All language subtitles for The.Brokenwood.Mysteries.S08e03.1080P.Webrip.X265-Kontrast.en

Morning!

It's a bit early, mate.

Watch out... you'll have Lynley
on your back again.

Ha!

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.

Hey, what is it?

- What is it?
- I... She...

- What?
- She's...

Oh, please come!

Aw, hell's bells!

Geez, thought I'd be sitting
down to bacon and eggs by now.

We'll only keep you
as long as we have to.

D.C. Chalmers.
This is Mr. Wyatt Brenner.

Wyatt was second on the scene

after another neighbor,
Emmy Schofield.

Emmy lives with her dad
next door.

Sims is in there now.

Wyatt has identified the victim
as a Lynley Foster.

Did Lynley ever mention
any family?

Not to me.
Friends?

I'd be surprised if she had any.

Any idea how long
she lived here?

Pateke Point?
Maybe a... a year?

This house? Never.

What do you mean?

That's Lynley's dump there.

This house belongs to
that snobby lawyer.

Miranda Temple.

Miranda's father had the bach
built way back.

Same time this place went up.

And now it's for sale?

Yeah, it's a shame.

Why do you say that?

Another piece of The Point gone
from the original families.

This place has changed
way too much already.

Here you go, bub.
I put some sugar in it.

Thanks, Dad.

If you don't feel up to talking,
you don't have to.

I'm okay.

Am I right in thinking

the Temples
never actually lived here?

It was just a holiday place?

Until Warwick moved in permanently.

After the divorce.

When was that?

Years ago.

Miranda was still at school.

Where's Warwick now?

Oh, he died.

When?

About six months ago,
give or take.

And the bach went to Miranda?

Only child.

So, does she ever use the place?

Weekends, maybe?

We thought she was going
to stay last night.

That's why I turned up
this morning to clean.

Emmy's got a little
sideline going.

Miranda sometimes lets
her friends stay over.

She needed someone to clean
and change the linen, so I...

Keeps her in pocket money,

means I'm not
always forking out.

Why did you think that Miranda
would stay last night

if she's never stayed before?

She was here for the bonfire.

Guy Fawkes.
- Ah. Of course.

And what about Lynley?

Was she at the bonfire, too?

Lynley wasn't much
of a people person.

She was there
for about 10 seconds.

Found in Lynley's pocket.

However she got in, she didn't
let herself in with these.

I'll try them next door.

Mm.

Beware of the dog.

He looks hungry.

The bach by the boat ramp...

Anyone there this week?

The Farriers.

Kirk and Stephanie.

A couple of ponces
from the city.

Thanks.
We'll talk to them.

You better be quick.

He might still be there.

She's not.

Mike.

When you're done
with Joe and Emmy,

head down to the house
by the boat ramp.

You're looking for
a Kirk Farrier.

See if he knows anything.

Yeah, well...
way ahead of you.

Gotta go.

Can I help you?

Uh, it's Kirk, isn't it?

Yeah.

Detective Kristin Sims.
Brokenwood CIB.

Would you mind if I came inside?

Um...

Sure, sure.

Thanks.

Hey.

You alright, mate?

Easy there.

Easy...

Tiger.

So, Lynley, what are you
doing here?

I'm assuming you didn't just pop
over to borrow a cup of sugar.

It would be useful
if those prints weren't yours.

Too much to hope for?

Senior.
The owner is here.

Thanks.

Ms. Temple.

What the hell's going on?

One of your neighbors,
a Lynley Foster,

was found dead this morning,
in your laundry.

Oh, my God.

Based on the nature
of her injuries,

we're launching
a homicide inquiry.

There's no sign of a break-in,
but we'll need you

to take a look
once forensics are clear,

see if anything's missing.

Are you okay with that?

When was the last time
you saw her?

Last time I was here.
Two weeks ago.

Oh, so you don't live here?

No, no, it's just
a holiday place.

It was Steph's idea to buy.
I'd have been happy renting.

Steph?

My wife.

Is she here?
She was.

She's on her way back
to the city now.

Okay. Well, I'll need
to speak to her, too.

I'll give her a call.

Soon as I can find my phone.

Sorry, not really firing on
all cylinders this morning.

Big night?

It was, kinda, yeah.

The bonfire.
Were you there?

Most of the night.

And Lynley?

Didn't see her.

Hey, babe.
Miss you already.

Piss off, Kirk.
Don't hang up.

You need to get back here. Now.

What for?

Police want to talk to you.

What are you talking about?

Just get back here. Now.

I'm not kidding.

Excuse me.

Gina.

Thanks for getting here
so quickly.

Mike, I am always poised.

This house is for sale?

Yeah, looks like.

I wonder how much
they want for it.

Find out for me?

Ah, Gina, it's...

You know you can
ask questions I can't.

Hm.

Tell her to make me an offer.

It's not like anyone else
is going to want it. Not now.

Sorry about that.

Where were we?

Lynley Foster.
How well did you know her?

The short answer is I didn't.

We met for the first time
last night.

You must be Miranda.

Uh, that's right.
- Lynley Foster.

I live next door. Ah.

- I knew your father, of course.
- You would've done.

Well, when I say I knew him...

I waved across
the fence occasionally.

I don't think anyone
really knew Warwick.

He was too fond
of his own company.

The perfect neighbor.

And that was the first and
only time you'd spoken to her?

Correct.

And to the best
of your knowledge,

she'd never been
in this house before?

She certainly didn't have a key,

if that's what
you're getting at.

Does anyone have a key
apart from you?

Emmy Schofield.
She cleans for me.

And the real estate agent?

Yes.

Fancy a walk?

The bonfire.
Show me where it was.

Why?

It might be a place of interest.

Then we'll need to cut
through the track.

If I had a place out
here, I wouldn't want to leave.

My father felt the same way.

But you don't?

I'm a city girl at heart.

Downtown Brokenwood's as rustic
as I get these days.

You were here last night.

True.

But you didn't stay over.

At your own bach?

Sometimes you just want
your own bed.

You drove home?

Mm-hmm.

Had you been drinking at all?

Okay, you're right...
I shouldn't have been driving.

I came to that conclusion myself
and I pulled over

to rest on the side of the road.

Did anyone see you there?

I really can't say.
I dozed off for a while.

Through here.

Morena.

Morning.

How are you?

I'm okay. Considering.

How's Emmy?
She must be a mess.

Ah, yeah.
She's resting.

Just thought I'd better
come down,

check on the fire,
make sure it's out.

Can't beat a good bonfire.

Absolutely.
It was a good night.

It was.

Did Lynley enjoy herself?

Lynley didn't stay.

Thanks to Wyatt Brenner
and his sick idea of a joke.

Hey, ladies!

Hello.
Would you like a drink?

- Oh, no, thanks.
- Sure.

Hey, just in time.

Right, let's get
this party started.

Why would Mr. Brenner
do a thing like that?

He and Lynley, they got off
on the wrong foot,

the day she moved in.

What do you want?

Could you turn the music
down, please?

I'm Lynley.

I moved here for the peace
and quiet.

Well, ah...

that was a bloody stupid
thing to do, wasn't it?

A couple weeks later,
seven o'clock, Sunday morning...

And Lynley, she wasn't
the sort to back down.

Things seemed to have
calmed down a bit lately.

So muggins here thought,

time to get back
a bit of community spirit,

get everyone together
around a bonfire...

What could go wrong?

Hm.

You know you can't
take him home.

Aw, well, you can't
leave him here.

I don't know.
Night watchman?

Hey, what d'ya reckon, Tiger?

Eh?
You'd be a natural.

Okay.
Here's what we know.

The victim, Lynley Foster,

moved to Pateke Point
about a year ago,

after the death of her mother,
who she'd been nursing.

No known relatives
or close friends.

Her body was found here.

But we're yet to establish
a firm relationship

with the owner, Miranda Temple,
or Miranda's late father.

Other than the fact that Lynley
lived in the place next door.

Which was undisturbed.

She had no cellphone,
no computer.

So far, there's no indication
she left a will.

Or had anyone
to leave anything to.

So, at the risk
of preempting Gina...

Oh, which one should never do.

We're looking at death
by blunt force trauma, right?

But there's no sign
of a break-in at the Temple bach

and no obvious weapon.

Miranda viewed the scene

and claimed there was nothing
out of place.

Fingerprints
on the light switches?

Er, Lynley's.

Looking at the blood patterns
in the lounge,

I'd say the initial attack
happened there.

Maybe in the dark?

Then Lynley managed
to turn on the lights

and made it to the laundry,
where she was struck again.

Fatally this time.
But by who?

Well, logically, the only person
who had any right to be there.

Miranda.

She claims she was parked up
on Pateke Point Road,

halfway back to Brokenwood.

Witnesses?

Mm. As yet, none.

Two other people had keys
to the bach.

Yeah, Emmy Schofield,

who turned up this morning
to clean

because she thought
Miranda had stayed the night.

Then there's Debs Docherty.

Did you know Lynley at all?

Not to speak to, no.

Our paths never really crossed.

And...

where were you last night?

Here.

All night?
- Mm-hmm.

Alone?

What's going on?
- Yes, alone.

And there's no point asking
this one to vouch for me...

I heard him stumble in
after I went to bed.

Debs' son... Aidan.

Seventeen.

Debs had shared custody
with her ex.

Aidan is with her
every second weekend.

What time did you get home
last night, Aidan?

I dunno. 1:00.

Something like that.

He was out boozing
with his mates.

And you didn't see
your mum when you got in?

Nope.

Light was on in her room, though.

Fell asleep reading.

Car was in the drive,
if that means anything.

Okay.

Can I take a look at your key
to the Temple family bach?

Procedural thing.
Just to confirm you have it.

It's at the office.

I can drop it in to the station
this afternoon.

We'll come to you.

When's good?

Anytime after midday.

But if I don't get a move on,

I'm going to miss
my first open home.

Someone else in a hurry...
Stephanie Farrier.

Left early and wasn't thrilled
about being asked back.

It's not even my weekend
to be here.

Um, Steph and I work together
all week.

We have a little
publishing business.

Poetry, photography,
the occasional memoir.

It's all very niche.

We're in each other's
faces five days a week.

So, a while ago we decided

to start taking
separate weekends here.

Kirk's idea.

It's been good for both of us.

But this weekend was different?

We've never really socialized
with the neighbors here before.

Personally, I've never felt
the need.

Bonfire on the beach.
Thought it would be fun.

And was it?

For half an hour, maybe.

- You barely lasted 20 minutes.
- I was cold.

You could've come back
here and got another layer.

- I didn't want to.
- Yeah, you made that obvious.

It was embarrassing.

What did you do
for the rest of the night?

I worked on a manuscript
I'm editing.

When I was bored of that,
I read a book.

Did you see or hear
anything unusual?

Any sounds outside?
Unexpected traffic?

Raised voices?

Sorry.

And what time did Kirk get home?

Late.
- I told you, it was just a...

No.
I'm asking Stephanie.

Um, 2:00?
2:30, maybe.

And this morning,

you decided to head back
to the city?

Why?

I wanted a day to myself.

Away from...

I wanted a day at home.

Meanwhile, there's no love lost

between Wyatt Brenner
and the victim.

Far be it from me
to speak ill of the dead,

but Lynley Foster
was an interfering cow.

So much for community spirit.

Isn't that what last night
was meant to be about?

Don't talk to me
about community spirit.

Who do you think it was
that dragged a ton of driftwood

up the beach
to build that bloody bonfire?

Not Lynley, that's for sure.

But why pull the prank
with the Guy?

However you felt about Lynley,

why ruin Joe
and everyone else's night?

I didn't ruin anything.

We were better off without her.

I'm not sure
Joe sees it that way.

Look, it was never going to
be any fun with her there.

She made sure of that herself,
right from the get-go.

So, I was thinking...

what about here?

Who's in?

There was a meeting
at the beach, a few weeks back.

Put your hand up.

Why not?

On one strict condition.

No loud fireworks.

Guy Fawkes without fireworks?

What's the bloody point?

She got her way, though,
didn't she?

Whoop-de-bloody-do.

I'm with Wyatt.

I mean, what's Guy Fawkes
without a few bangers?

Well, I'm with Tiger.

Lynley was obviously thinking

about his poor little ears,
wasn't she?

Right now, I'd be
a bit more worried

about his poor wee bladder.

I'll take him outside for a pee.

No, I can do it.

I was going to take him
for a walk,

see Debs about that spare key.

Yeah, well, I can do that, too.
Come on.

It's alright, buddy.
Scary lady won't hurt you.

So far, the only person
in the immediate vicinity

with anything resembling
a motive is Wyatt.

Not much of one.

Mm.

And, of course, there's
a whole nother possibility

that we haven't even considered.

What if Lynley wasn't
the intended victim?

What if it was Miranda Temple?

Good boy. Stay.

- Oh!
- Sorry.

No, that's my fault.

I was watching this one,
not where I was going.

I just dropped in to update Debs

in case she had any viewings
scheduled at the bach.

Of course. I actually need
to talk to her too, so...

Oh, she's not there.

Open home on the other
side of town.

Oh.
Well, I'll pop back later.

A good excuse to take this one
for another walk,

isn't it, buddy?

I never really thought of myself
as a dog person,

but here we are.

I'm more of a cat person myself.

Come on, Tiger. Come on.

- Good boy.
- Oh, actually...

My next stop was going
to be the station

to see Detective Shepherd.

I need to clarify something
I told him earlier.

Ah, right.

Well, will I do?

It's semantics, really,

but court cases are won and lost
on semantics.

I told Mike that Lynley and I

had never spoken
before last night.

I realize now
that wasn't quite true.

Miranda Temple.

It's Lynley Foster speaking.

Look, we don't know each other,
but I believe you own

the house next door to mine
at Pateke Point.

Oh, right.

Which makes you responsible
for this dreadful racket.

I don't know what you mean.
There's nobody there.

Well, listen.

Did you hear that?

It doesn't make any sense.

Can you see any lights on?

She had to admit she couldn't.

Then the music stopped
and she hung up.

I just thought
she was a madwoman.

Saturday night, three weeks ago.

Miranda swears
the bach was empty.

Maybe it was Wyatt
blasting his stereo.

Wyatt Brenner and gangsta rap?

- Yeah, I'm not seeing it.
- No?

Well, I just found something
that might change your mind.

Two weeks ago, Lynley Foster
turned up at the front desk

to lodge a complaint.

She accused Wyatt Brenner
of threatening her

with an offensive weapon.

The man's a menace.

He should be locked up.

Right!

Tiger! Tiger!

Come on, come on!

Come on! In!

In you go!

Can a leaf blower really be
classed as an offensive weapon?

Probably should be.

But as you know, it always
comes down to intent.

You mean if Wyatt actually meant
to blow her away?

Oh, wow. Yeah.

Have you thought about open mic
night at the Snake and Tiger?

- I only do stadiums.
- Oh.

How did we follow up?

Wyatt was given a warning.

He pretty much laughed it off.

What do we reckon?

Was Lynley genuinely intimidated
or just stirring?

Maybe you can find
some answers in here.

It was in Lynley's papers.

It's some kind of
illustrated journal.

Sketches aren't bad.

You can tell me
what the writing's like.

You want me to read all of it?

Mm, start at the end
and work backwards.

Better make a start.

Gina.

Approximate time
of death... between 1 and 4 a.m.

Cause of death... blunt force
trauma to the back of the head

from several blows
with an unknown object.

Any defense wounds?

No.
Nothing to indicate a scuffle.

So Lynley either didn't know
her attacker was present

or she turned her back
to get away from them.

The blood patterns at the scene
would suggest

she was hit first
in the living room

then made it to the laundry,
where she was struck again.

Fatally.

- Thanks.
- Your turn.

Sorry?

The lawyer.

How much does she want?

I've got a feeling
she'll take an offer for it.

That's very kind of you, Mike.

What is?

To share your feelings with me.

Sorry, I didn't mean
to startle you.

It's fine.
I'm just a little on edge.

Understandable.

Trying to keep busy?

Uh...?

Um, you didn't take the day off.

Well, if you want the truth...

Always.

I feel safer here.

So, tell me...
which am I?

Suspect or intended victim?

I wish I could say neither.

Can we talk?

Does it have to be here?

I've been promising myself
a coffee.

- Wherever suits.
- Give me a second.

I just need to...

Right.

Uh, your bag?

Get it together, Miranda.

Thank you.

I need the contact details for
anyone you rented the bach to,

or let stay there.

One of them could have
copied the key.

They wouldn't have.
They're all people I know.

Friends from law school.

All the same...

Of course.
I'll email you.

And thanks for letting
my colleague know

about the phone call
from Lynley.

Oh, I'd almost forgotten
about it.

We know Lynley was a stickler
for peace and quiet.

I'm wondering if someone
could have found their way

into your place
with the express purpose

of playing loud music
to annoy her.

We're back to square one.
How did they get in?

There are locks
on all the windows.

Is it possible that your father
could've given a key

to one of his neighbors?

Wyatt Brenner, perhaps?

From what I know of Wyatt,

I can't imagine
my father warming to him.

If he'd given a key to anyone,

it would have been
Joe Schofield.

It was Joe who looked after
my father in his last days.

By mutual agreement.
Warwick didn't want me there

any more than I wanted
to help him.

The two of you didn't get on?

When I was a kid, I thought
the sun shone out of him.

When I was a teenager,

I started to see him
through my mother's eyes.

Then the divorce happened.

If I'd been older, I might have
managed not to take sides but...

Not the ideal husband?

Constant put-downs,
verbal abuse.

At least two affairs...
that we knew about.

After they separated,
he retreated to Pateke Point

to live out his days
as a bitter, lonely old man.

Mm.

None of which is in
Warwick's obituary.

I found it online.

"Respected Emeritus Professor
of Ethics, Dr. Warwick Temple."

I suppose Miranda had to get

her steel-trap legal mind
from somewhere.

Not that she seems
to credit him for it.

There's virtually nothing
about Lynley online,

and we're still coming up
blank on next of kin,

but I did find this
on the Brokenwood Courier.

Mm.

"Pateke Point resident
Lynley Foster

has announced the creation
of the Brokenwood

Quiet Community Society."

"Ms. Foster says
the new society

is part of a global movement

dedicated to improving health
and well-being

by reducing noise pollution,
and encourages citizens

to reconnect
with the serenity of nature".

Mm-hmm.
And check out the photo.

"Ms. Foster
is pictured with

another founding member
of the society,

part-time Pateke Point resident
Kirk Farrier."

I feel another outing
to the beach coming on.

So, how did you get involved?

I rocked up here
one Friday afternoon

and found Lynley
putting a flyer in my mailbox.

Research tells us that
leaf blower noise at 50 feet

ranges from 64 to 78 decibels.

Meeting tomorrow night.
My place, seven o'clock.

Nibbles provided.

Lynley was staunch.

Not prepared to put up
with any of Wyatt's nonsense.

And what happened
at the meetings?

We just sat around and talked.

Very quietly, presumably.

Lynley wanted a ban
on noisy power tools

and a curfew on loud music...
you know, that sort of thing.

But it never really took off.

Is any of this
actually relevant?

Oh, you never know.

Did you do all of these?

It's what I do in my spare time.

Driftwood off the beach,
bits and pieces.

Ah.

I call it "The Legend
of Maui's Brothers."

Ahh...

Yeah, no, I get it.

It's Te Ika-a-Maui, where Maui
snuck onto his brothers' waka

and fished up the North Island
of New Zealand.

Of course it's an abstract interpretation.

Tea's ready.

Thanks, bub.

Come on up.

Miranda Temple told us
that you looked after her father

in his dying days.

Yeah, I did what I could
for him, yeah.

Why didn't his daughter
look after him?

Warwick wasn't an easy patient.

Miranda wanted to move him
to a hospice,

but Warwick wouldn't have it.

He wanted to die here, at home.

In the time that
you looked after him,

did Warwick ever give you
a key to the bach?

I didn't need a key, 'cause
Warwick never locked his door.

Got excited there for a second.

Thought I found Johnny Cash.

There's some Johnny Rotten
in there somewhere.

Mm.

The neighbors must love you

when you crank up the volume
on some of this stuff.

Only one of them
ever complained.

And she's not going be
troubling me again.

Oh, sorry.

Too soon?

A woman is dead, Mr. Brenner.

A woman you didn't like,
to put it mildly.

She didn't like me,

for exercising my right
to keep my property tidy.

I'm not going to be brow-beaten
by some hippie-dippie

Jenny-come-lately.

When you came home from
the bonfire, what did you do?

Went straight to bed.
Or tried to.

You couldn't sleep?

What are you
actually investigating?

A homicide or
a noise control complaint?

'Cause either way,
you've got the wrong house.

You should be across the road.

Well, thanks for your time.

Hey, Mike.
What's up?

Sure.

Sorry, ah,
just one more question.

What were you two
arguing about last night?

Your raised voices were heard
at approximately 3 a.m.

Loud enough to wake the dead.

Wyatt insists he was at home
in bed around 1:00.

He's adamant he woke
a couple of hours later

to the sound
of the Farriers arguing.

And Joe said the bonfire
was done by 1 a.m.

And Emmy and Miranda both claim

to have left the beach
around then.

And we only have Steph's word
that she went home

and stayed there.

Did Kirk say what time he left?

Well, as it happens, that was
what the argument was about.

I must've left the bonfire
just after 1:00.

Joe and Miranda looked like
they were settling in.

You didn't come straight home,
though, did you?

Well, I didn't think
there was much to come home to.

I went for a walk on the beach.
A lot to think about.

Work stuff.

By the time I did get home,
Steph was in a foul mood.

It was late.
I didn't know where he was.

Well, you didn't just assume
he was still at the bonfire?

Never assume.
That's my motto.

I went back to the beach
to check.

He wasn't there.

Who was?

Joe and Miranda.

Emmy must have been home
by then.

Unless she was somewhere else.
"Never assume."

Or is it just your husband
you're so bloody suspicious of?

I wasn't suspicious...
I was worried.

About what, exactly?

Didn't we have this fight
last night?

Do you really want to do it
again with an audience?

Did Steph say what time
she went looking for him?

She guessed around two o'clock.

Ah, so when Joe and Miranda said
the bonfire was done by 1 a.m.,

they were bending the truth.

They were seen together
by Steph an hour later.

I'm surprised Miranda
was there at all.

She's made it obvious

that Pateke Point's
not really her scene.

Yeah, Joe was surprised
by that, too.

I sent an invite,
got an email back

saying she'd try to make it.

But you know
what that means, eh?

And then when I was
in town yesterday,

I bumped into her.

Joe!

Hi.

It's nice to see you.

- Don't let me interrupt.
- Oh, no, it's fine.

Debs was just updating me
on viewings at the bach.

Sit down.

It's funny, you turning up now.

Debs was asking me
what Warwick was like,

and I just told her
the treasure map story.

Yeah.

But you probably knew Warwick
better than anyone.

Oh, I wouldn't go that far.

It's true.

I don't think I've ever
thanked you properly

for everything you did for him.

There's no need.
- No, there is.

Well, if you want to thank me,
come to the bonfire.

So, yeah.
She showed up.

Ah, sorry, hold on.
What's "the treasure map story"?

Don't know, didn't ask.

Are you kidding?

What's a treasure map
if it's not a clue?

She serious?

Gina.

Aw, what's the matter?

Miss your mum?

Ah, thanks.
I'll see you soon.

Gina says she has something.

Uh, can I help you?

Um, Kirk Farrier.
I'm here to see Detective Sims.

Hi, Kirk.

Come on through. Thanks.

Hey, bud, come here!

Oh.
Someone's happy to see you.

Yeah, we're old friends,
aren't we, mate?

Uh, that's what I need
to talk to you about.

You probably need
to know all this...

my wife really, really doesn't.

Okay.

She has a very suspicious mind.

There's no point
fueling that fire.

Well, I'm not planning on
reporting back.

If she found out I'd been
walking another woman's dog...

I really hope that's not
a euphemism.

Every morning I'm at the Point,
I go for a run on the beach.

I used to see Lynley there
walking Tiger.

She'd always had a thermos
of tea with her

and sometimes she'd sit
on the beach sketching.

Um, one day we got chatting,
and then the next day

she asked me to sit down
and have a cuppa with her.

It became a regular thing.

But then last winter,
Lynley got sick.

Now, nothing serious, but she
was struggling to walk Tiger,

so I offered to do it for her
when I could.

And these little chats
on the beach...

what did you and Lynley
talk about?

The usual stuff at first.

The dog.
The weather.

But Lynley wasn't really big
on small talk.

Do you ever get lonely?

What?

I think you're lonely
in your marriage.

Am I right?

I'm...

thinking of leaving Steph.

Did Steph know that?

She still doesn't.

And I take it
she doesn't know about

your heart-to-hearts
with Lynley either?

Not unless she's been
spying on me.

Which I wouldn't put past her.

That's pretty big stuff
you told Lynley.

Did she confide anything
to you in return?

I don't think so.

She didn't mention
any disagreements

or falling out with anyone?

No.

Oh, but...

What?

It could be nothing.

There were these kids
on the beach one day.

Excuse me.

Do you own this beach?

Nah, do you?

Turn the music down, please.

And what if we don't?

It was the only time I ever saw
Lynley remotely intimidated.

Did you recognize
any of the kids?

Yeah...
Yeah, two of them.

Why don't you just piss off
and leave us alone?

Leave it.

She isn't worth it.

Happy now?

Like Kirk said...

might be nothing.

Or it might be something.

Dad's not home.

That's okay, it's you
I wanted to talk to.

Can I come in?

Yeah.

Hi, I'm Detective Kristin Sims,
Brokenwood CIB.

Hi.

Thanks.

Your colleague was expecting me
to get back to you.

Apologies.
I-I've had a busy day.

Actually, I was hoping
to speak to your son Aidan.

Oh. Uh...
He's gone to a movie.

Okay, well, could you get him
to contact me when he gets back?

Is there something
I should know?

No, we just need his help

to verify
another witness's statement.

Ah, about that key...

do you happen to have it
with you?

As I said, busy day.

Right, well, perhaps we can
pop down to your office.

Won't take long,
maybe five minutes...

Hello.

Sorry.

I didn't realize
I was interrupting.

No, it's good you're here.

I was just about to confess
all to Miranda, so...

you may as well hear it, too.

Do you know an Aidan Docherty?

He's in my class at school.

Are you mates?

Sort of.

He used to be my boyfriend.

Oh?

What happened?

I dumped him.

About three weeks ago,

you, Aidan, and a bunch of mates
were hanging out at the beach.

There was an altercation
with Lynley Foster.

She was being
totally unreasonable.

All she had to do
was move down the beach.

Mm.

Selfish, right?

Aidan was being a dick
about it, too, though.

He got really annoyed when
someone turned the music down.

He wouldn't shut up.

"It's our beach as much
as hers," and all that.

Do you think he might have
done something later,

to get back at Lynley?

What, like kill her?

Well, that's pretty extreme,
but hey...

you know Aidan, I don't.

He wouldn't.

I know he wouldn't.

As far as open homes go,
it was pretty standard.

The usual tire-kickers.
Some genuine interest, too.

That couple from down south,
they were back for another look.

Anyway, uh...

then I went back to the office
to drop off the key,

and that's when I realized
I didn't have it.

What?
You lost the key to the bach?

I've... I've been in a flap
about it ever since.

That is so unprofessional.
I know, I feel terrible.

- So you should!
- Did you use the key to lock up?

No, I just had to pull
the door closed behind me.

So it could have been lifted
during the open home.

It's more likely that
I dropped it somewhere outside.

No, 'cause we would have
found it this morning.

Unless someone else
found it first, of course.

Thanks for your time, Emmy.

Sorry I was so useless.

Oh, we'll see
what Aidan has to say.

One of my colleagues
is about to talk to him.

Wait.

After we saw Lynley
on the beach,

that night I had
to clean Miranda's place.

I'd been putting it off,
but it had to be done

'cause she had people coming
to stay the next day.

Aidan came with me.

It was pretty late,
like 11 o'clock or something.

I was busy cleaning
the bathroom.

Aidan was in the lounge.

- What are you doing?
- I'm just having a bit of fun.

Turn it off!

No.

- Please! I need this job.
- Okay, okay.

Then I dumped him.

It's not like there aren't
other real estate agents.

I would have been better off
with any one of them.

I hear you.

Anyway, this is me.

Hey, ah, this might seem
a bit left-field, but...

what sort of man
was your father?

He was a miserable old sod.
Why?

I didn't get
much of a sense of him

- from the bach, that's all.
- You wouldn't have.

There's nothing of my father
left in the place.

Oh.
Well, I thought that...

You thought the great
Warwick Temple

had an eye for nautical decor?

No, that's all Debs.
What do they call it?

"Staging."

It's one thing she got right.

Mm.
If you like that sort of thing.

Ah, so you're another one
who found it kitsch?

Emmy had the same reaction.

Oh, my gosh!
What have you done?!

Do you love it?

I liked it the way it was.

Well, I love it.

Ah, but I've got to dash.
I've got a meeting in town.

Mm-hmm.

Nice girl, Emmy.

Hard worker, too... practically
begged me for that cleaning job.

But what would she know
about selling houses?

Her and me both.

Ah!
That's the one.

You see what I see?

Uh...

Here.

Tiny fragments of red paint

retrieved from Lynley's
head wound.

Huh.

Can I help you?

I'm waiting to see your boss.

Ah, he looks busy.
Maybe I can help.

- What are you doing?
- What you should have done

the moment the cops
knocked on the door.

- This is for you.
- What is it?

It's Lynley's journal.

Illustrated, no less.

She thought we might want
to publish it.

She was dreaming.

I made the mistake of admiring
her sketches.

They're actually pretty good,
but she wasn't a writer.

I'm sorry
you didn't get it sooner.

You didn't get it sooner
because I know it's a copy.

I'm assuming you've found
the original by now.

Yeah.
Thanks anyway.

You're unbelievable,
you know that?

And what did you think
you were going achieve?

Are you deliberately trying
to make me look bad?

Yeah, that's right.
Walk away.

Yeah, whatever, Kirk.

True love.

Yeah, made for each other.

Maybe I can
save us all some time here.

All the questions
I've asked you so far,

Emmy Schofield
has already answered.

So, was she telling the truth
or what?

Yes!

I saw Lynley at the beach
and I hassled her.

I hassled her a little bit.

- So what?
- Aidan, really?

And yes, you were in Miranda
Temple's bach that night,

hassling Lynley again?

I didn't break in.
Emmy was there cleaning.

And what about last night?

- Where were you then?
- I went out.

I went out with my mates,
I got wasted,

I came home, I went to bed.
That's it.

I've already explained this
to your colleague.

Okay.
These mates.

Names and phone numbers, please.

Did you hear about your mum
losing the key to the bach?

Yes, she told me.

You think I took it?

Did you?
- No!

Detective, this feels
very unnecessary.

That's all for now.

Hey, thanks for coming in.

Well, he swears he didn't
take the key

and that he hasn't had
anything to do with Lynley

since that night
three weeks ago.

Really?

You bash someone to death
with an oar

and then put it back
where you found it?

It was hung backwards.

Something you might do
if you were panicked.

We'll see.

Tiger.
Come here.

Wha... What are you doing?

Tiger's coming with me.
Stop you two fighting over him.

Uh, Mike, you and animals...

Are we sure that's a good idea?

Oh, I'm sure he'll survive
one night.

I'm going to take him
to the shelter first thing.

Aww!
- Aw, no, you don't have to...

Come on,
get out of here, you two.

Come on, Tiger, come on.

- Yeah, that's it.
- Okay.

Soon. Promise.

One of these things
is not like the other.

Did you drop Tiger off?
Yes.

If we don't find any next of kin
he'll be up for adoption.

Keen?

No, I just ran into
Kirk Farrier at the café

and he was asking.

What's this?

Oh, so I found something
in Lynley's journal last night.

About eight months ago,

Lynley made a journal entry
about Warwick Temple

asking her over to his place
to witness a legal document...

a new will.

But in the copy that
she gave to the Farriers,

that whole entry
has been blacked out.

Now, I asked Kirk about it.
He swears he didn't do it.

Anyway, why would he?

Why would Lynley?
That is the question.

Here we go.

I think you'll find
it's perfectly in order.

Signed, witnessed, and lodged
with Warwick's lawyers.

10 years ago.

Naming you as executor
and sole beneficiary.

Maybe guilt
got the better of him.

Or maybe he knew enough
about the law to understand

"moral duty."

Do you have any reason
to think there may have been

a later will?

If there was,
I would have found it.

Dad left a lot of papers.

I went through
every one of them.

I called Warwick's lawyer.

They insist that the only will
lodged with them

was the one
that Miranda inherited from.

But a will doesn't
have to be lodged with a lawyer

to be valid.

Yeah, but it does have to be
witnessed, by two witnesses.

Okay so, Lynley
and someone else.

Another neighbor?

Then there's the question

of who stood to benefit.

Let me guess.

The person who looked
after Warwick on his death bed?

Are you not at school today,
Emmy?

Dad said I should stay home,
but it's too boring.

I'll catch the bus.

Um, is your dad at home?

He's on the beach
looking for driftwood.

Thanks, Emmy.

Witness what?

A new will.

Why would he need me for that?

I got the impression he didn't
have a lot of friends.

Old bugger never came near me.

New will doesn't
surprise me, though.

Why's that?

I was walking past his place
one morning

and I saw him take a tumble
into the garden.

I would've helped him up,
but Joe beat me to it.

The old fella
was pretty shook up.

He kept saying how grateful
he was for having Joe around,

and how he'd be rewarded
once he was gone.

"And that useless daughter
of mine won't get a cent."

His words.

That's not what happened, is it?
I mean, Miranda got everything.

Eh, Warwick was full of hot air.

Proves one thing, though.

That being...?

I'm not in the habit
of knocking off my neighbors.

Does it?
Yeah.

Otherwise I would have given
old Warwick a bop, wouldn't I?

Got him to sign over his will,
and then... whack!

Least I would have got
something out of it.

With Lynley, I would've
have been lucky

to get a tie-dye scarf
and a vegan sausage.

Did Warwick Temple
ever ask either of you

to witness a legal document?

This would have been
about eight months ago.

March 16th, to be precise.

Ah, he couldn't have done.

We didn't take possession
till May.

In March, this place was empty.

Okay, well, that's that, then.

Thanks.

Some days are better
than others.

But most days,
it's just plastic junk.

No messages in bottles?
No treasure maps?

Eh?

Oh, you mentioned one yesterday.

Something Miranda Temple
said at the café.

Oh, yeah, right.

What's that all about?

Well, we were just kids.

Miranda found an old bottle
with a bit of paper in it.

And she gets it out,
what do you know...

an actual treasure map.

"X marks the spot" and all that?

Oh, every kid's dream.

So Miranda runs home to show
her Dad, all excited,

and she begs him to go
looking for that treasure.

And Warwick says,
"Yeah, one day."

That's not good enough
for wee Mirrie.

She goes on and on about it
for days.

And finally Warwick sits her
down and tells her, all serious,

that he drew the map himself

and put it on the beach
for her to find.

That poor kid,
she was devastated.

What was he trying to prove?

Well, the way Miranda tells it,

he was trying
to teach her something.

When it's okay to lie
and when it's not.

His point being, the pleasure
Miranda got from the lie

outweighed any benefit of her
knowing the truth.

Philosophy lesson
for a kid of six?

Yeah, well, that's Warwick.

Did Warwick ever promise you
anything in his will?

No.

And I didn't ask
for anything either.

Did he ever talk to you
about changing his will?

Writing a new one?

Not to me.

- Good haul.
- Yeah.

Hey, um, thanks for your help.
Just dump it...

Actually,
by the fence would be good.

Excuse me, Detective.

Kirk was wrong.

We were here on March 16th.

I checked my diary and that's
the day the real estate agent

showed us through the bach.

Do you remember who
the real estate agent was?

Debs Docherty.

You don't forget a name
like that.

No.

Oh, and for what it's worth,

I saw her talking
to Warwick Temple.

He stopped her on the street
and she went inside with him.

I'll leave that with you.

Thanks.

Now that you mention it,
I did meet Warwick that day.

I was quite pleased with myself.

The Farriers had just made
a silly offer,

and I was looking forward
to getting the paperwork sorted.

Warwick must have seen
the logo on the car.

And what, he stopped you
and asked for a quick valuation?

Yeah.
Happens all the time.

People see a "for sale" sign
in the neighborhood

and they start to wonder
what sort of fortune

they're sitting on.

I went inside, looked around,
gave him a ballpark figure,

which didn't seem to excite him,

and then I left.

He didn't ask you
for anything else?

What are you suggesting?

Nothing.
Thanks for your time.

Oh, I don't suppose
that key's turned up, has it?

No. Sorry.

And I've got another open home
to get to.

If Warwick was thinking about
a new will, it would make sense

he'd also be thinking
about property values.

True.

So we're looking for a second
witness to a document

that we're not
even sure exists...

and we've got no idea
why it's even relevant.

Lynley could have been looking
for the will

when she was killed.

Why? Only someone
named in the second will

would have an interest
in finding it.

Or someone who'd benefited
from the old will

that stood to lose
from the new one.

So, the two most likely to go
looking for it are...

Joe and Miranda.

Is this the part where I ask
for a lawyer?

I'm sure you're more than
capable of saying "no comment"

all by yourself.

Tell me more about the bonfire.

Obviously, it didn't get off
to a great start.

Uh, no.

Right.

Let's get this party started.

Things were pretty tense
after that.

I was thinking of making
an excuse and leaving,

but then the Farriers showed up.

Oh! The more the merrier!

If only they'd brought
some party spirit with them.

But I was worried Miranda
wasn't enjoying herself.

Why Miranda in particular?

She was... more a guest
than the others.

I suppose I felt kind of
responsible for her.

Cheers!

Cheers!

Cheers.

There wasn't a lot
in the way of conversation.

"Hi." "How are you?"

"Haven't we been lucky
with the weather?"

After that, it fizzled out.

Good thing I brought my guitar.

You say the party wrapped up
around one o'clock?

Yeah, I'd exhausted
my repertoire by then.

Steph took off early,
then Wyatt called it quits

when I pulled out
a bottle of whiskey.

Pass.

I know my limit.

He reckons he's sworn off
the hard stuff these days.

Mind you, he was
knocking the beers back.

So was Kirk.

Think you might have had
enough there, mate?

Yeah, yeah, I think
you might be right.

Alright, I'll say goodnight.

Hey, uh, home's that way.

I'm going to...

clear my head.

And then it was just
you and Miranda?

Not quite.

Psst.

I used to play this for her
when she was a baby.

I'd forgotten
what a sweetheart Joe is.

Were you the two of you
ever more than just friends?

Briefly.
A long time ago.

Teenage romance?
Teenage fling.

I never should have
let it happen.

Ah.

Why not?

I knew how he felt about me.

And you didn't feel
the same way?

No.

I ended up hurting him,
of course.

Uh, last night...

do you think Joe perhaps was
hoping to reignite an old flame?

I suppose if I'm being honest,
I knew what he wanted.

But nothing was going
to happen with Emmy there.

But she went home, didn't she?

She got a call from someone
more interesting.

Her useless ex-boyfriend.
Aidan Docherty.

Hey, bub.

Maybe go home
and get some sleep, eh?

You should take your own advice.

You're making a dick
of yourself.

Why would Emmy say that?

I had a bit to drink.

She probably thought
I was overdoing it.

Then it was just me and Joe.
Time to call it a night.

I wasn't ready
for the night to end.

Do you remember this one?

I should get going.

Oh, come on.

No, no, just... just stay.

I'm cold.

Eh, here you go.

Ah.

Okay.

How's that?

We just sat there talking.
It was lovely.

Then I stuffed up.

- I did not!
- You did, you did!

No.

Joe...

I-I'm sorry, I'm...

No, no, I'm going to go.

It wasn't a big deal.

I walked back to the bach,
drove off,

then parked up, like I said.

I really don't know what more
I can tell you.

I sat there
for another hour or so,

staring into the flames,
feeling sorry for myself.

Pathetic, eh?

What we know is Joe definitely
had a thing for Miranda.

Which isn't reciprocated.

And Aidan called Emmy
late last night.

She claimed she left the beach
and went home to sleep.

But what if Aidan borrowed
his mum's car

and drove it out
to Pateke Point for a hook-up?

Where better than an empty bach

that Emmy just happened
to have the key to?

As long as Miranda's car
was gone by then

and they knew that she wasn't
planning on sleeping there.

The timing still works.

Do we even know if Aidan
has a driver's license?

There's CCTV footage
from a service station

at the Pateke Point turnoff...
it should tell us

if the Docherty car
went that way.

Ah.

Mike Shepherd.

Aidan's only on his restricted.

One reason to lie about
meeting Emmy, if he did.

Yep, and Emmy should just be
getting home from school now.

The test results from the oar.

The paint doesn't match.

So, it was just hung backwards?

Shame.

I was really hoping we wouldn't
have to go there.

Where?

The sculpture at Joe's place.

"Maui's Brothers."

Yesterday, there was
three brothers.

Today there was four,

which is how
it's supposed to be.

They're all painted
different colors.

But I'm sure there wasn't
a fourth one yesterday.

Sometime in the last 24 hours,

Joe knocked up a replacement.

Because the night before,

someone used the original
to kill Lynley

and then disposed of it.

Where?

Yeah, I have a theory
about that, too.

Ah.

I told you to stay out of it!

Look at her, Joe!
She's a mess.

Go to the cops,
tell them what you did.

If you don't, I will.

I didn't do anything!

How do you know?!

You were too drunk to remember!

Huh.

Sims.

Hey.
I'm with Joe.

I think he's ready to change
his statement.

Very timely.

If the paint matches
the fragments found in Lynley's

head wound, it's very likely
that this is our weapon.

Despite someone's best efforts
to try and destroy it.

Wasn't me.

Well, it's your work, isn't it?

From your front yard.

Found on the bonfire
that you were in charge of.

Is that why you were back
at the beach yesterday morning?

Make sure it had burned? But
Miranda and I interrupted you.

Look, are you going to shut up
and let me tell you or what?

Yes, I-I talked to Emmy
on the phone.

But no, I didn't... I didn't
drive out there to see her.

What'd you talk about?

Stuff.

I didn't like the way things
were between us.

I, uh...

I missed her, okay?

You wanted to get back together?

She wasn't into it.

And yet, here you are.

Emmy called me yesterday
and she was just a total mess.

She didn't want to tell me
what was wrong,

but I finally got it out of her.

She knows who killed that woman.

Come on, Joe.

You left the bonfire,
then what happened?

I told you.

I don't remember.

I was on the beach
and then I was at home.

See, that's the problem, Joe.

There's the little matter
of what happened in between.

Well, I didn't kill
Lynley Foster.

- Why the hell would I?
- Okay.

You saw someone enter
the Temple bach.

You assumed it was Miranda.

I-It was dark,
you were drunk, you...

you thought you were
confronting the woman

who had just rejected you.
No, no, no. No way!

Okay, maybe you didn't mean
to kill her.

Y'know, maybe you just wanted
one last chance

to talk her round, okay?

But if she couldn't be
talked around,

you knew you had
a weapon on hand.

No, that's not what happened.

Okay, if that's not
what happened,

why did you re-make the missing
part of the sculpture?

Well, I did it because...

I did it...

for Emmy.

I saw the pole was missing.

There's no way
she would've done it.

My brain was foggy
from the hangover,

and I thought maybe
she was just covering

for her useless boyfriend.

I panicked.

I was just trying
to make it right.

Did you throw this on the fire?

Geez, man!
Look, if I had of known

it was there, don't you think
I would've got rid of it by now?

Joe, we need to take this
back to the station.

Oh, come on.

So that you can answer
further questions

about your involvement
in the murder of Lynley Foster.

Come with me, Joe.

What will happen to Dad now?

Well, that really depends on
what he's telling my colleague.

He won't say it, so I will.

He's totally in love
with Miranda Temple.

Has been forever.

Like since they were kids.

That's why he looked
after Warwick.

For Miranda?

To get back into her good books.

And when Warwick
changed his will,

Dad didn't want to know a thing.

Well, Joe told us that Warwick
never mentioned a new will.

Maybe not.
But someone else did.

- I'm not talking about it!
- It's yours by right, Joe.

- It's what he wanted.
- No!

I was there.
I witnessed the document.

Well, then what did he do
with it?

He could've changed his mind
and chucked it for all you know.

Talk to his lawyer.
Or do you want me to?

No, you stay out of it,
you hear me?

That's Miranda's money,
it's not mine.

Dad, don't be an idiot!

You stay out of it, too!

You heard nothing!

A will needs two witnesses.

So, did Lynley say
who the other one was?

And this new will
never turned up?

Joe didn't go looking for it?

That's why I got
the cleaning job from Miranda.

Every time I cleaned, I spent
half the time looking for it.

The place was a real tip.

Then that real estate agent
had everything cleared out

and put in all
that seasidey crap.

The night of the bonfire, after
Aidan called you, what happened?

I could see Dad was about to
make a massive fool of himself.

I didn't want to watch,
so I went home to bed.

Except, like an hour later,
something woke me up.

God, you're such
a condescending ass!

You don't like it, go!
Go on, who's stopping you?

Yeah, you'd like
that, wouldn't you?

For me to just disappear!
Then go on, get out!

You are unbelievable.

I've had a gutsful of this.

Oh, you think I haven't?

You think I like coming home to
this, this incessant negativity?

When you bother
to come home at all!

I got this really sick
feeling it was Dad.

Dad?

Dad, are you in here?

Dad's sculpture was right there.

I didn't know what to do.

So I ran back here
looking for Dad.

But he wasn't here.

But then...

Dad, what have you done?

Just leave me alone.

I shouldn't have done it.
I know I shouldn't have.

Done what, Emmy?

What did you do?

I went back there.

I knew I had to get rid of it.

Then the next day, I went
back to Miranda's place.

To pretend to discover the body?

Making sure that Wyatt Brenner
was on hand

to see how shocked
and upset you were.

Hell's bells!

I had to.

Looking at the wound,

is it possible
that something like this

could have been
the murder weapon?

I would need precise
measurements to check.

But frankly, it would
surprise me.

The nature of the indentation
suggests something shorter.

Shorter and wider.

Is it possible that Lynley
was hit with one thing

and then finished off
with another?

One of these, for example?

Entirely possible.

Do you know if my house
has been sold?

Gina, it's still a crime scene.

But not forever, Mike.

The Docherty car's been
identified in CCTV footage

near the Pateke Point turnoff.

Any I.D. on the driver?

No, but as of now,
surely Aidan's back in the mix.

Oh. Gotta go.

Sorry, some clients prattle on,

not knowing
how much it will cost.

How can I help you?

My boss has requested
your phone records.

Excuse me?

We could do this the easy way
or the long, hard, boring way,

which involves me
getting a legal order.

The easy way would be
you playing nice

and just handing
over your phone.

Yeah, let's just forget all
about the Privacy Act, shall we?

Okay, well, we can do it
the hard way if you like.

I really don't mind.

I need your help
with something, Emmy.

It could be a big help
for your Dad, too.

Okay.

Miranda told us that nothing
was missing from the house,

but she's hardly spent
any time here.

You've spent hours here cleaning.

So I need you to take
a good look around

and see if there's
anything out of place.

Take your time.

There used to be
something there.

What was it?

Some dumb nautical thing.

I don't know.

Joe Schofield?

Interview 3.

You might want to take a look
at these first.

Miranda Temple's
phone records. Interesting.

And I can't believe
I'm about to say this,

but actually, at times,
even a little...

raunchy.

The night Lynley died,
Debs Docherty made

several calls to your number...

all of them unanswered.

Why would your
real estate agent be trying

to contact you so urgently?

That's a question
for her, surely?

Huh.

Then there's the string
of intimate texts,

dating back weeks.

What exactly is
your relationship with Debs?

I don't exactly know.

I suppose you'd have to say
we're a couple.

We met when I contracted her
to sell the bach.

We've been taking it slowly.

Debs had never been
with a woman before,

and she has Aidan
to think about.

He wouldn't approve?

I doubt he'd care
one way or the other,

but his thug of a father
definitely would.

Debs didn't want
to rock the boat.

So you've been keeping
your relationship quiet?

Mm, and if Aidan was around,
I'd stay away.

Debs had Aidan this weekend,
but she called you.

Maybe she missed me.

Hard to believe?

Did she know where you were?

At the bonfire. Yes.

Socializing
with an ex-boyfriend.

Joe?

Is it possible that Debs
saw him as a threat?

You mean was she
checking up on me?

Sorry, uh, Gina's here.

Apparently, it's urgent.

It's going to auction!

The Temple bach.

I've never bid on auction
before, Mike.

Ah, Gina,
now's not really the time...

Where did you get that from?

- The real estate agent.
- When?

Yesterday. Why?

I picked up one this morning.

Spot the difference.

Ah, well, these two photos
aren't the same.

Yeah.
Check the website.

Why would someone do that?

Yeah, same deal.

The photo of the living room's
not there.

Find Debs Docherty.
Bring her in now.

What exactly am I looking at?

Joe Schofield told
one of my colleagues

a story from your childhood

about Warwick faking
a treasure map for you.

He kept it.

Kept it?

The bottle.

Warwick kept it.
I had no idea.

He was trying to teach me
some kind of lesson.

And the day before the bonfire,
you told that story to Debs.

The bottle in the photograph...

you sure it's the one
you found as a child?

Um, the... the paper looks
different, newer,

but that's the bottle.

And Debs never mentioned
finding it?

No.

She never mentioned it.

It's just a little nautical
knickknack, part of the staging.

And in pride of place
on the sideboard.

It was there when that photo
was taken,

but it isn't there now.

Any idea why?

Can't imagine.

Well, can you imagine
why someone would've removed

a photo of it from your website?

This is ridiculous.
What am I supposed to have done?

Well, for one thing,
your car was recorded

on CCTV footage
heading towards Pateke Point

late on the night
of the bonfire.

And returning one hour later.

Talk to that son of mine.

He's always borrowing my car
without asking.

It'll be Emmy Schofield
clicking her fingers.

She's got that boy on a string.

I'm wondering what else

Debs hasn't mentioned to you.

Particularly in the last
couple of days.

How would I know?

Well, you could help me
by telling me

what you have talked about.

I've hardly seen her.

Well, that's not quite true,
is it?

She was at your office when
I dropped by there yesterday.

You were very quick to suggest
we go for coffee

and you almost left
your handbag behind.

Uh, your bag?

Get it together, Miranda.

Except it wasn't yours at all.

It was Debs'.
She was out the back.

She had it with her later,
here at the station.

I'm guessing you also lied
to Detective Sims about Debs

not being in her office
when you met at the doorstep.

Anything to keep us away
while you worked on your story.

And of course, you were there
when Debs lied

about losing the key
to the bach.

Now we really are
in "no comment" territory.

Will it still be "no comment"
if I tell you

that Joe Schofield
is currently helping us

with our inquiries
for Lynley's murder?

Implicated by a piece
of driftwood sculpture

located at the scene...

possibly placed there
deliberately to incriminate him.

No, Joe could never kill anyone.

Can you say the same
for Debs Docherty?

Or do you just not know her
that well?

Everything I've told you
is true.

Except I did see Debs
that night.

When I pulled over to rest.

I don't know if that's what
woke me, but there was a car.

I could see it was Debs.

I thought she'd stop, but...

There was a lookout
not far down the road.

She pulled in there.

Debs?

She said she had driven
to Pateke Point looking for me.

What did she throw away?

I don't know.

She wouldn't tell me.

I'd say that Debs could do
with the support of a friend

right about now.

Shall we?

Let's start
with the second will.

What second will?

The will Debs witnessed
for your father.

I didn't read it.
I didn't know what was in it.

It was just my signature
on a piece of paper.

And Lynley Foster witnessed it
at the same time?

Yes.

I didn't know Warwick
from a bar of soap.

So I... I'd forgotten
all about it until...

Until you met Miranda?

She needed someone
to sell the bach.

It was only later when...

we...

started seeing each other
that I realized

there could be a newer will

in Warwick's belongings
waiting to be discovered.

And if it was, it would be
very likely

that Miranda
would be disinherited.

I felt guilty for signing it,

for... for witnessing it.

I-It's silly, I know, but...

Guilty?
Or greedy?

I mean, after all, you'd just
lucked into a relationship

with a very wealthy woman.

And either way,
you did your best to ensure

the new will wouldn't be found.

Hence the nautical makeover.

Everything of Warwick's
went out in the trash...

Except not quite everything.

You found the message
in the bottle, right?

I didn't know the story.

Sorry! Sorry.

Thank you.

I thought it was junk.
But it suited the theme.

And the other day,
when you did hear the story...

Something clicked.

When I found out
Dad had drawn the map himself,

I was destroyed.

He pretended he was trying to
make some philosophical point,

but really it was a sick
little power game.

I realized Warwick had kept the
bottle but the paper looked new.

It was the one piece of paper
no one had thought to look at.

One last cruel message
in a bottle for Miranda

to find after he'd gone.

And that night, I thought
I'd join you at the bonfire.

And if I had the chance,

I'd go to the bach
and check the bottle.

But you didn't answer my calls.

My phone was off.

So I went to bed,
but I couldn't sleep.

I was imagining all sorts
of things.

Me and Joe?

And I decided
I'd drive out anyway.

I don't know what I was
expecting to find out

when I got there,
but when I got there...

it was just Joe, drinking.

He seemed pretty far gone.

He didn't see me.

I thought that you must be
at the bach,

so I went to see, but no.

No lights, no car.

And then I remembered
I had my key.

And then suddenly,
I heard voices.

People yelling.

I care enough to still be here!

Why? Why bother?
You're obviously not happy.

And whose fault is that?

Oh, mine, of course!

I must have looked
as guilty as sin.

Start taking responsibility

for your own life.

And then she was there.

In the house.

Hello?

Where's Miranda?

She's not here.

I'm a friend of hers.

I know, but what are you
doing here?

What is that?
Nothing.

Show me.

Being a friend of Miranda's,

you won't mind me
showing her this, will you?

I can show her myself.

Let me.

I thought I'd killed her.

I didn't know what to do.

So then I...

I was racing back to the car.

Get out!
Oh, you are...

And there was still
shouting coming from somewhere.

My head was spinning, and I...

like coming home to
this, this incessant negativity?

When you bother
to come home at all!

I just should have
kept on walking.

You should've gone back to help.

I did go back.

But not to help.

I just couldn't bear the thought
of losing you.

And then I heard someone coming
and I thought it was you.

It was Emmy Schofield.
Looking for her father.

I just knew I had to get
out of there.

And if you could
implicate Joe at the same time,

why the hell not?

Then I drove home.

And I saw Miranda's car
on the side of the road

and I prayed that
you wouldn't follow me.

But she did.

Debs?

She told me she'd gone
for a drive to think.

About us.

She said she wasn't sure
that we had a future.

I didn't know what else to say.

She told me to go home
and leave her alone.

Said we could talk tomorrow.

And you did, of course.

After you talked to us.

What the hell happened
last night?

Come in.

You said you'd stand by me.

I would've.

All those lies I promised
I'd tell for you?

Easy.
Second nature.

Until I found out they were
about to arrest Joe.

I couldn't do it to him.

Not Joe.

- Hello.
- Hi.

Hey, little fella.

He's gone to a good home.

He'll be happy to be back
at the beach.

Yeah, yeah, especially
since I've decided

to move here permanently.

Steph and I are getting
a divorce.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Don't be.
I've never been happier.

Mike!
You're late!

You're late.

Are you sure about this?

You know the presence of death
never bothers me.

And the neighbors?

Two can play his silly game.

He doesn't know I play
the Russian anthem

at full volume every morning.

You don't.

No.

But I can start.

Well, hello, you.

No, now's a good time.

How have you been?