All language subtitles for My.Life.Is.Murder.S05E04.The.Top.Two.Inches.1080p.TVNZ.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-BTN.eng

- Give me a tip.

Got a tip?
- Uh...

- Got any pocket money?
Come on, give me a tip.

Hey! No tip, no pic.

- It's all right, girls. Go on.
- Thank you.
- Thanks.

- Oi! Hey, who do you think you are?
- Someone who doesn't believe
in demanding money fromkids.

- What I do is a skill ―
stamina, itchy nose, sore neck.

A bloody seagull landed on me
last week.

- And yet you'll break character
to scam a couple of kids out of 50c.

- Well, if you're so noble, why
don't you tip me on their behalf?

- Here's a tip ―

be a better statue.

- How's your morning going?

- Fine.

- Kinda looks like
you were arguing with a statue.

- So just another Thursday, then.

- Lawyer Nick Dunbar-Jones ―

he was found dead in a recycling bin
outside a bar called The Grosvenor ―

fell from the balcony, died on
impact, high levels of intoxication.

- This doesn't look non-accidental.

- See those papers he's lying on?

Discarded answer sheets
from the pub quiz held at
The Grosvenor that night.

- Still waiting.
- This particular answer sheet
was found in Nick's mouth.

It's the sudden death round
answer sheet.

- Stop!

Well, that's a statement
if ever I saw one.

Any DNA evidence?
- None ― just a few
dark red cotton fibres.

We're still testing. Here,
we have the Top Two Inches ―
Nick's trivia team.

- These beautiful people
are a trivia team?

Wait a minute.
I know that guy―

- I figured it's always nice to
reconnect with old enemies, right?

- Baxter Wells is not an enemy.
He's just a bloody pest.

- Well, he and his team were seen
fighting with Nick after the quiz
just before he died.

These people threaten lawyers and
letters from members of Parliament

every time I try to get
a straight answer out of them.

Just take a look for me?

- All right. I'll take a look ―
one look.

But if Baxter Wells takes this
as some kind of encouragement...

I'm coming for you.

- Fair enough.

Captions were made with
the support of NZ On Air.

- This is unlike any quiz night

that I've ever been to.

- I wouldn't know.
I've never been to one.

- What, you've never―?
No, of course you haven't.
- Mm.

- Well, this was more like a glam
party with some questions thrown in.

And I'll tell you what ― no one
else in the room that night was
upset that the Top Two Inches lost.

- Because...?
- They always won ― like, always.

And some of these photos
are pretty obnoxious.

We've got Elliot Griggs, cosmetic
surgeon to the rich and gorgeous,

looking to turn back time.
- Mm-hm.

- Cori-Michelle Sage ― she owns
that, um... that chain of pharmacies

with the really annoying TV ads.
- Oh yeah.

- And your bestie,
former real estate agent

turned aspiring property tycoon
Baxter Wells.

I'm assuming they all have alibis.

- Well, they all went home alone to
their separate homes where they all
live alone.

- There's no husbands, wives,
partners to back it up?

- Uh, divorced, single,

and sliding into my DMs every month
with such regularity

I think he has a calendar alert.

- And this is the paper that
was stuffed into Nick's mouth.

- Along with some dark red
cotton fibres.

Now, the answers are written
in Nick's own handwriting.

He choked on his own words.

- It's called the sudden death round

because if you get one answer wrong,
you're dead.

- And I'm guessing one out of 10
is not a score that wins you all
the chocolate.

- Mm-mm.

- Someone's a sore loser.

According to Harry, they shut down
the quiz for a couple of months out
of respect.

They're kicking it off again tonight
to remember poor Nick Dunbar-Jones.

- Which means all our key suspects
will be in one place.

- For the first time
since the funeral.

The place is owned and operated
by Lydia Redfern.

- Should I know who that is?
- She's the glamorous face of
hospo in this town.

She inherited The Grosvenor a year
ago when her husband passed away.

- And is that her there now?
- Bingo. Our ticket into the game.

- Kia ora. You looking
to join us for lunch?

- Uh, actually, we were hoping to
score a table for the quiz tonight.

- Oh, I'm sorry. We're fully booked.
- Oh, that's a shame.

I've heard it's meant to be
the best quiz in town.
- It is ― hence fully booked.

- Oh, Lydia?

Alexa Crowe.
- Oh.

- We haven't met, but I know of you
through lovely Nick Dunbar-Jones.

God, such a tragedy.
- Yes. Yes, it was.

Sorry, you knew Nick?
- Through work.

And I heard that you were
throwing a special event for him.

- He did love a good trivia night.
- He certainly did.

- Unfortunately,
it's all booked, but...
- Oh, um...

Fletcher?

- I'm sure we can fit in
a small team in the corner.

- Oh, corner's great.
- Fletcher will sign you up.

- Thank you, Lydia.
- See you later tonight.

- Team name?
- That is a good question.

- You named our team what?
- could think of.

But there's one small problem ―
according to the very
serious bloke at the bar,

we need at least three people
to enter a team.

- Your usuals.

- Hey, Reuben.

What's the smallest state in America?
- Um, it's Rhode Island.

- Reuben, you're in.
- 'm busy
that day or night.

- He'll say yes.
- He will.

- Is this anything
to do with murder?

- Calm down. It's a pub quiz, Reuben.
- It's a trivia night.
- Yeah.

Nah.

- I think you'll find that
the correct answer in this
round is 'yeah'!

- Swanky crowd.
- OK, keep a low profile.
I need to do some digging.

- Hey. Digging?

- Alexa Crowe ―

my favourite detective.

- You were saying low profile?
- I'll handle this.

Baxter Wells.

How unexpected to see you here.

Couldn't stay away, huh?

- Can I buy you a drink?
- Great idea. Let's go.
- But the...

I think we both know why
you're here, detective Alexa.

You know, Nick ― he was a good guy.
Your secret's safe with me.

- That's very comforting.
- So, I'm no suspect, right?

I think that our shared history
proves I'm no murderer.
- I'll keep that in mind.

- So, uh, who do you like for it?
Oh, tell me it's Cori.

I mean, she's a mate,
but she is also about as
sketchy as a $3 night in―

- Whoa. I need you to be cool,
all right?

You don't know me.
- Sure.

Like I said, your, uh,
secret's safe with me.

What? What are you looking at?

- That's a nice tie, is all. What
colour do you call that ― burgundy?

- Hm? Maroon. Yeah, it's my
lucky tie. Sold my first penthouse
apartment wearing this badboy.

- So you wear it to all
the trivia nights?

- Sorry, why are you asking?
- Do you come here for the trivia,
Baxter, or the networking?

- Oh, the team takes this
pretty seriously, actually.

And, yeah, The Grosvenor
has got some good prizes.

- $200 bar tab? Pretty standard.
- Yeah. And the $80,000
we got running on the...

running on the, uh...
Yeah, never mind.

- Who's we? Your team?

Are you upping the stakes,
or is it something else?

- Yeah. I forgot how intense
you could be.

- Only when I feel like someone's
hiding something from me.

- Well, you just― you just said
I'm not a suspect.
- No, I didn't. You did.

To be honest, Baxter...

I'm undecided.

- You all right?
- Oh, I was looking
for the restrooms.

- Oh, you walked right past them.

Well, come on. Don't take too long.
Fun and games are about to begin.

- Hey.
- 'Chowderheads' ― really?

- So, Reuben, this is Baxter.
He'll be joining our team tonight.

- Doesn't Baxter have his own team?
- Perhaps I prefer the company here.

- So, according to Baxter,
there was a bet amongst
his former team members.

The prize ― Lydia Redfern.

- Yeah, well, it all
started when Nick asked how
long after her husband died

he should wait to ask her out.
- Oh, all class.

- Yeah, and then Elliot said
he wanted to ask her out.

And then Cori ― she starts
boasting that she reckons
she could turn her.

- So they made a bet.
- Well, 'bet' is an ugly word. Yeah.

- Well, sweepstakes ― which lucky
punter would Lydia fall for next?

- Oh, the self-confidence
is off the charts.

- And you were
a part of that bet too?

- Well, the thing is I've just got
so much respect for the ladies.

- Do you want me to show them
the unsolicited DMs you've been
sending me the last 18 months?

- Oh, actually ― uh, not supposed
to use our phones in here, just FYI,
so maybe zip that back up.

- $80,000 to the lucky winner.
- Are you serious?
- What the hell?

- And the heart of
a recently widowed millionaire.

- You're making us sound
like a bunch of monsters.

- Four monsters competing for money
and love, and now one of them
has been taken out of thegame.

And you know what that sounds
like to me, Baxter? One very
solid motive for murder.

- So, you have to wait for Lydia
to make the first move?

- Oh yeah, yeah. We're not creeps.
- And then bam ― winner takes the
whole prize.

- Mm-hm, mm-hm.
- So the stakes are high, but
who are they highest for?

- Oh, we'll soon find out.

Is Elliot with one T or two?
- I don't know.

- No phones, please.
You get one warning.

- But the quiz hasn't even started.
- It has now.

- Shall I finish this elsewhere?
- If you would be so kind.

- Uh, welcome.
Welcome back to The Grosvenor,

as we remember our...
our good friend Nick.

But it's also a night to celebrate
his life. As we know, the guy loved
his trivia.

But first, a toast ―

to Nick.
- To Nick.

Now, Nick also loved to travel,
so in his honour,

the picture round tonight asks
you to identify the country by
each luxury resort.

And that shouldn't be a problem
for most of you.

- OK, go now.

- And the last quote
in 'Who Said It?' is,

'I refuse to join any club that
would have me as a member.'

- Oscar Wilde. Or Shakespeare.
It's always one of the two, and
that's a hint.

- It's Groucho Marx.
- That's right. Looks like
we've got a secret weapon.

- Yeah, he seems like a great guy.
Is he, like, a work friend, or...?

- Tell me about your little pals
over there.

- Well, there's Elliot ― a superstar
surgeon complete with a God complex.

He, uh, took a total bath
during his divorce.
- Really?

What about Cori?
- She's a little more sus,
if you know what I mean.

She's basically a glorified
pharmacist peddling her trauma
on TV to appeal to the normies.

- And how did you get wound up
in this little group?

- Well, I actually got Cori
into the Azure.

- The Azure?
- Yeah, it's where
I currently reside.

It's a new take on waterfront
living with unencumbered views
of the Waitemata.

You know, I could, uh, get you
there in 25 minutes if you've
had enough of all this.

- Let's go.
- Really?

- Talk to them.
- Them? Oh, oh!

- What up?

What a night this is.

n
in one room.

I'm Alexa Crowe. Uh, Baxter's
told me so much about you.

- Elliot.
- Oh. Yes.

- Cori.

- So, word on the street is
that you are the team to beat.

- We used to be.

- It's more about meeting up with
friends, making new connections.
- Yeah, I totally get that.

I mean, Lydia's got quite a thing
going here, hasn't she?

She's amazing. Huh? I mean,
really sad about her husband
dying last year and all,

but what a catch for some
lucky guy or girl.

- Well, we don't think
about her that way.

- No, I didn't
mean that to sound crass.

I mean, clearly you're dealing
with your own loss.

- Yeah. Yeah, we are.

- Mm.
- Yeah, Nick was a great guy.

Certainly not the kind to stab
you in the back the first chance
he got, anyway.

- Ouch.
- Anyway, uh, have a good night.

- Thank you. And you too.

- The next round will start
in one minute.

- OK, so according to my research,
Cori is doing fine ―

well enough to afford prime-time
commercials on multiple channels
every night anyway.

But Dr Creepy over there ―
he might be head-to-toe bespoke,

but his bank account says
he's head-to-toe broke.

- A brutal divorce
will do that, though.
- Yeah.

Oi, there's one more thing.
Lydia's dead husband, Winston ―

he is not as flush
as I was expecting.

I wonder if he has a history.
- Out.

You were warned. Come on.
- What, are you serious?
- Yes ― no phones.

- I'll think of something.

- How many official languages
are there in New Zealand?

- There's te reo Maori...
- Mm.

- ...and English.
- There's three.

- No, well, that's two.
English and Maori ― two.

- And Sign Language. Right, Alexa?

- Mm-hm. Anything else?
- Uh, yeah, there are
50 volcanic cones in Auckland.

- Yeah, I was― Yeah, 50.
- All right, if you could get
your answer sheets

over to Fletcher at the bar,
please, while we take a break.

- I'm just gonna be a sec.
You two play nice.

What a great place.
Great view.

- Yes. Yes, it is.
- And a great evening even
if the vibe's a little off.

It's hard to grieve when you're
trying to remember the names

of all five Bennet sisters
in Pride and Prejudice.

- Oh, we all grieve in our own ways.
- Mm.

Nick's friends seem
particularly... upset.

- Friends.

Those three couldn't stand Nick.

I mean, he wasn't perfect,
but he was decent, you know?
A lawyer with a conscience.

That lot just used him ―
all because none of them have
a head for world history.

- Well, if they're so awful, how
come you're so chummy with them,
Lydia? Especially Cori.

- I'm the one who asks
the questions, Alexa.

How did you say you knew Nick?
- Well, it's Baxter I know, really.

We did sensitivity
training a while back.
- Hm.

You might want to ask
for a refund. Excuse me.

- So, I was thinking ―
all of the answer sheets
get handed into the bar.

So how did the victim end up
with one stuffed into his mouth?

- According to bar staff,
one of the team grabbed it back

after they marked that round cos
it was the source of the argument.

Yeah, he lost in the quiz.

- Yeah, a flimsy motive for murder,
I know.

- Don't worry, Harry ― we're finding
the stakes were a bit higher than
the wrong answer at trivia night.

- I'm looking forward
to hearing about it.

Anything else you need from me?
- No idea. I've been kicked out.
They thought I was cheating.

- So you and Alexa are
being subtle as always, then.
- Of course we are, Harry.

And don't worry ―
I'll blag my way back in.
- Yeah, I have no doubt.

- There you go. Now, I'm getting
hints of pear and maybe an
undercurrent of maybe citrus.

How about you?
- This glass is chipped.

- And the answer to who said, 'Not
all those who wander are lost'...

- Definitely Ed Sheeran.
Definitely Ed Sheeran.

- ...is, of course, JRR Tolkien.

- Oh, what?
- Yup.

- All right, uh, we're gonna take
another short break now. There are
snacks in the diningroom.

- Do you want me to get you
a new glass, Alexa?
- Yeah, just water, please.

- I'll take that.

- Gosh, I thought he'd never leave.
Alone at last.

- What kind of a lawyer was Nick
Dunbar-Jones? Family law, perchance?

- Why?
- I'm just trying
to connect the dots.

See, maybe he represented Elliot in
the divorce, and maybe he didn't do
a good job.

- Incorrect.

- Maybe he represented the ex-wife.

Correct.

- How do you do that?
- You see, there's motive
right there.

And in the sudden death round,
a medical question ―

you took Nick's word over
an actual medical practitioner.

Well, Elliot must have been furious.
- Elliot's default mode is furious.

- And yet you want me focusing
on Cori and not him because...

you're his property guy?
You don't want to upset a buyer?

- You know what? I've tried to be
nice, but I feel like you're just
using me for information.

- Correct. You got one.

- You know what? 'm out.

Good luck on your own.

Ed Sheeran.

- Hi.

Um, look, thank you. Thanks very
much. It's...

Thank you.

- Um, excuse me ― Lydia?

I've just finished on the phone
with my elderly aunt in Australia.

She was nervous about a doctor's
appointment. I didn't realise about
the no phones rule.

When I saw it was her calling,
I just had to answer.

- Fletcher asked you to leave.
- Yeah. I feel a bit silly, but,
you know, she, um...

she was recently diagnosed
with a heart condition.

- Oh, I lost my husband to
a heart attack out of the blue.
- I'm sorry.

- Look, Fletcher can be
a bit of a stickler.

He's ex-military, which can come in
quite handy when the bar's rowdy.

Please, come back in.
I'll sort it out.
- Thank you.

- Oh, Elliot. Don't make it too easy.

- How are the snacks?
- Average.

- Ms Crowe.
- Yes?

- A reminder that your team must
have at least three members.

- Thank you.
- And I've been informed that
Mr Wells has left your team.

- To go back to his old team? Who
have only had two players all night.
So what about them?

- Oh, don't worry, Reuben.

Uh, I think our third
has just arrived.

- Lydia. She was asked to leave.

- It's fine, Fletcher.
- She was cheating.
She was using her phone.

- I was checking on my elderly aunt.
- Oh, really? Can you prove that?
- Fletcher, honestly.

- Apologies. But perhaps dear old
aunt could wait till after the quiz.
- Absolutely.

- Come through.

- should talk.

- Baxter told me what
you've been saying about me.

- Oh, really?
- You think I...

murdered Nick.

- You seem like the sort
of guy who likes the finer
things in life, Elliot.

And I think that Nick helped your
ex-wife take a lot of them away.

- Yes, well, Valencia filled
his mind with rubbish.

- Nick cost you a fortune,

and he damaged your ego,
and he wouldn't let you answer
that medical question.

And did you think that he stood
a better chance with Lydia

in that awful little bet
you all came up with?

- Not all. It was Cori's idea.

- I think some of the fibres
from that hanky

will be a pretty decent match for the
ones that ended up in Nick's mouth

along with the wrong answer
that was stuffed down his throat.

- These ― these are life savers.

They save lives.
- You're a cosmetic surgeon, Elliot.

- Look, even if I wanted Nick dead ―
and risk him
damaging these?

- I don't know. You tell me.

- OK. No, don't do that. Don't―
Just don't touch the hands. OK.

- Definitely not our guy.
Nick was attacked from the front.

That guy's too scared of me
to try anything face to face.

- Yeah, well, you are pretty scary.
- Thank you.

Hey, you know that whole
'Lydia's next love' sweepstake?
- Mm.

- Apparently, it was Cori's idea.
- Cori from the TV commercials.

- Why?
- OK, I asked for some
more details from Harry

about Winston Redfern's death.

- Heart attack.
- Yeah ― 'out of the blue',
Lydia said.

But it was caused by an overdose
of Afrazil. It's an injectable
treatment for diabetes.

- And was Winston a diabetic?
I'm thinking not.

- Yeah, and double or nothing ― what
condition does Cori specifically
mention in her commercials?

- And as a lifelong diabetic myself,

I understand how important
a trustworthy chemist is
for you and your family.

See you at the table.
- Wait, wait, wait.
You need some backup?

- Bless.
- Yeah, yeah, just be careful.

- Evening, Cori.
- So you're investigating
what happened to Nick.

- I think we all know
what happened to Nick.

Someone shoved some quiz answers
down his throat and pushed him off
a building.

What I'm investigating is...
was it you?

- Well, Elliot was right.

You're deranged.
- That's not very nice, Cori.

Tell me about Winston Redfern,
Lydia's husband.

- Yeah, I know who he is, thanks.

- Was he diabetic? Did he take
the same medication as you?

Did you share your medication
with him that night?
Just enough to kill him―

- Well, that was a bit OTT.

You don't like where
I was going with that?

Oh, that ain't good.

- So, she threw her glass
at the bathroom mirror?

- Well, at my head, really.
- And smashed the whole thing.
What was she thinking?

- Ow. But don't worry, I'm fine.

- These bloody people ―
they come in here and think that
they can just trash the place.

- Lydia, it's OK.
I can deal with it.

- Fletcher, it's not OK. This was
meant to be a special night.

And now I've got punters
hurling glassware and...

I don't care who Cori is. She's out.
- Hey. No, don't― don't kick her out.

I mean, she's― she's grieving,
and I can be a little insensitive.

- Insensitive how?
- Well, like you suggested ― that
training didn't really work for me.

But anyway, tonight is about
remembering Nick, so let's just
focus on that.

- Well, I'll certainly be giving her
an invoice for the mirror.

- Yeah, and the glass.
- Exactly.

- Gosh, you're good at this.
You a nurse? Ambo?

- Combat medic.
- Oh-ho-ho! What made you
trade that for bartending?

- I thought there'd
be less bloodshed.

- Look, this is pretty superficial.
- You just finish bandaging it and,
uh, pop on a coat ―easy.

Pretty eventful old trivia night
at The Grosvenor, huh? How long
you been running these things?

- Oh, a couple of years.

I write the questions, tally the
scores, handle the team fees, but...

Lydia's the real star.
- Mm, mm.

What about Cori? You must spend
a bit of time around her, huh?

Oh, come on. 've earned
an answer or two.

- Look, Nick could be a handful
after he's had a drink or two,
but Cori...

she's the only one out
of that whole group that I've
ever actually been scared of.

- Whoa, whoa, what happened?
- Uh... nothing ― just
an occupational hazard.

- Are you serious?
I told you to be careful.
- Oh, stop it. I was.

I ducked fast.
- Alexa, come on.

- No, it's just a little bit
of shrapnel.

- I knew this was competitive,
but oh my gosh.

- Now for my dear departed Winston's
favourite round ― sports and games.

- Oh, kill me now.

- In poker, a dead man's hand
consists of pairs of what two cards?

- Aces and eights.

Hey, anything else
about Cori-Michelle?

- Aside from the violent
tendencies, you mean?

Talk about an alpha ―
she was dux of her high school, New
Zealand Business Award honouree...

- Doesn't like to lose.
- A newspaper called
her chain of pharmacies

the second most successful
in the country.

She sued them for not saying
that she was the most successful.

I owe her a little payback.

- Reuben, another question for you.
- Mm-hm.

- Someone picked up some
pretty swanky candle holders
from Lydia a bit before.

- Ouch. They're advertising
on Trade Me? Times must be tough.

- Can you find out how tough?
- Well, the hospo grapevine ―
I can make a couple of calls.

- Yeah, just not at the table.
You do not want to be kicked out.
- Oh. Yeah.

- Next question ― Michael Jordan
wore what jersey number
for the Chicago Bulls?

- From the lady at the bar.

- Cute.
- Thanks. I thought so.

- Who is the only New Zealand
driver ever to be Formula One
world champion?

- Bruce McLaren.
- Denny Hulme.

I like things that go fast.

- I bet you do.

- How is your wrist?

just, um...

I didn't like you inferring that
I would do anything to upset Lydia.
- Mm.

- And, of course,
now I have upset Lydia.

I offered to pay for
the mirror, but...

- Why were you all fighting
the night that Nick died?

- Cos he was being a total arse,
and he cost us the quiz.

- Right, the first loss ever
for your team.

You don't like coming second, do you?

- What was the arse behaviour about?
- Everything.

But honestly, we all
said some stuff, and then
we all went home. The end.

- So Nick's death had
nothing to do with her.
- Read the room, hon.

Everyone in here makes
everything a competition.

- Does Lydia know about
the sweepstakes?

- Nick was gonna tell her the night
he died, but he would've made it
sound sleazy, which itwasn't.

Those three idiots
thinking they're gonna be the
next Mr Redfern?

- As opposed to you,
who's gonna be the next missus.

- You know, Lydia and I
have a connection.

- And you didn't want
Nick to destroy that.

- Look, what do I have to do
to prove to you that you're wrong?

- Come with me... hon.

- Really? A bathroom hook-up?

'm not opposed.

- Want to see the damage?
I'll just take this bandage off.

- OK, just breathe.

Breathe. All right?

- God, you really
can't stand blood, can you?
- Mm-mm.

- How are you with needles?
- Not good.

- Not for a diabetic.

Do you have a pump or something?
- I do now.

As a kid, I had to go to the GP
every time I needed to get a shot of
insulin, which was everysingle day.

Just the thought of
injecting Winston or what
happened to Nick just...

- Well, it all makes sense,
but it's hardly definitive.

There was no blood when Nick died.

- I was with someone the night
the police say he was killed.
- Mm-hm?

- Valencia.
- Valencia ― Elliot's ex-wife?

- She's a very captivating woman.

My number, in case you ever want
to get a drink or something.

- Or maybe I'll see you
here next month.

- Except you won't. There is
no next month for The Grosvenor.

Look, Reuben checked with
some of his hospo mates.

We're pretty sure that
Lydia is shutting up shop.

Alexa, if we don't solve this
tonight, they're all gonna scatter.

- Cori has an alibi.
Elliot couldn't kill a fly.

- Well, that leaves us with Baxter.

- And Lydia. Leaving Nick aside,
I don't think her marriage was all
wine and roses.

- And Cori told me that Afrazil
has another purpose ― weight loss.

- Well, the story is that
Winston Redfern got drunk,

went to bed, injected himself,
then forgot that he'd injected
himself and did it again.

Two used doses were found,
along with two injection sites
on the body.

- He forgot? Says who?
- Lydia, and Fletcher.

But why would Lydia kill
Nick Dunbar-Jones?

- Well, we know that he was getting
ready to tell her about this little
bet. Maybe she didn't take it well.

- It feels a bit...
- ...flimsy. Yeah.

If only somebody could
look around her apartment.

- I was already on my way, Alexa.

- Love your work, Madison.

- It's just through here.

- So...

- ...any big leads in the case yet?
- Well, I know that the only thing
Nick was guiltyof

was having crap taste in friends.
- Aw.

I just had a sneak peek
at the quiz results.

Want a spoiler?
- Not really.

- Your team has done really well.

Nothing wrong with second place.
- Trust me, Baxter, by the end of
the night,

you'll get what's coming to you.

- Another water?

- Fletcher, did you know anything
about this bet situation?

I mean, you seem to be across
absolutely everything
that goes on in this place.

What are the odds you missed
something like that?

- Yeah. You know, I...
I heard rumblings.

- So did Nick and Lydia find a moment
alone the night that he was killed?

- They met briefly in
her apartment before the quiz.

But if you're implying that they
fought or that she had anything
to do with it...

- Oh no ― no one's implying anything.

Tell me about Winston.
What was he like?

- He was a good boss,
decent company,

terrible husband.

- Infidelities, you mean?
- No, no, nothing like that.

It's just that he criticised
everything she said,
everything she wore.

I was surprised she coped
as long as she did.

She deserves better.

- Whoa. What were you doing?

Well, you weren't here before.

- Alexa.

Whatever this is,
I haven't got long.

- I thought it's time we had
one of those tough conversations.

Chipped glasses. Auctioning off
whatever you can and, uh,
cutting corners on the food ―

spring rolls straight
from the freezer section.

How badly in debt are you?
And what are you willing to do
to get out of it?

- Who are you? What are you doing
here? Because it's sure
as hell not quiz night.

- True. I work with the police.

- Really?
Well, why not just say that?

- Cos it tends to make people
less enthusiastic about chatting.

So, a few weeks ago...

...you wrote to your clientele
practically begging them to buy gift
vouchers before the end ofthe month.

- So what? What's that
got to do with anything?

- Well, that's
an old hospo trick, innit?

Get some ready cash on hand
to cover your outstanding taxes,

and then hope that you make the money
back in the next quarter, but
you never quite catch up,do you?

This is Winston's final gift ―

a pub mired in debt.

- Well, top marks for you, Alexa.
You worked it out. I'm screwed.

- Losing your business ―
that's got to be tough.

- It's heartbreaking is what it is.
I worked my guts out
for 30 years for this ―

for my dream, for my own place.

I didn't know Winston
was mismanaging the money.

When the quiz night took off,
you'd think he'd be...
he'd be pleased, but no.

I started getting
all this attention.

- You mean from Nick
and those other numpties?

- Even after Winston died.
Especially after Winston died.

- So you knew about the bet?

- I'm no idiot.

You think Nick was pushed from
the balcony, and you think I did it.

- Well, did you?

- Am I capable of murder?
Sometimes, I think so.

Nick had the good grace to tell me
about their little wager, and I was
angry, but I didn't kill him.

And I would never have
hurt Winston ― never.

hadn't have started this
bloody quiz, Winston wouldn't
have got jealous and...

and started taking
those stupid injections.

- So you really think that
Winston overdosed by accident?

- There shouldn't have been
any accidents. It's the whole
reason that we hired Fletcher.

'Scuse me.

- What is it?

- It's not what you think,
I promise.

- And the last question
for the evening ―

how many bones does
the human body contain?

- Alexa?

Alexa, are you OK?
- All right, time's up.

If everyone could please hand
in their answer sheets, and
we'll tally the final scores.

- Sorry, what?
- Somebody left this at Lydia's
apartment. It's a note ―

'In case you ever feel
like the real thing' ―

and an unlabelled blue keycard.
- It's not blue.

- Looks pretty blue to me.
- Nope. It's azure.

- Alexa, are you sure
you're all right?
- Oh, I have never been better.

You know, now that the quiz is over
and you can use your phone again,

I need you to do one more thing
for me.

- Ladies and gentlemen,
the results are in.

Our final leaderboard ―
in third place, Risky Quizness.

- Yes!

- And in second place, so
missing out by only two points...

The Chowderheads.

- That sucks.

- Which means our winners are
once again the Top Two Inches.

- Whoo!
- Yes!

- I just want to thank everyone
and let you know that our quiz night

will go on a hiatus for
a little while, but, um...

- Well, that's unfortunate,
isn't it? But it's been
a great night, Lydia. Thank you.

And to the victors, the spoils.

But 'm gonna have to ask
everybody who isn't the Top Two
Inches or Chowderheads toleave.

Thank you. Yes, this means you.
Ha ha. Buh-bye.

Uh, Fletcher, can you stay a minute?

- What the hell, Alexa?
There's being a bad loser,
and then there's this.

- Sit down, Baxter.
It's time for the bonus round.

So...

who killed Winston Redfern
and Nick Dunbar-Jones?

And this one's for all the marbles.

OK ― start with an easy one.
Question one.

Did Lydia know about the sweepstake
you guys had running?

Of course she did.
She's not an idiot.

But unfortunately,
she also needed cash due to the dead
horse that Winston saddled her with.

And so she agreed to
a proposition from Baxter Wells

to pretend that he had won your bet
in exchange for half the winnings.

- What?
- So Baxter got to keep pretending
that he's God's gift to women,

and Lydia kept The Grosvenor open
a while longer.

It's a win-win.
- No way.
- She's making it up.

- You left that upstairs, genius.

And also...

you sent this picture of you in
Lydia's bed under the covers just
for proof.

- You lying―
- You are a dead man, Wells.

- Well, she's been sleeping
with your ex.

- What? What, you and Valencia?
- Yeah, Valencia.

- Strap yourselves in, kids.
I'm not even to the good bit yet.

OK, question two ― who here knew that
The Grosvenor was in serious debt?

I mean, Lydia, clearly.

And Baxter probably put two and
two together, am I right? Cos of
how much she needed the money.

And, um... well, Fletcher.

He runs the quiz nights. He pays for
all the supplies, and he handles the
team fees, right?

Question three ― how many people
are in all the photos out there in
the hall?

- Me and Winston.

- Mm... Well, somebody else.

Somebody else just off to
the side in every picture.

Four.

Who guessed that Fletcher
has a medical background?

did.

Fletcher was a medic in the army ―

Fletcher who gave up that career
to make drinks for rich people,

and Fletcher who was in charge
of monitoring Winston's
weight loss injections,

and Fletcher who couldn't
stand to see the way that
his boss treated Lydia...

Fletcher who conveniently was
the last person to see Winston alive

and the one who found his body
the next morning.

Final question ―

who saw Nick leaving Lydia's
apartment that night before the quiz?

- Nothing happened.
- Of course not. No.

I mean, Nick was there to confess
about this immoral little game that
you guys were playing.

He was trying to do the right thing.
- Do the right thing.

As if any of those
pricks do the right thing.
- Exactly.

Cos in your mind, Nick was
leaving her room after having
taken advantage of her ―

the beautiful woman
that you were infatuated with.

So that night, when Nick confronted
you about some silly trivia question,
you saw red, and sodid he.

And you took that bar towel, and you
shoved his words back in his face

before you pushed him
over the balcony.

- Fletcher.

- I only ever wanted
to protect you, Lyds.

You deserve better ―

better than Winston;

better than any of this lot.

- Not sure I'll be heading out to
another trivia night any time soon,
so thank you for that.

- Luckily, we've got
the next best thing.
- Mm-hm.

- I think we're pretty much set.
We just gotta pick the teams.

- Reuben!
- Shotgun.
- I said it first!

- Wow. Thanks a lot

- Harry! I'm gonna take Harry.

- All right.
- Ooh, you guys have no idea
what you're in for.

- I think we do.
- We're orange.

- # Not the life of the party.

# I lay low, lay low, lay low.

# But I still got a heartbeat.

# know.

- Tish Willopee doll

is based on the toy maker's

childhood imaginary friend.

- If only everyone's imaginary
friends came to life.

- Hi! I'm Tish.
Want to be friends?
- Uh, unlikely.

- It's my day off, Alexa.
- We can call it a date.

- A freak accident.

- Oh, crap.
- Well, good morning to you too.

- Hey, has anyone ever told you
that you would make a wonderful
action figure?