All language subtitles for Taggart s21e02 A Taste of Money

Now, by my key.

Yeah. Let me look.

Hey, tiger, slow down, yeah?

But I thought you... Oh, come on.

Don't do sulky. Don't go with that. Shut
up.

Stop!

You okay?

Oh, Christ.

Is this your flat?

No, I'm upstairs.

What? Tyler, what is it?

Evening, Gemma.

Evening.

Stuart.

Who was the victim?

Guy that lived in the flat.

What floor?

First.

What?

There's someone that lives here.

Tyler Kennedy?

Found the body.

Said he knew you.

Didn't shock.

Not surprised.

Where is he?

Your mate and his mate are up in his
flat with a WPC.

Robbie, what exactly are you doing?

Victimology. Tell a lot about a person
from their musical taste.

So the victim's not your pal after all,
Stuart?

Small mercy.

No mercy in this one, I'm afraid.

Mind the vomit.

Pretty, eh?

Right, let's start taking witness
statements I'll go

Tyler. It's you.

Hey.

It's okay.

It's not okay, is it?

No, not really.

Did you see?

Yeah.

Who was he?

Barry Secord.

Oh, this is my friend, Andy.

Andy, you want to come through here and
meet him?

So, first impressions?

It's a strange one.

The living area's been trashed. Obvious
high -value items have been stolen.

The kitchen, it's really organised.

Utensils have been laid out, like an
operating theatre.

It's almost like there's two different
crime scenes.

Was the victim a sociable type?

Had a party last weekend.

Went on to the wee hours.

Spent a lot of time away.

Probably his job.

What was that?

Restaurant critic.

Full of Sunday Citizen.

Barry Secord. You must have read him,
you know, like the Sundays.

Yeah, but not the restaurant reviews.

Life's too short.

How long had he been living down there?

Moved in not long after you and I split.

Mr Kennedy and I are old friends.

I've got steel shavings.

I reckon the killer stood in front of
the victim, sharpening this knife.

I will torture us like sex, all in
anticipation.

So they tell me.

What is it?

I think we're missing a glass.

We're having drinks together.

The killer attacked Mr. Seacord and
knocked over a glass that smashes.

But he's smart enough to clear up after
himself so we don't get DNA of prints.

But he misses this bit, which helpfully
does not have

a print on it.

Check the bin for the rest of the glass.

Sir, the victim's parents are dead.

We should probably find out who she is.

The old folk who live in the other flat
just get back. Want to know if they can

get in?

I'll get it, sir.

Hi there.

I'm DS Jackie Reed.

I just asked, do you live in here?

Flat two.

And have you been out for the whole
evening?

To the opera.

Has there been a robbery?

If you want to come inside, I'll
explain.

It's got to be the worst date of my
life.

So you're not in a relationship with Mr
Kennedy?

Relationship? You're being a bit
previous. We just met.

Drinks.

Dinner. A laugh.

Then we come home and the bloke runs
out.

Knocks us over.

And we go in.

And we feed.

Never get that image out of my head,
will I?

Right.

Despite the array of kitchen tools laid
out as if for a torture session, there

is no evidence of actual torture.

The only mark is this.

A handshake bruise on the side of the
neck.

Probably what stunned him prior to being
tied up.

So how did he die?

Asphyxiation, which could have been
accidental.

There was an apple forced into his
mouth, swallowed his own tongue.

Probably trying to scream, maybe when
the killer was sharpening the knife in

front of him.

Time of death?

Body core temperature says three hours
prior to discovery.

So, the apple, the bondage.

We're looking at a sex crime here.

Doesn't look like a Tory MP.

So we have a murder, very neat, very
clinical.

We have a robbery, very messy, very
random, very ordinary.

Two crimes?

Yeah, maybe.

I mean, who's going to go to all that
trouble just to steal a telly?

Well, let's stick with what we know.

We've got one man running from the scene
of the crime. He's our prime suspect.

I suggest we focus on catching him. If
he's not the actual killer himself, he

leads us to who is.

So, Jackie, Stuart, run the usual
housebreaking protocol.

Fence his pawn shops, check any credit
card use.

What about the victim's mobile?

Not stolen.

Found it in his trouser pocket. The only
other thing we found was a lot of

residue.

Drugs residue?

Nothing heavy. A small stash of
marijuana and a tobacco tin and a few

the fireplace, that's it.

Well, we know he had a party the week
before. Maybe he was dealing to his

friends. Maybe.

At this stage, all bets are on. Robbie,
get over to his paper. Talk to his

editor. Let's find out who Barry Seacord
actually was.

There's two kinds of restaurant reviews.
You have your gastroporn for your

foodies, and then your opinionated riffs
that people clock into.

The same reason that they watch Formula
One on the telly.

Sorry, I'm not looking.

Are there crashes?

Barry is... Barry was.

Barry was the latter kind.

But he was... Wait a minute.

You OK?

Yeah.

Actually, no.

Is this really awful of me?

I'm still trying to take on board the
fact that Barry's dead, and the

part's like wondering if there's some
kind of story there for us.

Well, we don't know the story, and
that's why we need to know about Barry.

Was he into drugs?

No. Well, no more than any other guy.

No, he was really laid back about that
kind of thing, so no, really.

Didn't even do fags.

He was funny and savage, but frankly,
people enjoy that.

Savage enough to make enemies.

You should see his hate email.

Yes, please.

Do you know what Barry was up to last
night?

He said he was going straight home. Had
to write a review.

Tell me who this is.

Val. His ex.

Action Girl.

Action Girl?

Val's a hard news foreign correspondent.

Complete adrenaline junkie. Used to work
for us, but she moved on up in the food

chain. Got herself a job at a big London
paper.

And she's his ex?

Men find successful women hard to
handle.

Do they?

Who'd they say?

Rat Pack Revisited?

Or Vegas Showgirl?

Agatha, I need a decision.

Barry Seacord's been killed.

Who?

Sorry about that.

Gut you like a fish.

I'd say that was a threat.

That's Mick Adderley.

Do you know him?

No. Syndicate restaurant?

You must have read about him.

Local hero, learned his culinary skills
in prison.

Where have you been hiding?

You eating here?

I work for 11.

Can I help you, gentlemen?

You'd like to talk to Mick Adderley?

I'm sorry, I'm afraid it's... Please.

Our busiest period.

Oh, he'll be in then.

Kitchen's through there, isn't it?

Call the furniture!

So you're the police?

To what?

So we're like a what?

How about busy?

Or later?

We're like it now.

And I'm like a sausage that can make a
borderless that didn't taste like runny

weasel shit.

Oh, big man, eh?

Ruling wee girls.

She asked to work here.

Looking over your pal, Barry Seacorn.

Ex -pal.

Complete waste of protein.

You wrote him a threatening letter.

You said you'd gut him like a fish if he
showed up here again.

I did.

He didn't, so I haven't.

That what this is about?

He complained to you?

He was murdered last night.

And you think just because I've got
form.

You've got form.

No secret.

Outside.

Very angry.

Is that what you get done for?

Salt.

The salt charge was just as scuffle as I
tried to leg it.

If you've been reading my greatest hits,
you know the main rap was a drug stitch

-up when I was 17.

Another innocent felon.

I was carrying a wee bit of dope.

You lot added to my stash made me look
like Al Pacino in Scarface, which would

have been fine if I got to shag Michelle
Pfeiffer.

But all I got was four years.

Thanks to you lot.

Well, don't thank me. I didn't stitch
you up.

So can we be civil.

Where were you last night between six
and nine?

In there.

Can't be more than 60 witnesses.

When did you last see Barry Seacord?

A year ago.

Boss, Jackie's got CCTV coverage of
someone trying to use one of Seacord's

credit cards.

Was it me?

Bad news is the number plate is bogus.
We checked.

But there's good news.

Oops.

Checked that number plate.

Got an owner.

Murray Fettle.

Right, Robbie, you're with me.

Go and lift him.

722.

Open up!

Police!

Take it in, Robbie.

Sorry, federal.

You're going to get your life fixed,
mate.

Gisela, you baldy wee bastard.

You done anything?

Anything new?

I've been going through the rubbish from
the scene.

Top -up cards?

Yeah. But this is the phone from the
victim's pocket, and it's not a top -up

phone. So we have a second phone?

Maybe we'll find it when we find out
where genius over there stashed his

So you and Robbie are searching his
flat.

So we're giving him coffee?

Not even if he begs for it.

Murder? But of course you already knew
that, didn't you?

Murder?

And possibly torture?

Don't make him think of two things at
once. Otherwise his brain will overheat

and he'll stop breathing.

I didn't murder any bastard.

So was there more than one of you? No.
Just you?

No. So if you weren't there and nobody
saw you not being there, how can anybody

confirm that you didn't kill him?

You're taking the piss.

I'm not taking nothing, pal.

But you are, big time.

Starting with a murder rap and ending
with a lifetime holiday in the barrel.

No, bastards, I didn't murder anyone.

Mock him away.

No, please, seriously, this is bullshit.

You nicked his credit cards, you used
his credit cards. I've got you in filth.

And I'll bet those trainers match our
forensics.

I don't know what you're talking about.

You're kidding.

Okay, got it.

Got what?

Know why we couldn't find what genius
nicked?

Why?

Stashed out on next door's balcony.

Sometimes stupid so simple as brilliant.

You should write fortune cookies.

I had nothing to do with killing that
guy.

Give me a good reason to believe you.

Serious. I nearly shat myself when I
went in the kitchen and saw him. Your

recent phone.

I believe that.

I was told about the flat.

Someone in a pub said it was open.

We should take what we liked, trash the
place and leg it.

We?

Aye, well, the others weren't up for it.
There was a game on the telly.

This sort of thing happens to you a lot,
does it?

I reckoned it was someone getting back
at someone.

And why would you think that?

I don't know. I just saw him, I thought.

What pub?

You know, the Highland Fling.

And this?

Mysterious stranger.

Tell me about him.

I was buried.

It was dark.

No one I know.

He handed me the address and a bit of
paper.

Oh, fine.

But I'd know him if I saw him again.

Maybe.

Do you think he's our killer?

Only thing he's killing is his liver.

No, I reckon it's just another chance to
look to make a few quid. Shall we check

out his story at the Highland Flint?

Plastic coffee.

Matt, who's your personality?

See, I never tell if you're horse
dialogue or just flirting.

Good. Right, can you tell me what's
missing from this fine selection of

goods?

Eh, tea's made, curly toy, Bruce
Forsyth, dinner for two.

A laptop, Robbie.

He's a writer, where is it? All the
peripherals are here. The manuals in the

were in his flat, but no laptop.

Oh. Sorry to interrupt.

A prime suspect's shoes.

Oh, thanks.

What is it?

Glass.

A partial print.

You get an ID from that?

Don't know, Stuart. Like I said, it's a
partial.

Oh, they're going to love us in here.

I hope we don't miss the cocktail hour.

So? Word went round the pub about this
wide -open flat full of gear.

And all you had to do was walk in and
nick it?

Aye. But you didn't?

No. Why not?

Apart from being an honest citizen.

Of course.

It was a football game on the telly.
They'd just kicked off.

Plus, it sounded too good to be true.

What about Murray Vettel?

He's not much bothered about football.

Too complicated for him.

Good news and bad news.

Vettel's story about a mystery man in
the pub stands up.

And the bad news?

Alibied by the timeline.

It all happened after the game kicked
off at 8 o 'clock.

C -cord was dead for an hour and a half.

I love science.

You'll hate this, then.

Vettel's prints don't match the partial
we found in the glass fragment stuck to

his shoe.

So someone else had a drink with the
victim?

Trouble is, the print's so small we
can't run it through the database.

So Jackie's two crimes theory's got
legs.

Thank you.

Well, the obvious conclusion is that the
killer used Vettel to bugger up the

forensics and inadvertently put himself
in the frame for the bigger crime.

How are we doing on the victim?

All the kit that Seacord had, the phone,
the hi -fi, the flat screen, the

mission laptop.

It's all expensive gear.

So? So how much does a restaurant credit
get paid?

I've got no idea.

Sounds like you need to look into your
finances.

What's your view on thongs?

Eh... I've never come across one I
didn't like.

This casino's on the Clyde feature. It's
offending me cross -eyed.

See, your job's just like mine. Getting
to the bottom of things.

That's a really terrible line.

Is it?

Yeah, it is. Yeah. Sorry.

Well, don't be sorry. Just do better
next time.

Right.

Can I ask you a personal question? Free,
single, disengaged?

Ah, that wasn't it, but...

How much did the restaurant critic get
paid?

Are you looking for a new job? No, just
trying to get a picture of the victim.

Right. Barry.

Um... About 350 a pop?

800 words max?

Once a week, 18 grand a year before tax.

Yeah, you don't get rich being a
restaurant critic. You just get fat.

Yeah, but he lived rich.

Maybe he inherited.

Maybe it's savings from a previous life.

Maybe the drug residue in his flat is
relevant.

Maybe he was dealing to his friends.

Well, Jeremy said there was no trace of
drugs in his blood, and his editor said

he just wasn't into drugs.

Yeah, but do we trust this editor?

Look, he was getting big -ass sums paid
into his current account from an

offshore company called Mags Inc.,
banking the Caymans.

They're very slow in cooperating. Keep
on them.

If necessary, call somebody from the
fraud squad, see if they can help.

Two crimes, double life.

Maybe this is a drugs thing.

Definitely more than a housebreak gone
wrong.

Right, gents, I could make this more
complicated. This is from the stuff that

Fetto stole.

Told you there was another phone.

Why two phones?

Well, sometimes it's useful to keep
conversations and contacts secret.

This is a printout from the phone
company.

Now, this phone was used to talk to a
different set of contacts than the

original one.

Morse called to an arcade restaurant.

Check it.

Could be another angry chef.

I'm afraid the restaurant's closed.

Spring cleaning?

Stop taking.

And you are?

Wondering why you're asking.

Sorry.

D .I. Ross.

Daniel Collins from the Medwin Heath
group?

Angus Minto.

I'm trying to trace some calls near to
that number.

It's the one highlighted in blue.

Mr. Cade's number.

The chef.

So these calls will be made to him here
as the owner?

He's not the owner anymore, but yet that
number rings in here.

Do you work for him?

No, we, uh, our company represent the
new owners.

And you're, um, stock -taking?

Closing up shop, I'm afraid.

Before we sell the contents to recoup.

To recoup?

We need to make sure Cade didn't take
anything before he ran off.

I'm having the dickens of a time to
throw in all this paperwork here.

So Cade ran off?

He did.

Sad, this place had great prospects, but
it went downhill fast.

Mr Cade has taken this very badly.

Yes, yes, I can see that.

I'm afraid he's had a breakdown and
disappeared.

When did he disappear?

Ten days ago.

He left his wife in a terrible state.
Beat her up, I gather.

The police will call the whole band
shoot.

Thank you.

Boss, you know what you were saying
about another angry chef?

So is Robert Cade our man.

Well, his business is flagging. B -lifts
are at the door, then he batters his

wife in legs.

Plus threatening letters to the critic
whose bad review started the slide in

first place.

Certainly puts them in the frame.

Who told the other cops all this?

I know.

But if you wouldn't mind telling us.

Do you know where it is?

No. But maybe if you go through it
again, it'll help.

Oh, nothing will help.

Did your husband say anything about
Barry Seacourt?

I just want him back like he was.

Two years ago, he was... He was top of
the world.

But dead two months.

That's before it all went to... He just
ripped his guts out, the whole failure.

He couldn't see a way out, couldn't talk
to me, to anyone.

So he drank.

A lot?

Enough. And I wasn't much help.

The night he left... The night he hit
you?

Look, we were both drunk.

I don't remember much.

Well, the report said there was a lot of
noise at the neighbour's head.

Yeah, the doorbell rang.

Probably someone complaining about the
noise.

And Robbie shook me and he told me to
shut up.

And then I just don't remember.

He must have hit me so hard I blacked
out.

And when you came round...

This. I called you a lot.

You took photographs.

This is the distinctive bruising on
Barry Seacord's neck.

And this is Jess Cade's neck, following
the assault by her husband, Rob Cade.

Size matches.

Ditto for finger -spacing.

Snap. Cade's our man.

He's gone missing. I want him found.

Credit card activity, cash points,
mobile phone usage.

Where, when, how, you know the drill.

The only unusual thing is the nature of
the bruise.

So is it a grab?

No. The way the subdermal capillaries
have impacted and burst tells us that

not a steady pressure phenomenon.

It's sudden trauma.

A blow, not a squeeze.

Some sort of martial arts thing, maybe?

Ask him when we find him. Stuart, check
his restaurant again.

Give us some clues as to where he went.

There's a little square with a C -code
of double life, you know?

Living beyond his restaurant -critic
income, strange offshore accounts.

Drugs on his premises, his friendship
with Adeline.

Yeah, but none of that precludes Kay
just killing him because of a crap

that sent his restaurant down the tubes,
does it?

Miss Collins, DC Fraser.

Strathclyde Police.

How can I help, Detective Fraser?

I'm outside the restaurant.

I'm looking for access to Mr Cade's
files.

We're hoping we might come across
something that'll help us find him.

Oh, no.

What? There's no one at our Cade at the
moment.

We cleared the paperwork out after your
colleague left.

Including his records?

Went to the dump.

We're in the process of re -renting the
property.

You took them to the dump?

It was just restaurant documents.

His personal stuff's still there.

I could meet you tomorrow morning.

What about his computer?

Useless. He took the hard drive when he
ran.

I'm sorry.

He wasn't a rational guy.

Very angry.

Can we stay at nine o 'clock?

Fine.

Who's that?

No one.

Hurry up.

I might not be.

Everything's just fine.

Stu. Is this a bad time?

Yeah.

Come in.

That was very businesslike.

Is this like business?

I was pathing.

I wanted to see how you were coping.

Coping fine.

Of course, we'll have to spend the next
20 years in therapy trying to forget

about that poor bastard down there.

But, hey, you always said I need to see
a shrink.

I said you needed help.

It was recreational weekend, you stew.

Jeez, you still like the old tunes,
don't you?

Barry Secord.

Was he another recreational user?

Or was he dealing?

They found drugs in his flat.

He had a party, for Christ's sake.

People letting their hair down.

Normal people doing normal party drugs.

I thought you came to see how I was. I
did.

Sorry. It was a tangent.

That's the trouble with me and you, Stu.

That was always the trouble.

I don't want to do this.

What do you want to do?

What the hell's going on? Why is there
bloody police tape on my front door?

So the ex isn't an ex at all?

Apparently not.

She just flew in from an assignment.

Walked into this.

Oh, nice welcome home.

Are you sure you're okay?

I'm in the shock stage.

Numb.

And I've seen enough death and
bereavement to know what I'm talking

You were led to believe he'd ended your
relationship with Barry.

Yeah?

No.

Apart from the death thing, we were
never happier.

Sorry.

Bad joke.

Coping mechanism.

Driver one.

Can you think of anybody who might have
a motive to harm Barry?

We've, er...

We've had sight of his hate meal.

Killed over a restaurant review.

Be serious.

He could be pretty aspergic.

Sticks and stones.

I mean, some touchy chef might want a
pit in his soup, given half a chance,

but... Did he really do that?

I'm afraid so.

Was he into drugs at all?

We found a small splash.

Tobacco tin?

Mine.

Where I work, you need something to take
the edge off when you come back to...

Normal. Two days ago, I watched a
soldier holding what was left of a 15

-old off his tank tracks.

Don't have a good fix on normal anymore.

Look, I'm sorry to push this. No, you're
not.

You're just embarrassed because you
think I might burst into tears before

got all the information you need.

I ask questions for a living, too.

Barry seems to have some kind of secret
life.

We found a foreign bank account from
Mags, Inc.

He did have a secret life.

He did?

A shameful secret.

Drugs?

You're barking up the wrong tree.

Ever read any of these?

Katie Maggs.

I want a cup of tea, I'm afraid.

Yeah, I've read a couple.

One holiday.

Barry was Katie Maggs?

Not publicly, no.

He was a little embarrassed about it.

Maggs Inc. is Secord's company in the
quiet.

Processed all the money he made writing
as Katie Maggs.

He kept it secret because he couldn't
get published as a bloke, she says.

So he submitted the first one under a
girly name as a kind of joke.

Well, the laugh was on him all the way
to the bank.

Speaking of which, what have the banks
given us in Cade?

Their computer's down, but they promised
to get details.

So get on to your editor, woman.

The girl friend said he was trying some
serious journalism on the side.

See if he told the editor what the story
was he was chasing.

He had success.

Just not the story he felt proud of.

He wanted to do a serious story.

He wouldn't tell me what it was about.
Something he'd come across as part of

restaurant life.

Silly bugger.

Who needs serious chops when you're
funny?

Did he ever have any dealings with a
chef called Rob Cade?

Not that I know of.

The only chef he was ever friendly with
was Mick Adderley.

From Syndicate?

They were friends. They fell out. No big
drama.

Barry went a joke too far in his review,
I guess.

That was a while back.

Val, the last time you spoke to Barry,
how did he sound?

That kid before Christmas.

Said he had a meeting set up with
someone who promised to put his story on

front page.

Like that happened, right?

Yeah, Barry did try and reinvent himself
at the paper.

Get himself a serious column in the
comment section.

Tried everything.

He got laughed out of the room by the
editor. Said he had serious reporters up

to his nuts.

Secord was witty like relief in the
fluff section.

It's a man's world, newspapers.

And did he tell you the story?

Just that it was to do with corruption
and polite society.

Is there polite society in this town?

There to me? I'm from Dundee.

You said that Barry had split up with
his girlfriend.

Why? He told me.

What?

You think there is just girls that sleep
with their boss?

Men, eh?

They should be banned.

Don't look at me.

No?

You could have asked all this on the
phone.

You'd have saved yourself a lot of
trouble.

Ah, it's no trouble.

So the back details that Robbie got say
that Cage used a cashpoint machine here

on Tuesday, the day after he assaulted
his wife.

And he filled up with petrol here.

I read Peugeot, by the way, used a debit
card.

So he's heading north. Not that far
north. On Thursday, he uses his card at

shop here. Balmaha.

And then later on Friday afternoon at a
hotel here.

So he's holed up in the Trossachs?

Yeah, not exactly lord looking, is he?

Well, while you're up there, you can
hunt for him and all.

Aye, see if we get lucky.

Hi.

Thanks for meeting me, Miss Collins.

Not a problem.

Can't offer you a coffee, I'm afraid. As
you can see, we've packed everything

away. We're trying to fill the lease on,
cut our downside.

And this is Rob Cade's stuff that you
haven't thrown away?

Couldn't. Not our property.

It's Rob's, Mr Cade's, tools of the
trade.

Tools? Knives.

Chefs are very particular about their
knives. Apparently Rob would scream blue

murder if anyone touched his, even went
near his knife case.

I opened it.

I think I know why the restaurant went
off and the accounts stopped making

sense.

Don't think that's rock salt, is it?

Crack cocaine.

Rob's a really nice guy when he's not
hyper.

I don't want to get him into trouble,
but... You did the right thing.

Thanks, Mr Creighton.

Anything? Yeah.

He was seen driving up the side of the
loch several days ago.

Oh, nothing much up there, except the
rest of bloody Scotland.

Yeah, well, her husband was driving
behind him. Saw him take a turn off.

Glenbrae Forest Road.

There's a house up there.

So, this fancy editor woman.

She was sure that Mr. Secord was on to
some big story.

Yeah, she was very forthcoming.

So, let's see what that's up to.

Mr. Cade?

Mr.

Cade?

Robbie, that's weird.

It's Val.

Picard's girlfriend.

What? You not getting that smell?

Oh, shit.

He didn't tell us you had a place in the
trusses.

Good morning to you too.

He didn't ask, given the circumstances,
I didn't think it was relevant.

Well, it's relevant now.

There's a dead man in there, an
acquaintance of Mr Secord's.

Look, I know you're trying to be nice to
me because my boyfriend's just been

murdered, but you might want to adjust
your tone. You should have told us about

this place.

Why? It's my place.

It's a retreat. It's where Barry came to
write his bloody beach bonkers.

Why would I think it was relevant to
death?

Val, can you think of a reason why Mr
Cade might have been here?

Cade?

The guy you were asking me about?

We came here to escape.

Maybe Barry knew this guy needed to
escape something and gave him a place to

This might be the reason why Barry was
threatened with torture.

You know, to say where Cade was hiding.

This is my grandfather's home.

Barry used to say this was the last good
place.

That's all buggered up, too.

Gemma.

Victim's been bound with the same cable
ties around his thumbs.

Then he was finished off with a bullet
to the head.

You'll be most interested in the back of
his neck.

Same bruise we saw on Barry Seacott. And
Cade's wife.

So unless he's a contortionist, he can
slap himself in the back of the neck.

I need to talk to his wife again.

It's sweet, it's hot.

It's a cliche, but it works.

Jess, we have evidence that says that
Barry Seacord was hit by the same person

as both you and your husband.

Can you remember anything about who
might have come to your door that night

Rob disappeared?

I've tried.

It's not there. It's all blank.

The last time we met, you asked me about
that.

Restaurant critic Barry Seacorn. He shat
on Rob in a review.

Rob challenged him to meet. I told him
not to, but they did.

I think I ended up talking, not
fighting.

And?

Rob explained why things had fallen off
so badly.

We were approached by these Edinburgh
business managers.

Medwin Heath.

They dropped this investment plan for
Rob.

A big list of impressive clients, a lot
of big names.

People like Adderley.

Mick Adderley, from Syndicate.

Rob really admired him.

When he heard he was one of the clients,
it made him take him seriously.

I want Adderley questioned again.

We'll go to him.

In half an hour, I'll be up to his nuts
in his precious bloody lunchtime trade.

I'll pick him right off.

We invested the profits as advised into
this property development company.

Only to discover the money had
disappeared into this black hole.

But not before Medwin Heath had taken
their large cut.

So you were swindled?

Yeah. The property company never built a
thing.

And they owed millions in back taxes.

Next thing we knew, Medwin Heath owned
the restaurant and Rob was left to run

on loose change.

That's why the service and the food went
downhill and why Secord trashed it in

his paper.

And Rob told Barry Secord all this?

Secord thought there might be a story in
it.

Jeff, did Rob ever take drugs?

Never.

Booze was his only poison.

She ID'd the body?

Yeah, poor soul.

She held it together all the way over
there and she collapsed when she saw it.

And she was saying it was all perfectly
legal?

Yeah, well, I mean, that's what she was
advised.

Medwin Heath siphoned off the profits.

Less money meant lower standards all
round.

Hence the bad review.

The restaurant went down the pan.

So, cable ties are the same.

And those handshake bruises on Seacord
and Jess Cade, they're on him too.

They measure up as a match, yeah.

So his wife was hit by whoever came to
their door.

And it wasn't a neighbour complaining
about the noise.

It was someone coming after Cade.

Works for me.

And that person beat him up before
moving on to Seacord.

Maybe moving on to Seacord because Cade
admitted giving him a story.

Right, boss.

Time to take the gloves off with
Adderley.

Gloves.

Stop that.

Innocent -looking leather gloves, lined
with lead shot.

When I was in a met with a case in Soho,
Maltese bouncers using these things.

You swing them like an old -fashioned
leather cosh.

Of course, the mark they leave.

Looks like a hand.

Who did you get these?

Retained evidence room.

Right, Jackie, time for a spot of lunch.

Not a bad time, is it?

Well, if you're hungry, come with me.

Take a seat.

Chef's table.

You can ask.

I can talk and cook at the same time.

Relax, Mr Burke.

Take a seat.

You'll never get a better one.

I recommend a soup.

I'll get you some.

Oh, weasel shit.

Two special soups for our guests.

Try not to spill them.

I haven't touched my bloody soup.

Come on, you're taking a bit.

Tell us again about this aggro between
you and Barry Seacott.

You hit us on a bad day.

Even great residents have bad days.

Anyway, what I didn't tell you last
time, we made up.

So why are you telling us this thing?

Because I'm not stupid. You must have
listened to his notes.

Which ones?

All of them.

He recorded everything on that bloody
MP3 player of his.

You're not eating your soup.

Listen to me, Dad.

Mmm.

That's perfect.

Treat yourself.

I hear you're in business with Medwin
Heath.

Bullets, Anne.

Says who?

Says them.

They've tried to entice Robert Cade by
using your name.

Well, they'll be here for my lawyers.

A pawnwife, and you can tell Robert Cade
I said that.

We can't.

He's dead.

It's a good cook.

That's why that Medwin Heath mob were
sniffing about him.

So you're saying you don't like them?

They're scum playing on other people's
talents.

Convenient, though.

You know nothing.

They came after me.

Backed off pretty sharpish once I told
them what was what.

That's why I was happy to help Secord.

He was going to blow the lid on these
parasites.

And how did you help?

I told him about them approaching me. He
set up a meeting with one of them.

Right here in this very restaurant.

It was short.

I think it got a bit heavy.

He was shitting himself afterwards.

Anything else?

Not much.

Unless you're interested in property
investment.

Word is, Medwin Heath are looking at
sights on the Clyde for some big

gambling corporation.

Las Vegas on the Clyde, eh?

I wouldn't bet on it.

So what do you think?

Can we trust them?

Nobody came from lying to us.

I think we should pay Medwin Heath a
visit.

Oh, it's a nice day to visit the
capital.

What's the matter, sir?

Adderley soup not agree with you?

No. Edinburgh didn't agree with me. Oh,
that tartan and bagpipe.

Feel like I'm in bloody Brigadoon.

So you record on this thing, can you?
Yeah, records, plays music, stores

keeps files.

It's just a big hard drive. And I mean
big. That's 30 gigabytes.

That's thousands of songs.

I'll never listen to them all.

I've got to get one.

Robbie, you can't even tune a radio.

Wait a minute.

What? I checked a CD collection.

Not one of them was jazz. And here, it's
got jazz tracks.

Fancy humor as well. What?

Cannonball Adderley.

On the jazz graves.

Meeting with Mick Adderley.

He's promised me some dirt on Medwin
Heath.

Even the clock sounds patronising.

Bloody tears gone cold.

Again.

I'll see you now.

Well, sorry to have kept you. We're on a
tight schedule today.

Americans. Your casino pal.

That's commercially confidential.

Is that right?

And you are?

Hugo Elder. I run the legal side of the
business.

Oh.

Is it something we should know or
something we shouldn't?

Only when someone brings their lawyer,
it does tend to suggest one or the

I think it's aggressive to suggest.

And I think it's a little passive
-aggressive to leave us cooling our

for 40 minutes.

Or we phoned ahead and drove over. I'd
like to know where you heard any talk of

a connection between us and casinos.

I'm sure you would.

It came up as part of a murder
investigation.

What can you tell us about Rob Cade and
R. Cade Rutherford? I told you, young

man, he had a breakdown.

He's dead?

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

He was a talented chef.

He also made allegations against your
company.

Not to me.

What? What kind of allegations?

That you leeched onto his business when
it was on the up, gave him dodgy

financial advice, sucked out all the
money and left him twisting in the wind.

Chefs are volatile egos. I wouldn't
listen to the accusations of a

alcoholic.

So it was unused to you?

Uh -huh.

Toiler.

You in there?

Who is it?

Andy.

Come on.

You all right?

Yeah.

Just running into botanics.

Thought I'd drop in.

You got any water?

Yeah, in the kitchen.

You're looking good.

How you doing?

No one mud those.

Glad to hear that.

Your mate.

A policeman.

He'd been round.

Stuart?

No way.

Just wondered if he told you how they're
doing.

You know, pillow talk and all.

There are no substantive complaints
against Madwen Heath that we know about.

if there was impropriety, believe me,
we'd be the first to report it.

Of course he would.

See, people don't always read the small
print. We always advise our clients to

hire an independent lawyer to advise
them if they feel at all uncomfortable.

And you were never contacted by a
Glasgow journalist called Barry Thicord?

Never. Never read him.

Why would I read a Glasgow paper?

Robbie, listen to this.

They have a lot of friends.

Big deal.

So do I.

They have told me how Medwin Heath
ripped them off and ruined their lives.

I recommend the fettuccine, by the way.
Fuck the fettuccine.

You keep hounding us and you're in a
world of pain.

And just who are you exactly?

I'm a business cleansing consultant.

What's that?

That's how you call when someone starts
slinging mud at your business and puts

it at risk.

We clean up and reduce the risk.

Now, you want to turn that thing off or
do I shove it up your well -padded arse?

I've heard that voice before.

Yeah, the guy who found the body with
Tyler.

Andy.

So, the victim speaks from beyond the
grave.

Yeah, Secord's voice knows.

We just heard him having lunch with
someone from Edwin Heath.

It was cut short, but we're pretty sure
it's one of the guys that found Secord's

body. All right, play.

Rob Cade came to me a couple of days
ago.

Medwin Heath had brought in some psycho
called Andy to do their dirty laundry.

He started to get heavy with Rob Cade.

Told him to stay away from the press.

I gave him the keys to Val's place to go
and hide up in.

Why are they so intent on killing the
story they resorted to murder?

Keep listening.

I'm shit scared now.

My turn to be threatened.

Medwin Heath are in line to front for an
American company who want to build a

massive casino next to the Clyde.

Medwin are getting the contract on the
basis that they're squeaky clean.

They know that I'm about to tell the
world they are anything but.

And you're sure the same Andy at the
block you're... 99 % sure, yeah.

But how could he be three chords killer?

He was out with Tyler at the time of
death.

I don't know.

We're going to have to talk to Tyler
again.

Robbie, check out this Andy's contact
details.

Tyler!

Mr. Kennedy!

Tyler. Oh, jeez. You scared the shit out
of me.

I was meditating.

How did you get in?

You need to lock your door.

We'll get something we want you to
listen to.

We clean up and reduce the risk.

Now, you want to turn that thing off or
do I shove it up your well -padded arse?

That was Andy.

He was just here.

Just?

Asking about you, about the
investigation.

Do you know how to get in touch with
him?

I've not got his number.

I thought he just felled me under forget
to tell the truth.

What's all this about?

Listen, Tyler, I'm sorry, but how did
you meet this Andy guy?

I was out running and we started
chatting.

Who made the first move?

Him, I guess.

Did he touch anything while he was here
for fingerprints?

Coffee cup.

But I've washed it up, I'm afraid. Did
he do anything odd?

While you were on your date together.
Like, leave you alone for a long time.

Anything like that.

He did go off to take a call.

Seemed a bit rattled.

Said it was work.

And said he needed a fag.

Went into this dodgy pub to get a
packet.

Was gone maybe five, ten minutes.

Do you remember the name of the pub?

The Highland Fling.

Funny thing was, he came out with the
cigarettes, but he didn't smoke them.

Excuse me.

The address this Andy gave us doesn't
exist.

It sounds like Andy set up our dim
-witted burglar friend.

He made an unscheduled stop off at the
Highlands Blank.

Why was he out with Tyler in the first
place?

What if he was a distraction?

I've got to go.

We won a prize.

We never win prizes.

What prize?

A night at the opera. We're opera buffs.

It was such a nice surprise.

Would you be a dear?

I, uh... Yeah, sure.

How exactly did you win this prize?

We didn't want them to have to enter
into a draw.

Apparently they just choose random
ticket numbers from last year's patrons,

a tombola.

Is there something you want to tell me?

Here. Let me look.

I guess go down, yeah?

Your boss was asking about fingerprints.

How long did Forensics say they'd be
with that belt?

I'll go on to you now, sir.

You get on to the Opera House?

Yes. Never heard of the prizes.

Never sent a letter.

So you sent them tickets to get them out
of the house?

Yeah. And that's why this Andy character
asked Tyler out on a date the same

night. Get the neighbours out of the way
so nobody could hear Secord screaming.

Well, we know Andy's not the killer
because he was with Tyler when the

happened. Yeah, but he was keeping them
out of the way whilst somebody else did

the business.

We need to go back to Medwin Heath, but
I'd rather go in with more.

Well, I found the text files on Secord's
MP3 player.

He was tracing Medwin Heath's assets
through company house.

The trail of ruined life stretching back
over five years.

Medwin take talented footballers, chefs,
anyone who's made their first big

bucks, and they bleed them dry.

Fantastic, thanks.

You've not Andy.

He's Alan.

Gemma ran the print on the belt.

Alan Critchley.

Blackmail, extortion, demanding money
with menaces.

Did a year for assault whilst working as
a bouncer.

Yeah, but the interesting thing is this
extortion racket used a female as bait

in a kind of sexed blackmail honey trap.

Peacock's drinking partner.

The broken wine glass.

Yeah, well, the partial fingerprint was
small.

Could be a female.

I want her file, plus all known
associates on my desk.

ASAP.

Still don't think they have anything on
us.

As soon as the yanks have shined and
gone, we're home and dry.

Just sit tight.

A woman that's...

And the Alan character who was running
the extortion racket with was his

Lorraine Critchley. Both tried as
juveniles, minimum sentency.

According to my Met contact, the word is
they now sort out unwanted problems for

companies that don't want to get their
hands dirty.

Turning over the file now.

Wait a minute.

I've met her. She was clearing out
Cade's restaurant.

It was Danielle Collins.

From Medwin Heath.

Gemma. You still got that partial print
from the glass fragment?

Yep. See if that prints match it.

If they do, then she's Secord's killer.

She works in cahoots with her brother.

He lures Tyler out. She lures Secord in
for some wine and torture.

The prints do match the partial.

Ah, Edinburgh.

I do like an away day.

Can I help you?

Danielle Colin.

They're in the boardroom. They can't be
disturbed. I'm sorry.

Don't apologise.

We know the way.

Didn't they just give it the large?

You said you'd take care of this.

I guess.

Taking care of what?

The brutal murders of Barry Seacord and
Robert Cade.

I hope you enjoyed the good life, pal.

Because there's bugger all cognac and
cigars where you're going.

I don't know what your game is.

I'll get to you in a minute.

Lorraine Critchley, I'm arresting you
for the murder. You, officer, are going

be very, very sorry.

Angus, don't be a muppet.

It's over.

Let's get this done quickly.

Come on.

They don't get it.

Let's get this over with.

No!

What's going on here? Get off!

I still... Alan, it's my brother.

Just be still.

Still.

Try not to move. Amber's on her way.
Will I hurt somebody?

Don't worry about it.

Just know you're dead at that part.

Help him.

You're okay.

You'll be okay. The paramedics are here.

Do they get Edinburgh Papers in Berlin?

I'll go back to Glasgow.

Hi. Hi.

Are you looking for me?

No.

But you should know, we got the people
that killed Barry.

Yeah, your boss called and told me.

You know you're coming?

No.

He's got company.

Oh.

Life sucks, doesn't it?

Not all the time.

Well, if you fancy getting more than
with a stranger...

I've got a cold screen.