All language subtitles for The.Brokenwood.Mysteries.S01E02.Sour.Grapes.PDTV.XviD

Howdy, neighbor.
How's the vines?

Good... I think.

No help from me.

Oaks, blackberries...

grasses, hint of citrus,
toasted coconut...

Ah, should be a long finish.

You can tell all that
from a sniff?

- Didn't know you were a...
- A wine snob?

And it's not a sniff.
Better to say "the nose."

Learned from the best.

Ned James... grumpiest bastard
you'll ever meet,

but also the best winemaker
you'll ever meet.

I used to work for him.

- Hey, Ned.
- Jared.

Ned James,
Detective Mike Shepherd.

He just bought
Gary McLeod's place.

Coppersfield.
Yeah, nice to meet you, Ned.

Fancy yourself as a winemaker,
do you?

I like a good Merlot.

Any idiot can grow Merlot.

Another city bloke
growing grapes, eh?

Just what this town needs.

You're lucky.
You caught him on a good day.

Ladies and gentlemen,
your attention please.

It is with pleasure that I
introduce to you Paul Winterson,

head judge for this year's
Brokenwood Wine Awards.

Paul.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Well, folks,
another great vintage,

particularly the whites.

Some knockouts,
some disappointments,

but one clear winner.

The gold medal goes to...

Bright Valley's
Reserve Chardonnay.

Yes!

You beauty!

He didn't say my name.

Yeah, well, things
don't always go as you expect.

- Mine was the best.
- I know.

- It always is the best.
- I know.

Bloody joke!
Brokenwood annual sham show.

Whoo-hoo.

What do you think?
Good decision?

I always thought Bright Valley
wines were kind of average.

Looking forward to trying it.

Maybe Amanda James has dominated
for too long.

Good excuse to keep sampling.

The deceased
is a Paul Winterson,

a wine judge, ironically.

Oh, him.

You know him?

Saw him at the awards yesterday.

Made some people very happy.

No doubt shattered some dreams,
too.

Hey, Paul.

Looking a little
on the pink side.

Embarrassed by all the fuss,
huh?

He was found dead in this
big wine-vat thing here.

It's called a, uh...
an open fermenter.

Holds 2,000 liters of raw wine.

Party in a tub.

How did he get here?

Car outside
is rented under his name.

He was found at 6:30 a.m.
by the winery manager

when he opened up.

This is Chris Chambers. He found
the body and called it in.

I've taken a statement.

Mr. Chambers, this is Detectives
Mike Shepherd and Kristin Sims.

Chris.

Hell of a way to start the day.

Yeah.

The place
was locked up, as per usual?

Yeah.

Any other way
he could have got in

other than
through the side door?

No. Security's pretty tight.

His face... It was...

Distressing. We know.

We'll have someone talk to you
about that.

- You're the winemaker, Chris?
- Operations manager.

Amanda James is the winemaker.

Amanda.

This is Detective Mike Shepherd
and, uh, Kristin...

Sims. Thanks, Chris.

It's such a waste.

Uh, death is like that,
I'm afraid.

Oh. Yes.

No, I meant the wine.
It will all have to go.

Well, yes.
Yes, it would.

But you never know.
Uh, Merlot, is it?

Pinot Noir.

Pinot Noir
with a hint of dead wine judge.

Could make
for an interesting vintage.

Too soon?

That was a joke, wasn't it?

A poor-taste one.

Oh, no. I get it.
That's funny.

Amanda, last night, you were...

Here.

With Paul.

So, uh, Paul Winterson was here
with you last night.

- Why was that?
- I invited him here.

- Because...
- I didn't win.

Not even a bronze.
What the hell?

Amanda, better luck next year.

Well?

Let's just say... your wine
wasn't up to its usual standard.

But it was.
It always is.

Wasn't. You had a bad year.
Accept it.

Let it go, eh?

"Let it go."
What does that even mean?

To let go, to... move on?

Oh. Well, I did.
I went to Paul's motel.

You got it wrong.

Amanda, please.

What's going on?

Your wine was spoiled.

Erin, tell her.

It's true, Amanda.
It was blatantly off.

Salty, putrid.

I didn't want to say it
in front of everyone else.

Putrid?! Impossible.

You know my facilities
are state-of-the-art.

I want you to come now, and
I want you to see for yourself.

So, they came for an inspection.

What time was this?

8:42 p.m.

The pneumatic membrane presses.

50,000-liter
automatic fermenters

with temperature control

as well as the open fermenters
for the reds.

This is the same vintage
as I entered into competition.

Pick a bottle, any one you like.

The Chardonnays are, of course,
all close fermented.

It's all tested.

Nothing goes into the bottle
that isn't perfect.

Wow.

Okay.
This is... very good.

It is.

So you admit you made a mistake.

Amanda, the only mistake
was that you got unlucky.

You delivered a bad bottle.
End of story.

So, they tasted the wine,
and then...

They left.

- In their car?
- Yes.

- Which is parked outside.
- Yes.

Which would suggest
that they came back.

Did they?

I don't know.

What did you do after they left?

I went to bed. Alone.

Couldn't sleep

because Paul said that my wine
was "putrid, salty,"

and I-I couldn't think
of how that could have happened.

And I won't sleep again tonight
till I figure it out.

Coupled with the fact
that someone just died

in your winery.

Yes.

It's a shame, isn't it?

There's something
you should see.

This records
the security footage.

Not very well, obviously.

- Oh.
- I take it you didn't know.

Uh, Amanda, no.
Please, don't touch it.

Um, I can fix it.
I have a soldering iron.

- Don't. You don't need to.
- I'll take it. Thanks.

Oh, but it's broken.

I'm sure it'll still be
of some use as it is.

To us, at least.

Okay. Mm.

Spicy notes.

Boysenberry, grapefruit.

And a hint of carpet.

She doesn't seem very cut up

about someone dying
on her premises.

Shock will do that to you.

I've seen plenty of shock.
That's not shock.

That's a complete lack
of empathy,

like she doesn't understand
what just happened.

That doesn't mean she did it.

Mm, would take the concept of
sore loser to a whole new level.

Speaking of which, you get onto
a list of all the other losers.

I'll take a look
at the town hall.

See if I can get onto any more
of that putrid wine.

You just want to try
the winning stuff.

Well, nothing wrong with knowing
what all the fuss is about.

Ah.

What?

The remainder wines go on sale
for charity today.

It's a bit of a highlight
on the Brokenwood calendar.

Oh.

Right, then.
Time to be a killjoy.

We're not open yet.

- Oh.
- Thanks.

For charity.

But I need it.

The rules are the rules.

Hi.
Uh, Detective Mike Shepherd.

Oh, hello.

And the only person
taking anything anywhere is me.

This is all potentially part
of a criminal investigation.

This is about Paul, isn't it?

- Mm.
- Yeah, terrible.

And I can't guarantee
it will all be returned intact.

Of course. Whatever you need.

- Well, I need a bottle.
- All in good time.

- How long will that be?
- Well, it's hard to say.

When do you think
you'll find out who did it?

Uh, Mr. Winterson's death is at
an early stage of investigation.

Not who killed Paul,
who tampered with my wine.

Going somewhere?

Detective Shepherd.

Um, just a couple of questions,
if that's okay.

Of course.
The, um, constable said you...

I'm sorry.

I'll get you a cup of tea,
shall I?

Um, milk?

No.

Good choice. I always find
these things a little tricky.

So, did you judge with Paul
often?

Yes, uh, there were
several shows a year.

We seem to get invited back.

Now, it's my understanding

you went to Amanda James' winery
last night for a re-taste.

It's not like we had any choice.

Amanda, it's getting late.
It's been a long day.

You must come.
You must come now, okay?

- Now!
- All right.

All right.

But things went well.

Why would you think that?

Well,
Amanda James seemed to think

you were all in agreement
that her wine was very good

and that
it was just a case of bad luck.

But Amanda wouldn't accept it.

So, you admit
you made a mistake?

Amanda, the only mistake
was that you got unlucky.

You delivered a bad bottle.
End of story.

Yeah,
unlucky that you were the judge.

Oh, Christ, Amanda.
You've won five years straight.

A little humility
wouldn't go astray.

Jesus.
What are you doing?

That's all they're worth now.

Thanks for nothing, Paul.

So, you could say
Amanda was... feisty?

Temperamental, obsessive, weird.

They all work, too.

So, then did you...

- What?
- Leave?

We said good night.

I heard him talk on the phone,

but I couldn't hear
what he was saying.

Later, I heard the phone ring.

It woke me up.

The door opened and closed.

I heard him drive away.

The motel phone or a cellphone,
do you think?

The landline.

His cellphone has
some stupid ring on it.

I'm always telling him
to change it.

Um, I-I should head back
to the city now.

Oh, do you have work
to get back to?

Um, no, but...

Lucky you.

Oh, then you won't mind
staying on a bit.

I have to move motels.
I'm finding this very difficult.

Of course. Um, we'll get someone
to help with that.

Oh, can you think of any reason

why Paul may have wanted to go
back to Amanda's winery?

No.

Let's talk
about the art of losing.

Chris Chambers, do you reckon?

Amanda's manager?

Bound to feel aggrieved
on some level.

Found the body.

Dominic Nichol.

Premium loser.

Local winemaker, has been on
struggle street for a long time.

Well, I like his wine, though.

It's always on special
at the local.

Just saying.

You like it because it's good
or because it's cheap?

Fair point.

Ned James isn't up here.

Amanda's father?
He wasn't a competitor, was he?

He was at the awards,
making his discontent known.

Okay.

Anything more on Winterson?

Uh, lives in Queenstown,

respected wine critic
for more than 20 years,

two kids, happily married.

How do you know that?

- That he's married?
- Happily.

Well, he's not divorced.

Okay. He's married.
But...

Anything else?

Uh, motel phone records.

Paul phoned Julian
right at 10:05 p.m.

At 10:17 p.m.,
someone phoned Paul.

Their records don't show
an incoming number.

And again,
a couple of hours later.

Detective Merlot.

You here to arrest me?

Should I be?

Why else would a detective
crawl up my driveway?

Something I need to know, Ned.

About wine making?
Plenty, I'm sure.

What about
Paul Winterson's death?

Can't help you there.

Why are you here?

I was going to see
Julian Bright.

Didn't realize
you lived so close.

We all live
where the soil's right.

Wouldn't choose to be
his neighbor.

You don't get on?

He's a plonker.

Dominic Nichol?

Failure.

Amanda James?

You leave my daughter out of it.

Paul was found dead
in one of her vats.

He was a lush.

Probably slipped while dipping his snout
for a guzzle like a pig in a trough.

Where were you last night, Ned?

I was here, and I live alone.

What are you gonna do about it?

I'll see you around, Ned.

What is it
with you cops and Merlot?

Your predecessor, Gary McLeod...

He planted Merlot
in spud country.

Spud country being...

Wrong soil.

Put it this way...

What do potatoes and
Merlot grapes have in common?

Nothing.

Hello?

Anyone around?

Yeah. G'day.

G'day.

Mike Shepherd.
Brokenwood CIB.

Uh, Rob. Sorry.
Uh, Rob Visnic.

Apologies.
I'm feeling a little...

- Tied one on, did you?
- Yeah. I did.

Well, you're a winning vintner.
Congrats.

Thanks.

Big night, I bet.

Yeah, been awake
with a head like a bomb site.

Now I hear about Paul Winterson.

Hell's bells.

So, how well did you know Paul?

Uh, only through the awards,
really.

He's a good guy.

Loved my wine... finally.

- And now...
- What did you do to your hand?

Uh, cut it. Broken bottle.

- Milk?
- Uh, no. Black's good.

So it was a big night.

No, I cut it this morning.

Was off my game.
Broken glass.

Occupational hazard, I guess.

Yeah, you could say that.

Actually, I was hoping to speak
to Julian Bright.

Is he around?

In a manner of speaking.

And thanks for all
your calls, e-mails, and texts.

And as we sign off, remember...

Bright Valley Wine's gold medal.

That's right. Can I say that
again? I think I can.

Gold-medal Chardonnay
is in a store near you.

Look for the new gold sticker.
Try it.

I promise it's good.
Gold-medal good.

Humbly yours, I'm Julian Bright.

- Talk to you tomorrow.
- Julian's a...

weekend wine grower.

Heads to Brokenwood after
his shift every Friday at noon,

back Sunday to be fresh
for his show Monday morning.

You bought Gary McLeod's place.
Coppersfield.

For my sins, yes, I did.

10 acres of Merlot.
How's that going?

Ned James thinks I've got
the wrong grapes for the soil.

Ned James is a has-been.
Take no notice.

Although, yeah,
if the Merlot doesn't work out,

then, uh, potatoes
could be a go.

So, last night, you were with...

Uh... I had a celebratory glass
with Julian...

well, two, actually,
and then he took off.

Approximately...

8:00. He always heads back
at 8:00 for the show.

Um, and then I partied

with some of the locals
and a couple of our workers.

Do you think there were any
hard feelings over the decision?

No more than usual.

I mean, no one likes to lose,
right? But it's only wine.

But Dom looked a bit down on it.

Yeah, Dom's been up against it
for years.

Sorry, mate.

It was good, but, uh...

Better luck next year, eh?

I've heard that platitude
five years in a row, Paul.

There won't be a "next year."

Uh, thanks.
Hope the hand gets better.

- Ta.
- Yeah.

Hey, what do you think swayed
the judges this year?

Hard to say.

I don't change a lot.

Our Chardonnay's bold,

it's forthright,
it's designed to cut through.

Although, we changed the color
of the Stelvins.

Stelvins?

Screw caps. Went for a bright red.
Maybe that was it.

But the... the judges don't get
to see the bottles, do they?

It's a blind tasting.

Otherwise there'd be
a risk of favoritism, right?

True.
That's a good point.

So must have just been
a great Chardonnay.

I'm sure it was.

A red wine in its rawest form,
drained from his lungs.

'Cause of death... drowning.

In Pinot Noir.

I guess,
if you're a wine critic,

there are worse ways to go.

What about the gash to his head?

Small lacerations

containing fragments
of broken glass.

The deceased
was struck with a bottle.

Unlikely to have killed him?

Stunned, maybe knock him out.

So he was alive
when he was submerged.

Probably. His reflexes would
have made him try to breathe.

All he got was lungfuls of wine.

Can you give a time of death,
yet?

Mm, between 10:00 p.m.
and 2:00 a.m.

Can't be more specific.

Mike Shepherd.

Mike,
Paul Winterson's phone records

show a call to his cellphone
that he answered.

It was made from the
Amanda James winery at 1:58 a.m.

Got it. Ta.

Here's a question.

How does a man answer his phone
while he's being drowned?

I didn't phone Paul at 1:58 a.m.

Yet you said yourself,
"I couldn't sleep.

I was racking my brains."

I didn't phone Paul.

Well, who has access
to this phone?

Mm, Chris does.

Well, Chris says he was at home
with his wife and kids.

Do you know
that the Wine Award Society

don't even think that tampering
could have occurred?

They believe their systems
are foolproof.

Can you believe that,
Mr. Detective Shepherd?

Ms. James, a homicide
has occurred on your premises.

The security cameras
were disabled.

There's no sign
of a forced entry.

Yes?

Is there something
you're not telling us?

Have you spoken
to Dominic Nichol?

We are aware of Mr. Nichol.
Why should we talk to him?

He doesn't like me.

That's him.

Dominic Nichol!

Mr. Nichol!

I need you to stop running.

We're the police.

I'm not falling for that one.

Mr. Nichol, I'm Detective
Senior Sergeant Shepherd!

And that is Detective Sims.

Played like a true halfback
there, Sims.

You really are cops.
Right. That's a relief.

Thought you were someone else.

And who would that be?

Oh, had a couple
of high-interest loans come due.

They're pretty keen
on repayments.

Which you don't have.

I thought you were those guys,
with the suit and all.

Well, you can relax.

We're just with the Criminal
Investigation branch.

Last night, I went home and
drowned my sorrows with my wife.

Another lost opportunity to save
this place from the receivers.

Tough times.

Wine making's been in my family
for generations.

And I get to be the chump
that breaks tradition.

What did you think
of the decision,

about
Bright Valley getting gold?

I'm happy for Rob Visnic.

You rate him?

Yeah.
One of the best vintners around.

Although it'll be Julian Bright
that basks in all the glory.

Takes the kudos, right?

Privilege of being the owner,
isn't it?

Yeah, but he knows stuff all
about wine making.

I mean, he might know how to operate
a screw-cap machine at best.

That's the way
it seems to be these days.

Wine making's become a hobby
of the rich and famous.

What do you think
of Amanda James?

Damn good winemaker.

Best in the region, hands down.

She still didn't win.

Won't kill her, will it?

You don't have
any personal issues?

With Amanda?
No.

She thinks you don't like her.

Well, no denying
she's a bit strange.

No.
Actually, I quite like her.

Well, there was a... altercation
not so long ago,

but that was just business.

What, uh, sort of altercation?

When I realized my label
wasn't cutting through anymore,

I approached her to see if she'd
buy my grapes for her vintage.

And her response?

She called my grapes
"hemorrhoids on a vine."

No deal, I take it.

I was pissed off, sure, but...

hey, it's not her fault
my business is tanking.

"Hemorrhoids on a vine."

I think I actually spewed
in my mouth a little bit.

And do I ever want to eat grapes
again? No.

And what is that woman's
problem?

And don't say shock.
Shock doesn't cut it.

Rude, dangerous, psycho.

Or it's... that she's a woman.

Excuse me?

Well,
it's a male-dominated industry.

I'm sure she's had to step
on a few hairy toes

to get to the top.

Does that extend
to killing a wine critic?

I'll pick you up in the morning.

We need to be in the city
by noon.

If we left a little bit earlier,

I could get
some shoe shopping in...

being a woman and all.

That was a joke.

Really? 'Cause four marriages have taught
me never to joke about shoe shopping.

Four?
I thought it was three.

Going to need pruning.

And as it happens,
I haven't got much on.

Just a bit of this and that.

That'd be great.

What is it about these things

that would make someone want to
kill someone else over them?

Well, money.

It's always about money,
isn't it?

Greed.

Or lust. I reckon lust has got
a lot to do with it.

And jealousy.

Money, greed, lust,
and jealousy.

Right.

That's narrowed it down a bit.

Smile,
you're on "Candid Camera."

What?

"Candid Camera."

You know, that TV show
in the '70s where...

I was born in 1989.

Right.

And there's still time to take
a few more calls before we go.

I'm still interested to hear what
you think about this gang problem.

I mean, are we simply being
too easy on these lowlifes,

these scumbags
that prey on society?

Call us now.
0800 Talk Radio.

And we sign off
on a sad note today,

for as we've heard
through the wires, I, um...

we have suffered the loss
of a friend.

Paul Winterson, wine critic,
judge, and industry...

He's just winding up.
He'll be out in a moment.

Dead through
some tragic turn of events.

Winning that wine award...
I've never seen him so happy.

Now this.

He's absolutely gutted.

My heart goes out to his family,

the family of a man
who made me a winner on Sunday

and all of us losers today,

for the world has lost
a great man

with the passing
of Paul Winterson.

Humbly yours, I'm Julian Bright.

Pick your day on up.
Talk to you tomorrow.

Mike Shepherd.

Oh. And Detective Sims.

Pleased to meet you.
Uh, come on through.

Thank you.

Nice wrap-up.

That'll be all.

Well, I still can't believe it.

I mean, Paul was a great guy...

smart, just so damn decent,
you know?

And he made you a winner.

Yeah.
No complaints there.

But, uh, hell, I'd happily trade that
to have a glass of wine with the guy.

Is it standard practice
to be social with judges?

Oh, it's a small industry, Mike.

You know, you can't pretend
not to know everybody.

And because of this, you know,
everybody knows me.

So inevitably, it's social.

As long
as it's after the judging.

What are you implying?
That there's room for collusion?

Amanda James thinks so.

Really?

Well, she would, wouldn't she?
I mean, she lost.

Can you tell us your movements
on the night Paul died?

Oh, sure. Easy.

Um, after the announcement,

I had a celebratory glass
with my vintner, Rob Visnic.

Couldn't really party.

Well, okay.
We had three.

But no way was I over the limit.

I left Brokenwood
about 8:00 p.m.

I always do on a Sunday.

You know, got to be fresh
for the show Monday morning.

When was the last time
you spoke with Paul?

Oh, he called me, actually.

Yeah.

I was on my way home
into the city,

and he phoned
to, uh, congratulate me again.

He didn't have to do that.
It was... It was nice of him.

And that's just the kind of guy
he was, you know?

Sorry.

Let me know if there's
anything I can do to help.

I mean, I can reach a lot of people if you
want to call out for witnesses or anything.

That could come in handy.
Here we go.

Hell, I thought the police
had gone a bit more high-tech.

Well, I like the way it rides.

It even has a cassette player.

Really? Maybe I should put one
in my ride.

Wow. How long does it take you
to get to Brokenwood in that?

Oh, legally? Two and a half
hours, door to door.

You?

These days,
the... the Holden Kingswood...

It's more about
the... the journey.

Not necessarily about
getting to the destination.

- Oh, we got here all right.
- But will we get home?

You reckon I should take
Julian's for a spin?

Maybe get a taste
for something newer.

No. No one drives this puppy
except me.

I worked hard to get to the top,
and she's my guilty pleasure.

Happy to take you
for a spin, though.

Another time.

I'll be
in Brokenwood all weekend.

Sing out if you want anything.

Mike Shepherd.

Yes.

Yes.

It's okay. Take your time.

I can be with you in...
three hours from now.

Okay.

Erin Formby.

Apparently,
she's got a confession to make.

Hello, Erin.

Detective.
Um, thanks for meeting me.

You find another motel okay?

Yes.
Yes, one of your staff...

Good.
But you prefer to talk here?

Well, it's just...

Shall I make this easier?

What?

You loved Paul.

I mean, you really loved him.

Is that
what you wanted to tell me?

How did you...

Separate motel rooms.

Um, keeping up appearances
for his marriage.

But not too separate.

Adjacent with connecting doors.

That's why
you were so keen to leave.

You knew Paul's wife would be
flying in from Queenstown.

I'm better off away
from all of that.

Paul's wife has already arrived.

Oh.

I'm on my way to meet her now.

Do you... Are you obliged to...

No, I'm not.

What did you
really want to tell me, Erin?

We argued.

So, when you said,
"We said good night,"

what you meant was,
"We had a row, he stormed off.

That was the last time
I ever saw him."

What did you fight about?

I wanted more than being

some convenience
he went around tour with.

You wanted him to leave
his wife?

We talked about it.

And what did he say?

Nothing.

That was the frustrating thing.

He was so... distracted.

- By...
- I don't know.

It was infuriating.

He said
he was too tired to talk,

that we'd talk about it
in the morning,

which was never gonna happen.

He went next door.

Did you often sleep alone
when you were on tour?

Never.

We found this,
uh, beside his bed.

Do those numbers mean anything
to you?

No.

Slow day at the office?

Research.

An article on Amanda James.

She seems so uptight,

yet she'll get her kit off
to promote her brand.

She's a contradiction.

If it was Erin Formby
and Paul Winterson

naked in a bathtub
of Pinot Noir,

it would make more sense.

Oh, why?

Oh.
That was her confession.

But I felt she was after
a relationship counselor

more than a detective.

Oh, well,
with your track record,

I'm sure you gave her
sound advice.

Anything else?

They had a fight.

Oh, a tiff.
That's what lovers do.

And he was distracted.

By what?

She didn't know.

Probably by the fight.
Men do that to avoid conflict.

They affect a sense of
distraction to avoid the issue.

Man-child 101.

Mike.

What? Sorry. I was, um...

Oh. Ha ha.

So, Mrs. Winterson?

Uh, she's in victim's court.

I'll bring her through
to your office.

- Sure.
- Ah.

You're not going to...

Tell her about Erin?
No.

Perhaps I should... lead
the questions on this.

Good idea. I'm so distracted,
who knows what I might say?

I was at the hospital
with my daughter.

She had an asthma attack
and needed a nebulizer.

For some reason, it often happened
while bloody Paul was away.

Maybe it's...

Your husband traveled a lot.

He was a popular judge,
very popular,

very amiable
about the big and small events,

even school fundraisers,
for God's sake.

He loved to be, um, fêted
as a man of great authority.

So he was happy to travel
all over the country.

Did he ever mention
a falling-out with anyone,

perhaps disgruntled contestants
or...

No.

No sense that he was trying
to avoid anyone?

No.

No suspicious correspondence?

Do you mean
did I check his e-mails?

We're looking for anything
that might suggest some motive

- for wanting Paul to...
- Die?

Megan...

does this mean anything to you?

It's Paul's.
I recognize the handwriting.

The numbers?

Probably
dreaming up some grand scheme.

He was an ambitious man?

Yes.

But...

He could never find
the right opportunity

to expand on his successes.

Did Paul have life insurance?

What?

No. No, he didn't.

Just a large wine collection,

which I guess
I'll try and sell now.

Take a minute, Megan.

We'll just go and get you
some more water.

Okay.

Thanks.

How many detectives does it take
to change a light bulb?

What?
I haven't heard that one.

Mm. Just one.

But it obviously takes two
to fill a glass of water.

You're overriding
my line of questioning.

She wants you to be more direct.

Well, you don't know that.

Call it man's intuition.

Please.
She just lost her husband.

She wants answers.

Well, I can't just go bulldozing
through her personal life.

Thank you.

Megan...

Of course I checked his e-mails.

Sorry?

What you said before. You were
implying that Paul had affairs.

- Is that it?
- Well, um...

Of course he did.
I'm not stupid.

- Oh, no, I never meant to...
- We had an understanding.

I accepted that it happened,

but I didn't want to know
about the sordid details.

But of course I knew.

I mean, you would actually want
to know, wouldn't you, Ms. Sims?

Well, I hope to never be in...

Be in that situation. No.

Don't we all?

I knew about them.

All of them.

Silly little Erin,
always tagging along.

And the others.

That crazy Amanda, for one.

Amanda James?

Job driving you to drink,
Senior?

Going on a date.

Amanda.

Amanda, hello?

Oh. Yes. Hello.

I've, uh, brought you a bottle
from the judging case.

As far as evidence goes,
I figured one wouldn't hurt.

Oh, good. Goody good.

Actually,
I have a few questions.

Oh, uh, later, please.

I have to break down
the molecular structure

to find out what went wrong.

You sound like a scientist.

Well, I am.

Well, I thought wine making
was more an art form.

You sound like my father.

Wine making,
Mr. Detective Shepherd,

is all about process.

How well you control
and manipulate that process

determines how well it drinks.

Really, the only art's
on the label.

Would you like to sample this,
help me analyze what went wrong?

Sure. I'm no scientist,
but I know what I like.

Firstly, great wine should look
as good as it tastes.

That sounds more arty
than scientific.

Where possible, I put
all my wines in clear glass

so that the drinker
can appreciate

the color and the clarity.

Shouldn't reds be
in darker glass?

Doesn't sunlight break down...

There's no scientific basis
for that.

Viscosity is important... How
well does it cling to the glass?

And the nose.
From the aroma, we can tell...

Oh, dear.

That's...

Oh, God.

Whoa, yeah. I can say
that's pretty... rank.

How could it be that bad?

Oh, you solve that.

In the meantime,
Paul Winterson...

Is dead.

Yes, I know.

But you and Paul... There was
more to your relationship

than wine judging, am I correct?

I don't know what you mean.

You and Paul were lovers.

Oh, dear.

That's just... I mean, what has
that got to do with the wine?

Uh, when did your relationship
with Paul end?

- It wasn't a relationship.
- But you did...

I don't like sex.

But you were lovers
at some point.

Oh, um... well...

This is not a trick question,
Amanda. Yes or no?

- Why?
- Well, it's background.

I don't want to have sex
with you.

Me?

Is that what you're asking me?

No. Definitely not.

T-That was not on my list
of questions.

Sex is not helpful.

Right. Uh...

It makes everything...
unclear, cloudy.

It makes the cloudy wine,
and we don't like cloudy wine.

A lot of people don't get
Amanda. She's... different.

Different or difficult?

Yeah, that, too.

But you get that with genius,
don't you?

You'd call her a genius?

Well, how else do you win
medal after medal at anything?

Look, Asperger's.

Asperger's syndrome?

Yeah, I reckon it's the "X" factor
in why she's so good at making wine.

Her mother explained it to me
before she passed away.

I had just started working here.

I was finding Amanda
very... challenging.

She's so good at making wine,

but the rest of her life is...
chaotic.

Think of this place
as a restaurant.

If she's a temperamental chef,

I'm the maître d'
keeping the punters happy.

Behind every great woman,

there's a man
picking up the pieces?

Yeah... literally in my case.

A witness told me
she was pretty fired up here

the night Paul was killed.

Yeah, Amanda had lined up
a big contract.

It was foolishly based
on her winning that gold.

The whole deal was off

once there was no fancy sticker
to put on the bottle.

Why would she jump the gun
like that?

Look, Amanda thinks differently.
She thinks clinically.

She decided
that she would win again

because she just knew
that her wine was brilliant.

But it wasn't.

Yeah, well,
that's the funny thing.

Trust me. It wasn't worth a sip,
let alone a medal.

I-I can't explain it.

As I recall, you were at home
that night with your wife?

Yeah. Hiding.
Don't matter.

From?

Look, Amanda
can get pretty determined.

She just doesn't appreciate that at 1:30
in the morning, most people are asleep.

She was calling you at 1:30?

Endlessly.

Do you remember if it was
from her mobile or a landline?

Uh...

Mobile.

Yeah, the mobile I.D. thing
kept flashing up.

I didn't answer it.

Even maître d's
need a night off.

Oh.

Thanks.

Kristin. Ho... Hold on.
I'll just turn that down.

So, were Amanda and Paul
having an affair?

Hard to say.
She doesn't like sex.

How do you know that?

Oh, she told me.

Do women often tell you that?

Hey, and, uh, find out what you
can about Asperger's syndrome.

Sure. Because...

Because I was wrong about shock.

Hey, uh, got to go.

I told you to leave my daughter
alone, you hear me?

Or I'll damn well kill you!

Asperger's? Bugger that.
That's just doctor mumbo-jumbo.

Chris Chambers
seems to think it's the case.

- What's he know?
- What Amanda's mother told him.

You want to have a go at her
now? My wife's dead.

I don't want to "have a go"
at anyone, Ned.

I'm trying to figure out
who murdered Paul Winterson.

With you charging around
threatening to kill people,

you're asking for a spot
on my suspects' list.

You think Amanda did it?

She's good at science,
not disabled.

Just because
she's socially a bit awkward

doesn't mean she's going around
knocking off the likes of Winterson,

not that I would have blamed her
if she did.

If you want to find out
who killed Paul, follow me.

No label.

I know what's in it.

Those I give it to
know what's in it.

Liquid heaven.
Don't need a label.

And a cork.

Screw caps are convenient.

Corks are part
of the artistic process.

I taught Amanda to make wine...
excellent wine.

She took that gift
and applied science to it

like every other bastard
in the modern business.

Now she makes immaculate wine,

award-winning, neat and tidy,
supermarket swill.

It's wine with no feeling.

So, you're competitors now.

No. I'm out of the game.

Can't stand the industry.
Only make wine for myself.

I've got nothing to prove.

But you were at the awards.

Yeah, I just go to remind myself

what I hate about that scene.

"Hate" is a strong word.

À la tienne.

À la votre.

Whoa.

Okay.

That, my friend,
is a Chardonnay.

Well, that's...

Can you feel it?

Certainly feel something.

That's art, not science.

So, Amanda should have won?

Of course.

She still makes better wine

than all the wannabes in this
district by a country mile.

So, you hate the industry,
you didn't like Paul Winterson,

and you thought the decision
was a sham.

Am I at the top of your list?

Convince me otherwise.

Winterson took advantage
of my daughter once,

confused the hell out of her.

It was a shameless thing to do.

That was Winterson...
shameless bugger, all scruples,

always wanting
a slice of the action.

Meaning...

He was a failed winemaker.

What do they say?
"If you can't do it, teach"?

Couldn't make wine to save
himself, so he became a judge.

So... you didn't kill him?

Guy was an idiot.
Can't say I'm sorry he's dead.

I'll take that as a no.

Take it any way you like.

Who did kill Paul?

Isn't that for you
to figure out?

You said I'd find out.

I said,
"If you want to find out."

To find out
who killed the wine judge,

you need to understand wine.

Consider yourself educated.

The rest is up to you.

Thanks.

That is truly remarkable.

And, Shepherd?

Welcome to Brokenwood.

G'day.

This is a bit cheeky, perhaps
not even, uh, police business.

More a challenge from Ned James.

- Ned?
- Yeah.

So, I was passing, and I was
wondering whether I could grab

a bottle of that award-winning
vintage of yours.

Don't you have the rest
of the judging remainder case?

Yeah, I shouldn't really drink
the evidence.

Not a good look.

Evidence of what?

Well, the fact
that I've got a lot to learn

about the art of wine making.

Uh, same vintage.

It's on the house.

Oh, please. I can't be seen
to take gifts or bribes.

- It's...
- Not a good look.

Mm.

- How's the hand?
- Getting there.

Ned James hated Winterson,
you know?

Oh, I know.

Thanks.

Oh, I, uh, put that Asperger's
research on your desk.

Her father would say
that's doctor mumbo-jumbo,

that Amanda's only problem
is her reliance on science,

messes with the mojo
of her wine, he reckons.

Mike, she has motive.

She lost
and she's a jilted lover.

She doesn't like sex.

Maybe she's pleased that he
didn't want to take it further.

Opportunity. She rang Paul
from the winery at 1:58 a.m.

Someone did.

Well, Chris was at home.
No one else had access.

Paul was found dead
on her premises.

What more do you need, Mike?

I need a wine. You?

It's, uh... It's award-winning.

Am I on or off duty?

Both, for when are we not?

Cheers.

Hmm.

Hint of gooseberries.

Grapefruit, dried figs...

Lapsang souchong.

You have no idea, do you?

Busted. It doesn't really set
the world on fire.

Ned James didn't do it.

And you know this because...

I asked him.

Oh. So, that's
our new technique, is it?

We ask a suspect,
they say, "No,"

we say, "Oh, jolly good,"
and cross them off the list.

He didn't flatly deny it.

I mean,
all the guilty ones do that.

What if the sex
wasn't consensual?

Well, there's
no rape complaint made.

Well, Amanda was aggrieved
from losing, humiliated.

So what if, in her mind,
Paul raped her?

What if, in her rage,

as documented
by the Asperger's research...

Which I haven't read yet.

Something snapped
and she went for revenge?

On a simplistic level,
why would Amanda kill someone

and, in the process,
trash her most precious thing,

the thing that is her world...
her next vintage?

It... It doesn't make sense.

Okay, well, let's move on
to Dominic Nichols.

Oh!

God! I'm such an idiot.

It's okay. There's, um, plenty
more where that came from.

Such a klutz.

One of the 10 remaining bottles
from the judging case.

Are you sure that's okay?

Chairman of the wine awards
said, "Take what you need."

That's, uh...
Sorry about that.

I was rubbish at vino,
as you can probably gather.

Stop. Don't drink that.

What?

Put the mug down.

Um, why am I here?

We need your expertise.

You know I can be an expert
in most places.

Does it have to be here?

Well, the thing we need to you
to expert on can't be moved.

This place...

I feel like I've done something
wrong even if I haven't.

Jared.

Detective Sims.

We're drinking wine.
I think you can call me Kristin.

Kristin, then.

You said you wanted to try it.
Now's your chance.

Two glasses poured
from two separate bottles

which, by label
and Rob Visnic's own admission,

come from exactly
the same vintage...

this year's Bright Valley
Reserve Chardonnay.

Try them.

Mmm.

They're not
even remotely similar.

Well, one's from the judging case;
the other from stock at the winery.

Both supposedly the gold-medal
wine, but they're...

Radically different.

Any ideas?

Blending for judges?

What's that?

Well, taking your base wine
and...

turbocharging it, if you like,

revving it up for the judges
so it cuts through.

It's the kind of thing
Ned James used to rant on about.

"Bloody cheats," he would say.
"The wine should be the wine."

So it happens?

Well, it's dodgy,
but, yeah, it happens.

Happy customer back for more?

Is it, uh, possible
you blended for the judges?

Well, that's
a hell of an accusation.

That's not a denial.

Why would I do that?

To win, I presume.

Yeah, sure, okay, but I didn't.

Look, it used to happen,
but nowadays, people declare it.

They put a coda to the vintage.

"Black Label Reserve"
or "B-Block"

or something
that denotes a special blend.

Julian didn't want that.

What did he want?

A wine that, if it won,

would be available to his
listeners, his fans, right?

He wanted them to be able to go to the
supermarket and buy his gold-medal wine.

That's a guaranteed market
right there.

His listeners will be able
to snap up our 3,000 dozen

three times over.

3,000 dozen?

It's the quantity
of our vintage.

So there's no point
blending something to win

if you can't then meet
the supply.

So, I did that.
And we won, fair and square.

Would you take a taste?

Um, it's
from the remainder case.

It's locked up at the station.

Yeah, sure.

Oh, not for me. I'm interested
in what you think.

You know your wine well, right?

Of course.

I admit... Being a wine novice,

it's all getting a bit out
of my league.

You taste with your eyes closed,

and you listen
to the middle of your tongue.

And...

That's interesting.

There's something in there.

I can't quite put my finger
on it.

I'll need to make
some comparisons.

Okay. Get back to me.

Yeah, hi. It's me.

Yeah, look, something's gone
horrible wrong.

Sarge, uh,
there's an issue in public.

Amanda James wants to see you.
She's... pretty worked up.

Oh.

Hey, there's this crazy lady...

Mr. Detective Shepherd,
you have to arrest Rob Visnic.

- And why's that?
- He contaminated my wine.

Arrest him. Now. You must.

Would you like to come through
to my office? Chris?

Yes.

Detective Sims.

Take a seat, Amanda.

Rob Visnic put urine in my wine.

You think this because...

Uric acid, or urea,
is present in my wine,

as is chloride and creatinine,

I mean, not to mention
magnesium and calcium.

How else could these elements
get there?

So, you're saying he...

He urinated in my wine.
Yes.

Is that actually possible?

No. No, it's not.

Well, I'm telling you.
He must have.

How do you know
it's Rob's... urine?

He doesn't like me.

- Amanda, you don't know that.
- I do.

Amanda, Rob thinks you're great.

- He wanted to win.
- And he did.

Yes, by pissing in my wine!

Uh, Chris, could you talk us
through the process

of selecting wine for judging?

Sure.

It's a special moment.

We randomly select bottles
and put them in a case.

All the bottles are the same,
so any bottle will do.

The idea is that what we make
is what gets judged.

Amanda drove the cases
down to the town hall herself

and handed them over.

They're under very strict
security from then on.

Is that what happened, Amanda?

Yes.

So, you're saying

that somewhere in between
the wine being opened

and it being poured
into the tasting glasses,

um, all under scrutiny
and security,

Rob somehow managed to get urine
into the glasses?

How... How else
could you explain it?

And into the sealed
wine bottles, as well?

If you're gonna sling mud,
Amanda,

some of it's gonna stick.

You better have proof.

Well I-I mean, I do.

I mean, I have it all recorded,
a-all the elements are down.

They're there. I mean,
you can see it for yourself.

- I mean...
- Amanda. Amanda. Let's go, eh?

We'll talk about it in the car
on the way.

Come on.

- Unbelievable.
- Thanks for your time.

Senior, uh...

while you were talking
with the crazy lady, a...

Uh, keep it to Ms. James, Breen.

While you were talking with her,
some bloke left you a present.

He said, "Drink it..."

"...alongside a bottle

of Bright Valley Chardonnay
from the judging case."

Who left this?

Didn't say.

All he said was,
"Keep your eyes closed."

You want us to check it

for sarin gas, polonium,
or anything?

I'm good.

She likes to point the finger.

Guilty people do that.

Sims.
Get your coat.

We've got more drinking to do.

Need a hand with...

I thought you only liked
the cheap stuff, Breen.

When it's me and
two detectives at a cop shop,

I find it hard to relax.

But this...

This feels like a party.

Shall we?

Gooseberries.

And spicy nuts.

Mm. Okay.

Um, maybe more grapefruit
or blackberry in this one.

Vanilla notes, straw, hay.

Better?

Oh, I like
the middle-of-the-tongue thing.

It's hard
to pick the differences.

I am so confused.

Or you could just stop trying
so hard and maybe...

state the obvious.

Which is...

The two wines are identical.

Rob.

Figured it out yet?

There's a general consensus

that the two wines
are, in fact, the same.

Well done.

Care to explain.

Well, I care about wine making
more than anything.

It's all I do.
It's all I know.

It's all that mattered.

But in the end, what really
matters is that we didn't win.

But you did win.

Did we?

That's weird.

Problem?

Uh, slight technical issue.

I'll call you back in five,
okay?

Who called it in?

We don't know.

How can we not know?

Can we get a preliminary pronto?

I can start as soon
as you're ready.

- Breen, go with the body.
- On it.

I'll be there soon.

Can we find out, please?

Is it true?
Is that Rob?

Mm.

Oh, God.

I was talking to my producer
when I got the call.

I booked it up the highway
as fast as I could.

I can't believe this.

What the hell is going on,
Shepherd?

Way too early to say.

Too early?

There's a bloody serial killer
on the loose.

We don't know
it wasn't an accident.

An accident? Please.

Rob Visnic was a damn fine
winemaker, one of the best.

People of his experience do not
just trip and fall into vat!

Mike...

The call came through
from Amanda James.

Amanda found him?

Still think it was an accident,
Detective?

Okay, bring her in.

I'll meet you at the station.

Not doing a runner today?

Nowhere to run to.

You're aware of what's happened
at Bright Valley?

Should I be?

Rob Visnic's been found dead.

Oh, hell.

In an open fermenter.

You been here all day?

What are you asking?

If you've been here all day.

Yeah.

Well, keep an eye out.

Anything suspicious.

Oh, I saw Amanda James
racing up and down the road.

Yeah, we know she went up there.

Julian didn't waste any time,
did he?

What?

Well, he'll need a new vintner.

He's obviously called Amanda up
again.

Couldn't even wait
till Rob was in the ground.

So, Julian asked Amanda to work
for him?

When was this?

Recently.

No, Amanda told him to go
and take a running jump

in her own peculiar way.

And Rob stuck it to him, anyway,
by winning gold.

Amanda, sorry. I got held up
chatting to a winemaker.

Who?

Uh, Dominic Nichol.

He likes you, by the way.
He thinks you're brilliant,

despite what you said
about his grapes.

Oh, yes.
Well, it's true, you know?

They do look
like hemorrhoids on a...

Ah, it's okay. We already have
that... image on record.

Uh, no need for that just yet,
Detective Sims.

We're just here for a chat.
Is that okay, Amanda?

Carry on.

Um...

Amanda, you called the police
when you found Rob Visnic dead,

but you wouldn't leave
your name.

Why was that?

I was... shocked.

I-I thought
you might think it was me.

That killed Rob?

But there was no one else there.

I walked in,
and the place was empty.

What were you doing at Bright
Valley wines this afternoon?

I went to talk to Rob.

And did you?

How could I?
He was... dead.

What did you want to talk to him
about?

Why he did
what he did to my wine.

He cheated me out
of a gold medal.

And you were angry about this.

Yes.

Did Julian Bright approach you
to make his wine?

Who told you that?

Dominic Nichol.

I didn't want to.
I said, "No."

You didn't mention this before.

Well, why is that important?

He knows absolutely nothing
about wine.

He's not relevant.

Tell us about his visit.

Um...

Oh, he, uh... He came twice.

The first time, I said, "No."

And then he came again
on the Saturday morning,

the day before the awards.

What do you want?

Oh, to talk business.

I told you I'm not interested.

No harm in talking.

He came in anyway.

Did you ever leave him alone?

No, I...

Oh, um... briefly.

I thought he might be spying,
so I hid some papers in the lab.

No, Julian.

What's that prove?

Nothing yet.

She could be making it up.

When you said, "Bring her in," I thought
we were finally treating her as a suspect.

I know.

Well, if we're not,
we can't hold her.

And we don't want to.

It's all got to go.
A whole vat of premium Merlot.

Rob would hate that.

Probably hates the fact
that he's dead more.

Yeah, of course that.

Wine was his life.

Actually,
that's the curious thing.

You said
Rob was a damn fine winemaker.

He was brilliant.

But not that brilliant.

What do you mean?

Well, didn't you try to replace
him with Amanda James?

It was a passing conversation.
Once.

And she said...

"No."

And that's fine.
Business is business.

Look,
Rob was looking at moving on.

And obviously I had to plan
ahead and find a replacement.

Well, he certainly moved on.

Hey, can we not speak ill
of the dead quite so soon?

And given what's happened,
I'm glad she turned me down.

I mean, she's clearly a menace.

Tell me she's
still down at the station.

I've just spoken to her.

Good.

Look, it's, um... it's 8:00.

I've got to head back
for the show tomorrow.

Uh, what were you talking
to your producer about?

What?

You said you were talking
to your producer, uh...

when the call came about Rob.

Oh. Uh, ratings.

Yeah, ratings come out tomorrow.

How's that important?

Obviously it's not.

Well, great.

Glad you're focusing
on the big stuff, Detective.

- Can I go?
- Yeah. Drive carefully.

- Breen.
- Senior.

Sorry.
Uh, things snowballed a bit.

What have we got?

You talk about snow?
You know nothing about snow.

Come to Russia,
you learn about snow.

Right. Uh, so...

He drowned.
Same as the last man.

Another waste
of good Pinot Noir.

Merlot, I believe.

Eh, red wine is red wine.

Snow, on the other hand...

There are many different kinds
of snow, maybe 100.

Bruising and welts
across his upper back.

No broken bones.

Blunt instrument, most likely.

- Any other wounds?
- No.

- You said Pinot.
- You said Merlot.

Pinot, Merlot... Let's call
the whole thing off.

Uh, it's kind of a song.

Ah, it doesn't matter.

Um, can you test this for similarities
to the raw one in the Winterson case?

- Now?
- Right now.

It's late.
I'm a doctor, not a scientist.

Where will I find a lab
that's open in Brokenwood?

I could take it into the ESR
in the city.

No. That won't be necessary.

Amanda.

Mr. Detective Shepherd.

I have a science experiment
I need done.

Why?

I can't tell you.

These both contain raw wine.

I need to know
what varietal they are.

Hmm. Why?

Let's just say
I'm curious about wine.

No, why are they marked
"P" and "R?"

They should be marked
"A" and "B."

Well, they're not.

They should be.
Are there 15 other samples?

15?

"A," "B," "C," "D,"
"E," "F,"...

- Uh, no.
- "G," "H," "I," "J,"

- "K," "L," "M," "N," "O."
- Uh, no.

J-Just these two.

Will you help me?

Clear.

Toll checks. Okay.

Going south...

There. Ends up here.

Ow!

Yeah, Senior. We found them.

- What are you doing?
- Waiting for the phone to ring.

Have you been to bed?

No, I don't think I have.

How do you know
the phone's going to ring?

I just do.

This makes sense?

To you, obviously.
Not to other humans.

Yeah,
but only if the phone rings.

Coffee?

Uh...

Amanda?

Both samples, "P" and "R,"
are of the Merlot varietal.

You know this because...

The anthocyanin composition

of red-grape varietals
is well-documented.

Acetate derivatives account
for 22% in Merlot,

and usually the relationship between
the coumarins and the acetates...

Okay, okay. I'm convinced.
Thank you, Amanda.

If I wasn't on the phone,
I would kiss you.

Mnh.
I-I-I wouldn't like that.

I know. I'm sorry.

Uh, goodbye,
Mr. Detective Shepherd.

Thank you, Amanda.

Amanda's testing something
for you.

The raw wine found in
Paul Winterson and Rob Visnic...

Wait.

You got a chief suspect

to conduct scientific tests
on exhibit material?

Well, not all of it. And there
was no one else available.

She didn't know
where the samples came from,

and I never said
she was a suspect.

- But...
- Both samples are Merlot.

Red wine. Yes.

Not Pinot Noir. Paul was found
in a vat of Pinot Noir.

Well, but...

That's not where he died.

Winterson drowned
in the same vat as Visnic.

Senior, I found it.

Stand over the technician
until he finds it.

And e-mail me a copy pronto.

I need it in three hours.
Every second counts, Breen.

Better hope it's there.

- I'm sure it will be.
- If it's not...

Then someone's gonna look
like a prize idiot.

- Great.
- Not you. Me.

I'm off.

Text me
the moment you get a response.

- Will do.
- Did you file the application?

Sent.

G'day. It's Shepherd.

The application for the warrant
makes for interesting reading.

Yeah, can I have it
in two and a half?

We'll get Sims to pick it up.

If what you think is true,
this is gonna blow up big.

I know.

How sure are you?

Well, two dead bodies
and a truckload of evidence.

Uh-huh.
But only circumstantial.

Not if I get that warrant.

And that's my show for today.

The rest of the day
belongs to you.

I'm Julian Bright.

I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Ah...

You heard.
Top of the ratings again.

Saw Sarah on the way in.
Congratulations.

Blood, sweat, and talent, buddy.

But, of course,
it's a team effort.

That Sarah's really something,
now, isn't she?

Nice wine.

Wouldn't celebrate
with anything else.

Is there somewhere
more appropriate we can talk?

Uh, sure. Meeting room.
I'll grab some glasses.

Sorry I'm late.

Do you know Detective Sims?

Yes.
I'll... get another glass.

I'm fine.

Right.

I, uh, bought two bottles.

I-I didn't know
which one you'd want.

They're both the same.

Identical, in fact.
Yet they're quite different.

But, then again,
you already know that.

Sorry, what's going on here?

Oh, we're here
to let you confess

to the murders of Paul Winterson
and Rob Visnic.

What, are you insane?

Now, we can keep it simple

where you go,
"Yeah, you're right. I did it."

Or I can explain it to you

and give you the opportunity
to remember

and then go,
"Yeah, you're right. I did it."

This is the most preposterous
thing I have ever heard.

Do you want to call a lawyer?

I don't need a lawyer.
I have nothing to hide.

If I had a dollar
for every time I head that.

But I do want to record
this conversation,

because
if I'm going to be slandered,

I'd like to have a record of it.

That all right with you,
Detectives?

By all means.

But I'll warn you,

I will play it on the national
airwaves if I so choose.

Because if you're gonna tell

some cock-and-bull story about
me and impugn my reputation,

I will have no hesitation

to making you look
like the fools you are.

Now, do you want to reconsider?

How would you feel
about being on the radio?

I always wanted to read
the news.

Oh, you're gonna be the news,
girlie.

We'll see, shall we?

You sure
you don't want to reconsider?

No. I'm good.

I'm Julian Bright

talking with Detectives
Mike Shepherd and, um...

Kristin Sims.

It's the 5th of May, and
they're here to tell a story.

Once upon a time,

there were two detectives
looking in all the wrong places.

Over to you two clowns.

The end.

There once was
a man called Julian Bright

who wanted to win a gold medal
at the Brokenwood Wine Awards

so badly

that he approached Amanda James
to be his winemaker.

Amanda. Hi.

What do you want?

No harm in talking.

These meetings
gave him the chance

- to learn the access codes...
- No harm in talking some more.

And gave him the opportunity

to disable the security cameras.

The night before the awards,
he let himself in

and stole two cases of wine,

the judging case
and another of the same vintage.

Back at his winery, he decanted
the first dozen of the wine

into Bright Valley bottles...

then spoiled the second dozen
by blending it with urine...

Oh...

and then rebottling it.

Then he used his screw-cap
machine to reapply the Stelvins,

which were now both,
coincidentally, red,

a recent change made
by Bright Valley

to make the ruse work.

Uh, we found these
in your outside bin.

24 of them, all seemingly sliced
with a box cutter.

Tricky things to get off,
aren't they?

Oh! Piss!

Mike Shepherd.

Snap.

Yes, they're both red.

But the wadding on the underside
of Amanda's Stelvin is silver.

Julian's is off-white.

Subtle...
but definitely different.

Julian snuck back
into the Amanda James Winery

to return the now-spoiled
submission case.

Amanda James unwittingly took
rancid wine to be judged.

The gold medal goes to...

Bright Valley's
Reserve Chardonnay.

- Yes!
- And in this way,

Julian Bright won
his coveted gold medal

by using Amanda James' wine.

Pretty good.

At this stage,

a bit of nasty but harmless
industrial espionage.

Hmm.

If you're done...

But Paul Winterson

copped a lucky,
or should I say unlucky, break.

In that moment,
he figured it out.

Wow. Okay.
That's...

So later, he rang Julian.

Julian Bright.

So, I'm pretty sure
I know what you did, Julian.

He wanted to talk about a deal.

He reckoned he deserved a
significant slice of the action.

Um, look,
I'm gonna have to pull over.

I'll... I'll, um, call you back
in a minute, mate, all right?

50/50 of the profits
on the vintage

to keep his mouth shut...

around $180,000,
by his calculations...

or he'd blow the game.

Not a good look
for a fine, upstanding,

well-principled radio host
on the national airwaves.

So, Julian invited Paul
to his winery to talk... details.

The tollway records.

Passing through south at 10:05

and then back again north
at 10:17.

On the two-hour trip
back to Brokenwood,

Julian had time to think
about how angry he was.

"Winterson,
that little upstart."

I mean, Julian was angry
at being blackmailed.

I won gold for this,
and you want a piece of it?!

Ah, but you didn't win, Julian.

Wrong, Winterson!
Who do you think you are?!

What have you ever done
with your life?!

Oh, I know my wine.

How dare you accuse me?!

At that point, Julian
could have gone to the police.

Blackmail is a criminal offense.

But no.

- I know my wine.
- You know nothing, mate!

- Calm down.
- You know nothing!

Julian whacked Paul
with a bottle, a green bottle,

as evidenced
by the dark-green shards

taken from Paul's head wound.

Important, because Amanda James
prefers clear bottles.

When she does go colored,
she uses amber or medium-green.

At this point, Julian
was so consumed with rage

that he wanted to really teach
that coward a lesson.

Stay down.

Aah! Ohh!

You don't know
when to stay down, do you?!

Aaah!

Stay down!

And so it was
that Paul Winterson was drowned

in the vat of fermenting Merlot.

This is a sample of what
we found in Paul's lungs.

Merlot, not Pinot Noir.

At this point, Julian
would have taken a deep breath.

Oh, shit.

I mean, how the hell
does he get out of this?

But then...

He had access
to Amanda's winery.

She turned you down.

So why not make it look
like she did it?

Having already disabled
the security cameras,

it was perfect cover.

He was Amanda's problem now.

She was a sore loser.

Paul was there that night.
Paul had told you that.

The finger of blame
was easily gonna point to her.

To implicate her further,
you called Paul's cellphone.

Yeah, nice work on that,
by the way. That slowed us down.

But there was wine
in the car boot

from Paul's drenched clothes.

So you took care of that.

Pretty good.

You had everyone looking
the wrong way.

But, like a dead body, the truth
just doesn't stay down,

and soon Rob Visnic
cracked onto what you'd done.

He called you
straight after your radio show

at, um, 12:03 p.m.

Interesting, because I walked
out of his office at 12:02,

having given him reason
to doubt his wine.

- Yeah, hi. It's me.
- He was appalled.

He threatened to go
to the Wine Growers' Association

to shame you, to clear his name
as much as anything.

And I'm telling you
it's not my wine.

You see, you
couldn't abide Rob's threats.

So you hightailed it up
to your winery mid-week

to deal with him.

The wine that was found
in Rob's lungs

is the same wine
that was in Paul's.

Merlot.
That was the kicker.

But thinking ahead, you didn't
want to use the toll road.

You wouldn't want to be clocked
going through.

You took the coastal highway.
There's no toll there.

But there is a speed camera.

And as I remember...

Julian Bright
doesn't drive slowly.

Wow.

Will you look that?
Technology.

Hmm.

A speed-camera picture
of your car

signaling a speeding fine
you haven't even received yet.

Hmm.

Don't worry.
You have 28 days to pay.

That means nothing.
Anybody could have been driving.

Uh, except, as I remember...

No, no one drives this puppy
except me.

This is absolutely ridiculous.

I-I mean,
it's all just circumstantial.

I mean,
it'll never stand up in court.

Well, juries do convict

on the "death
by a thousand cuts" principle.

Yeah.

If you're done, I'd like to go
home and rejoin the real world.

Not quite. Uh, you
will have hidden it somewhere.

Hid what?!

I'm guessing on your phone.

People put heaps of things there
these days.

You would have meant to delete
it, but you probably didn't.

- Um, shall I check?
- Check for what?

You're not looking through this.
This is my private phone.

Which is why we bought this.
A warrant to search and seize.

Ah.

There it is.
The note tab.

562265.

Random numbers.

So, what? That happens to be
Amanda's security code.

I mean,
it's just pure coincidence.

How would you know
that's her code?

I never said it was.

No, y-you did when...
um, before...

when you asked about...
It is.

But how would you know that
unless you'd used it?

But do you know the real beauty
of these phones?

They have
an internal tracking device.

Something to do with GPS,
a smart-computer thing.

Once into a lab,

an IT guy can get these things
to reveal their movements.

Every time
a phone goes to a location,

it charts its position...

um, thousands upon thousands
of tiny blue dots

denoting time and place
over the phone's life.

This phone will remember
every time it visited Brokenwood

or your winery

or Amanda's winery

to dump Paul's body
or to kill Rob Visnic.

- I didn't have my phone with me that time.
- Uh, what time was this, Julian?

Oh, sorry.
I'm still catching up.

I'm just a girlie, you see.

What just happened there?

You confessed.

Told you you world.

It's my bloody phone!

Give me my phone!

Give me back my...

You're gonna hate
this, but, uh...

all that stuff about the phone?

I kind of made it up.

Julian Bright,
you are under arrest

for the murders of
Paul Winterson and Rob Visnic.

You have the right
to remain silent.

You do not have to make
a statement.

Anything you say
will be recorded...

Thanks for helping with that.

And may be given in evidence
in court.

Hey.

Next year,
you can go for Botrytis.

Sounds like a disease.

Yeah, it is.

I knew that.

In the meantime,
you look like you need a wine.

Hell, no.
I feel like a beer.

What do you reckon, eh?