have been|discovered had it not been

- for the note.|- Another imperceptible crime.

And might I know what|you're talking about, gentlemen?

The second sign gives the clue as to|how the sequence should be read.

It could be|figurative representations,

or could be semantic or syntactic,|like geometric figures.

Can you translate that?

The professor means the signs

could represent things|in the real world

or not represent anything,|be abstract, like geometric shapes.

The second symbol|is again astute, because,

being so schematic,|it allows both readings.

It could be a game of symmetry,|or it could simply be a fish.

Soup,

fish,

dessert.

Martin, show some respect

for the inspector, please.

No possibility deserves|to be overlooked.

Let me propose a puzzle.

What is the fourth

symbol...

in this other series?

No idea.

Did you miss class that day, too?

You just have to know how to look.|The solution

is very simple, I assure you.

It's called the idiot series.

Anyone who can't work it out...

Thank you, professor.|I get the message.

However, I incline to the idea that|the symbols relate to mathematics,

rather than gastronomy.

So, you think|a mathematician's involved?

It's possible, someone who seeks|recognition of some sort,

or someone who's not|a mathematician but wants to be.

A student?

That's unlikely.

Could you take

the second lieutenant out, Martin?

No, I haven't taught|for a long time.

Well, can you tell us

what the third symbol

will be?

No.

Far too many options.

He's putting us to the test,|and I wouldn't like to slip up.

Okay, let's see|if I've got this right.

We are going to wait|until he kills another person

because we can't decipher|this bloody puzzle?

Tricky situation, isn't it?

- Could I get those there?|- 2.60 please, sir.

Good evening.

Seldom!

Martin?

Why are you following me?

I'm not following anybody,|for God's sake, least of all you!

So what are you doing here?

I'm going to that restaurant.

Do you find it so odd that|I should be going out for dinner?

That's where I'm going, too.

Why, that's absurd.

I'm sorry.

I should have told you|Arthur was coming as well.

Excuse me, Lorna,|but I'm the one who's annoyed

by the presence at our table|of this good-for-nothing.

Good-for-nothing?

You couldn't see a joke if it stood|up and bit you in the arse, Martin.

You're far too serious

- for your age.|- He called me at the hospital and I

just thought it would be best to|bring you up to date together, so...

Forget it, I'm not bothered by it.|I just hope I didn't hurt you.

Even if you had,|I wouldn't admit it.

You're like two kids|fighting over a ball.

- And you're the ball?|- No, I'm the nurse who's gonna spank

your bottoms|if you don't shut up.

Please.

I talked with the forensic expert.

And?

Nothing.

Not a trace of|any toxic substance.

Whatever he was injected with|is totally unknown.

Air, maybe?

No!

Let her speak, please.

He's right, it's unlikely.|If he'd been injected with air,

they would have spotted it|in the post mortem.

However there is another|possibility. A substance

they extract from|a poisonous mushroom: Amanita

Muscaria. But there are|no reagents that detect it.

So it's a sort of secret among

- forensic pathologists.|- How did you find out?

Lorna has a knack|of finding out what she wants.

Her house is littered|with murder mysteries,

but I imagine|you know that by now.

Yes, I do.

What surprises me|is that you haven't managed

to worm all the information|out of Martin.

Martin is a good guy.|He knows he can't tell anyone

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