Arghh!
Over there, quickly. Get out that way.
Sorry. Excuse me.
Help them!
- Is everybody out? - We don't know.
Hey, are you all right? Are you all right?
- Wilf. - Wilf?
I think Wilf is still inside.
Which floor?
- Wilf? - The ambulance, go!
Wilf? Are you all right, mate?
- Where is she?! - Who? Who?
Where's Amity?
I don't know.
No, don't go back, Wilf! It's too dangerous!
- Amity! - You can't go in.
You've gotta stay with us. Stay out here!
- You've got to come with us. - Where is she?!
Where's Amity?!
*CREDITS*
The clue is in the title, for the eagle-eyed amongst you.
Hmm...
Agnew propounds that the presence of negative stimuli,
or, at least, the absence of positive stimuli,
accounts for the propensity of certain individuals
to engage in criminal acts.
In plain English, perhaps,
what Shakespeare so memorably called,
"The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."
The losses and betrayals,
rejections and deceptions,
slights and disappointments
that constitute a lifetime.
A missed promotion.
The death of a loving and protective parent.
A broken relationship.
Or maybe just an unanticipated academic failure.
We are one misstep away, ladies and gentlemen,
from a downward spiral into delinquency, debt,
dependency, destitution,
and premature death.
Have a very pleasant afternoon.
You attack with feeling, Miss Snares.
It helps if I imagine it's a certain someone's head.
Ah, Jasper.
I wonder if I might have a quick word.
I wonder if you might.
It's about the mid-term examinations.
They're due to be completed by the end of the week.
I thought I'd come and check we haven't been blown off course.
By a tempest, as it were.
'As I was saying...'
The tradition of oral examinations,
or viva voses, long predates us.
They were an essential part...
..of the oral academic practices of the ancient...
Wakey-wakey!
Jasper?
Of course, Dean. Whatever you say.
I find myself wondering
whether an undertaking agreed to under duress
is legally or morally enforceable.
And yet a promise is a promise.
Very well.
So, that's all sorted, then?
So glad to see you coming round to the benefits
of a fruit-based diet, Ingrid.
_
I can't wait.
You too. OK.
OK, bye.
You can call her from your desk, you know. I don't mind.
You worried I'll overhear your pet name or something?
We don't have pet names, Lisa. It's only been a month.
Whatever you say...
Danny-Boy.
Hey!
Oh, Professor.
Professor!
DS Donckers. DS Winters.
To what do we owe the honour?
I was in the neighbourhood, quite coincidentally,
and wondered if I might be of any assistance?
We've got orders not to bother you. But if you're at a loose end?
On the contrary,
a long and tedious task awaits me.
A stack of essays to revise?
You do not revise essays, Detective Sergeant. You correct them.
To revise something is to improve it.
As in, "He needed to revise his use of language."
Perhaps you can revise his use of language in that.
We're waiting on the fire brigade report
to check for the presence of an accelerant.
Faulty lava lamp, more likely.
Or a student with a cigarette who fell asleep.
A fire in a student flat. How mundane.
Sure we can't tempt you?
Sadly not. But thank you...
for giving me an excellent idea for my oral examinations.
You could have taken my eye out.
Very dangerous, very unprofessional.
The Rational Actor Theory suggests
that criminals are not compelled to commit crime...
but rather choose those behaviours,
um, based on, um...
Er...
Miss...?
Acton. Er... Jane Acton.
Your house is on fire, Miss Acton.
Is it?
Hypothetically.
You can only save one person from the flames,
a cleaning lady...
..or a scientist...
..who is about to discover a cure for cancer.
The cleaning lady is your mother.
Was this part of the course, Professor?
It is not a course, Miss Acton, it is a syllabus.
And that... is irrelevant.
I think we'll have to find a job for you on the force, Wilf.
All your safety certificates seem to be in order, Mrs Ransome.
That's a relief.
So, how is the hero of the hour?
Heh... I'm no hero.
'To the ambulance!'
You helped four people to safety from a burning flat.
I call that pretty heroic.
And I left a girl behind.
'Amity! Where is she?!'
Is there any news on Amity Roberts?
She's seriously unwell, I'm afraid.
Extensive third-degree burns.
They've had to put in a coma.
Are you a student, Wilf?
The odd-job man, more like it.
He had the brains, all right,
but a debt like that...
well, it's not for the likes of us.
I'd never leave my mum on her own.
It was a piece of luck that there was a room that needed painting.
Well, one of the tenants had just moved out.
Do you have a name?
Valerie Peters. The little madam.
What makes you say that?
She hasn't returned her key, for one thing,
or paid the last month's rent.
Is Valerie in any of these photos?
I hope you don't mind me asking,
but what's behind all of the questions?
We think the fire may have been started deliberately.
Next.
Next!
Next.
Next!
Next.
Did I... Did I pass?
Next!
Here's the final fire scene investigator's report.
Turpentine?
Or some other flammable solvent.
So we're definitely looking at arson, then?
Make that arson with the intent to endanger life.
The medical report for Amity Roberts.
She was pumped full of GHB.
- The date rape drug? - Yeah.
But no sign she engaged in any form of sexual activity,
forced or otherwise.
Somebody didn't want her to wake up.
Why did you move out, then, Valerie?
Um, I... I found somewhere better.
Cheaper. Nicer people.
Nicer than who?
Amity.
Do you know her name means friendship?
It's pretty ironic, considering she's a stuck-up bitch.
She's in a coma with third-degree burns.
There's nothing funny about that.
Look, we didn't get on. I'm not making a secret of it.
Where were you on the evening of the 17th?
- At a college ball. - All night?
It started at eight, finished at two.
OK. Do you recognise anyone in these photos?
No.
OK.
Thank you for your time. That'll be all for now.
Am I interrupting you, Jasper?
Morning, noon, and night.
I've had complaints.
Quite a number this time.
About some of the exam questions you set.
The burning house one in particular.
I devoted an entire lecture to Bentham and utilitarianism.
If they are too witless, too work-shy,
or simply too wooden-headed
to apply it to a simple ethical dilemma,
frankly, they do not deserve to pass.
Yes. Well, that's all sorted, then.
Who would you save?
Oh, my mother, of course.
Why of course?
Because anyone who leaves their mother
to be burnt alive in a house fire
doesn't deserve to be cured of cancer.
Now, that...
is an excellent answer.
Oh.
Thank you.
Say "sex", Danny-Boy.
Dan?
Hey. Hello, mate.
- Oh, nice to see you. - Nice to see you!
Oh, Dina, Calvin. Calvin, Dina.
Where've you been hiding?
Oh, you know, people to see, places to be.
Nice suit.
You know me, I like to make an effort.
Uh, I've got to go.
- Yeah, no worries, mate. - You've got my number, though, yeah?
- Yeah, of course. - Then use it, dickhead
Yeah, I will.
How do you know him?
We went through training together.
Oh, thank you.
- I'll get this. - Thanks.
Is everything all right?
It's 11.50 for a tomato salad?
Well, they were heritage.
Yeah, at that price, they should be Grade II listed.
You want to go halves?
Oh, do you mind? Sorry, babe.
- I'm a little bit short until payday, that's all. - Sure.
- I had to lend some to my dad. - It's fine.
Arghh!
Jasper.
- Mother. - What an unexpected pleasure.
It's awfully naughty of me, darling,
but I'm afraid I can't invite you in.
Kafka is doggy dating.
I'm thinking of putting him out to stud.
The fees are incredible.
This is just a courtesy visit, Mother.
- Courtesy, Jasper, from you? - I merely wish to inform you,
before the intelligence reaches you by other means,
that I am planning to undertake a course of therapy.
Therapy?! But that's marvellous, darling.
I've been on at you for years. What's it to be?
Urophagia?
Colonic irrigation?
Goat yoga? Oh, I have the number
of the most amazing Tibetan acupuncturist inside!
The needles are... Ooh.
None of the above, Mother.
I intend to speak to a psychologist.
Dear heart, is that wise?
- Ma'am? - Just wondering if we'd made any progress.
I haven't had a chance to speak to Amity Roberts.
They haven't brought her round.
We're going as fast as we can.
Well, maybe a, erm, fresh perspective might help.
Ma'am?
I thought you said to use him sparingly, you know, like...
I know what I said, DS Donckers, but I'm up against it.
This isn't the only case on my desk.
Right.
And I've had a bit of a "hurry up" from the Chief Super.
He's being lent on by the top dogs at the university
because they've heard that we think it's arson, so...
I say you get him in.
What could possibly go wrong?
OK.
_
Exams are cancelled, Miss Snares, for the rest of the day.
Well, the fire brigade found traces of accelerant in the kitchen.
Which suggests the fire was started by someone with a key to the flat.
Except our student friends aren't always in the habit
of locking the front door.
If the door was locked,
then Valerie Peters has some means of accessing the property.
Except she would appear to lack a clear and credible motive.
We're still checking out her alibi, but the fire started around 11
and she claims that she was at this ball with her friends
long before that.
What about the other residents?
Well, they're just a bunch of kids. Nerdy kids at that.
I don't imagine any of them would be stupid enough
to set the place on fire whilst they themselves were still in it.
The term "homo sapiens" is a misnomer, Detective Sergeant.
Human beings are guided far more often by perverse irrationality
than by solid reasoning.
I agree with you, and Jeremy Bentham,
that human nature is essentially selfish.
And yet you have somewhat restored my faith in it, Mr...?
Jones. Joss Jones.
Ah.
Pass.
I find our student population
to be as capable of deception and malfeasance
as the rest of us, Miss Donckers.
A young man who has paid another to take an exam on his behalf.
Who knows what else he might be capable of?
God, poor Amity.
So, Joss, you were in your room all night?
Yeah.
Well, until I smelt the smoke.
And what were you doing?
Studying, listening to music.
Can anyone vouch for you?
- I didn't think anyone else was in. - Until the fire started.
Until I took a break.
About... nine.
I heard some voices arguing.
Do you know who?
Some of the girls, maybe.
I mean, it wouldn't be the first time.
Do you recognise anyone?
Yeah, Louis.
Who's Louis?
Amity's ex.
Any pearls of wisdom, Jasper?
It seems imperative to establish
whether we are dealing with an arsonist or a pyromaniac.
Is there a meaningful difference?
An arsonist has external motivation.
- Such as? - Insurance fraud.
Whereas a pyromaniac's motivation comes from within.
Anger, for example.
I think we're safe to assume
that the motivation of whoever set the fire
was to either harm or kill Amity Roberts.
It is seldom safe to assume anything.
So, who's in the frame?
Valerie Peters moved out a week or so before the fire,
still has her key, admits to being antagonistic towards the victim,
but has an alibi that appears to check out.
Joss Jones, in his bedroom alone on the night of the fire.
So no alibi. We're starting background checks.
And Louis Dennis, Amity Roberts' former boyfriend.
Who DS Donckers so cleverly photographed
at the scene of the fire.
And who we found with some dodgy photos
of Miss Roberts on his laptop.
Some kind of revenge porn?
He seemed pretty upset that Dan suggested that
when we interviewed him earlier.
I've told you, I didn't take those pictures.
I didn't send 'em to anybody. She sent them to me. I swear.
Why would she send compromising photos of herself
to someone she dumped less than a month ago,
plus a bunch of her classmates and peers?
I've absolutely no idea.
You didn't think that this was her way
of trying to say she wanted to get back together with you?
No, definitely not.
You seem very sure.
She's already started sleeping with somebody else.
That's what I've heard.
Any idea who?
Joss Jones.
Blimey, they're all at it with each other like a bunch of baboons.
It is more accurately termed
a flange of baboons, Detective Inspector.
But you are otherwise correct.
Like baboons, or bonobos, or any other group of primates,
our student friends are engaged in a struggle with one another
for status and mating rights.
Well, then, in the absence of David Attenborough,
I suggest you two start studying them little more closely.
Come on, then, Lis.
I've got six hours of CCTV footage to go through
from Valerie Peter's summer ball.
What, I've got to do this on my own?
What about you, Professor? Fancy teaming up?
Adelaide.
Christina.
Are you... Are you looking for Jasper?
In a car park? That seems unlikely.
Gosh, you know, you...
You haven't aged a bit.
Can't say the same for you, dear.
I'm sorry, Adelaide, I'm... I'm in a bit of a rush.
Has he informed you of his intention
to undergo a course of psychotherapy?
No, no, he hasn't.
Then consider yourself told.
There's only one reason a man of his outlook and temperament
would hazard the foolhardy step of self-analysis,
and it isn't to impress his mother.
There's nothing I would like more
than to see my son settled and happy.
But if you toy with his affections,
well, as the ladies from the Fen Ditton Bridge Club can testify,
my wrath is a terrible thing to behold.
Toodle-loo.
Professor, street sign.
Doh!
Excuse me?
Doesn't matter.
You disagree with DI Rabbit, then, Professor?
- Almost invariably. - Doesn't seem that much of a reach.
If the fire was started deliberately,
then Amity must have been the target.
Are you very familiar with the latest academic research
into the behavioural abnormalities
of those with pyromaniac tendencies, Detective Sergeant?
- I wouldn't say very. - And neither am I.
Because there has been remarkably little research in this area.
What little there has
suggests pyromaniacs often fail to understand their own motivations.
They act impulsively,
sometimes in response to sexual or fetishistic urges.
- Right, they get a kick out of it. - Precisely so.
So, how do we know we're dealing with a kinky pyromaniac
or a plain vanilla arsonist?
You look for a pattern of similar fires in that part of the city.
You've had no problems with them? Your current tenants.
No, you know, a few, nothing serious.
Mrs Ransome, we found this.
That's a misunderstanding.
That's a Section 8 eviction notice dated on the third of last month.
All right, I admit it, I wanted them out.
And why was that, Mrs Ransome?
I got Wilf to drive me around during the day
while they're out at lectures.
You wouldn't believe what we found. Powders, pills, potions.
And did you report what you found to the police?
It wouldn't have been worth my while.
Or someone made it worth your while not to.
There's no law against changing your mind, is there?
It would seem young Joss Jones...
AKA Master Jocelyn Armitage Sibthorpe Jones esquire.
..has been getting into a few awkward scrapes of late.
Daddy paid off the landlady so she'd withdraw her eviction notice,
not make a formal complaint to the police.
She found a phial of GHB in his room,
though he was adamant it wasn't his.
Can we have a word?
GHB. It was found in your room, Joss.
And it was also found in Amity Roberts' bloodstream.
Look, the GHB, it wasn't my idea.
Valerie ordered it online.
She ordered a date rape drug?
- We've been clubbing a lot. - And?
It's like liquid ecstasy...
it makes you feel euphoric, whatever, disinhibited.
Still doesn't explain what it was doing in your room.
You were sleeping with Valerie.
On and off.
As well as with Amity?
Who told you that?
Her ex-boyfriend.
It was a one-time thing with Amity.
She'd been with Louis for a long time.
She fancied something new.
So, was this part of the experiment?
Not with Amity. She definitely wasn't into anything like that.
Look, I'm late for my lecture.
Er, not so fast, Mr Jones.
I'd like a word, if I may.
Maybe he set the flat on fire to create a smoke screen, you know,
divert attention from the fact he was flunking out.
It's like the ultimate dog-ate-my-homework excuse.
You're giving me the profile of a spoiled rich kid,
not a reckless arsonist.
What about Valerie Peters?
Well, I think we discovered the real reason she moved out.
And maybe why she kept her key.
How solid is her alibi?
I'm still going through the footage, but no sign of her so far.
Well, then, make finishing that a priority.
- Oh, boss, what about this? - What is it?
It's a list of unexplained fires across the city
that the Professor ask for.
Email it to him, by all means, but this is a tangled web.
Let's not get too distracted by a burnt-out shed.
We've checked the CCTV footage from the porters' lodge
at the college where the ball was held.
Frame by bloody frame.
And there is no record of you entering.
I came in the back way.
We spoke to the waiter at your table.
He said there was an empty place throughout dinner.
Come on, Valerie.
We know you've been lying to us from the start.
Do you recognise him?
You and Louis were in it together, is that it?
Or did you decide to get back at Amity all on your own?
You must have been gutted
to see a meal ticket like Jocelyn Sibthorpe Jones
slip through your fingers.
I bet you were already planning the wedding photos in Country Life.
We've already got Joss on record saying
he heard raised female voices in the flat around nine.
And he's very obligingly told us
it was you who ordered the GHB.
It won't take much for us to gain access to your bank records
and prove it.
Miss... Nash...
You have amply demonstrated your ability
to accurately quote a definition of Agnew's General Strain Theory
straight from the textbook.
However, I wonder if I might trouble you
for an observation of a more personal nature?
A... A personal insight?
Precisely.
One that originates from within your own frontal cortex,
rather than one that has been so transparently hijacked from another.
Nope...
I thought not.
My best friend's sister's ex-boyfriend...
..Tyrell...
..he had his heart set on becoming a Premier League footballer.
And he'd been on the books of one of the biggest clubs
since he was seven,
but at 16, they let him go, just like that.
And he was a lovely guy.
He was smart, talented, respectful.
But he's inside now. He stabbed someone over a drug debt.
And I think the disappointment,
the... crushing of his dreams, really,
it just destroyed him.
Turned a good man bad.
Professor?
How dare you?!
'Valerie admits to going to confront Amity
'about sleeping with her boyfriend.'
'And she admits to lacing her drink with GHB.'
She even admits to taking the photos
and using Amity's laptop to email them to all and sundry.
But she swears blind she had nothing to do with starting the fire.
And I would lay a considerable wager that she's speaking the truth.
What makes you so sure of that?
Because she is a woman.
And?
For a wronged and vindictive female, humiliation of her rival
is the most desirable outcome, not murder.
This is the 21st century. You can't say stuff like that.
Nevertheless, I just did.
So you're suggesting that sending the nude photographs of Amity
was a sufficient act of revenge?
Precisely so.
So we charge Valerie Peters with administering a noxious substance.
And disclosing private photographs with intent to cause distress.
But where does that leave us with the fire?
It leaves you with three burnt-out cars, two sheds,
and a somewhat charred recycling bin.
Oh, with respect, I've looked into all those fires.
There really is no pattern.
There's nothing that connects them to each other,
let alone the fire in the student flat.
Then, with respect, Detective Sergeant,
I suggest you look again.
Wouldn't it make better sense
to follow up on the thing with Jones, Ma'am?
Amity's ex-boyfriend. We haven't been able to rule him out yet.
Let's run with the fresh line of inquiry the Professor is suggesting.
For now, at least.
But none of them could describe him accurately.
They all recalled a stranger turning up
to report the fire and to say that he'd called 999.
None of them could remember what he looked like, or even what he wore.
He was remarkably unremarkable.
And that, detectives, is your pattern.
A typical pyromaniac is...?
Male, aged 17 to 35, often neglected as a child.
And above all, unobtrusive.
A nobody.
A frustrated nobody, in this case, who showed promise as a child
but has now developed an inferiority complex.
He starts the fires so that he can play the hero and save the day
and get the recognition he thinks is being denied to him.
Precisely so.
It's a neat theory,
but it doesn't get us any closer to ID'ing our perp.
I already know their identity.
'That's a misunderstanding.'
'That's a Section 8 eviction notice dated on the third of last month.'
'So, how's the hero of the hour?'
I'm no hero.
For the avoidance of doubt, I intend to pinpoint their address.
A standard geographical profiling technique
for what you may term a poacher-style criminal,
who uses their home as a base
from which to commit crime in their locale.
Oh, Professor!
Doh!
That was the...
Remember?
I do remember. And the intervening time
has not made that alleged jest any the more penetrable.
My back's killing me.
Would you pop out to the chemist for some of those painkillers?
Well, what about these ones?
They make me really drowsy.
OK.
Well, I'll make you a cup of tea before I go.
- OK? - OK.
You all right, Wilf?
Yeah.
Would you mind coming with us to the station?
We've got a few questions.
Er, I can't right now, I've...
I've gotta go to the chemist for my mum. It's... It's urgent.
We can do this the hard way, if you'd prefer.
Yeah, yeah, OK, OK.
This way. Come on.
"Landlady's son labelled a hero after preventing fire fatalities."
_
- How long is this gonna take? - A bit more high-profile
than your usual targets, wouldn't you say?
Look, my mum's not well. OK? She's sick.
'I gave her something to sleep.
'Right? I-I need to go and look after her.'
I need to go back to her.
It must be tough for a lad of your age,
stuck at home, worrying about your mom,
while a bunch of Hooray Henrys with half your brains
party like it's going out of fashion.
Look, Wilf...
Amity's conscious and on the mend.
We know you didn't mean to hurt her, OK?
It'll all be taken into account if you cooperate.
You don't understand.
You don't understand, because neither of you are listening to me.
- When are you planning your next attack, Wilf? - I need to leave!
I need to go!
- Sit down. - She's not feeling well.
- Can you not understand that?! - Come on, sit down.
- We're not finished. - She's not well. I need to go and see her.
- You need... - Get your hands off me!
Calm down, calm down!
Come on, come with me. Let's take two minutes, hey.
Who does every boy strive hardest to impress, Detective Sergeant?
His mother.
- How's she doing? - Very groggy.
- Looks like she's been drugged. - Thank you.
You don't think he was actually trying to kill her, do you?
No chance. Just earn her approval by saving her.
Bloody hell.
- There are easier ways. - Mm.
Do you wanna earn my approval, Dan?
Always, Lisa, always.
Buy me a beer. I'm literally dying for one.
- Mmm... - What? Oh...
It's not what you think.
- I'm meeting someone for a coffee. - A coffee?
I don't know what Dina's putting in your drink, but you've changed.
- I'll see you tomorrow. - Yeah, see you tomorrow.
How splendid the old place is!
- And this is? - A peace offering, darling.
Your second cousin Leopold is in the head shrinking business.
I asked him to make me a list of the ten best practitioners in his field.
"Dennis Eagle Rock Shamanistic Services.
"Ayahuasca soul retrieval, purging,
"real sheep's blood available upon request."
You always need a plan B, darling.
Thank you, Mother. But no, thank you.
- I have already made my choice. - You have?
And if I remain here conversing with you,
I shall be late for my first session.
No time like the present, darling.
Carpe diem, Jasper.
Seize the day.
One caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream.
And one normal drink.
What? I need to get my kicks while I can these days.
Don't mind me.
So, what's so important
that we couldn't talk about it in the office?
Yeah, erm...
- I, er... - Come on, spit it out, man.
Look, Paul, I wanted to ask if you see any opportunities,
erm, in the short term...
..to put me forward for a promotion.
And a pay rise, mores to the point.
OK. I'm gonna need something a lot stronger than that.
Right.
Professor Tempest?
Dr Goldberg, I presume?
*CREDITS*