All language subtitles for Inspector George Gently - 07x03 - Gently Among Friends.DVDRip-x264-TASTETV.English

Will you get us a drink, pet?

Circulate, all right?

All right, Craig,
get me a drink.

Oh, easy.

Excuse me.

Right, I'm just gonna say
a few words.

Really?

All right, everyone.
Gather round.

Scottie's gonna say a few words.

Turn it off.

Can we have you on
the dance floor?

Where is he?

Peter? Peter!

Come on.

Little Peter Magath,
where is he?

- There he is.
- Go on, Peter!

Little Peter may not have been
the smartest kid in the village.

But he was the slowest.

- I've got short legs.
- We thought, Michael and me,

that Peter'd been dropped
on his head as a kid.

- I had.
- We felt sorry for him.

We worried about your future,
Peter.

"How's little Pete
gonna manage?"

Didn't know you'd end up one of
the richest sods in Newcastle!

Did we, Michael?

Nae idea at all, Scottie.

Should've paid more attention,
then, shouldn't they?

- They're only joking.
- Hilarious.

Now, when Peter came to me
and said,

"I'm gonna make my fortune
laying pipe,"

I thought he wanted to be
a gigolo!

- What's a gigolo, Scott?
- Ask Michael.

Michael thought tonight
was fancy dress

so he's come as
a Danish porn star.

Have you finished?
The pies have come.

Not yet.

Our mate Michael: The best
dressed Bolshevik in Newcastle.

We're all grateful to him for
standing up for our right -

not to have our rubbish
collected.

It used to be I was talking
rubbish, or he was talking it.

Now all Newcastle's talking it
cos we can't get it collected.

- Hear hear!
- Scott.

Yeah, yeah.

All right, seriously.

I love Peter Magath...

...just like I love Michael.

Lifelong friends.

I love that Peter's an original.

I love that he had
a vision of what he could be,

and he pursued it,
even when we laughed.

I love that he has faith
in others,

maybe even in me.

God knows the world needs people
like that.

- Peter.
- Peter.

Right, music.

Yee-ha!

Yee-ha!

Yee-ha!

Ripped By mstoll

Whoo!

Yee-ha!

180 Council dustmen

have gone on strike for
a higher basic rate of pay.

Fears the mouldering rubbish
might become a health hazard

mounted following reports
of rat sightings.

The markets disgorge their daily
garbage onto the growing mess.

But the dustmen were adamant.
They wanted their basic wage

upped from £15, 9 shillings
a week to £20.

The dustcarts
stayed in the depot.

The general opinion was
that the whole business stank.

He's got wooden splinters
in his head.

Body was discovered
just after seven, sir.

The sergeant reckons
he was a jumper.

Really?

There's been a few of them
lately.

They've pulled two out of the
Tyne already this month, sir.

If he was aiming for the river,
he was a bad shot.

Debt. Unemployment.

Is this where they found him?
He hasn't been moved?

No, sir.

There's no blood around him.

He was dead when he hit.

- Have we got a name?
- His wallet has got no ID.

There's no money in it either.

So robbery, maybe?

And we've got this.

It's a receipt for a pawnbroker,

a couple of betting slips
from the dog track,

and a note that says,

"Gwendolen Howard,
five o'clock Wednesdays."

Who's she?

- Gwendolen Howard?
- Sir?

Sir, we're a bit shorthanded
with the bin strike.

I need to release men
to other duties

if we don't absolutely
need the scene sealed.

It's a crime scene, Sergeant.

No, no, no. You heard him.
Seal it.

- Sorry.
- Dawson pawnbroker.

A chance to get yourself
a decent suit, John.

She died of leukaemia,
left me her watch.

- With you in a tick, gents.
- Thank you.

What was your gran's name, son?

Erm... I just called her Grannie.

I would have called her
Glamorous Grannie.

This is a Rolex.

Look... I just need the money.

I'm sorry, son.

Mr Dawson has very strict rules
about these things.

I'm not sure that this really
belonged to your gran,

may she rest in peace.

- What are you accusing us of?
- Being stupid.

- How are you today?
- Champion.

I'm sorry about the smell.

The working stiff normally has
all my sympathy

but this set of work-shy
bastards I could crucify.

I've got rats.

We'd like to speak to Mr Dawson,
please.

He's not in at the moment.

Perhaps I can help you?

Are you buying or selling?

Ah.

There is no "Mr Dawson".

It's just a name I can blame
when I have to say no.

People can get erm...

What's the technical word?
Arsey.

Anyway, how can I help you?

Can you tell us who you issued
this to, please?

I can try.

Here we are...

6733...

He gave the name of
"T Dan Smith".

- T Dan Smith?
- That's what it says here.

So... T Dan Smith, until recently
Leader of the Council...

has fallen on hard times?

Well, probably not.

Some people aren't comfortable
about using their real names.

And not just the thieves.

There's a lot of shame in
falling on hard times. Sad.

Yeah, I can see
the tracks of your tears.

Aren't you supposed
to take their identities?

I'll tell Mr Dawson.

I can do a full audit
of this place, sir,

maybe get it shut down,
you know.

Ee, and I thought
we were getting along.

What was pawned?

Four weeks ago.
And all on the one ticket.

- All this?
- Aye.

He said he'd be back
for all of it.

Mind, they all say that.
But I believed him.

And all this is definitely his?

No question in my mind.

If he's half-inched anything,
I'll be back to see you.

Now I'm torn, aren't I?

I don't want stolen goods
on me hands,

but if it's a chance of meeting
you again, Sergeant...

Your "T Dan".
What's he look like?

Fortyish... short dark hair...

a bit taller than you.

Beautiful skin,
soft blue eyes...

How much did you give him
for this lot?

£4210s.

It's a hard life, isn't it?

- There you go.
- Thanks, John.

No missing person report matches
the dead man's description.

The pathologist hasn't got
anything yet,

and won't have until tomorrow.

And we've got no Gwendolen
Howard on any of our files.

Making progress, then.

Don't shoot the messenger,
Inspector Bacchus.

She never irritate you?

No.

Our man's not a thief, John.

That pawnshop bloke could sniff
out a thief a mile away,

we watched him do it - he's
pawning the family silver.

This is a man with a wife,
who's got rings and necklaces.

At least, she did have.

So, where is she?
What's she waiting for?

- It's dead.
- How do you know that?

Because there's no dial tone,
that's how.

- We noted you've been cut off.
- Well, why've we been cut off?

Anita Magath.

Anita, Jo.

Is my husband there?

Tommy Cary?

Aye. I've got me licence,
just not on us.

No, you're all right.
We just want to know...

if you know who this belongs to.

Aye, I know him.

He put a pony on the third race.
Doesn't happen very often.

He chases his bets...
makes us uneasy.

It's like watching them
jumping off a cliff.

Is he... jumping off a cliff?

When you take the money,

you try not to think about
the look in their eyes.

But there's some
you feel sorry for.

- Was he one of them?
- Jimmy!

What is it, an addiction?

Most people bet for a laugh.

But some can't stop till they've
emptied their pay packet.

That's when the crying starts -

bills to pay, bairns going
hungry at home, angry wives.

It certainly keeps those guys
busy in that window, I tell you.

Who are they? Loan sharks?

I'm not really in a position
to judge.

- Did our man use them?
- I don't know. I suppose.

Always managed to find a bit of
money from somewhere.

- Do you know his name?
- Aye.

- Said his name was...
- T Dan Smith?

No, Richard. Richard Grainger.

But when you find him,

tell him there's £210s
to come back on that.

No, he won't be collecting it.

- Off the cliff?
- Something like that. Yeah.

It's all part of the job,
pet lamb.

- It isn't, actually.
- Well, I had to do it.

Don't tell me
this is character building

cos you're living proof
that it's not.

I could have you disciplined
for that.

Go on, then.

Lovers' tiff?

There's three Richard Graingers
in the Newcastle area.

One is four years old, one's 78.

And the other one is
alive and well

and works in the Ministry
in Longbenton.

So the dead man's
not from the area, then?

Do I amuse you?

What, is this that T Dan Smith
bloke again?

He's called Richard Grainger
now, is he?

Any chocolate biscuits, pet?

What's funny?

Grainger Street, Grainger Town,
Grainger Market...

- Yeah?
- Richard Grainger.

He pretty much built Newcastle
about 100 years ago.

I knew that.

Local knowledge, John.
Can't beat it, eh?

The dead man's obviously
got a sense of humour.

He was interested
in how the city was built

and he names himself
after two different blokes

who were known as
"Mr Newcastle".

I'll just go and chase up those
choccy biscuits for you, eh?

- Still irritating you, then?
- Teeny bit, yeah.

- Lab Report, sir.
- What?

- Lab report, sir.
- He's lost his voice, sir.

He's got a cold or flu
or summat.

Chest infection.

Thanks.

Just be happy.

"Three skull fractures, injuries
to the legs and upper body.

Injuries are consistent
with a heavy blunt force.

Could have been caused
by a fall..." blah, blah, blah.

"Multiple bruises and
lacerations, victim was beaten.

Wooden splinters found in
the skin and on the body."

- Well, we saw them.
- Got his hammers, didn't he?

"Blood alcohol level: 293."

Surprised he could stand up.

In no condition to defend
himself, was he?

So who is our Mr Newcastle?

Well, let her in, Peter.

Anything?

Have you spoken to Michael?

Michael's not answering
his phone.

What happened to your face?

Have you called the RVI?

What was Scottie doing exactly
the last time you saw him?

Getting a taxi, I think.

We were all stocious.

Jo, maybe you should go home and
wait for him to turn up there.

What?

If you think Scott
did something stupid,

you should be calling the police

not standing here staring at me
after 36 hours.

Something stupid? Like what?

My phone's still not working.
Can I use yours?

Police, please.

This way, please.

Sir.

Which one's the wife?

It's the woman
in the cream coat.

Who's the other two?

The bloke is Peter Magath,
the dead man's best mate,

and that's his wife Anita.

Have you seen
the state of his face?

They don't seem
especially close, do they?

She called in saying
that she was worried

about her missing husband and
feared for his mental state.

Her description of her husband
matches our man exactly.

- I'll take them down.
- No, no.

Rachel, you take her down.
Sit with her.

Watch her face and remember
everything that she says.

Afterwards,
assuming it is her husband,

bring her back here and if she
wants to talk let her talk,

but don't tell her anything.

Afterwards, bring her back here
and I'll come and find you.

- Erm...
- What?

Hasn't she the right to know
her husband was murdered?

No. No one has a right
to know anything

till I know who killed
Mr Newcastle.

We work for the dead,
not the living.

Off you go.

Are you sure she can manage it?
She's never done it before.

Only one way to learn.

Are you ready?

Is this your husband,
Mrs Parker?

I mean, yes, it's Scott,
all right, but...

...just the shell
of what he was...

...what he used to be.

I'm sorry, Scottie.

- Right...
- Where did you find him?

I erm...
I don't have any details.

How did he do it?

Do what?

Kill himself.

I'm afraid I don't know anything
about his death.

Don't know much for a copper,
do you?

Are you the tea lady?

When did you last see Scott?

Night before last,
me birthday party.

Happy Birthday.

Thanks.

- Was it?
- What?

Happy birthday.

Well, I was 40.
Who wants to be 40?

I wouldn't mind.

- Were you there, Mrs Magath?
- Of course. We were all there.

Us, Jo, Scottie... Michael.

Michael?

- Michael Woodruff.
- Who's he?

Michael and me were Scottie's
best friends since we were kids.

Where can we find him?

Organising the bin strike.

Oh, that Michael Woodruff?

Good news for rats.

Do you think we could
take Jo home,

assuming she's identified
the body?

Although it might not be him.

No, it is him.

You seem to be...

What?

Are you suspicious or something?

No. But I'd like to know who
took a lump out of your face.

Oh, this? It's er...
high jinks at the party.

Michael started smashing
chairs over our heads.

Why was that?

Pissed.

Wanted to see if they'd break,

You know, like in the pictures.

Like Lee Marvin hitting
John Wayne.

Did they?

Yeah.

- These are wooden chairs?
- Aye.

Wooden chairs.

Tell me more about this party.

It was at our restaurant,
Pete's.

Oh, the American one?

Ah, right,
I've heard that's good.

- Do you own that?
- Aye.

No, we both own it.

Right, near the cathedral?

Yeah.

Mighty fine ribs.

We should go.

Just near the High Level?

Yeah.

- Some tea, Mrs Parker.
- I don't want a cup of tea!

Jo. Jo, it's all right.

- Could you just...
- Come on.

- It's all right. Come here.
- Where's me bag?

I've got it. I've got it.
It's OK.

It's all right.

Shock.

- To be expected.
- Yeah.

I'll need a list of all the
people who were at your party.

Also the staff who were present.

I don't understand, Mr Gently.

My friend has taken
his own life.

We need time to deal with this
as best we can.

Why are you asking for lists?

I'm sorry,
didn't I make myself clear?

Scott Parker was murdered.

So I'll call round the
restaurant for that list.

About seven, all right?

I'm not always there.

Be there.

Bring your wife.

Guv, there's something
very wrong.

That woman is weird.

In the mortuary,
first she said it isn't Scott,

just the shell
of who he used to be.

Next thing, she's banging on
about how her car got stolen

- and how her house got burgled.
- Were they?

I don't know,
but I can find out for you.

And I think she said,
"I'm sorry, Scottie."

I'd like you to get to know her
over the next few days.

Meanwhile, we need everything
that we can get

on Pete Magath, Scott Parker
and this guy Michael Woodruff.

Right.

Let's not forget there was
no money in his wallet.

It's likely to be
a street robbery, if anything.

Nah, there was a ferocity to it.

Street robbers, they hit you
once, they're gone.

I think there was hatred
in this, a loss of control.

Gentlemen.

Looking for Michael Woodruff.

No?

Michael Woodruff?

What are you looking for him
for?

That's our business.

What's he done wrong?

Who says he's done
anything wrong?

This strike is not illegal and
we are not disturbing the peace.

It's nothing to do
with the strike.

It's about Scott Parker.

I'm Michael Woodruff.

What about Scottie?

I'm afraid he's dead.

It's all right, lads.

Gone.

Just like that.

Did you see him leave the party?

Was no party by the end,
just the three of we.

Then just me and Peter.

What time did he leave?

I divvn't know... two?

Where had everybody gone?

The party ended pretty quick

when Scott started smashing
the place to bits.

- Was he angry or summat?
- Aye.

Smashing chairs
and the usual crap.

Peter and me tried to stop him
but he was...

What?

He was uncontrollable...
off his head.

Was this the game
where you were trying to see

if the chairs would break like
they do in the Westerns?

- Eh?
- That's what Pete Magath said.

Ah, well. Peter!

Peter's the nicest bloke
in the world, man.

Trust him to put
a nice gloss on it.

The bloke was smashing up
his restaurant, man.

- Could Scott be violent, then?
- Yeah.

Not head-banging violent,
but...

Scottie felt the world
was against him.

Take that resentment,

mix it with a couple of bottles
of bourbon

and it's goodnight, Vienna.

Next day,
he's full of apologies.

There's no next day this time.

Was he suicidal?

Nah.

You seem very sure about that.

All he talked about
was the future, man.

His head bulged with his plans
for the future.

- What sort of plans?
- This place.

- Newcastle!
- Ah, right.

He wanted to rip it down
and rebuild it!

Like Richard Grainger and T Dan.

His heroes.

Promise us one thing:

You'll not let anybody con you
into thinking

Scott Parker took his own life.

What was your last sight of him
on that night?

Staggering from the
restaurant, two in the morning,

blood on his head from
hitting the wall, cursing us,

cursing the world, cursing God,
cursing the sky,

singing at the top of his voice.

Which direction?

Towards the High Level.

Scott had no money on him
when he died.

Scottie never had any money.

Now, I know you don't think
he's a jumper,

but could he have been so drunk

he got himself into a mess
and fell off the High Level?

No?

What was he singing?

Erm...

Oh, it was that thing...
Five Bridges.

Gemma!

Gemma!

Gemma!

Are you all right, John?

Yeah, never better.

Is this all part of
the celebrations?

Yeah. Me in the middle,
Scott on the left.

We were ten.

Michael Woodruff was desolate
about his friend's death.

I'm sure it's the same for you.

I'm very sorry.

I don't think I'll ever really
get to grips with it all.

Is this one of the things that
was being smashed, then?

Where did this take place?

- Just where you're standing.
- Oh.

You've cleaned up a bit,
have you?

Why else do you pay cleaners?

Not opening tonight, then?

Mark of respect.

Here's your list.

- Much good may it do you.
- Thank you.

Will the names of the cleaners
be on there?

No. But I'll provide them
separately if you want them.

Yes, please.

Have you always been
in the restaurant business?

No. I started out as a labourer,

installing pipe
for the oil refineries.

Anita thought we could
do it cheaper ourselves,

so I borrowed some money,
set up my own company.

Are you an engineer, then?

No. I'm just lucky.

Lucky that you've got a wife
that's so encouraging.

If you want to say "pushy",
say it.

Opening this place
was my idea as well.

How did you do it so cheaply...
the pipes?

Non-union labour.

Yankee oil companies loved it.

What did your friend Michael
Woodruff think about that?

That's the wonderful thing about
lifelong friendships.

You don't have to like
everything

about someone you really love.

Like it didn't matter
that Scott was violent?

- Who told you that?
- Michael Woodruff.

Michael should shut his face
now and then.

Michael doesn't think
it's suicide.

Yeah, he rang me.

Why are you playing games
with us?

You tell me murder but
you ask Michael about suicide.

Why don't you tell me
why you assume it was suicide?

It's what Jo thinks.

So Scott Parker's wife thinks
he's committed suicide

but doesn't call the police
for almost two days?

Don't you think that's
just a little bit odd?

She is a bit odd. Let's face it.

- Nita...
- Seen the way they live?

I think the woman's borderline
insane. I've always thought it.

- You're not best friends?
- God, no, she hates me.

Why?

Because I've got what she wants.

Everything I got, I got through
hard work and being savvy

and everything she got,
she got on the never-never.

And where did that get
Scott Parker?

At the foot of the High Level.

I'm sorry, gents,
I think you're dead wrong.

I think he had a million reasons
to chuck himself off a bridge.

That's all you're gonna get
outta me.

Ask Jo Parker
if you want the rest.

- You withholding information?
- Yeah.

Arrest me, you jumped up
smarmy-faced little shitehawk!

- Are you finished?
- No.

So what was your last sight
of Scott Parker?

Weaving his way down the road,

with blood down his shirt
where his head had hit the bar,

or a chair smashed over
his head, cursing, singing...

Those were pretty much the exact
words Michael Woodruff used,

except you're saying Michael
started smashing chairs

where he was saying
it was Scott.

Maybe...

Nita, you weren't there,
remember?

Does it matter
who smashed the first chair?

Yeah, I think it does.

Oh, well, I'm sorry!
I can't remember!

We were all completely pissed.

All right.

One more question.

Does the name Gwendolen Howard
mean anything to you?

No.

Right. Just the names and
addresses of the cleaners, pet.

"You don't have to love
everything about..."

No.

- No.
- "...someone you like."

That's arse about face.

"You don't have to like
everything

about someone you love."

It's almost a definition of
their friendship, isn't it?

Something strong that they had
between them all their lives,

growing up together.

Anita's a bit of a mare,
isn't she?

Took a shitehawk to point it
out, didn't it?

To shitehawks everywhere.

- To friendship.
- To friendship.

God bless you.

You can't bring yourself to tell
me what's wrong with you.

Here we go.

Why have you not shared
it with me if we're friends?

Your hands are shaking, you keep
dropping things on the floor.

Oh, leave it out.

All right.

John, this is the way
I deal with things. OK?

Besides, look.

It's gone?

Well... Yeah.
Gone, maybe for good.

- Good.
- Yeah.

- I bet you can't do this.
- Oh, here we go.

Very good.

Oh, yes!

I am the king!

I erm...

I've just come to say
night-night.

I'll pop in on Mrs Parker
tomorrow like you said.

Yeah.

- You do know, you've got...
- Yeah.

Yeah.

I don't think
she has any respect for me.

Your house was burgled
last month, Mrs Parker?

Broke in through the back.

And they took mostly jewellery
and the television?

And a canteen of cutlery.

Silver.

- Did you make a claim?
- Aye.

The loss adjustor came
last week.

So we should get
some money back.

Not "we", I.

And your car was stolen as well?

Are you on your own here,
Mrs Parker?

Yeah.

Do you work?

No, not any more.

I used to, though.

No children?

No, I had a lot of miscarriages
in me 20s.

At the finish,
I had a hysterectomy.

Oh, I'm sorry.

So what will you do now?

I'm sorry to have to
ask you this.

Was Scott worried
about anything?

Money?

The thing with Scott
is that he was so positive.

"Keep your eyes on the prize."

- And what was the prize?
- Change, modernisation...

progress.

Is there anybody you can stay
with for a while?

Anita.

Peter and Anita.
I'll give them a bell...

when me phone's back on.

I could give them a call for you
if you like?

I can manage.

I've got to go out in a minute.

Right.

Have you got business here,
gents?

We are waiting for Mrs Parker
to leave.

We have an arrangement
with her until she goes.

Right. And who are you, please?

Sorry.

There we are.

Estate agent. What?
She's selling the house?

Erm...

The mortgage was foreclosed
a month ago.

Repossession.

Mrs Parker's allowed to live
here until it's sold.

But she doesn't own it any more.

She's erm...
a little bit fragile.

We don't show buyers around
when she's in, at her request.

She goes out.

So they were completely broke,
weren't they?

- The burglary, the car theft?
- Frauds, I think, sir.

I think they got desperate
to keep afloat.

We know where
the jewellery went.

Maybe the mare was right.

A million reasons for him to
chuck himself off a bridge.

So where did all the money go?

- Where is this place?
- It's up near the university.

City Vision Developments.

Maybe he put all of his money
into his business.

Last company accounts
showed 25 employees.

I've told Jo to meet us there.

Can I just say?

I've got a lot of respect
for youse,

if you don't mind us saying.

I mean, I had no idea that you
were in a circus act together.

Is this supposed to be
Newcastle, this?

It's not gonna happen, is it?

Scott always said it would.

He wanted to buy up
all the warehouses

along the quayside
as they fell into disuse

when the river trade fell off.

He could always see ahead,
Scottie.

Did he buy
those warehouses?

No. He couldn't afford them.

What he did buy was land
near the Town Moor.

That was his Phase One
redevelopment.

He borrowed from banks
and investors to do it.

But the council rejected
his plans.

Would they not give him
planning permission?

Nobody would help him.
Banks wanted their money back.

And the investors?

Them as well.

What was the argument against
redevelopment?

I'd like to see
this sort of thing happen.

- Who wouldn't?
- Plenty of people.

Stick-in-the-muds.

People who think development
should be "not for profit",

owned by the community.

Unions, for instance.

Michael Woodruff's union?

Michael's voice was the loudest.

Does he know
you're in his chair?

He said I could.

I was looking
for somewhere quiet.

I thought you were out.

Teacher's pet.

What is it you're doing, anyway?

Erm... swotting on this exam.

- Or trying to.
- Sergeant's exam?

Yep.

What'll you do
if you don't pass?

Fail.

What'll you do if you fail?

What'll you do if you fail,
Rachel?

I'll do it again.

Do you mind?

Sorry.

Gwendolen Howard.

Gwendolen Howard.

Did you ask Jo Parker if she
knew a Gwendolen Howard?

- No.
- Why not?

Maybe I thought she had
enough on her plate

without me putting the idea
in her head

that her dead husband was
shagging summat on the side.

Right, OK,
but Confucius said that,

we serve the dead, right?
Not the living.

I'll ring her.

She doesn't have a phone.

Inspector... Sir...
Please will you not do this?

It's not funny. I'm...

I'm really stressing
over this exam.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Good luck.

I mean it.

Thank you.

"Gwendolen Howard".

Hey, that's a slash. It's
"Gwendolen/Howard".

Rachel...

- Rachel!
- Right.

Pass us the A to Z, man,
will you?

- A to Z. Quick. Come on.
- All right!

Right.

"Gwendolen/Howard".

- I reckon it's a place.
- It's not.

Do you want a bet? Ten bob.

- You're on.
- Gwendolen Road.

Page 54, 1 E.

Road crosses Howard Street,
Cowgate.

Hey-hey! Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Eh, look at that!

Eh, local knowledge,
you can't beat it.

- You owe me ten bob.
- That's me dinner the night.

You shouldn't bet
what you can't afford to lose.

"Gwendolen and Howard,
five o'clock Wednesdays."

- Why not?
- Can I come?

No. You've got your exams
to sweat over.

Go on, son.
Get yourself aboard here.

Right.

You, Percy Street.

Howay, son.
Up for a bit of graft, are you?

Go on.

Come on.
I've not got all bloody day.

Right, wagons roll!

Lovely. Good man.

The lads are doing all right
here. I'll see you later, son.

Rat! Rat!

I'm not paying you
to catch rats!

Let them strike as long
as they want, eh, bonny lad?

That Michael Woodruff. They call
him "The friend of the rats".

"Good for business", I call him!

Ever come across
Michael Woodruff?

Just the once.

How, man, what are you doing?

We're not taking old washers,
man!

Just the stuff that stinks!

Howay, then. Come on.
Clear up here!

Youse can all start drinking
your pay, you lazy bastards!

There are issues of privacy.

I can get a court order.

I thought you might say that.

Both accounts, I take it?

Mrs Parker's first.

Basket case.

Like lending money to
Bangladesh.

Debt, debts...

...unauthorised withdrawals,
bouncing cheques,

missed deadlines.

How much?

At the last count,
as of today...

£4,648,
10 shillings and 4 pence.

You've loaned all that
to a woman without a job?

Her husband is her guarantor.

Not any more, he's not.

No. But he was.

I thought Scott was a good bet,

until the Planning Department
holed him below the waterline.

What did she spend it on?

Oh, come on.

Bookmakers.

Jo would bet on two drops of
water going down a window.

Do you think your bank
was prudent

using its customers' savings
to finance reckless gambling?

Oddly enough, exactly what
Regional Head Office asked.

Next time you see me,

I'll be flying through the air
with me trousers on fire.

Scott must have had other
investors. Who were they?

Right.

Thank you.

What, man?

- It's for you!
- Eh?

It's for you!

- Hello?
- Rachel.

Sorry, Mr Gently.

Go and see Jo Parker again.

Investors in City Vision
lost a lot of money.

Right.

Scotch, please.

I went to see
Scott's bank manager.

- Did you?
- Yeah.

How did it feel to lose so much
money because of Scott?

Shit, actually.

No, no, no, no.
On the house, Neil.

Oh, thank you.

Must be hard to come to terms
with something like that.

No. It's the risk you take.

Investing's a bet.

You don't bet what you can't
afford to lose.

Did Scott Parker
take that advice?

No. Scott didn't.

No. Scott lost everything he had
and more, didn't he?

His ship went down
with all hands.

Are you still trying to call it
murder, Mr Gently?

His head was full of
wooden splinters.

So's my face. Look.

I've admitted
to you what happened.

Michael's
admitted what happened.

Scottie walked out of
that door alive.

Do you know about
Jo Parker's gambling habit?

- Oh, yes.
- How?

The 500th time Scottie
blagged us for a loan,

I made him tell us where
all the money was going.

Did you tell Anita that you were
paying Jo's gambling debts?

I mean, Anita and Jo
don't get on, I know.

- What about Anita and Scott?
- What about them?

Did they like each other?

Everybody liked Scottie.
Everybody.

Did Scott like your wife?

What's not to like?

How long ago did the ship
go down with all hands?

Four months.

What caused it?

No planning permission.

But you and Scott
still owned the land.

Surely it had some value?

Not while there was
no planning permission.

It was hard seeing Scottie
get that decision reversed.

He went about things
all the wrong way.

The committee saw through him.

He couldn't even keep up
with the rent on his offices.

Too busy keeping up
with Jo's bad debts.

Were you angry with him
about that?

Nah. It was Scottie.
That's what he was like.

No point being angry with him.
Thanks.

He spent a fortune on these
unnecessary drawings and models

made by these fancy architects
from Sweden.

He even talked about chucking
another bridge over the Tyne,

as if there aren't enough of
those already!

This all had to be paid for
and I got sick of forking out,

so he borrowed on the property.

He used property
that was partly owned by you

as collateral for his own debts
as well as his wife's?

- Yeah.
- Did you give permission?

- No.
- Did your wife know?

There you go, bonny lad. Didn't
say I never gave you nowt.

- Mine's a pint.
- Cheers, Gaffer.

Good man.

All right.

Where did you dump it?

On the tip, where else?

I'll wait on, though,
till the pickets gan home.

- After dark?
- Aye, too bloody right!

How'd you find out about us,
anyway?

A friend of mine
has done it before.

Scottie? Scott?

Might use a different name for
the taxman. Richard Grainger?

Oh, Richard.
Aye, canny enough lad, like.

Bit talkative.

Always banging on about bridges.

His hands were soft, I knew he
needed the money, you know.

Mind, he could fight
if he had to.

Get in. Cheers, lad.

- That surprised us.
- What do you mean?

You know you asked us
about Michael Woodruff?

It's the one time I come across
Michael Woodruff.

Hey, what a bastard he is!

Hey up, lads.

Get out of here,
you bloody scabs!

Aye, man. We've got a legitimate
day's work here.

Not around here, you've not!

All right, pack it in!
Come on now, cool it.

Right, move it.
We're gonna gan now.

Scottie!

All right, ladies.
Nowt to see here!

Go, Michael!

Just stay down.

Scottie... what are you doing
this for?

I've got nothing!
I'm on my knees, Michael!

I'm on my knees!
I've got nothing, man!

I've got nothing!

I am nothing!

Aye, well done, mate.

Howay.

Come on.

Aye, he could fight all right.

Never seen anybody else fight
Woodruff to a standstill.

He was obsessed with bridges,
you know.

He used to say, "They're
not an invitation to leave,

they're a door opening.

A new bridge is a new way in."

He loved the High Level
for its dark grandeur.

But he adored the Tyne Bridge
for what it said about change.

He used to point up,
where it comes into Newcastle.

"Look, man, Jo,
were they afraid of change?

Were they afraid to take a risk?

They smashed through the most
beautiful Georgian houses

to inject the A1 straight
into the heart of the city!"

That's the Scott I married.

And are you the Jo he married?

What time is it?

It's quarter past six.

You have to go, I've got
some people coming round.

OK. Well, maybe I'll pop in
on you tomorrow, eh?

Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow.

Right.

Where you going, pet?

I'm gonna see Mrs Parker,
any objections?

She's a bit busy at the minute,
come back in half an hour.

What's going on here?

Who are you, like?

Look... no one's forcing her
to do this.

There's worse ways to pay off
your debt, you know.

Forcing her to do what?

Nobody asked her
to borrow money off we.

Forcing her to do what?

Rachel...

Jo, are these men harassing you?

No. Have an arrangement.

Now just go away
and leave us alone, will you?

Jo...

Jo!

How often does this happen?

Wednesdays.

It's just your friend or?

Both we.

And how long will it go on for?

Till her slate's clean.

Do you know her husband
died this week?

Nah, I didn't know that, like.

Seemed like a canny lad.

You knew him?

Yeah, he would come
and complain.

Asked us to wait for the money,
usual sort of stuff you get.

He knew?

Hey, pet, you'd better spend
some time in the real world.

There's a cold wind
blowing out here.

Yeah. These were the clowns
we saw at the dog track, sir.

Do their alibis stand up
for the night of the murder?

- Yes.
- Then we're not interested.

Come on, man!
It's 1969, not 1869.

Why must a woman sell herself
to these pigs

just cos she owes them?

Rachel,
if she's not being coerced,

what do you think I can do?

What law's been broken, eh?

Meanwhile, I've got to catch
her husband's killer. John!

Aye, let's serve the dead, eh?

To hell with the living.

Find out where they drink.

What gives you a right to attack
men going about their work?

Isn't their work, is it?

It's our work.

They're scabs and I batter them
whenever I can.

It wasn't really an official
strike, though, was it?

It was a wildcat strike.
Are they really scabs?

Sorry, you've brought us in here
to discuss my union's rulebook?

Do you hate scabs, Mr Woodruff?

With every breath in me body.

Did you hate Scott Parker, then?

Ah!

That's why I'm here.

How did you find out about that?

I'm a detective.

Nah.

Nothing could ever make me
hate Scottie.

Well, somebody did.
He was beaten to death.

Any idea who did it?

I cannot tell youse who he
walked into on the High Level,

but I can tell youse
the world is turning nasty.

There's some really bad
people out on the streets.

We'd noticed.

Spend your time chasing them
round the block 'stead of me.

Do summat useful.

We'll, I'll look into it after
my tea. How about that?

So come on.

Who started smashing up
furniture on Saturday night?

Scottie.

- Why?
- I divvn't know. He was pissed.

Whose head got the first chair?

- Peter's.
- Then what?

Peter smashed one over his head,
got his own back.

Then I smashed
one over Scottie's head,

then they smashed chairs over
my back thinking it was funny.

Then Scottie smashed one
round Peter's face,

then he staggered into
the bar and hurt himself

and that's when blood got spilt
and that's when we stopped.

And it was just
the three of you present?

- Was that a yes?
- Yes.

And you have no explanation for
this extraordinary behaviour?

Aye.

And I've given you it twice.
Alcohol.

Oh, alcohol?

High jinks.

"We all love each other so much,

we couldn't possibly hurt each
other even with a chair leg.

We're just three mates
having fun."

You know what?
I don't believe a word of it.

Your mate was beaten to death.

I divvn't know what else
to say to you.

Well, try answering this, then.

Why did your union veto
Scott's redevelopment plan,

his city vision?

You really don't understand
the political process, do you?

We were one voice among many.

That's not a veto.

It's democracy.

I'm sure you lot are
in favour of it.

Cos whenever there's a struggle
for democratic rights,

the cops are
always on the wrong side.

He needed your support. You
refused to give it to him. Why?

Because analyse the so-called
vision and guess what?

It's just another piece of
property speculation

designed to make
a few guys rich.

Guys like Scott Parker
and Peter Magath?

See, I don't understand why you
bothered hanging around them.

You despise everything
they stand for.

Like I told youse,
you don't have to like...

Yeah, no, yeah, no.
I've heard that one before.

This guy that you loved, this
guy that you wouldn't hurt,

you beat the shit out of him

cos he's trying to earn
three quid to pay his bills,

and now he's in a fridge with
his name tied to his toe

and his skull smashed
in three places!

How many times did
you hit him with that chair leg?

Once.

What about Peter Magath?
How many times did he hit him?

More than once.

How many?

Three times... maybe four.

Rachel, it's your exam today,
isn't it?

Yes, sir.

Good luck, not that you need it.

- Thank you, sir.
- Knock 'em dead, Rachel.

Thank you, sir.
Inspector Bacchus?

- That pub you asked about?
- Yeah?

It's the Printer's Pie
in Jesmond.

Right. I'll give it a go.

- Give what a go?
- They've an Aunt Sally team.

So she said,
"I'm not doing it twice."

Hello, lads.

Fancy a beer tonight?

Aye.

Companies House sent this over,
sir.

Thank you, Peter. Hang on.

Can I call you back?

I will.

Gem, let's talk about it.

All right?

Half a dark, please.

Ta.

- Could I have a quick word?
- What about?

Spot of bother
that I've got myself into.

- Someone said you can help us.
- Who said?

Bloke called Tommy Cary
at the dog track.

Oh, Tommy, yeah. Yeah.

Financial bother, is it, er?

John. Yeah, I er...

I lost me job.

I've taken a few too many
liabilities at once.

- A little bit of bad luck?
- Aye.

Knows when to turn up,
doesn't it?

Just when you least want it,
usually.

What are you looking for, John?

250.

Over what period?

Erm...

Well, I'm...

I could probably just get it
back to you in two months,

three at the most.

It's 350 after two month,
and 450 after three month.

Well, I'd probably feel more
comfortable with three months.

- Confident in paying us back?
- Oh, aye.

Cos we're professionals -

we will take your car, we will
take your house if necessary.

I rent.

Just so you know what
you're getting yourself into.

This man.

I've watched him take the rings
off a bankrupt's wife's fingers

and smile when he's doing it.

I tell you what: Leave
the rings, take the wife.

- She the bad luck, is she?
- Aye, it's not going well.

What's she called?

- Gemma.
- Good looking, is she?

It's always the good-Iooking
one's that bring trouble.

Ah, she's a...

she's a real beaut.

Oh, yes!

That's trouble.

That is trouble.

Yeah, we'd like to help you,
John.

Ah, fantastic.

Great that's... that's...
that's great, lads.

Could I ask for a bit of help
now for tonight?

Like... Like an advance?
Yeah, yeah, we can do that.

Have you got any identification,
proof of address, anything?

Not here, John.

We've got to be a bit discreet.

- 20 notes suit you?
- That'd be perfect.

There's a yard out back.

Meet us there,
couple of minutes.

Right.

All right.

Thanks for everything.
I really appreciate it.

It's a big weight off me mind.

Well, we like to help people,
John.

There's a cold wind
blowing out there.

Aye, I know. I'm all right now.

I've got me long johns on.

Tosser.

Hey! What's going on? Argh!

Agh!

All right, lads.

That's it.

Well done.

I'll see you tomorrow.

This is your only warning.

Jo Parker is protected
from now on.

You go anywhere near her
ever again

and you'll regret it for the
rest of your life, understand?

Go home, get any agreements
that she entered into with you

and burn them.

They won't be bothering her
again.

You frighten me sometimes,
Inspector Bacchus.

Me? I'm just a pussycat.

- Morning, sir.
- Morning, Harpo.

- How'd it go, Rachel?
- Oh, yeah, how did it go?

All right, I think.

I think. Fingers crossed.

You'll get the result
you deserve, Rachel.

If she does,
she can always re-sit.

You just couldn't resist it,
could you, eh?

- Is he in?
- Yep.

- Rachel, sit in.
- Really?

So you knew he was skint.

You knew he was desperate.

I knew he was skint.

Did he ask you for money
on the day he died?

Yeah. So you're telling us
that you didn't know

that he was so short of money

that he was pawning
his wife's jewellery?

Aye. Anita noticed
the jewellery had gone.

Yeah, your wife noticed it
so you knew.

Yeah. How many times
do I have to bail him out

because she's
a pathological gambler?

I don't know, I'm asking you
what you knew.

Were you aware that he
took work as a casual labourer

working as a scab
collecting rubbish bags?

What?

Which led to a public fistfight
with Michael Woodruff.

You're making that up.
Those two were like brothers.

I had a brother like that once,

he knocked seven sorts of shit
out of me.

Or were you aware that
their debts were so severe,

Jo Parker is being physically
harassed by loan sharks?

No.

No, I didn't know.

I'll find a way to help her out.

That's very nice of you.

So...

We're agreed he was desperate.

You didn't know, or maybe
you didn't want to know.

This all kicked off on the night
of your birthday party?

I wanted to help him.

What stopped you?

Or maybe it's a case of
who stopped you?

Cos your wife isn't particularly
keen on Jo and Scott Parker.

You leave Anita out of this.

I will when you tell me the
truth about what happened.

The party had finished.

Me, Scottie and Michael were
having one for the ditch.

Cowboy shit, phoney.

Phoney, phoney, phoney!

He's off.

Like you, Peter.

Yes, my Peter.

Nicest bloke in the world.

You know what?

You're empty, man.

Empty life, empty marriage.

Look. I think we'll call it
a night, yeah?

Right, we're closed now.

Oh, Michael.
Peter's stopped smiling.

- Why's that, you think?
- Come on, I'll take you home.

No. What did I say, eh, that
wiped the smile off his face?

Was it the bit
about the marriage?

All right, Pete.

You're just drunk.
I'll call you a taxi.

Yeah, taxi.

Taxi!

- This is phoney!
- Ah, very clever!

- Phoney, cowboy shit!
- Scottie, put that chair...

Come on, Michael!
You want a piece of that?

Hey!

End of story.

So it wasn't three drunken boys
having fun.

And it had nothing to do with
John Wayne and Lee Marvin.

It was about Scottie lashing out
at me, and at Michael.

What did he mean by
"your empty marriage"?

He wanted to lash out at Anita
as well. He was angry.

That was it. That's all it was.

If the taxi firm had answered,
if he'd got home safe...

...if he hadn't died that night,
we'd all be friends again.

- All this would be forgotten.
- You sure?

Well.

I wonder if Scott would have
forgiven you for this.

Yeah.

It's a transfer of land
ownership, isn't it?

The land that Scott bought
for his vision of Newcastle

and failed to get planning
permission for.

You and your wife
invested in it.

And when the bank foreclosed,
you had the right to buy it,

which you did
at a knockdown price,

leaving Scott with the debts.

It's a hard world.

It's a nasty world, isn't it?

Especially when you consider
the following:

There are three
directors of this company -

you, your wife...

...and Michael Woodruff,

the man whose loud voice

scuppered the planning
application

upon which Scott Parker's
dreams depended.

You all shafted him.

Perhaps it's just as well he
never lived to find that out.

Go and pick them up for me,
would you, please, John?

Rachel, go and get Jo Parker.

Right, sir.

You'll find Michael at my house.

So when did Scott first tell you
about his scheme?

Yeah... it was at Pete's Bar.

I've just had these plans drawn
up from the architect.

- Have a look at that.
- Spending on architects again?

What I loved about Scottie was
his infectious, naive belief

in the power of architecture,
public planning,

changing the cityscape and thus
people's lives for the better.

Streets in the sky...

houses made of...
sunlight and steel.

You had to love him for it.

All mad, of course.

Pie in the sky.

Made no sense
as a business venture.

So why did you invest?

Because the astonishing thing
was...

...somehow Scottie,
with all his barking mad ideas,

had managed to get a piece of
prime development land

for a pretty good price.

He couldn't pay for it,
unfortunately,

but that didn't seem to matter,
because...

...in some way it couldn't go
wrong, as a business deal -

with the right people in.

And the wrong ones out.

He had a chance -
the chance of a lifetime.

He could have been rich
on his share

if he'd just been willing to...
modify his plans.

Bin them, you mean...

...in favour of yours?

Go easy on Anita and Michael
when you see them, Mr Gently.

They're in love.

When we were kids...

...the three of us...

...Scottie was the strong one
somehow...

...the leader.

I was the troublemaker...

...always in fights.

What makes you?
Where does it come from?

I got chucked out of the Cubs
on me first night

for laughing
at the National Anthem.

Why?

How did I know
I thought it was funny?

Don't forget your meeting
at the Town Hall, sweetheart,

or you'll get drummed out
the Brownies as well.

Yeah, there's plenty of time.

I'm gonna have you again
before I go.

Oh, are you? Don't I get a say?

No.

Lovely.

Peter was the cow's tail...

...always hanging behind.

Why are you telling us this,
Michael?

Because.

How is it,
all these years later...

...I more and more get the
feeling I'm part of some plan

Peter's got worked out
for us all?

All his life, people have
underestimated Peter Magath.

And now it's
Inspector Gently's turn.

Oh, ignore it. It'll be somebody
selling insurance.

Police!

Jo?

It's Rachel!

Jo?

Having a bit of trouble locating
Mrs Parker.

Your wife and Michael
are on their way.

As there's a reasonable chance
you could be facing a charge

by the time we finish,

I'm reminding you of
your right to a solicitor.

No.

Thanks.

Oi!

Can I have some bacon, please,

and some eggs
and those cigarettes, Jo?

All right.

Go upstairs and wash your face.

Put some smart clothes on
and brush your hair.

We've got to go
down to the station.

Jo.

Those men. They won't be
bothering you any more.

So you can forget about them.

Right. Take a seat, please.

They're to have no contact
with each other

and none with Peter Magath.

Same goes for Mrs Parker
when she gets here.

Were they in bed together?

Think so.

Sir?

It's come back.

There's two lads just arrived,
sir.

Oh?

Why didn't you mention this
two nights ago, Neil?

- Didn't think.
- Didn't think...

or wasn't told what to say?

You both work for
Anita and Peter Magath.

- Just a bloody coincidence?
- No.

That's why we were in the area,
wasn't it?

We left Pete's Bar
at about 20 to one.

Mr Magath locked the door
behind us.

And then we went over the bridge
to a lock-in, in Gateshead.

Got there about one o'clock.

We stayed for just over an hour
and then came back the same way.

When we were crossing the High
Level again, about half-two,

that's when we saw him.

And you're telling me
the same story?

Aye.

So you both saw Scott Parker,

alone, alive,
and on his own two feet,

on the High Level Bridge

at approximately 2:30
on Monday morning?

Is that what you're telling me?

What did you say to him?

We said,
"Goodnight, Mr Parker."

- And what did he say to you?
- Nowt.

He just stared into the parapet.

He had blood on his head,
but he was standing up straight.

And you would both be prepared
to repeat this story in court,

where to tell a lie
is called perjury

and carries a prison sentence?

Write it down.

Done us up
like a pair of kippers.

So, what do we do now -
just let them all go home again?

If you'd like to take a seat.

A man is dead.

Between you, you four people,

supposedly his nearest
and dearest,

are responsible for that death,
however it came about.

Yes, and I know that I may never
know exactly what happened.

Mrs Parker, your addiction to
gambling ruined his finances

and led him into desperation

and yourself into what amounted
to prostitution.

Mrs Magath...

There was no love lost between
you and the dead man,

so at least in your case,
it was simple greed,

not hypocrisy like these two,
his so-called best friends.

You betrayed and cheated
a man that you'd grown up with

and you must carry that
on your consciences

for the rest of your lives -

assuming, of course,
that you have consciences.

But it's my opinion that one
or both of you killed him.

But two witnesses
have come forward,

both employees of the Magaths...

...who are prepared to swear that
they saw Scott Parker alive,

if not exactly well,

after he left Pete's Bar
on that Sunday night.

That being the case, Mrs Parker,

I will inform the coroner
that I now have no objection

to releasing your husband's body
for burial.

Jo, do you want me
to take you home?

Oh, no, no. I'll take Jo home.

Jo, is that OK?

Come on, then.

Merciful Father
and Lord of all life,

we praise you that we are
made in your image

and reflect your truth
and light.

Above all, we rejoice
at your gracious promise

to all your servants,
living and departed,

that we shall rise again
at the coming of Christ.

Which one of them
actually did it, do you think?

We'll never know, John, will we?

Phoney, phoney.
Completely phoney.

He's off.

Like you, Peter.

Look, I think we'll call it
a night, yeah?

Right, we're closed now.

Oh, Michael.
Peter's stopped smiling.

- Why's that, you think?
- Come on.

No. What did I say, eh, that
wiped the smile off his face?

Was it the bit about
the marriage?

Ooh...

You're really drunk.
I'll get you a taxi.

Yeah, taxi!

You shut it now, Scott.

I've put you down once.
Don't make us do it again.

You're right, mate.
You're right.

- I said, phoney!
- Ah, great!

- Phoney, phoney!
- Scottie!

Crap! Come on, then!
Want a bit, Michael?

- Hey!
- Come on, big man!

- Stop being a bloody idiot!
- You want a piece?

- Come on, then!
- Scottie! Hey, man!

We thank you for the life
of your child Scott,

for the love he received from
you and showed amongst us.

Above all we rejoice
at your gracious promise

to all your servants,
living and departed...

- Enough!
- Come on, then!

Scottie, stop!

Agh!

And we ask that in due time,
we may share with our brother

that clearer vision
when we shall see your face

in the same Christ our Lord.

We now commit his body
to the ground.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.

In the sure and certain hope

of the resurrection
to eternal life.

...hotel, restaurant...

Good, glad you like it.

Cos Anita and I both...

...see this very much being
Scottie's legacy.

Don't we?

Very much, very much.
It's what he would've wanted.

And we're gonna make sure
Jo benefits as well, aren't we?

We're family.

- You had a brother?
- Mm?

You said you had a brother,
used to thump you.

Yeah, died in the war.

- In action?
- Yeah.

Well... ... diphtheria.

He was my best friend.

Till I met Isabelle.

No.

Ripped By mstoll