Original subtitles

- What time do you call this?

- Just gotta catch my breath. - Maybe you should rethink that.

- Eh? Apparently, even breathing can be deadly.

- It's a sensory deprivation tank. - Close.

It's a hyperbaric oxygen chamber. - So? Where are we going with all this?

- Couple of months ago, one Charlie Scott was killed in an explosion in a hyperbaric chamber

at the Southern Isle Country Club. The coroner put the combustion down to a hearing aid.

Charlie wore his inside the machine; the battery sparked a fire.

- So if the coroner thinks this is an accident, what the heck are we doing here?

- Cos for the last two months, I've been fielding calls from this guy ―

Donovan Hufnagel. He's the victim's golf partner,

and apparently, he had his own near-death experience at the club.

He and Charlie got locked in a sauna two weeks before Charlie died.

Reckons they could've been steamed to death.

And he insists both incidents were deliberate.

Although Donovan comes across as a little bit delusional.

- Well, just cos you're paranoid, doesn't mean someone isn't trying to kill ya.

- Well, Donovan's convinced he knows who.

They call themselves the Widows' Club.

(INTRIGUING MUSIC)

Natural habitat ― the cocktail bar at the Southern Isle Country Club.

We have Donovan's wife, Nadia.

We have Iris Coddington.

Now, Donovan thinks that she's the queen bee.

And we have Charlie's actual widow, Phoebe Scott.

- The Widows' Club, huh?

I'm going to fit right in.

(LAID-BACK, JAZZY FUNK MUSIC)

www.able.co.nz Copyright Able 2024

- Southern Isle Country Club. 18-hole golf course, bar, restaurant...

Oh, the day spa looks amazing. Tell me we get to go here. - We get to go there.

- Oh, yes. They offer a complimentary trial membership

for discerning businessmen and their spouses.

Hold on.

Only men can be full members. - That's Victorian.

- READS: 'Women may join as an associate member

'connected to their husband or partner.' Is that legal?

- Tell me about hyperbaric chambers. Are fatalities common?

- There've been quite a few. The pure oxygen component

means that one spark can cremate a person almost instantly.

One guy died when he brought his electric hand-warmer in with him. - Seriously?

- Oh, it gets worse. Another recorded death where the person lit a cigarette ― killed instantly.

- There's just too much to say about that.

But Charlie's fire was sparked by a hearing aid battery.

He'd been in the chamber before, so presumably, he knew the risks.

- And the locked-in-the-sauna incident two weeks prior?

Coincidence or a first attempt? - Hmm.

- You know, you can kinda see why Donovan thinks he's a dead man walking.

- I'd like to meet this Donovan ― while he's still with us.

- This is a gang of evil witches.

Right? They've already struck twice, and it's only a matter of time before they strike again.

- And what makes you think that? - Cos I've been reading their chat group.

They're called the Widows' Club.

- You know, in my experience, most murderers don't start chat groups.

- Look, these messages are all about how inadequate men are, OK? How we're all stingy andhumourless.

- Gotta be honest ― a lot of women talk like that when they get together.

- Read this. Here.

So, Phoebe Scott says,

'Je taime Paris! Let's go.'

And then Nadia ― that's my wife ― she says, 'My tight-fisted husband says no.'

And look what Iris says.

- 'Tell Donovan not to be such a tight old git. You can't take it with you.'

- 'You can't take it with you'? - Hmm.

- And then Nadia puts a thumbs-up emoji on it.

- Right.

Fact is that what you've got there is... - Thank you, Nicholas.

- ...a bunch of golf widows...

slagging off their husbands.

Is that what it looked like? - Yeah.

- Did he just taste your food?

- You may not wanna take this seriously, but I am.

I've got a 20-minute alarm. If he's in good health in 20 minutes, I tuck in.

- Donovan, your friend Charlie wore his hearing aid into the hyperbaric chamber.

- Charlie never had a hearing aid. His hearing was fine. He's only 61.

The person you wanna talk to is Phoebe Scott ― considering how fast she got another man inher bed.

- Charlie's widow has a new bloke? - Ray Jones.

He didn't take long to park his slippers.

(LAID-BACK, JAZZY FUNK MUSIC)

- ON PHONE: Hello. - Did you know that the widow's got a new man?

- She didn't share that information with police, no.

- Yeah. Ray Jones, some kind of tradie.

- I'm sure there's a few Ray Joneses in the system, but I'll take a look. - Good.

(SIGHS) And did you know that women can't get into this country club on their own?

I need a husband to get a foot in the door.

- You're gonna sneak in anyway, aren't you? - Certainly not.

I called hire-a-hubby.

'Sup?

You really scrub up.

- Oh, I've been known to frequent a few of these places before, in a previous life.

But you know about me and golf, right? I can't play to save myself.

- Well, it's not like you haven't bluffed your way through things before.

- Ah, but I hate the game. Everything about it.

- Uh-huh. - With a passion.

Oh, um...

Did I also mention I might have relieved a few of the members here of their life savings?

- 'In a previous life'?

- Morning. Welcome. How can I help? - Good morning. My husband and I

are interested in joining your marvellous club.

- William Crowe. This is my lovely wife, Alexa.

- Welcome, Mr Crowe. Ricardo Curry, executive club manager.

I'm just finishing signing up another couple at the minute,

but if you'd like to order yourself a coffee, tea, water, at the bar? Perhaps a mimosa?

- Actually, we'd really like to take a little tour. Is that OK?

- Oh... Is that what you want to do, Mr Crowe?

- Well... you know what they say ― happy wife, happy life, eh?

- (CHUCKLES) Yes. Is that what they say? Um...

Well, this is our club lounge, where the ladies like to get hammered.

- Ha! While us men do our men business, eh? - That's right, Mr Crowe.

- Actually, Ricardo, I know that my husband is simply desperate to get out on that golf course

at earliest opportunity. - No, I'm not. - Oh, of course he is.

And I tell you what ― there's a four missing a player that you can join teeing off in 10 minutes.

- Splendid. Except, darling, I left my gear at home.

- That's OK. We have a pro shop on the lower level that has everything you need.

Golf balls, clubs, shirts, socks, caps ― pretty much everything.

- Wow. - The whole shebang. Anyway... - Splendid.

- Follow me, and I'll take you down.

- So, who's the guy with Alexa? Pretending to be Mr Crowe.

- It's Mr Crowe. - Nah, but really. - Nah, it's Alexa's brother, Will.

- What, the― the dodgy ex-criminal? - All right. Don't say that so loudly.

(LIGHT, CURIOUS MUSIC)

- (WHISTLES PLAYFULLY)

Hi, Donovan.

- What are you doing here?

- You asked me to investigate, so I'm investigating.

- Well, don't talk to me. Nadia will get suspicious. - Oh, she's here?

- Yeah. She's got a jealous streak. She'll think we're having an affair.

- Oh... Here's my brother, Will. He's going to make up your four.

- What? Why? - Because we're undercover,

and this place won't let a woman join on her own.

- What do you play off?

- Well, I play with the... tee.

Usually. - Well, this is just great (!)

You do me a favour and bugger off? - Keep your tam-o-shanter on.

Good luck. - Let's get this show on the road.

(RELAXED JAZZY MUSIC PLAYS)

(WOMAN LAUGHS)

- Three Bloody Marys, darling. - Certainly.

- I'll take one of those. - Sure.

- It's breakfast and a cocktail in one.

- That's what I always say. - You speak the truth. - Amen.

- Alexa Crowe. A new member.

- Nadia Hufnagel. A new friend.

Come join.

- So, Alexa, is it? - Yes. - Iris Coddington.

Phoebe. - Hi. - Hi, hi.

Thanks so much for letting me crash your party. - Oh, stay as long as you like.

- Unless, of course, you have to rush off to your husband.

- Well, that'd be difficult. He died six years ago.

- Well...

Youhavestumbled into your tribe.

- We're the Widows' Club.

- Uh, golf widows, I presume?

- Actually, I don't think we should call ourselves that any more.

- I lost my Jakob many years ago, but Phoebe is a more recent widow.

- My husband's still alive and kicking. More's the pity.

- Well, I'm very sorry to hear that, Phoebe.

- (CACKLES)

She's OK. Oh, she's moving on.

- Nadia. - Yeah! She's met someone already.

Very sexy. If you like that sort of thing.

- I'm not gonna feel guilty, Nadia. If it wasn't for Ray,

I would just be― I'd be so... sad and lonely and, you know...

- We understand. We understand. I mean, it is so hard.

It's so hard. Isn't it, Alexa? - Oh, hardest time of my life.

- Anyway, Iris predicted that Phoebe would meet her white knight.

- Oh. - She is a genius with the tarot cards.

- I dabble. (CHUCKLES) - Yeah, she predicted that Ray was gonna have his accident.

- I did.

- Sorry, no― Your new boyfriend had an accident? - Yeah.

- Well, it was the fool and the tower.

And the cards just indicated that someone close to Phoebe was going to have a fall and get injured.

- And raise a roofer!

(CACKLES) So we're like, 'Uh-oh, Ray's gonna fall off the roof.'

- No. - So then I stopped him from going on the roof for his next few jobs.

And then... we went away on holiday to Queenstown, and he fell off the ski lift.

(LAUGHTER)

I know. (CHUCKLES)

- Wow.

- Mm-hm. Mm! Mm!

Iris. - What? - You should do Alexa.

- Oh. - Yes, yes. See if she's gonna find love again.

- Oh... no, I'm not looking.

- Well, I don't have my cards.

But next time, Alexa.

- OK.

- Shot, Donovan.

Guessing you don't play too often. - Is it that obvious?

- Well, you're about to tee off with a putter.

- Oh, thanks. What was your name again?

- Ray Jones. - Will Crowe.

Whoo. - Nice.

Well, Will, looks like you're up.

- All righty.

Yep.

Here goes.

(SIGHS)

All righty.

(CURIOUS, LAID-BACK MUSIC)

Oh my God. - Look, why don't you blokes play ahead? We'll catch you up.

- Yeah, I think... we'll go wait in the cart.

(LAID-BACK MUSIC FADES)

- So, what brings you to the club, Will? Cos it's obviously not golf.

- Ah, nah, nah. My, uh... My sister wants to be a member, but no access without a bloke.

She's terminally single, so... How about you? - Girlfriend.

Her husband passed away. She kept the membership.

We hooked up; she dragged me along. - Ah, OK. That makes sense.

I didn't think old Donovan and what's-his-knuckle were your kind of people.

- No, well, they think I'm a bit of a cadger ― just after Phoebe's coin.

Husband only recently died. - Ah, that so?

- Look, tell you the truth, I'd much rather be in a tinny having a fish than here with thosetossers.

- (CHUCKLES)

- Hang on. Stand back a minute. - Oh.

(LOW, CHEEKY MUSIC)

- Nice shot, Will. - Yeah. Thanks. Yeah, really got behind that one.

- OK. Head inside, then.

- But I'm― - It'll only be a minute.

- Uh, but I wanna― - I need to try to lock you in.

- Yeah, nah. Not keen on that. - Come on. In you hop.

(QUIRKY MUSIC)

There's no lock. Let's see if I can jam it shut.

- Wait, can you see if you can un-jam it as well? - Yeah, it'll be fine.

- It's hot in here.

(CURIOUS MUSIC)

- Oh. (CHUCKLES) Thanks, Reuben. That was very helpful.

There's no way to lock the sauna, but maybe it got wedged shut?

I found these little bits of yellow rubber on the floor. (MESSAGE ALERT DINGS)

Gosh. Someone's popular. - Oh.

I've been added to the Widows' group chat. Ugh. They love me. (DOOR OPENS)

- Evening. - Hey. How was golf?

- Oh, I thoroughly embarrassed myself. Thanks.

Man. Never any beer.

- No. - Reuben would have swapped with you. He loves golf.

- Ooh, but would this Reuben person have just made friends with the widow's new boyfriend?

- You met Ray Jones? - Yeah, yeah. Yeah, we hit it off right away.

- You know, Harry couldn't find any kind of record for a Ray Jones that fit our profile.

So what'd you find out? - Well, Ray Jones owns a roofing company.

He likes golf, obviously, and fishing. And he's a nice guy, all right? He did not murderanyone.

- Mm. That's not how it works, Will. - Everyone's a suspect until they're not.

- Come on. His only crime was falling for someone whose husband had just died.

- Well, actually, Ray Jones and Phoebe were sleeping together months before Charlie went boom.

- How do you know that?

- Cos Ray and Phoebe went on a ski holiday in Queenstown, and ski season is―

- Months before Charlie went boom. OK, but that does not mean that Ray knocked the old boyoff.

What about this widow? - Phoebe Scott? - Mm.

- An affair could be a reason to kill your husband, but it's probably easier to just leavehim.

(DING!) - Mm...

- Nah. There was alotof banter about those men being tightwads.

You think being married to a stinge is miserable? Try divorcing one. - Ha! See?

It's Phoebe. - Or Ray.

- No, he's my new friend. I like him. - Good. Stick to him.

See what else you can find out. - Oh, fine. What, so I gotta just pretend to be his new bestfriend

while working out whether he's a cold-blooded killer?

- Wonderful. Thank you. - And you'll stick with Phoebe?

- Just to find out how badly she wanted to become a member of the Widows' Club.

- So, what's the plan? - Pedicure with the girls. - Oh, it's 'the girls' now, is it?

- (SCOFFS) Pedicure, Madison, a pedicure! You know how much I hate having my feet touched.

- Yeah, you'll cope.

- I guess it beats rifling through dirty locker rooms.

- Yay! Super fun times ahead (!)

Look, are you sure we can't go to the wellness centre? - No. It's for widows only.

(SOFT MUSIC PLAYS)

- Phoebe's late. - (MOANS)

I wouldn't get up either if I had a horny man in my bed. - (SIGHS)

And what's Donovan? - I said horny, Iris, not portly.

(ALL CHUCKLE)

- So Ray and Phoebe are at thatstage, are they? - Mm-hm.

She deserves a bit of fun after putting up with Charlie for the last seven years.

- Nadia, you've got to stop speaking ill of the poor dead man.

- (HISSES)

- You're not enjoying that massage there, Alexa?

- Oh, no.

I am.

A foot massage is totally my bag.

- Anyway, Iris, Phoebe's not here, so I can say it.

Charlie was an old git.

- Then why did Phoebe marry him? She seems so sweet.

- Oh, she is.

She is a gorgeous human being.

- And it was false advertising.

Oh, Charlie reeled her in with expensive dinners, holidays, romance.

Then they get married, and... (SCOFFS) - No more romance?

- Ah. My marriage, on the other hand, is nothing like that.

Donovan was a bore from day one. (ALL LAUGH)

- She's being a little bit hard on Charlie. He was very sick, after all.

- He was? - Yes. Prostate cancer.

What happened to your husband, Alexa? Was it illness?

- Um, no. He was a police detective, and he was killed in the line of duty.

- Oh. - Oh, that's tragic. - Yeah.

- Very sorry to hear. He was cut down in his prime, I would imagine, too.

- Yeah. But, uh...

So, Charlie was terminal, then? - Oh, yes. Yes.

I think that was Phoebe's only comfort ― that he went out with a bang

and was spared a lot of the long and drawn-out suffering.

(CURIOUS, SNEAKY MUSIC)

(KEYS JANGLE)

- I mean, even a manicure would be nice.

(GIGGLING)

Hi there. - Hi.

(SPARSE, FUNKY MUSIC)

- Well, this is, um...

exactly what it looks like. - Oh, Ray!

- Um... Don't mind me.

- Sorry.

That was so not OK.

- Hey, I'm not offended. I'm just impressed.

- Well, he, uh, wanted to stash his stuff in my locker, so I let him in.

And then, you know, one thing led to another. (GIGGLES, SIGHS)

Oh gosh. I'm so late for my spa treatment.

Bye. - Bye.

Stashed his stuff in your locker, did he?

- WHISPERS: Hey.

Was Phoebe seeing her new man before Charlie died? - Why do you say that?

- Nadia said something.

- I don't want you thinking badly of Phoebe. She found herself in a loveless, miserable marriage,

and she... needed a bit of fun.

- (MOANS)

- So, how deaf was he?

- What?

- You know it was a hearing aid that caused the explosion?

Yeah.

Maybe he was like my stepfather, Rusty. Can't even admit that he wears one.

- Why the interest?

- Oh, it's a hell of a story.

- It's not as dramatic as yours. Your poor husband, going out in a― in a blaze of glory.

Poor Charlie went out in a blaze of vanity.

Nadia, can you put your cougar claws away, for goodness' sake?

I think you're right, though.

I think if Charlie wore a hearing aid, he wouldn't have told anyone.

Silly old man.

(LIGHT, GROOVY MUSIC)

- I ran a copy of Phoebe's laptop, and guess who updated his will six months ago?

- Well, people tend to do that when they've been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

- What? Are you talking about Charlie?

- Turns out he had an expiry date on him.

- Well, there goes my theory that Phoebe did it for the inheritance.

- Nah. She was gonna get it all anyway.

- And it makes sense of a couple of emails I've found from a travel agent.

Phoebe booked this Christmas package tour for her and Charlie.

16 days on the Nile, looking at the pyramids.

- Well, seems pretty pointless if you're gonna kill him.

- Shall we have a look at Ray Jones' laptop, then?

- You got that, too? - Mm-hm. He very helpfully left it in Phoebe's locker.

- Yay Ray, yay you! - Mm-hm.

- Oh. - Well, at least you hit it.

- Well, how come you know so much? You can't have been playing that long.

- Oh, I used to play the public courses back home, but, um... nowhere as flash as this.

- Oh, well, then you'd be pretty happy you inherited

Phoebe's dead husband's membership, then, wouldn't you? (CHUCKLES)

(CLUBS THWACK)

- Look, I know the optics aren't great, getting together so quickly.

- Nah, nah, nah. No judgement here, bro. None at all.

So...

what made you move over from Australia?

Oh! - The Australian government.

- What? - I was deported a few years back.

- Oh, you're a 501?

- Yeah. Was in Australia since I was a baby. Didn't even know

I was a Kiwi citizen until I got in trouble.

Then they hit me with the old 501, and back to New Zealand I go.

- What'd you do? - (CHUCKLES)

- Oh, no, no. It's all good, bro. I know a couple of 501s.

My cellmate was one.

- Are you serious? - Yeah. I mean, don't...

don't tell the club manager, but... I'm on parole.

- Wow. - Yeah.

Well, turns out a few of my finance clients were a little precious about their money―

well, their money funding my rockstar lifestyle.

- Ah. You're one of those white-collar guys. - Yeah.

How about you? - Oh, just a bit of careless driving, mate.

- Eh? They deported you for careless driving?

- Yeah. That, uh, 501 policy's pretty harsh.

Anyway, why'd you really join the club? You trying to find a few more rich pricks to fleece?

- Tempting. No. Changed my ways.

I'm here for Alexa. She likes the finer things in life.

- Sorry, who's Alexa? - My sister.

Oh!

Baby! Yeah!

- Here we go. A bunch of emails from a random account.

And judging by the content, I'm gonna hazard a guess it's Phoebe.

- X-rated? - Uh-huh.

Whoa. She called it off with Ray about seven months ago.

- Really? She broke up with him by email?

- READS: 'I'll always love you, but I can't keep lying and sneaking around when he's dying.'

- OK, so she broke up with Ray when Charlie was diagnosed. How did he take it?

- I mean, he's pretty reasonable. He's sorry that Charlie is unwell,

and of course, she has to do what she has to do.

- Too reasonable.

Why? - Because he knew Charlie wouldn't last long, and he just had to wait?

- Or maybe he thought he could, uh, hurry things along a bit. - Hmm.

- I think it's time we talked to our man Ray.

(LIGHT, QUIRKY MUSIC)

Are you Ray Jones? - He's round the back. - Thanks.

Uh, Ray?

Ray Jones? - He's just there.

(LIGHT, FUNKY MUSIC)

(VEHICLE DOOR SHUTS, ENGINE REVS)

(TYRES SCREECH)

- (PANTS)

- So, you think he's avoiding you? - Looks that way.

- But how would he know who you are?

- What? Nah, I didn't tell him you were a cop.

And I definitely didn't tell him you suspect him of murdering his girlfriend's husband.

- Well, none of it would matter if he had nothing to hide. - True.

- All right. How do I look? Hmm?

Do I look like a witch of East Auckland?

- Is that the image you're going for? - Iamgoing for a tarot reading.

- Oh, come on. You always get the fun stuff. - I do.

- She certainly does. - You wanna get your tarot cards read?

- What? No. Just don't wanna play any more golf. Anything but golf.

- You know, there's an Italian degustation at the club restaurant tonight.

- Ooh, we should definitely investigate that. - Mm-hm.

- (GASPS) Wow.

- I know. Welcome to my humble abode.

- Hi, girls. - Cheers.

- Iris was just finishing doing my card, so take a seat. - Thank you.

- I got the Empress. - Oh, is that good? - Mm-hm.

- It is for Ray. - It signifies lust and unchained passion.

(ALL CHUCKLE)

- Shall we finish? - Yeah.

(SOFT, ETHEREAL, ATMOSPHERIC MUSIC PLAYS)

- Three of Swords.

It's not so good, I'm afraid. - Oh.

- It's... miscommunication and tension in a relationship.

- Well, actually, Raywasreally off this afternoon. He said I'm spending too much time at the club.

- What? Why would he say that?

- Two of Cups.

The cards agree.

I Think Ray is showing his true colours.

- (SCOFFS) Men are all the same.

- Alexa, are you ready now to accept what the cards have to reveal to you?

- Oh, I'm ready for the big reveal. (ALL GIGGLE)

- Queen of Swords.

You were close to someone...

and then they died.

- Yeah, we know that.

- Well... I'm just telling you what the cards are showing me.

- OK, well, I'm just telling you that it's easier to say the past than the future, probably.

- Five of Wands.

Oh.

I'm afraid what is in your future is a little bit more disturbing. Um...

Wands...

signify conflict.

You're in some kind of danger.

- So no change there. (LAUGHS)

- The tower. (DOOR CLOSES)

- Hi, baby. - Hey. Sorry. I didn't realise there was a... party going on.

- Oh, um, Alexa, this is my boyfriend, Ray. Ray, this is Alexa.

- Look, I'm pretty filthy after work. Think I'll just get changed.

- (GROANS) Carry on, Iris. The suspense is killing me. She's in danger.

- Are you all right, Alexa?

I haven't frightened you, have I? I mean, it's just a bit of fun, really.

- Oh, no, no, it's nothing like that. It's probably just all the alcohol, so―

- Really? - If you don't mind, I'm going to just go home.

- Are you OK?

(PENSIVE MUSIC)

Bye.

- Oh, you still up?

Will and I just had the most sublime tiramisu. I actually wanna stay a member of that clubforever.

I had dinner with your brother, but, like, not in a weird way. We just both like Italian,

and I love hearing stories about little Alexa. What are you doing?

- I'm just putting the pieces together. - And?

- I know who killed Charlie. - OK. Are you gonna share?

- Ray Jones did it.

(LOW, PENSIVE MUSIC)

ALEXA: Background check on Ray Jones? - Yeah, nothing came up.

- What about his alibi? - I sent a constable around. She reckons he was up north.

- And was he? - Still working on it. - OK, thanks.

(TRANQUIL MUSIC PLAYS)

- Oh my God. I'm gonna kill my husband.

He's meant to be at home sorting out the garage, and I just saw his car in the car park.

I'm a total golf widow. - Oh, honey. Join the club.

- What, your husband's on the course too? - Donovan? (LAUGHS)

No, no, no. He's in the hospital with food poisoning.

- Oh, that's terrible. - Oh, don't feel sorry for him.

No, he digs through the leftovers in that fridge like a dog going through the trash.

But if you ask him, he'll swear I poisoned it.

- Was that a joke? - Nah. Donovan thinks I'm trying to kill him.

- Why― Why would he think that? - The man's a hypochondriac.

- Oh. - And a conspiracy theorist. It's so easy to tease him!

Oh, and I like it when he avoids me. - So you're letting him think that it's true?

- Mm! It's hilarious. He's a bag of nerves. (CACKLES)

- Here you go. - Oh. John.

G and T? - No, thanks. I'll catch you later. - Mm.

(LAID-BACK, FUNKY MUSIC)

- You caught up with Ray Jones yet? - No. He has a talent for avoiding me.

Hey...

- Wait, you're going out? Is it to do with the case? Do you need me to do anything?

- Yes. Yes, I need you to take the bread out of the oven when the timer goes. Thanks, Mads.

- (MIAOWS) - I know, Chowder. I'm worried too.

(DOOR CLOSES)

- Whoo-hoo! Ah!

- Just having a bit of a hit on my own, mate.

- Yeah. No, I― I'd love a few more pointers, if that's OK?

I mean, none of the blokes here wanna play with the slow guy, so...

(LOW, CURIOUS MUSIC)

- So, is your... sister here today?

- Why's that?

- Just wondering.

- No. She's...

at work, I think.

- What does she do, again? - Uh, she's a baker.

Makes a mean sourdough.

Yum.

I hit it!

(ZIP! RUSTLING)

(CAMERA CLICKS)

- OK. I hope that wasn't beginner's luck.

- She ever mention me?

- Who? - Don't be a dick.

Your sister. Alexa Crowe. She ever talk about me?

- What, there some history between you two or something?

- Look, I just wanna be left alone, OK? Cops came around asking me where I was when Charliedied.

It was upsetting... for Phoebe and for me.

I just wanna live my life, mate. OK?

- Bro, I'm just trying to work on my golf swing here.

Well, get a golf swing.

(PENSIVE MUSIC)

- Guess who's also been added to the Widows' group chat.

- What? Have they not seen Reuben wandering around in a towel?

- Actually, that's why they've added me. They say I've upped the eye candy factor in the club.

- Ooh.

- No, Alexa. Don't do it again.

- Do what? - Walk out without telling me where you're going or what you're doing.

- I'll be back soon, all right? - Alexa.

- Just need to check one thing with Raynor Jones. That's all.

(DOOR CLOSES)

(CURIOUS, PENSIVE MUSIC)

- (MIAOWS) - All right, move it, buddy.

Let me take a peek, Chowder. It's for her own good.

- Evening. - Oh, um...

I thought you were Alexa. - Nah.

She not here?

You're just on her laptop?

- OK. Yes, um, but this is the first time I've ever done it.

- What were you looking for?

- There's an email that proves Ray Jones was in Northland at 4.15 the day Charlie died.

His photo ID's attached. - Well, then he didn't do it.

This is good. - No, you're not understanding.

Alexa found evidence that it wasn't Ray. - Uh-huh.

- So why's she still investigating him?

(PENSIVE MUSIC)

(CAR ALARM BLIPS)

- Hewasacting pretty weird this arvo.

Wanted to know if Alexa had talked about him, mentioned him.

- You didn't tell him anything? - No, of course not.

(CELL PHONE VIBRATES)

Maybe it's the 501 thing.

- 501? - Yeah. You know, the Kiwi deportees from Australia?

- Yeah. What about 'em? - Well, Ray's one of them. He's a 501.

- You didn't think to tell me that before? Maybe she knew him in Melbourne.

- Ah, he was deported for some minor traffic thing.

And she was a detective, not some baby cop handing out speeding tickets.

Unless he lied about the traffic thing.

- Right, got it.

- Ooh. You can just bring up a list of deportees, can you?

- I have the access codes, so yes.

But there's no Ray Jones.

- 'Ray' short for 'Raymond'?

(LIGHT, CURIOUS MUSIC CONTINUES)

- Raynor. She said 'Raynor' before she left.

Come on.

Who are you, Ray Jones?

OK, so if he's 42, then he would have moved to Australia...

- Well, he said he was a baby when he moved. - In 1982, maybe?

Come on. How many kids are called Raynor?

(INTRIGUING MUSIC)

Johnson. There's Raynor Johnson. - No way. OK, great.

Well, can you run a... police check or a 501 check? Whatever you do?

- Yeah, yeah. Keep trying Alexa. - OK.

(CELL PHONE VIBRATES)

Oh, come on. Just give us a call back, will ya, sis? We're...

We wanna know where you are, Lex.

- Found him.

- And?

- Raynor Johnson was deported after serving two years in prison

for careless driving causing death.

(TENSE MUSIC RISES)

- Yeah, he didn't mention the death bit. - In Melbourne.

He drove his car through a police roadblock, killing an officer on duty.

- Oh crap.

Is it... - Alexa's husband.

Yep.

- Raynor Johnson.

(DARK MUSIC)

- Bloody hell.

(CHUCKLES)

You know...

People at this club waste perfectly good golf balls.

It's a Taylor. Hundred bucks a dozen.

- Oh, you're a recycler now?

Golf balls and other people's wives.

- (CHUCKLES) Yeah.

Look, I just wanna live my life, OK?

It was an accident.

OK? Melbourne was an accident.

I saw the cop cars. I had some stolen gear in the back, and I panicked.

And I just put my foot down.

I didn't even see him.

- And you didn't stop either.

You sped away. And you...

you hid your car in your mate's garage for days.

- Yeah, I did.

You're right. I'm a piece of shit.

But I was also convicted, and I paid my dues.

- Two years. You spent two years.

And that's what my husband's life was worth?

- I... Look.

If it's any consolation, as soon as I finished my sentence,

they threw me on to a plane and dumped me back here in New Zealand.

I can't go back.

- Well, that makes two of us.

See, I could never go back to my life the way it was before.

I live always in the after.

- (SIGHS)

What do you want from me?

- Oh, isn't that the question?

See, I tried not to think about you for years.

And I tried to will you out of existence.

But here you are.

So now what do I want from you?

(GENTLE, CURIOUS MUSIC)

(FRIDGE DOOR CLOSES)

- Oh my God. I've been going crazy worrying about you.

Will and I were out all night.

- Well, I'll make your coffee extra strong.

- Alexa.

I know who Ray Jones is.

Raynor Johnson.

I know what he did.

- Well, it's a small world, ain't it?

I'm OK.

Sorry for worrying you.

- Where did you go last night?

- I wanted to talk to him.

I felt like I owed it to Gary and to myself.

- To do what?

- I just wanted him...

I wanted Raynor to know who Gary was.

And― And what he meant.

I wanted him to know...

what it cost me.

- I would've gone with you, Alexa.

You only had to ask.

- I know.

(LAID-BACK BLUESY MUSIC)

- # Take my heart.

# It used to be so supple and sweet.

# And now it's withered...

# on the vine.

# There's before...

# and then there's after.

# You were mine.

# Take my faith.

# So strong and full of fire.

# Now it's bruised. Broken down...

# and blind.

# There's before...

# and then there's after.

# You were mine. #

- Blunt force trauma. Prime suspect is one ex-police detective

who had some serious beef with the guy.

- A search warrant?

- You know I wouldn't do this if it was up to me alone.

- Don't break anything.

- What the hell are you doing here, murderer?

- I wanted him to know what he'd done.

- My friends said I shouldn't talk to you

because you're Alexa Crowe's brother.

- I don't talk to Alexa. I mean, she's a suspected murderer.

- Come to see that you'd done the job properly, that he's really dead?