Come on.
Son, nice.
Heat.
They don't get any lighter.
All the ladies
Bit lost love? At 158? Just there, sweetheart.
Tot.
Hold that, would you?
What do you make of it? Looks old.
It is barely indifferent. Jackabian poetry. Coughskin binding worth couple
of bob. What are these brown spots on the pages?
You get straight to the heart of the matter, Mr. um Jack. It's just Jack.
That's called foxing. Jack. Just Jack. It's what time does to books.
To all of us. In the profession we say it's slightly foxed. Interested?
You know, there's a mistake. A mistake?
Well, isn't there? Above the door, a sign.
What about it? Well, it's wrong, isn't it?
There's no apostrophe in books. There is.
There isn't. There is. There isn't. There is.
There isn't. There is if your name is Book and you own the shop, which it is, and I do.
My name is Book. Book's books. Confusing, I know. Or is it handy?
I can never decide. Anyway, I'm Book and I run a
bookshop. This one, obviously. You must be here about the job. Tea?
Not quite there yet.
I'm trying to make ginger snaps. How much?
Where were you dragged up? One for each person and one for the pot.
Oh, where have we got to Jack? Just Jack.
Uh, this is dog book dog job. I have a little hobby on the side and I find it's
taking me away from the shop more and more. So, I require assistance.
God.
Oh, that's better. I must have tea. Without tea, I am merely unreonstituted
dust.
Look, this isn't really my sort of gaff. I mean, I thought they'd maybe send me
to a factory or something. They Well, you know where I've come from,
don't you? You know that I was No need to mention it again. What are
you hoping for now? You've got the job, Jack. Just as Jack,
I just want to keep my head down, you know, try and get back to normal. Wait,
I've got the job. Normality is overrated. Yes, you got the
job if you want it. Darling, you must come at once.
Oh. Uh, Troty, this is Jack. Just Jack.
Jack, this is Troty, my wife. Hello.
Hello. Well, what is it? The bomb site. The men carrying the bomb
site. You know where Incamman Street used to be?
Oh, yes, that one. What of it? Well, they found something in suspicious
circumstances. My favorite kind of circumstances.
Heat. Heat.
Heat.
Wow.
Me.
I was wondering if we'd be seeing you like a bad penny, Sergeant.
Yeah, well, you know my feelings. You've made them exquisitly plain, but
as you know, I do have a special letter from Churchill. Yeah,
it's good to cover them up.
All right. Oh, hello book. Mrs. Book, thought this
might be up your street. Almost literally.
Start at the beginning, Inspector, and leave nothing out. Especially if it's
salacious, gory, or vaguely scandalous. Bit of a puzzle. Mr. Basart here was
starting to clear away the rubble from his cell bomb site the other day.
Incerman Street caught it in 44, didn't it?
Yes, sir. Terrible pounding. Do you remember that raid, sir?
How could I forget? Troty and I ended up cheek by jowl in the Anderson shelter
with the man from the credential insurance company. You had lovely
fingernails. Terrible heltosis. Those shelters
weren't built for sharing. War's over, Mr. Basard.
Quite so, sir. But I still like to patrol my route for old time's sake. And
to keep an eye on old Brenda there, my trusty search light.
Well, here he was trying to clear away the rubble when low, what does he find?
Low? What?
What happened to Betsy? Tossed together like a skeletal salad.
How many? It's hard to tell cuz they're all
jumbled up. But 10 or 12, I'd say. Quite why Mr. Basart didn't tell the
authorities about his discovery for Swift with is another matter.
He didn't? No. Some kiddies who were playing here
let us know. As I was saying, I have a theory.
Well, obviously they coped it in the raid, didn't they?
What do you think, Jack? Me.
You?
Uh, yeah. That's what must have happened.
Air raid killed him. Died 2 years ago and now they're all rotted away.
That would be a logical assumption. Who's this?
So, you don't think they died in an air raid?
If you recall, Incamman Street was already empty, wasn't it, Mr. Bhart?
Scheduled for demolition. So, nobody was living here, in which case.
Who are they? Well, anybody, surely?
Anybody could have taken shelter from the bombing in one of the empty houses?
A dozen of them. What about clothes? Clothes? All flesh is grass. The raid
was only 2 years ago. Even if the bodies had rotted away, their clothes would
still be intact. I think Mr. Bart and I are thinking along
similar lines.
Well, that would appear to be the clincher.
What do you think?
The unmistakable bonds of King Charles II.
Oh, does it have a date on it, too? 1665.
Plague pit. Yeah. So, it would sim.
A what? Plague pit. The great plague. London's burial grounds were
overflowing, so they dug these great big pits and dumped all the corpses in them.
I I'm a bit of an archaeologist on the side. Strictly amateur, you understand?
So, why didn't you tell us straight away when you found them?
Well, I I knew I'd never get a chance like this again. I just wanted a bit of
time to excavate them. Fascinating stuff.
I really am very sorry, Inspector. Yes. Well, no harm done, I suppose.
Not sure about that. These skeletons might still be lively.
Well, you mean it's still capturing. The jury, as they say, is out, but I
think it's very unlikely. Do you mind if I hang on to this?
You're welcome to it. Right, Mr. Book?
Well, hello, Nora. Why? I'm not surprised to see you here. Did you know
that back then they used to use great catapults to toss plaguy corpses into
besieged cities to deliberately affect people?
That's horrible, Nora. I know.
And a split infinitive. Even more horrible.
Might be worth a bit too. Sergeant get this lot taken care of in a
pronto with care. And where to sir? Uh uh morg I suppose get Dr. Gold to take a
shifty. See if there's any chance they're still infectious. Sure.
Thank you book anytime, Inspector.
Sergeant, why can't you collect stamps like normal
people?
Oh dear.
Are you all right? Yeah. Um,
it's all just a bit uh being coppers.
I've uh been away, you see. And.
Oh, yes, I I know. Can't have been very nice. Can tell me all about it when
you're ready. Hey, let me take this. Well, you must stay with us, mustn't
you? Now that you've got the job, I have the premises next door. Book has his
books. I have my wallpaper. And there is a darling little attic room between the
two. Why are you helping me like this?
Why not?
World hack up. Suicide. I heard heard uh from your colleague over there.
Oh, his ruddy guts for garters. This goes
against all the rules of Right, Sergeant. All right.
Mr. Book's always welcome to give us the benefit of his wisdom, as you know.
Yes. Yes.
Bad business, but very bad. Of course, sod.
What the hell do you think you're playing?
But look, Morris has a point. This is a plain ordinary suicide. I mean, I can be
flexible, as you know. When something a little bit more
rashe but anything with an acute accent unusual comes along like like our our
friends the skeleton but this is a meat and potatoes job you know the sergeant
and I are perfectly capable who found him charred
pretty shook up she is dredge it rings a little bell she's been
doing the hard cup for donkeys ding dong was there a note
no no note How did you do it? Proic acid
nasty and intriguing, don't you think,
Mr. Hark? Afraid so. Looks like suicide.
Oh, dreadful. Well, I'd better get on. Too much
excitement for one day. Jack, nip back the shop, would you?
There's a pile of newspapers. Third stack on the right as you come in.
Charing cross dispatch underneath two volumes on eleer of Castile and the
wilting aspedistra. Fetch them for me would you?
Okay. I wouldn't put the kettle on again. We're going to have company.
All right.
Oh, well, see as it's from him. Oh, I I brought a coffee in walnut cake
round for Mr. Harkup. You might as well have it.
This is your usual char day. Yes, every week regular is clockwork.
But I only saw him yesterday pop around to get some bandages.
Bandages? Oh, my son. He was injured in the war.
He needs constant attention. The dressing.
What time did you see Mr. Hark? 66ish I think. It doesn't seem
possible. Him standing there all full of life and then
finding him lying there like that. You're doing very well. And was he
was he full of life when you saw him in good spirits I mean.
Well, to be honest, he seemed a little down.
No wife want to go and do an horrible thing like that to himself.
Any vices? Vices, sir.
We must investigate all angles. Elast dear lady.
Man of very regular habits. He was church every Sunday. Kept his accounts
in very neat order. I think that was the soldier in him. He he did play dominoes.
Domino's? Every Monday and Thursday night in the
ball with Mr. Ace Heart and some others. Does that count as a buy?
I hardly think so. You have any family?
My mother always said, "If you can't say anything nice about someone, don't open"
"your trap." So, there was bad blood then.
There's a daughter, isn't there? Some estrangement.
I wouldn't like to say. Don't seem right.
What with Mr. H not cold in his grave? Heavens, this cake.
Yes. Oh, it's superb.
Oh, too kind, sir. But then I'd expect nothing less.
Oh, why'd you say that? From Miss Lion's Corner House, 1921.
Fancy you knowing that. It was 1922, though.
My mistake. How the Dickens.
Oh, I stole off a lot of little tidbits like that. Mostly useless. Must have
been a lovely experience. Oh yes. Oh, I've never felt so
glamorous. I bought a new hat and the Lord Mayor winked at me. Wked
fancy. Worked there for years. I did at the
corner house. So I got very good with the baking.
Mr. H used to love my pineapple upside down. You know, it really would be most
helpful to know why he and his daughter Sarah uh Lar Marula, that's right. Why
he and Marula no longer saw eye to eye. Well, seeing as you've been so kind,
sir. Very good of you.
She was a cow. All right. Horrible, money grabbing
little cow. I see.
Appaliva she was after his wife passed on. But she knew how to twist him around
her little finger. Nothing was too much for his little princess. Oh, and then
she has the ghoul to run off with him. Him?
Mickey. Mickey Hall. It's a right now. Do well. Up to all sorts in the war spy
stuff. You know, black market. He's a motor mechanic. They've got a garage out
my way. Marend charming.
And now Marula will inherit the lot.
Don't seem right, do it. No, it um
don't. Thanks for the cake.
What the hell do you think you're doing? Just being neighborly, Sergeant. Uh your
witness, I think.
Hello again. Oh, hello, Book.
I just wondered if I could have a little nosy around before I head out. See if I
can help at all. Head out.
Oh, Mrs. Book and I are often pleasure bent. The new boys babysitting. Up
for the dog. Dog. There's no definite article.
Off to the pictures. Rerunning a Sandra Dare at the Rialto. The opera. Fat.
Ladies singing. Speaking of which, may I um.
There's a daughter, but Mrs. Dred says they didn't get on.
So, I gather. Yeah, we're endeavoring to Tracer.
She has a garage mile end. Oh, right.
Thanks.
Funny, aren't they? Mrs. Bliss goes in for something
similar. Little little knickknacks. Not quite the same. I think these are
jade. Rather fine. And this one,
Mr. Hark was obviously a connoisseur.
So bad.
Do you think it was suicide? You have doubts?
I do. What's your theory? Evening, gentlemen.
Evening. Oh, Eric. Black Lamb and Grave Falcon. Hey, that book for Sheila. It's
right. Oh, smashing. Um, she'll come over
tomorrow for it. Right. Quite a whistle. Oh, thank you. I was never keen on him
myself. Hark up. God forgive me. Bit of a little Hitler. Still poor bugger
offering himself like that. So is that what's your theory?
Patience, Inspector. Patience. The two most powerful warriors are patience and
time. Holtoy couldn't get into it. Tried that one,
you know, where she chucks herself up in front of a train.
No. No.
Inspector.
Too much.
No, not at all. Uh, you look amazing.
I meant the walls. Oh,
book says it's an affront to good taste, but I don't know. I think it has a
certain something. Don't you? I'm good at knocking things together. I I always
have been. Wardrobes, wireless sets, heads. I was in the land army. Jin.
What? Oh, yeah. Please.
So, you're going out then? My day. We're always going out. Well,
one has to live, doesn't one? Especially after the time we've all had. There's
some chops in the ladder. I think your room's up at the top. I've heard the
sheets.
You're I mean thank you
unpack.
Well, well,
I know that look. You're on to something.
Nonsense. Merely the happy look of a contented man. I have my lovely wife, my
lovely shop, my lovely dog. What more could a man ask for?
Broad. Three things then. Mr. Harkup collected
Chinese jade figures of exceptional quality. But dust is eloquent. As
someone once said, dust doesn't lie. One of the figures has been replaced with a
bit of cheap trash, a chest piece, but the larger outline remains clear. Mrs.
Dredge hasn't cleaned in a while, despite what she said. Secondly, Mr.
Hawkup has a small lump on the back of his head. Not caused by him falling, I
don't think. Or probably a blow with a blunt instrument. A blunt instrument
that didn't break the skin. And yet, there is blood on the back of Mr.
Harkup's scalp. Thirdly, yes,
Darkling I listen and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful
death. Called him soft names and many amused rhyme to take into the air my
quiet breath. Pardon?
Why would a chemist with every known gentle poison in the shop choose to kill
himself with something as horrible as pric acid?
Well, book. There you are, then.
Yes, Troty. There we are.
It's murder.
Book. Mrs. Book,
be careful.
Shop.
Ah, good morning.
How can I help? Oh, well, I'm I'm after a book.
You are very much in the right place. What do you think, young man? M would
suit the lady best. Dickens, Wilky Collins, Henry James.
Do you have the new Geette Haer? Ah,
well, I I've read all her other ones. Me, too. And what a smasher she is. But
that would be a new book. Miss um Mrs. Goodwin.
Mrs. Goodwin. Jean.
Jean. We don't really go for those, do we?
We should try foils. It's a bit of a trudge. Well, my feet
being what they are. I have the perfect alternative. One who
is spinning romantic yarns when Miss Hair was still in the cradle, probably.
Oh, well, if you think that, but I mean, if you'd recommend Shy,
pardon, I'm sure. Sorry. Thinking. Ah.
Otie. Never heard of him.
Her Baroness Hungarian. The Scarlet Pimpanel.
Oh, I've heard of that. French Revolution.
It's a delight. You won't regret it. When you finished, come back and I'll
find you the sequel. Oh, that's very good of you. What do I
hear of you? Oh, let's call it a Bob. Hang on. Feet, feet, feet, feet.
This is free.
Oh, I I couldn't possibly. Oh, there's nothing but sending you off
happily on the bus without further bunions is a price above rubies.
Wouldn't you agree, Jean? Thank you.
Cheer by Come on, woman.
I never make any money like that, will I?
He ho. Now then, Jack, excited to start the day. There's a whole world of
learning in here. All human life and some inhuman. Still got that coin.
Well, oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, of course. Good.
I don't mean to pry, Mr. Book, but um, what exactly is it you do? I would have
thought that was obvious. I sell books. Yeah, but that's not all, is it?
Yesterday out there at the bomb site, chat with a char lady.
Yes. Well, is that like your
your hobby? I mean, the way you talk to those
coppers where they let you roam around that pit. Are you like some sort of
adviser to them or something? I mean, why should they listen to you?
They frequently don't more fool them. I did the inspector a favor once during
the war. He hasn't forgotten. Also, I have a special letter.
A letter from Churchill. Yeah, the cop has said that.
A letter saying what? It's a chaotic world, Jack. I have a
system. Sometimes people like me to give an opinion on things, impose a little
order. That's all. You can read all sorts of things
as well as books.
This This is your system. Yes.
What's wrong with it? Well, they're not in any kind of order.
I cataracts of denial.
Diseases of the eye and their treatment. Cataracts. Eye disease. Logical.
The guillotine. A practical guide. The life and death of Alfred Mutton's Gent.
Coins of the realm. I mean, there's no system. There's no system at all.
Well, it's all up here, isn't it? How best to explain.
Alfred Martings was a career criminal, very successful forger in his day, which
was Queen Victoria's day. Extraordinary chap in his field. He was a coiner, a
forger of coins, but his luck ran out of Paris and they chopped off his head,
which is why all those books are clumped together, you see.
Yeah, but that's I mean, that's silly.
Nevertheless,
well, I shall leave you to uh hold the fort.
Slightly foxed.
Slightly foxed. Says it all.
Morning.
Yeah. Uh, can I help you? I've come to collect an order.
Uh, Right. Um, what's the name? Sheila. Well, beloved.
Hello, Jack.
Yeah, I'm Nora. We've got lots to talk about.
Thank you, miss. Uh, again, very sorry for you.
Can I go now? Well, if you wouldn't mind just answering a few questions.
Um, would just just come with me, please.
Fascinating. Where better to hide a tree
than in a forest? And these markings
indeed. Look, look. Oh, hello. Just checking in
on those skeletons with Dr. Coldley here.
Ah, yes. Any risk of infection? Quite safe on that, Count Inspector.
However, ah, loose lips drop slips, as they say in
the nicker trade. Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, would we?
Surprise. Anyway, back to the case in hand,
this is Miss Marula Harup. Oh, my dear child, I'm so very sorry.
A few questions, you said. Do you mind if I tag along?
Oh, don't forget that blood test will on its way.
Sorry about that. There you go. Black lamb and gray falcon
sounds interesting. T
getting the hang of it slowly.
So, who are you? Nora. I live across the road in the
Turkish restaurant. Help out in the shop sometimes.
So, um, do you know him well then, Mr. And Mrs. Bug?
Yeah. And do you know about his little hobby?
Bloody hell. Yes. It's all I think about.
Isn't all that I mean, isn't that
unhealthy? I should think so.
What mom and dad think? Don't have any.
What do you mean? Well, it was the war, wasn't it?
Everyone lost someone. I lost them.
Sorry.
What happened? So, how we getting on anyway with the
books, Mr. and Mrs.
It's not quite what I expected. What is his Christian name, by the way? What do
you think? Cookbook, scrapbook, mucky book,
Gabriel. Ah,
the angel. Archangel. I think you'll find they're a
dream. Both of them such sweethearts. So,
what's your story?
They think I'm hard. I'm not sniffling, boohooing all over the shop.
I mean, it's just not the way I'm made. So there,
your father. I'm sorry that he's dead. Of course I
am. He was my dad in spite of everything.
He didn't make it easy to um to love him though.
Can you think of any reason why he'd want to take his own life?
None. No. He was nicely set up with a shop and
well, mom had left him a few bob when she died.
You don't think you're a strangement? No.
Nothing to do with that. He wasn't the type to get all emotional.
Maybe that's where I get it from. I mean, he made it very clear that he
didn't approve of um me and Mickey, but um he'd hardly have gotten killed
himself in a fit of the glums about it. He just he weren't the type, as I say.
Tell us about Mickey.
What's to say? He's my fellow. How is his war?
Why do you ask that? Well, we know how much our father
appreciated the armed forces. Always wore his medal ribbons with great pride.
Yes. Well, Mickey wasn't lucky. His eyes, they're not they're not good.
I say that's why he ended up with me. I mean, he wouldn't have been much good
against Jerry with eyes like his. Dad didn't like that. Thought he was a
sherker. That was the start of it. What was the finish?
Well, dad was convinced that Mickey was thieving from him.
Cash morphine.
Mickey got up to some shady business during the war. Just stockings,
cigarettes, small stuff. Dad had um just got it into his head that Mickey was
bad. And he'd noticed morphine had gone
missing. Yes.
Wouldn't speak to us. But you've had a bit of news, haven't you?
I thought a little one might be the thing that brings us back together.
What's all this about? Why are you so interested in Mickey if if dad has gone
and topped himself?
Stories. Detective stories. That's what I want to
write. I've got so many ideas. It's Such an exciting new world out there.
Everything's all smashed up. The whole world. No one knows what to do anymore.
Well, I do. The war turned everything upside down. Shook it up. That's great.
There's no going back to how things used to be,
including murders. Including murders. After soldiers in.
Britain have come home with pistols they stole from dead Nazis, the country is a
wash with them. So,
so we only seem civilized in this country because we're not armed. Think
of all that throbbing suburban passion. Husbands having affairs with
secretaries, ladies having affairs with their chauffeers, all those contested
wills and domestic rows. People used to kill each other by boiling down arsenic
from their wallpaper. Now they just have to reach for a Luga.
Pow pow pow.
What did happen to your parents? You're supposed to be telling me your
story.
I'm an orphan, too. I never knew my mom. I got a picture of
my dad. That's all.
We're sorry. It's
all right.
I should um Yeah,
it was nice to meet you. It was an incendiary.
What?
An incendiary?
Set the roof on fire in the blitz.
Mom got me out and went back for dad.
Then the roof fell in. I just sat there in the garden looking
at the house. Just felt
sort of numb.
The ARP warden found me. Then my uncle took me in. So
now I have to help him out with the restaurant.
But you'd rather be
much more exciting over here, isn't it?
See the skull.
I gave up pleasure for Lent.
I gave up Lent pleasure.
Well, what's your answer?
I told you before I'm just a book seller. I sell books again
like I did before the war. This would be for old times sake.
And we did hope you find him. Very kind of you.
How's all that working out? It's complicated.
Well, yes, I imagine it is delicate.
And we wouldn't want anything to go wrong,
now would we?
So, what do we make of him? M
Jack, put him in the attic room. Like Mrs. Rochester, only slightly more
butch. Has it ever occurred to you that you are
such a biblophile?
Because of your name? Nominative determinism.
I mean, if you've been called butcher, you might be slicing up choice cuts of
meat. Fansing, that's the word. Removing fat
from a carcass. Wonderfully descriptive word. Flansing. I shall endeavor to
bring it back. Well, I wish you joy with that. Yes, you
could be slipping me black market chops under the counter like Mr. Wellb loved.
Much more useful than books these days. I could have been an archer or a baker
or a chandler. Speaking of which, farewell, my lovely.
Oh, you're going out again. You're so sharp you'll cut yourself.
Crime fiction American customer put in a request. I know it's here somewhere. I
saw a lady in the lake recently. Anyway, Jack,
definite promise. Definite promise. He didn't try to fogg that coin.
So, jail hasn't made a wrong um for life. Touchwood.
And the uh other matter.
It's too soon to tell him.
What was so special about your book? Nothing really. It's just about some
chaps at school playing cricket. And what do you think of Carol Darly?
You've read Tim started it
when? After I saved it from the incinerator.
Look, what's your name? Baja.
It's a funny name.
Thank you,
Strotford Perry. But my friends call me Shotty.
You're splendid. You owe me.
I do. So when I get into trouble here, will
you help me out? Let us make a solemn pact.
Put your strong arms around me, Carol, and raise me a little. I can talk
better. So,
Carol bowed his head without a word and kissed him, and thus their friendship
was sealed.
Good night, Mrs. Book. Good night, Mr. Book.
The daughter, the spiv, the char, the warden.
Who gave her cup the bloody poison?
Absome
friends.
Hi.
Sir, you never believe it. It takes a lot to surprise me. Mor,
what? What is it? We just got the chemist will through, sir. Yeah.
Daughter doesn't get a bean. No. No. Really does.
Oh, the charm. Mrs. Adah dredge.
Go.
You