Shakespeare & Hathaway: Private Investigators S2E8 Script

In My Memory Lock'd (2019)

Oh, hello! Yes! Morning.

Nice of you to join us on this fascinating adventure.

Thank you, you're all heart, you are.

Anything? No.

She's probably on her way to the Maldives right now.

Honestly Frank, I don't know why you let Marlowe talk you into doing this sort of stuff cos it's always a complete waste of time.

Not always.

Sometimes, the fugitive returns to the childhood home...

We'll get paid either way.

Yeah. Not enough to spend an entire night in the car with you snoring your head off. Er, excuse me.

I do not snore. I've never snored thank you.

Hello? What's that...?

Um, terribly sorry to disturb you...

I was just wondering if you could tell me where I am?

Er, yeah. You're in Stratford, mate.

Right, yes. Thank you.

Ah, look at his neck!

Excuse me?

Hi. Um, are you alright?

Yes? You're bleeding.

Can you tell us what happened?

Erm I don't...

I'm not sure I can.

What's your name?

I have absolutely no idea.

Are you sure it was a good idea to ignore the doctor's advice?

I can't find any answers from a hospital bed...

Didn't you two say you were private investigators?

Help has arrived!

Frank, This is my last favour... Noted.

He's got amnesia - a blunt trauma to the back of the head.

Yeah and the doctors can't say if it's temporary or permanent, poor lamb.

No phone, no wallet, no ID. Just a single key in his pocket.

OK, well... we'll put some feelers out for any missing person reports.

Joe, can you take a picture, please?

Put some feelers out? He might be the victim of a crime.

Or he just fell in a ditch.

Sir, if your memory does return, then please come down to the station to make a statement.

And if we want to reach you, then...?

He'll be with us. What?

What about some facial recognition?

Oh, come on! We've already got our hands full staking out your fugitive.

Oh, sorry, did no one tell you? We caught her two days ago.

What are we supposed to do with him?

We'll find out who he is of course.

Look, you know I like nothing more than helping complete strangers out of the goodness of my heart.

But what's the Golden Rule, Sebastian?

Pro bono is a no no.

Well, it might not be pro bono?

Well look at him, he's practically homeless.

A hobo.

No, he's posh, he's wearing expensive clothes.

He could be a millionaire.

Excuse me, excuse me. Hi.

If you were a millionaire, how much would you pay us?

Gosh. A lot.

See? There you go. Find the identity, find the pot of gold.

What if there is no gold? just a big, empty pot?

Nothing but a lifetime of regrets failure and penury?

I'm just saying, we don't know he's rich.

Oh, yes we do.

Dun dun duuun!

Oh. Would you like to come through...

So, what do you remember?

Well I...

I... Well he doesn't, does he Frank?

That's the point.

OK, what's your last memory?

What where you doing before you met us?

Walking... outside.

Splitting headache.

It was dark. Cold without a coat... and then I saw the sunrise. It was...

It was rather magnificent actually. It was, wasn't it?

I thought that. Yeah. Alright.

So you've no idea when or how you were injured?


I'm dreadfully sorry. Oh, don't be.

Everything about you is a potential clue.

You know, like why you were outside without a coat?

Without your phone or your wallet?

Or maybe he was mugged, clumped on the head.

What, and they left a 20-grand watch?

Mm. Oh.

No wedding ring. So probably not married.

And you have got a little nicotine stain there on your finger.

So you might be a smoker.

OK. So he goes outside for a cigarette and leaves his phone and wallet behind.

Oh sorry, these are... I'm doing a disguise module on my course.

Yeah. Did you know that most people don't remember details about faces. just remember the big things, like... hats and... haircuts. Beards. Obviously, you'd remember beard on me that would be easy.

Look, we haven't got time for that.

We need to access what's in here.


Ooh! I know...

Don't worry sweetheart, I used to hypnotise my fellow students all the time.

Only one psychotic incident caused by bad dope no need to fret... Are you sure about this?

Yeah. Well, you wanted to jog his memory, didn't you?

Just sit back. Relax.

Close your eyes...

Concentrate on your breathing...

That's right. in... and out...

In... and out... good.

Now I want you to picture a door to a stairway leading down to a basement...

I want you to walk slowly down the stairs...

At the bottom, there is a door.

Behind that door is a safe place.

I want you to step through the door...

Tell me where you are.

I'm in a meadow...

It's springtime...

It's beautiful. Good.

Now, I want you to picture a table in that meadow...

On it... is a book of your life, going back to the beginning.

I want you to go to the book and open it and tell me what you see...

It's empty.

The pages are blank.

Wait... there's a hotel...

Two lions, and a shield above the entrance...

Inside... there's a black and white striped carpet.

Which leads to...

it goes to...

Everything's gone blank again.

It's alright, you've done really well.

But I want you to come back to us now.

So when you're ready slowly open your eyes...

The hotel with the lions.

I think it's the Duke Vincent...


Good morning, sir. Morning.

Good morning, madam. Oh. Morning.

Hi. Welcome to the Duke Vincent. Do you have a reservation with us?

No, we're not checking in.

I'm Frank Hathaway, and this is... And I'm Luella Shakespeare.

We're private... Investigators.

Can we speak to the manager, please? Hey.

I'm the manager. I'm Claudia Farrel.

This is my daughter, Izzie.

Can I ask what this is about?

Er, well, we have a client... and I would tell you his name but we don't know what it is.

He doesn't know. He's got amnesia.

But we think he might have stayed here, possibly as a guest, but we're... we're not sure. Erm... I wonder.

Do you recognise him?

No, I'm sorry, I don't. Izzie?

No, I haven't seen him before.

Do you recognise him?

Us neither. Right.

Well, thanks anyway...

This is a gorgeous hotel by the way. It really is.

What do you call that ceiling?

Erm, mock-Tudor I think.

Mock-Tudor! Mock-Tudor, yes.

Well, listen, thanks for your help. We'll see ourselves out.

Thanks. Bye.

What was that about the ceiling?

So he has been here. Possibly.

They were hiding something, that's for sure.

Is that blood?

I think it is, yeah.

They're all the same brand.

Our smoking friend must've stepped out onto one of those balconies up here.

He fell, jumped, or was pushed...

And I'm willing to bet some of the staff know exactly which one...

A sophisticated redhead?

More like Ronald MacDonald if you ask me.

Well, she's not asking you, is she?

Ignore him, you look... lovely.

Thanks, Sebastian.

Ring any bells?

That's it!

That's the carpet!

The corridor... it leads to a door, with a pin code five... four... four... five...

Inside, there's a small kitchen, sofas and a row of lockers... I go to the one at the far end...

And... I'm sorry that's all I remember.

That's alright. The pin code is more than enough.

Just wish you could remember your own name.

That sounds like a staff room...

But then why would you be in there if you were a hotel guest?

An employee then? Dressed like that?

This might be a locker key.

We need to get into that staff room. They'll never let us in there.


But if a sophisticated Southern redhead was to just walk on in there say, "Hey, guys, where's the restroom?"



Sorry, it's such a mess.

I never meant for you to get drawn into this, sweetheart.

Mum, it's not your fault.


Who are you? What are you doing in here?

Uh, dang, I'm sorry, I thought the men's room was in here.

Seems I got myself all turned around. 'Scuse me, ladies.

Mum, it's not your fault.

Hey! Who are you? What are you doing in here...

And I found this in the locker.

Bertie Crudburke.

What kind of a name is that?

Looks like a caretaker.

Who do you think he is?

What, you don't recognise him? No.

At least, I don't think so.

Why do I feel like I know him?

Because... maybe you do.

Put that on...

There look.

See, look at the eyes! It's definitely him. It's you.

I think you're right.

Here, you could take some disguise tips from him.

Right, Frank Hathaway, 50 quid says I will fool you yet.

Make it a hundred.

Sorry to interrupt, but are you saying I'm this Bertie Crudburke?

No. We're saying you disguised yourself as him.

The big question is, why?

Why the interest in my caretaker? It's just a line of enquiry.

Yeah, we are going to talk to the rest of the staff as well.

Well, I hired Bertie a couple of weeks ago.

He was quiet but worked hard, everyone seemed to like him.

Erm... and then he didn't turn up for his shift two days ago.

And we haven't seen him since.

As for the rest of my staff I'm certain none of them know anything about this amnesiac of yours.

But you're welcome to question whoever you like.

Now, if you don't mind...

You wouldn't happen to have Bertie's contact details, would you?

I've already tried calling, there was no answer.

If you do speak to him, tell him that he still has a job here.

We believe in second chances at The Duke Vincent.

Thank you.

I'm pretty sure she had no idea Bertie was a fake.

See if that goes for the rest of 'em.

In the meantime, let's hope this address is real at least.

Hello again.

I was just thinking this must be so nice to work somewhere like this.

I mean hard work, obviously. But...

It is hard work but we're used to it.

And we know how to have fun.

Best job in the world, right, Leon?

Ah, that's unusual, isn't it, these days?

Happy employees.

Which kind of makes me think why did your caretaker, Bertie, never come back?

Do you know where he is? No.

He was sound. He liked old cars.


It's funny you should ask about Bertie. Because, er... someone broke into his locker this morning.

Do you know anything about that?

Me? No...

Oh, 'scuse me, I need to get this.

Hello, Sebastian.

Hello? Hey.

How did you get on at Bertie's address? He must've picked it at random.

Just some pensioner.

How'd you get on with the staff? Tight-knit and tight-lipped.

Bertie had them fooled though.

Oh, and Seb called. There's no results on that name check.

So, we're still no closer to finding out who he is...

No... I'll speak to you later.

Yes, look. We're gonna treat him with the utmost respect, Mrs Parsons I can assure you.

Chief Constable's wife. Mh-hmm.

What's in the box?

Yeah. She reckons it was poisoned.

She says she left the Duke Vincent Hotel yesterday afternoon, when...

Fuzz Ball carked it early this morning.

The Duke Vincent Hotel.

Well, there's a coincidence.

We think our amnesiac might've been injured there.

Possibly by a member of staff. Think. Might've. Possibly.

He is definitely connected with that hotel, OK?


Could you run that photo through facial recognition for me?

Yeah, already did. I told you I'd do you a favour, didn't I?

No match was found. OK, that's that, then.

Different photo.

Try this one...

This is the CCTV footage taken two weeks ago, outside a local news agents.

That's definitely him in disguise.

Can you get a close-up on the number plate? Yes, I was doing that, thank you.

Moment of truth...

Spare some change, darlin'?

Sorry, love, I'm a bit short today.

But I'll have a hundred pound soon enough.


So. His name's Alfred D'Angelo.

He's 43.

He inherited a multi-million pound trust fund when he was 18.

Oh, and he happens to be the owner of the Duke Vincent Hotel.

No! He owns it? Yeah. There's more.

A dog died from eating a poisoned steak which I suspect was meant for Alfred.

And the very same day he took a tumble from a balcony.

Someone tried to kill him in that hotel.


Are they raisins?

Rice Crispies!

Eurgh. No.

Wait for me!

Thank you.

I'm scared, Gloria.

What if I get my memory back and I don't like who I am?

Darling, "In thy face, I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty".

"Che Gelida Manina" by Luciano Pavarotti

You might want to sit down for this, Alfred.


We know your name. And where you live...


Maybe, um, maybe we shouldn't go inside. We don't even have the keys.

I came prepared...

Well, I can tell you one thing. There's definitely no women living here.

There's not a scatter cushion in sight.


Well, at least we know we're in the right place...

This is the hotel.

Look... it's like hidden cameras.

You were spying on them.

Why would I do that?

Maybe you suspected they were up to something.

That's why you went undercover!

Try and catch them in the act. Yeah, but in the act of what?

I don't know. But whatever it was, it was worth trying to kill him for.

So, the undercover recordings were made three days ago the day before Bertie fell off the radar.

Though I think Alfred ditched the Bertie disguise and checked himself into the hotel as himself to confront someone with whatever he found. But who?

Well, Claudia told Izzie that she was sorry for dragging her into something.

What were mother and daughter up to?

And the doorman and the bellboy, I mean...

They would've known Alfred, but they denied it too.

Are they trying to protect themselves? Or someone else?

Well, if we go through the footage, we might find out.

Erm, "we"? Oh, stop whinging.

We've got other things to do.

Like going back to see Claudia.

Time for a shake down...

Your client is Mr D'Angelo?

Yeah, we showed you his photo yesterday.

It is a bit strange, isn't it? That you didn't recognise your own boss.

I've never met him.

As long as the profits roll in.

Mr D'Angelo's always been happy to leave the running of the business to me.

I think you're lying.

To cover up the fact he fell from one of your balconies two nights ago.

That's utterly absurd.

He's never even stayed here. Ask anyone.


The police are here.


According to our toxicology report it was meant to look like mushroom sauce, on a steak.

So if the intended target was one of your guests I don't have to tell you how serious this is.

No, of course. I'll do anything I can to help.

Thank you. We'll need a list of everyone who ordered room service that night.

Um, I'd also like to interview the kitchen staff.

And anyone else who was on shift that day.

Should keep the staff busy for a while.

Time to get our hands dirty.

What do you mean by dirty?

A little bit of help would be nice.

The answer's still no.

I mean what makes you think he's got any luggage anyway?

There must something in here that proves he checked in.

Frank... Frank!


This is everyone who had steak.

As I said, I'm happy to assist but not if you're going to single out my staff for harassment.

Excuse me? Darren and Leon are reformed characters and I won't have them treated like criminals. Thank you.

OK. You need to go through this list. See if anyone's fallen ill.

Oh, bit of leg work, eh? Chop, chop.

You need to take a shower, mate.


What do you think she meant by reformed characters?

Yeah, the concierge and the bellboy. They've both got records.

What for? Sorry, Frank. No more favours.

Hey! Stop it.

Why don't you go to the office see what you and Seb can dig up about these two?


In the meantime, I've got an MG to find.

Oh, look.

You might want to start by looking there...

Hello? Hello. Did you find the car?

Yeah, and some kind of log book.

How'd you get on?

Right so, Leon Jones is an ex-army mechanic and he did time for GBH, and he was picked up a few other times for vagrancy and drunk and disorderly.

But he's had no trouble with the police since he started working for Claudia Farrel five years ago.

What about the bellboy, Darren Morgan?

Persistent young offender until he was caught burgling the Duke Vincent Hotel...

Claudia dropped all charges and offered him a job.

Which is why everyone's so loyal.

Good work.

Oh, wait, there's more.

Seb found something on Alfred's laptop...

Bertie the caretaker. Cleaning.

Oh, trust me, there's hours of this.

But eventually...

What did he take?

We've tried slowing it down. Stupid pot plant's always in the way.

Do you know what you took, Alfred?

I'm sorry, I don't.

Well, on the upside, guys, I've worked out what you were keeping your logbook for.

You were making a note of how many hotel rooms were occupied.

Now, there were virtually no vacancies during the whole time you were under cover however, when you look at the company books for those two weeks they say the hotel was only two-thirds full.

So Claudia was stealing from you and you wanted to prove it.

Here's a question for you.

Why would a multi-millionaire go to so much trouble over a few measly quid?

I don't...

"Rich only to be wretched, thy great fortunes are made thy chief afflictions."

Are you picking on him? Because if you are, you shouldn't, y'know because he's the victim really.

He's been losing, like, thousands of pounds a month.

At least I earned some of it back.

Bertie's wages. Let's have a look, shall we?

That's very generous for two weeks' work.

And why's half of it in cash?

Maybe Claudia was stealing it from him and giving more to the staff?

Run that CCTV footage back again.

I know what he took...

We know you've been diverting money into a second bank account.

If you had any evidence of that, the police would already be here.

I don't hear a denial.

Mr D'Angelo's making a handsome profit.

A far cry from when I first came here with miserable staff offering a shoddy service.

Now, the Duke Vincent is world-class and that's because my staff are valued whether Mr D'Angelo likes it or not.

That's all very altruistic.

I'm sure you don't keep a big chunk of change for yourself.

You're welcome to examine the books, Mr Hathaway.

I'm sure you'll find them all in order.

Doctored records don't interest me.

I'm after a missing chip and pin terminal you know, the one from reception the one I'm sure you've been looking for as well.

Great trick.

Getting a third of your guests to pay into a secret account without their knowledge.

Only problem is, every chip and pin machine has a unique ID number.

Alfred had it with him in his possession before the accident.

We find it, we've got you.

Well, it's a pity his memory's been erased, then.

We need to get you inside that room, Alfred.

It might help you remember.

Can I help you?

Good afternoon.

Um, right, yes. I'd like to stay in the room that... that I was in before, please.

I'm sorry, sir, what room would that be?

Well, he owns the hotel?

So, I don't know, the Luxury Suite, maybe.

Izzie, give Mr D'Angelo the King Lear suite. I believe it's unoccupied.

I'm with them.

This is the same bed, I know it...

I couldn't be sure of it before, but erm...

Izzie was here with me, that night.

When you say Izzie was "with you." Well, we were...

we were about to... Oh. Right...

She didn't seem too pleased to see you just now.



I want you to walk me through what happened that night.

You stepped outside for a cigarette...


If Izzie was here, she could've just walked up behind him and pushed him No.

You didn't see the way she smiled at me...

Blast it, I'm tired of guessing.

I should jolly well go and talk to her.

Wait here.

You just washed your hands!

Of course.

It was you on the roof just now, wasn't it?

You tried to kill Alfred, and you pushed him off the balcony two nights ago.


Only you didn't plan on him surviving, so you got your friends to cover for you.

Why would Izzie want to kill Mr D'Angelo?

Why would anyone?

Because he found out that her and Claudia were stealing from him, maybe.

I don't care about the money.

I just want to understand what happened between us.

Stay away from her.

It's alright, Darren.

Isabel, please just talk to me.

I know that you and I were lovers.


I only went to your room because you blackmailed me into it.

You said if I didn't sleep with you you'd have my mother thrown in jail and everyone working here fired.

So I agreed. I tried...

But I couldn't, and I left.

I don't know how you fell from that balcony and I don't care.

If you died, who would miss you?

There'd just be one less rich, selfish creep in the world.


Just... let him go.

"Che Gelida Manina" BY Luciano Pavarotti

Go on, then.

Take it all off.

How about you take a flying jump?


I remember everything.

And Isabel was right, I'm not a good person, I never was.

I feel awful, Lu.

So you should.

Well, not that you deserve it, but we'll drop you at A&E. Get you checked out.

Your brakes have been cut.

Somebody must really want you dead.

If your memory's back, do you know who pushed you?

I didn't see their face.

But I do remember this...

Well, this'll get Claudia for embezzlement.

But we still don't know who tried to kill Alfred.

Well, Claudia's got the biggest motive, hasn't she?

Although it might have been Izzie.

She might've just pushed him for being a slime ball.

Can't say I blame her.

Whoever cut Alfred's brakes knew their way around a car.

Leon's a mechanic with a history of violence and he's got an undying loyalty to Claudia.

Darren's interested in cars too, you know.

I saw Leon teaching him. And that's not all he's interested in...

I think he's got feelings for Izzie.

How d'you mean, teaching him?

Well, Leon was getting someone's engine started.

Darren just stood there, watching.

He was watching...?

Maybe he didn't want to get his hands dirty...

I don't know, Frank.

Oh, come on. I gave you the chip and pin, didn't I?

That's got to buy me at least one more favour.

We know who it is. But that's not enough.

We need a confession.


Claudia Farrel, you're under arrest on suspicion of theft and false accounting.

And Isabel Farrel, we're taking you in for questioning over the attempted murder of Alfred D'Angelo.

You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention something which you later rely on in court.

Please, let my daughter go. Please!

Izzie didn't do it!

She didn't!

How do you know that?

Cos it was you, wasn't it?

You knew that Mr D'Angelo had been trying to sleep with Izzie.

And you couldn't bear the thought of him touching her, could you?

I never.

He must've jumped.

What? Like the way he had to jump out the way this afternoon?

I suppose he tried to poison his own food as well, did he? Cut his car brakes?

But-but... Darren wouldn't do all that.

He's had a hard start, but he's a good lad.

You tampered with the car before you went up onto the roof.

I know because I found motor oil on the door handle...

Just like we'll find in those nice, clean, white gloves.

No, you won't.

Take them off then.

Get off. Get off me!

I'm not sorry I tried to kill him.

I'm just sorry it didn't work.

Excuse me.

I'd like to say a few words, if I may?

I have a confession to make...

For two weeks, I've worked amongst you all as Bertie the caretaker.

And I discovered how hard you all work. And how much you care.

And you deserve the decent wage that Ms Farrel decided to pay you.

And I give you my word that I will honour that.

Now, I know today has been traumatic for you.

But I know Ms Farrel would want you to continue doing your jobs as professionally as ever. As do I. So...

I'm so sorry, Isabel.

I'm not asking for forgiveness, just a chance to put it right.

If I can't get the charges dropped, I'll find the best solicitor I can for your mother.

And what do you want from me in return?

Just a promise.

That if you do stay, the accounts will add up in future.

I'll keep my promise if you keep yours.

Nice to see a rich man spreading his wealth around. Speaking of which...

Yes, of course. I trust this will cover your services.

Oh, yes.

Thank you both, for helping me find a better man within myself.

There's just one thing I still don't get.

Why did you throw the steak out of the window?

Did you know it was poisoned? No.

No. I'd asked for it to be rare, you see.

And it was clearly medium-rare.

What a shame Lu wanted to study rather than celebrate with us.

I know. But listen, we couldn't have cracked the case without you two.

And as a token of my gratitude

I'll get another round in.

How generous of you.

Oh, don't worry, darling he'll part with some of that money sooner than you think...

Right, I'll have a pint of lager, a whiskey, and a red wine, please, my good man.

That's no problem. That'll be £100, please.

Hundred pounds!

That is... Got you!