Thorne: Scaredy Cat

Synopsis:
Year:
2010
7 Views

- You did all you could, son.

- You let them catch him.

This is you Tom. You get an idea in your

head and everyone else is stupid.

I want focused, not fixated.

I'm a triple threat -

pathologist, puff, pal of yours.

I looked into his eyes

and he just knows. This is the one.

I remember what you were like after

Calvert. I won't let you go there.

You're losing it, Tom.

Mind you, you lost it years ago.

I know you wanted to talk about it

and I never would. I'm sorry.

But, Phil, just tell me,

please tell me.

It's not that bad. It's just whisky

with cream. Yeah, I know what it is.

To Maureen Thorne.

Matriarch, fine musician,

militant republican,

and lover of sickly-sweet

dinner liqueurs.

She was a good woman,

your mother, y'know.

She was always good to me, anyway.

Listen, thanks for coming, Phil.

I appreciate it.

It would've meant a lot to her

as well, so... thanks.

Come on, have a drink with me,

proper drink.

We were friends. You f*cked it up.

Sorry for your loss.

(man) 'Day:
May 7th.'

'St Pancras.'

'Victim:
Female.'

'Young. 20-30.'

'Method:
Hands only.'

'Weapons just for show.'

'Take your time.'

'One of them will feel right.'

'Remember that feeling

the first time.'

'How strong you felt.

You were as strong as me.'

'Now, pick one.'

'Because if you don't...

I will.'

(bell chimes hour)

(woman) Wash your hands

before you touch anything.

Bedtime in five minutes,

OK, Charlie?

Stop.

Please. My husband is just outside.

You can have my bag.

Upstairs.

Nice holiday, sir?

What are you doing here? Sarah Chen.

I know who you are. I want to know

what you're doing here.

You would've made DI quicker

if you'd stayed in the fraud squad.

Ruth Murray. 28. A prostitute.

She lived and worked

in King's Cross, just over there.

Convictions for soliciting.

She was barely covered.

Right, so what does that tell you?

He wanted us to find her.

Alright?

What are you doing here?

Not get two weeks' compassionate

now?

Nobody else knows. I'd like

to keep it that way, alright?

She was strangled, I think.

Skin under her nails

but don't get too excited.

Most of it is probably hers.

You get that. They scratch at their

necks, trying to stop constriction

caused here

by the killer's hands. Probably.

Pretty good nails.

Maybe she scratched him too.

What about that bruise there?

That could be caused by his knees

if he kneeled over her,

hands around her neck.

Any other injuries?

Straight to the point.

There's traces of some fluid here

on the face.

Semen? It isn't semen, no.

I'll have a better idea

when I get back to the lab.

(clears throat)

What do you think, sir?

Could be anything, couldn't it?

Saliva, sweat, tears.

It's on her forehead.

Could be his. His?

OK. Some good detective work for you.

Ask Vice what they know about her.

Ask around here as well.

Ask some of the girls, OK?

Yeah?

Yeah, if I wanted a piano,

I would have bought one, alright?

"It'll go lovely in your new flat."

I don't care, Dad.

I don't... Dad...

Hey, where are you going?

Kerbside delivery.

Another 50 and we'll take it

upstairs. Oh, shit.

Sir, I've been trying

to get through to you.

So no sign of the kid, then?

No. Charlie Turay. Five years old.

This initial from the house-to-house

is that the deceased is the mother.

Karal, from Sierra Leone.

The dad's dead, so...

Traffic thing two years ago.

No weapon used.

Um, no forced entry,

back door's locked.

Likely came in the front

and did it in there.

(sighs) There's no evidence

he's been through the house.

See you back there.

It's angry, right? He knew her.

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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