All language subtitles for The Brokenwood Mysteries - 02x03 - Catch of the Day.BluRay.x264-PRESENT.English

What is it?
What's the matter?

Oh!

What...

Someone must be
missing you, mate.

We could round up
the local crayfishermen,

see who sticks their hand up.

Yeah, or not,
as the case may be.

Check out the local doctors
and accident and emergency.

If it is a diving accident,

the owner should have presented
for treatment somewhere.

If they're still alive.

Looks like the rope's been cut.

Yeah, must be a Keely pot.

Because?

Well, no one else around here
has that many pots.

The Keely family have been
cray catchers for generations.

Yeah, then their dad died
five years back

in a boating "accident."

Fuel leak. Boat blew up.
He got toasted.

Des the Devil.

That's what
everyone called him.

Old man Des.
Des the Devil.

Scary guy.

Somewhere to start.

Plus that number.

- It's the Devil's number.
- A coincidence, I'm sure.

Is it?

Ma Keely and the two sons, Tommy
and Liam, and daughter Liza,

gradually hoovered up
all the local quota.

What does that have to do
with the Devil?

Oh, they're very protective
of their patch.

So is the Devil.

Okay.

- Very.
- Okay, got it.

Just so you know.

Yeah, thanks.

Plus, when I found that hand,

it pointed at me
like old Des pointed at me.

Yeah, if he died five years ago,
that won't be his hand.

It could be a sign, though.

I thought
I should hand it over.

So, how was it severed --
cut, sawn, or chopped?

What with?

What made the puncture
in the palm?

How long
has it been in the water?

All that'd be good.

Sorry, I get it now.
You said "hand" it over.

This is English humor.

Uh, yeah. Sorry.

I need to know whether the man
or woman it was removed from

was alive or dead at the time.

Man.

Hair on the back of the fingers.
The size also.

Ah, but what about your theory
around Russian womens' hands

being big and hairy?

I said they could be big.
I never said hairy.

Fair point.

Do I have hairy hands?

No.

You shouldn't
make assumptions, Mike.

Well, it is part of the job.

Next you'll be assuming
that I'm Russian.

You're not Russian?

Why do you ask this?

Perhaps it was Russian humor.

Oh, hey.

No record of anyone

reporting that kind of injury
over the last three weeks.

If it was a diver,

maybe he shot himself
with his own speargun,

pinned himself,
and had to cut off his own hand

like that guy in the desert.

- Mm. Missed that movie.
- True story.

But a bleeding diver?
Shark bait.

Might be lucky
to find anything.

Well, either way,
someone's missing a hand,

or someone's missing a father,
son, husband, diving companion.

Yeah, but if so,
why no missing-person report?

Mm.

I guess we should start
with the owner of that cray pot.

- You all right with that?
- Yeah, I'm good.

Senior?
Complaint -- hit and run.

All yours.

Can I help you?

Does, uh, ma have a name?

What the hell do you want?

"Mrs. Keely" might be best.

Mrs. Keely.

This is D.S.S. Shepherd.
I'm Detective Sims.

Here to ID one of
your cray pots, actually.

Takes two D's
to show me a cray pot?

You're right, Mrs. Keely.
That's just part of it.

Well, it's a Keely pot.
What's it to you?

Ah, well, we were hoping that
we could ask you some questions.

Returning cray pots
is about all you're good for.

Where were you
when my Des got done?

You're referring to your
husband's boating accident?

Accident?

Christ, is that what you lot
still think?

I wasn't in Brokenwood
at the time.

No.
No, I don't remember you.

Or you.
It was that useless Gary McLeod.

Well, we understand
that the coroner's report

found it to be an accident.

Was he there?
Did he actually see it?

No, but the coroner's job
is to ascertain --

Where did you find the pot?

Brokenwood Beach.

What was it doing there?

We were hoping
that you could tell us.

If you've got questions,
talk to Tommy and Liza.

In the meantime, you can give me
back my pot and bugger off.

MacMillan and I
were just standing there.

- MacMillan?
- Yes. That's my dog.

We were just standing there,
and suddenly it was upon us.

Whoosh!

Never heard a thing.

One of those hybrid
electrical things, you think?

No engine noise at all?

I- I'm sorry?

What sort of car?

Ah. Uh, Japanese.

Or German.

It could've been Korean.

Foreign, anyway.

Right, right. Driver?

Oh, definitely.

Definitely what?

Well, cars don't
drive themselves, do they?

Did you see the driver?

No.

- Color?
- I told you I didn't see him.

The car!
What color was the car?!

No need to raise your voice.

Sand hills.

What?

Well, you asked
where the car was.

I'm telling you sand hills.

I mean, if it had been
on tarseal, I --

Wait --
You were out at the beach?

Yes. That's what
I've been telling you.

- Are you listening to me?
- What time was this?

I told you --
early this morning.

And what color was the car?

Well, see,
now, it wasn't black.

Right.

Or white. No, no.
I can assure you of that.

So red, blue, green, pink?

Oh, that's, um --

That's where it gets
a little difficult, you see?

Heh.

- Tommy Keely?
- Keely? Over there.

Popular.

Tommy?

Liam.
You want my brother.

Tommy?

My brother trying to
put our weights up again?

Could we have a word outside?

That's Dominic Nichol.

- The winemaker, right?
- Mm.

Not anymore.
Went to the wall.

Works on the mussel farm now.

Left in a hurry when he saw you.
What's he done?

Nothing that we're aware of.

So you found our cray pot?

Yes. Number 66.

We need you to tell us
where it was located.

Yeah.

I could
take you out there tomorrow.

Crack of dawn
at the jetty okay?

Detective Sims will be there.

Well, see you then, then.

Your round, Sis.

And you will be...?

Pursuing other inquiries.

You'll get more out of him.

Plus boats and me
don't really get along.

Oh, take a pill.

Oh, it's nothing to do
with seasickness.

It's the whole idea of it
I don't like.

Had a wife who was into boats.

Which is why
she's an ex-wife.

Yada yada ya.
I get it.

She drowned.

Oh, my God.

I'm so sorry.

It's okay.

What are you doing here, missy?

Tommy didn't tell you?

No, he doesn't tell me a lot.

We're going out
to reset that pot.

Do you know how to look after
yourself on the water?

I'd like to think so.

That's good, then.

Morning.

Morning.
Are you coming too?

What are you doing?

You should take Liza with you.

Is that an order, is it?

No, of course not.

- I just thought that --
- Don't think.

You get your beauty sleep, girl.
You need it.

Reckon you can hold her steady,
or I shall I drop the anchor?

I'm sweet.
It's calm enough.

Sweet?
I'll be the judge of that.

So you found it
down at Brokenwood Beach?

Yeah.

Why didn't you call me
to pick it up?

Why the special treatment?

Someone handed it in.

Hmm.
That's a good one.

What is?

Handed it in.

Like lost property.

Well, Brokenwood Beach would
seem to be quite lost from here.

What about what was in it?

What was in it?

The crayfish.

The boys down at the station
hoover them up first?

There were no crayfish.

Guess I'll have to
take your word for it.

How often do you have to
dive for a pot

'cause you've lost a buoy?

Every now and then.
Why?

You like diving?

I'm a fisherman.

That's like asking a priest
if he likes going to church.

The lab boy
managed to lift a fingerprint.

They will send it across.

Good.

The hand was cut
or sawn with a knife.

How difficult would that be?

I mean, it's straight through
the wrist bone, right?

It was severed above the carpus,

where it articulates
with the ulna and radius.

What I said.

So you need a big knife.

- Like a diver's bowie knife?
- Perhaps.

Whoever did it, would they have
had to hold the victim down?

You mean was he alive
when the hand was sawn off?

Yes.

I don't think so, but I need to
see its owner to be sure.

We live in hope.

What about
the hole in the hand?

The hole in the hand.

Is that another use
of English humor?

No, it's a question.

Oh.

The piercing indicates it
penetrated through the palm.

He might have been defending
himself from whoever killed him.

If he's dead.

Each numbered dot is a cray pot?

Mm-hmm.

Can I get a copy of this?

This chart
is the Keely family livelihood,

two generations of good oil
on the coastline.

Okay, but we need to figure out
how pot 66 got from here

all the way down
to Brokenwood Beach.

Albatross? Dolphin? Octopus?
Not my problem.

No outsiders.
That's been the rules.

My prick of a brother's
the exception.

Does the location of pot 66

have any significance
that you can see?

- Not the location.
- What, then?

Well, 66.

It's the Devil's number,
isn't it?

So I've heard.

Okay, well, um,
time to get back.

Thanks for the, uh, insight.

Not at all.

What are you doing?

Text from Mum.

Just checking I'll be home
for roast this Sunday.

Fingerprint section
have managed to lift one.

It'll be e-mailed through.

I'll chase them up
for a match.

Hold on.
This hit and run.

Which wasn't, actually.

But he was there
the same time as Jared.

The vehicle might be connected.

Yeah.

"No engine noise -- electric."

Or not.

"Of a color
that is not black or white."

Achromatopsia.

A rare condition,
but our witness has it.

He can only see in gray scale.

And...

- Deaf as a post?
- Aha.

Has Kristin checked in?

No.

My family's had to fight
like hell to preserve its quota.

Doesn't help when one of
your own turns against you.

Your brother, Liam?

Lazy dickhead.

Instead of working
his share of the quota,

he leases it out to those
bastards he was drinking with.

Dominic Nichol.

Michel's boss, Wes Pullman.

Pullman by name,
Pullman by nature.

You like that?

He pulls Michel's strings.

Owns all the mussel farms
out over there.

Wants to own everything else,

including our share
of the cray quota.

But you won't sell?

Hell no.

Doesn't help
when your own flesh and blood

is giving the bastard a sniff,
though.

Apple of the old man's eye.

Rotten apple, more like it.

Great day
to be out on the water.

Great to have
some new blood in town.

Hey, boss!
Boss! Hey!

Turn it off!
Turn it off!

Bryce Fahey,
local fisheries officer.

You sure?

Hard to tell with him all
waterlogged like that, but yeah.

As much a pain in the ass
in death as he was in life.

Friend of yours, was he?

Don't look at me.

Your problem with this idiot

isn't finding people
who wanted to throttle him.

It's finding someone who didn't.

Talk to the boss.

His boss is Wes Pullman,
who owns a mussel farm,

and according to Tommy Keely,

wants to get his hands
on the Keely cray quota.

Not that I'd trust
Tommy's word.

Or his hands,
for that matter.

Presumably we have
a match for the hand,

by the looks
of where it was severed.

That's your
professional opinion?

You reckon he lost it
before or after death?

If you let me do my job, I might
be able to get you that opinion.

Right you are.

- Mike?
- Yes?

The victim --
He was very handsome.

Well, if you say so.

No, it was
an English-language joke.

"Hand-some."

A man with only
some of his hands.

Right.

That's very good.

Won't hold you up.

Got it. Ta.

Breen says Bryce Fahey
is married and lives locally,

but he can't raise his wife,
Jools.

- Where?
- Locke's Road.

Why, if Jools Fahey
is still alive,

has she not missed
her husband?

That's a good question.

Hey, um, yesterday,
about your wife...

Don't worry about it, Sims.
You weren't to know.

True.
But I'm sorry if I --

It's just one of those things.

Do you know why Johnny Cash
always wore black?

Do I want to know?

I think your inner country-music
fan is dying to know.

Mrs. Fahey?

No one home.

Where's the boat?

Maybe she was on it with him,

which would explain

why no missing-person report
was lodged.

Are we looking for
another body?

Bryce goes out on the boat,
perhaps with his wife.

There should be a vehicle
with an empty boat trailer

at one of the local boat ramps.

Find me
one of Bryce Fahey's friends.

We need to make a formal ID.

Don't know about a friend.

Have you heard
the bush telegraph on this guy?

What about his employer?

Fisheries department says
there's a volunteer officer

who worked alongside Bryce
when needed.

On it.

Welcome, friend.

Mr. Cleland?
D.C. Breen.

I understand you're a colleague
of Bryce Fahey.

Go with God.
Go with God.

Amen.

I take it
that's Bryce Fahey.

It is, bless him.

Killed in the line of duty.

One of our finest.

Thanks, Mr. Cleland.

Preliminary results
indicate that he was dead

before the hand was sawn off.

Also the level of bloating

suggests he's been in the water
at least 48 hours, up to 72.

The hand similarly.

Well, the hand was found
yesterday, Wednesday morning.

So the deed was done Mondayish?

Or even Sunday.

Thanks.

Are you thinking
what I'm thinking?

Noel Cleland didn't ask why
Bryce Fahey's hand was missing?

Yeah.

You know how Elton John's
real name is Reginald Dwight,

and Cliff Richard
was born Harry Webb?

Who's Cliff Richard?

So Johnny Cash's real name
can't be Johnny Cash, can it?

Oh.
Actually it is.

Real, you see?
Authentic.

Country.

Right.

So Tammy Wynette's real name
isn't Virginia Pugh?

I take it
you've been notified.

Yeah, that bloody corpse.

We've had to delay the harvest,
so there's an export order

of two tons of
green-lipped mussels

that won't be on a plane
to the States tomorrow.

Well, I'm sure Bryce Fahey

would share your frustration,
Mr. Pullman,

were he still alive.

- He was a pain in the ass alive.
- Even more so in death?

You said it, not me.

So you and Bryce
weren't friends?

We had nothing in common.

Except the fishing industry.

Bryce was regarded
by some as a bully,

and there wouldn't be
a commercial

or recreational fisherman
in this district

with a kind word for him.

So if you think this was
an accident, you're kidding.

So you've got
your suspicions, Mr. Pullman?

Well, you could start
with the seaside Appalachians.

You're referring to the Keelys.

You can hear the banjos
a mile off.

Funnily enough, they're pointing
the finger at you.

Those river rats
can say what they like.

They've had it their own way
for generations.

Think they own anything
and everything

with a bit of water around it.

Whereas, in reality,
you own it.

Do you own a speargun,
Mr. Pullman?

No.
No, I don't.

But the boys on your boats do?

Well, in case of sharks

when they're servicing
the droppers, yes.

Have you ever used one?

Years ago.
I don't dive much these days.

See? You do have something
in common with Bryce.

It's possible
we've uncovered a turf war.

Or perhaps a surf war.

Keelys versus Pullman.

Livelihoods and businesses.

It's high stakes.

Yeah?

Jools Fahey, Bryce's wife,

has just walked in
with a surprise guest --

Dennis Buchanan.

On our way.

Jools Fahey is waiting for us.

Complete with lawyer.

That's front-footing it.

How did it happen?

A diving accident possibly.

- Really?
- Possibly.

What sort of accident?

He may have impaled himself
on his speargun.

Not possible.

Bryce was a navy diver
for 20 years.

With all due respect,
even those with experience --

Bryce always told me
if he had a diving mishap,

not to believe
it was an accident.

- Those bastards.
- Who?

All of them!
This bloody town.

Who had a problem with Bryce?

Try anyone
with a boat and a fishing rod.

Can you be any more specific?

When Bryce was decommissioned
from the navy,

I wanted to stay in the city.

But, no, he wanted to be close
to the bloody sea.

It's okay.
Take your time.

How long since you've seen
your husband, Mrs. Fahey?

Four days, five.

You didn't notice his absence,
feel the need to contact anyone?

I wasn't home, Detective.

Where were you?

You're not obliged
to answer that.

True.

But if you don't,
we'll draw our own conclusions.

Which would be what?

We're not obliged to say.

Let's try again, shall we?

Did you phone home
from wherever you were?

No, because I knew Bryce
wasn't at home.

You knew
he was out on the boat?

Yes.

Did you try and communicate
with him, phone his mobile?

No.

Not once in four or five days?

Let's just say she was
out of network coverage.

- Rig ht.
- Not easy these days.

Where exactly were you?

It's probably easiest
if I show you.

What size
would you say that was?

40-footer, more or less.

More.

So you're saying
you were far enough out

to be beyond
cellphone coverage?

Yes.

What about VHF radio?

This vessel doesn't have one.

You go out to sea
without VHF?

Jools likes it old-school.

But you've got cellphones?

Who doesn't?

- But you were out of range?
- Yeah. It's not unusual.

How do you operate one of these
by yourself?

I've been sailing competitively
since I was nine.

Well, still, that's a big boat.
What about docking?

She wasn't alone.

And you can vouch for this how?

I was with her.

This is mine.

Excuse me.

Breen.

I've located Bryce's trailer.

And we might have a lead
on his boat.

A container ship has reported
a boat matching Bryce's

drifting apparently unmanned
near the sea lane.

Good work.

Make yourself comfortable.

Not you.

Come on, Detective.

You can't separate a client
from their lawyer.

Oh, I can
for witness statements,

which is all this is
at this stage.

Unless you know something
I don't.

Back soon.

After you.

I should warn you

that any information I have
about my client is privileged.

And I should remind you
that any information you have

as a solicitor
in respect of your client

is the client's privilege,
not yours.

Maybe you're
confusing that rule

with your right
not to incriminate yourself.

Please.
Take a seat.

You need to instruct a lawyer
that is not implicated in this

to give you independent advice.

Dennis and I are involved.

More than as lawyer and client,
I take.it

Yes.

You are having an affair
with Dennis Buchanan.

An affair?

Oh, dear me.
How bourgeois, Detective.

That wouldn't be much of
a scandal, even in Brokenwood.

And what would you call it?

More a ménage à trois.

You're saying
Bryce knew about you and Dennis?

That's not what it means.

He didn't just know --
He was an active participant.

Right.

As I said, Bryce was ex-navy.

They're very broad-minded,
sailors.

Mm.

So the three of you would go out
on Dennis' gin palace together?

- Regularly.
- Occasionally.

There's no law against it,
Dennis.

We're consenting adults.

And I object
to the term "gin palace."

It's a cruiser.

But on this trip,
it was just the two of you?

Yes.

And why?
Where was Bryce?

He said he had something to take
care of that couldn't wait.

And what was that?

We tried
not to discuss his work.

I wanted to be able to
walk around town

and not know who hated us.

If anything further
comes to mind...

...please let me know.

And you, Detective.

A threesome?

Technically speaking,
it's a ménage à trois.

Oh, right, French.
So that makes it classy.

- It's their business.
- Yeah, but at their age?

Believe it or not, Breen, but
some things get better with age.

Cheese.

Coffee for three?

I'm good.

Ah, not for me.

Well, it could be
a long night.

That's one way
to make it even longer.

You shouldn't have.
Really.

Okay, overview.

Jared finds the cray pot
with Bryce's hand here.

Which, according to Tommy Keely,
came from exactly here.

Charmed it out of him,
did you?

I may have accidentally slipped
and taken a photograph.

Clumsy.

Pullman's mussel farm, here,

where the rest of Bryce's body
was found.

And Bryce's boat found
here with the anchor rope cut.

So we have to work out
from wind, tide, and current

over the last
four or five days

where it was last
when Bryce was on it.

It might be easier than that.

The boat had all the latest

navigational
and communication gear.

The IT guys must be able to
put together a digital trail.

Could tide and current

take the hand from here all the
way to here -- Brokenwood Beach?

In time. Maybe.

Jools says she last
saw Bryce alive on Saturday

before she and Buchanan
set out on his cruiser.

And Gina reckons
that Bryce was killed

on Sunday or the Monday.

And that the hand was severed
after he was dead.

So that gives the cray pot
a maximum of three or four days

to travel that distance.

How likely is that?

Someone placed the hand
on the beach.

So whoever killed Bryce
cut off his hand,

then nicked a Keely cray pot,
put it in the pot,

and placed it on the beach
knowing that it would be found.

Maybe Jared was right.

Maybe cutting off the hand
is some sort of sign.

Then who's it for?

- What about the speargun?
- No, it's clean.

And nothing to indicate that his
body was dragged back on board

after he was shot?

Boat's clean.

Go with God, Bryce.
God forgives you.

God loves you.

You cut that out.
Bryce wasn't religious.

Doesn't stop you
from using the church

when it's convenient.

- Please, Mr. Cleland.
- Go in peace, Bryce!

Your passing
will not be in vain.

Our cause needs its martyrs.

Bugger off. He is her husband,
for God's sake.

You take the Keelys.
I'll do Cleland.

I will not have this,
do you understand?

D.S.S. Shepherd.

A word, Mr. Cleland?

Acting Fisheries Officer
Cleland.

Apologies, Officer Cleland.

That's quite a job to take on
as a volunteer.

Well, I'm not afraid
of hard work.

God built the earth in six days.

Who am I to complain?

You're not worried
that whoever killed Bryce

may now target his successor?

Those who fight the good fight
on earth

shall find their rewards
in heaven.

When you were talking about
your cause needing a martyr,

was that
what you were referring to?

Yes.

If you'll excuse me, I'd like to
be there for the interment.

I didn't realize
you were friends of Bryce.

We weren't, really.
We just knew him.

We Keelys have lived and died
at sea for generations.

Yeah, it was a boating tragedy
that wrecked our family.

We're God-fearing people,
Detective,

despite what
you might have heard.

And I make a point
of honoring others

who have lost their lives
that way.

Mr. Fahey wasn't a bad man.

Just mistaken.

Would your son Tommy
share those sentiments?

Tommy finds it hard to forgive.

Liam too.

Particularly each other.

Sorry.
I didn't mean to upset her.

We can't move on.

She's stuck
'cause she doesn't know.

Know what?

Who killed my father.

It was five years ago,
wasn't it?

I could take a look into it,
and see if there's --

There won't be.

Thanks.

My condolences.

Tell me you're not here
on business, Detective.

I spoke
to Bryce's employer earlier.

They've consented for us
to take a look at Bryce's files

before they pick them up.

To what purpose?

I'm investigating a murder,
Mr. Buchanan.

Purpose enough?

- Jared?
- Shh.

You got a minute?

- Take a seat.
- Okay.

Matthew 5:30.

"And if thy right hand
offend thee,

cut if off
and cast it from thee,

for it is profitable for thee

that one
of thy members should perish,

and not that thy whole body
should be cast into hell."

Noel Cleland
is a fundamentalist nutter.

Yeah.
"Our cause needs martyrs."

- Yeah, nutter is right.
- You know Cleland?

Well, he came into
my nan's church once.

Yelled some hocus-pocus,
and the font caught fire.

Turned out
it was methylated spirits.

Wow.
Does he do kids' parties?

So was Bryce Noel's right-hand
man who needed to be cut off?

Maybe. But why?

Then there's Revelations 13:18.

"Here is wisdom.

Let him that hath understanding
count the number of the beast,

for it is the number of a man,

and his number is six hundred
three score and six."

Sometimes, apparently,
shortened to 66.

Tommy Keely did say that
the significance of the cray pot

might be
that it's the Devil's number.

That's what I said at the beach.

- Well, yeah, but --
- You listen to him but not me?

Well, I just thought you might
be a bit freaked out...

- I was freaked out.
- Hey, kids.

It does seem that Bryce
was killed on the Sabbath.

No way.

And with stigmata.

With what?

Well, there was a hole
in his hand, right?

Like Jesus on the cross,
where the nails went in.

- Jeez.
- Exactly.

So round up the Christians.
Any lions handy?

What if whoever killed
Bryce Fahey

knew who killed Des Keely

and the energy transferred
into the hand

and it pointed at me?

Like old Devil Des returning
from the deep to remind me.

Reminding you of what?

Well, he accused me
of poaching once.

- And were you?
- No. But it was a heavy scene.

If I'd actually
had crays in my kete,

I reckon I might've ended up
like Bryce.

Are you suggesting
Bryce was poaching

and Des the Devil returned
from the dead to kill him?

No, because that would
be implausible.

I'm just saying, like I said
before, it felt like a sign.

Okay, thanks, Jared.
It's been enlightening.

Anytime.
I'll see myself out.

Look, it does seem like

there was some kind of bad blood
between the Keely brothers

and it does relate back to

the cold-case murder
of their father.

Boating accident,
not cold case.

Well, both Ma and Liza don't
believe it was an accident.

How does this relate
back to Bryce Fahey?

I don't know,
but Ma more or less warned me

that Tommy is a worry,
and I agree --

He's either mad or bad.

I think Ma and Liza
might be ready to say more.

Go for it.

I'll check out Bryce's office,
and you're on Cleland.

Check out his movements
Sunday-Monday.

Excellent

The religious nut bar.

All the best jobs.

I read through those case notes.
They're fairly cryptic.

I was hoping maybe
you and your mum

could give me the full story.

Don't talk to Mum.

She gets real wound up
about it.

Okay.

Then, um, what can you tell me
about it?

There were poachers cleaning out
our pots most nights.

Dad got real paranoid,

so when he got a tip-off
one night someone was out there,

he -- he went totally nuts.

Rattle your dags, girl!

Dad, don't!
Just leave it!

I've had an absolute
gutsful of these bastards.

I thought if I went with him,

I could try and get him
to calm down.

Dad!

Aaah!

Liza!

Dad had no chance.

I'm sorry.
That must have been horrific.

And your mum was there too?

If it wasn't for her,
I might have drowned.

Help!

Help us!

Somebody!

Why do you think
it wasn't an accident?

'Cause it wasn't.

The maritime investigation
deemed it was a fuel leak.

But how did it come
to have one?

A deliberate fuel leak?

Dad was
a ticketed marine engineer,

and that boat
was his pride and joy.

He'd restored it from scratch.

Whoever it was who tipped him
off about the cray poachers

knew Dad was wound up
about that,

knew he'd make for the boat,
and sabotaged it.

Makes it murder, doesn't it?

Where were your brothers
that night?

Tommy and Liam
were at the fishing club.

Together?

They sort of got along
back then.

And they fell out over
what happened to your father?

Why, Liza?

You should ask them.

I'm asking you.

I can't say.

I can't.

I had no idea
how much I'd miss Bryce.

Sounds like missing him was
something you'd contemplated.

I didn't mean it like that.

Come through.

Bryce found the administrative
side a bit of a challenge.

Hmm.

He liked putting things down
on paper, making lists.

He didn't use that much.

He said his fingers
were too big.

Okay.

Shall I make you a coffee?

- Oh, that'd be great.
- Short black or flat white?

Long short black?

You do remind me of Bryce.

Is that how he had it?

No. Big fingers.

You must need a break,
Detective.

Another coffee?
Some other refreshment?

Any sign of breaking and
entering while you were away?

No.

Has Dennis Buchanan been
in the house since you got back?

Well, yes.

Was he in here?

I don't think so, but I couldn't
swear on the Bible.

Noel Cleland
tried to get in here.

When was this?

He turned up late yesterday
in his ridiculous uniform.

I'm here
in an official capacity.

I need to
sequester Bryce's files.

Sequestering?

And what'd you say to him?

Bugger off,
you officious prick.

I could do a red wine.

You did ask.

You're a hard man to track down,
Mr. Cleland.

Acting Fisheries Officer
Cleland.

Where's the Shepherd fellow?

On another line of inquiry.

Good name, that -- Shepherd.

The Lord is our shepherd,
you know?

Do you need a hand?

Have you lot cleared
the fisheries boat yet?

I can't be expected to properly
discharge my duties in that.

It's being sorted.

Where have you been?

Doing God's work.

Like what?

Apprehending miscreants
and sinners of the sea.

Right.

Should we sit somewhere
more comfy?

Sure.

I'm with Liza.

Dad was murdered.

Based on what?

Whoever made that call knew Dad
was paranoid about poachers,

knew he'd take the old boat out,
and wired it to blow.

So you believe
it was an inside job?

Can you get any more inside
than family?

That's a serious allegation.

Murder is a serious business,
wouldn't you say, Detective?

My brother, Tommy,
made that call.

Do you have proof?

Jesus.

It's all in the police file,
isn't it?

From the phone box
outside in the car park.

There is record on file
of a call being made.

Yeah.

And being received by my dad

on a landline
in my family's house.

That was the call
that sealed his fate.

But no one in the club that
night saw anyone use that phone.

Yeah, right.
How likely is that?

Anyone coming into
or going out of the car park --

having a smoke, selling pot,

or having a drunken quickie
up against the wall --

would have seen Tommy in there
making that call.

You're convinced it was Tommy.

Dad wouldn't have gone
hooning out after poachers

that time of night unless
he thought he had the real oil.

Tommy was the only one here,
apart from me,

whose word Dad would trust.

So Tommy intimidated
the witnesses?

Tommy doesn't need to say
or do anything.

Everyone knows
he's an evil prick.

Yeah, well, he'd have to be

to murder his own father,
wouldn't he?

You don't believe me.

Well, what was his motive?

Control.

But your father's will

would have provided
for shares, surely.

Meaningless.

Tommy knew he could bully Mum
and Liza,

effectively control
their shares.

Tommy says you're leasing
your cray quota to Pullman.

So what?

Take the fee.
Let others do the work.

That's a legitimate
business arrangement?

For which Pullman is paying
better than market rates.

What's eating Tommy is that
he's not controlling it.

Or me.

Liam Keely is adamant that
Tommy Keely killed their father.

Do you see a connection
to Bryce Fahey?

If Tommy killed once,
he can kill again?

Okay.

Let's push Tommy's buttons,
see if anything breaks.

But we need an excuse.

I sure hope God broke the mold
when he made Cleland.

He's nuts.

Nuts or obstructive?

Both.

He can't really account
for his whereabouts

Sunday afternoon or evening.

Says he was
in "solitary prayer retreat."

Where?

Upstairs in his bedroom.

Mm.
Solitary prayer retreat?

Keep on him.

Empty. Clearly it was full
at some stage.

Dennis Buchanan had access,

according to Jools,

and Noel Cleland turned up
to sequester it.

What was he looking for?

Witnesses say your vehicle

was at the boat ramp
Sunday afternoon

when you say you were
on a solitary prayer retreat

in your bedroom.

"Solitary prayer retreat"
is code

for "mind your own business."

Right now your business
is our business.

I suppose I could resent

being given the third degree
by a fellow officer,

but I understand
you're just doing your duty.

Just as I was doing mine
on Sunday afternoon.

I decided to check out
the Pullman mussel farm.

Why?

Because they were
constantly in breach

and Bryce
was going soft on them.

What do you mean by that?

We had collected
chapter and verse

on multitudinous transgressions,

and yet somehow it all seemed
to come to nothing.

If you'll excuse me.

Cleland's changed his story.

He now puts himself at the
mussel farm on Sunday afternoon.

Got to go.

Get to the mussel farm.

See who else was out there
on Sunday afternoon

and whether they saw Cleland.

You want me to drive your car?

Yeah.
It's a good car.

Okay. Sure.

Automatic, right?

No, manual.

Just kidding.

The registered office for
Pullman Aquaculture is here,

even though their actual office
is across the corridor?

Oh, it's just a service address
for the Registrar of Companies.

We do that for a number
of our clients.

Pullman Aquaculture is a client?

It's a small town, Detective.

It is indeed.

When you were visiting
Jools Fahey

to offer your, uh, condolences,

did you go
into Bryce's home office?

I didn't see any need.

Even though he has
a big, fat file on your client,

Pullman Aquaculture?

Did he?

Well, he did.
Seems to be empty now.

- Did you see it?
- No.

Were you aware
of its existence?

This better be good.

Cleland says he and Bryce
had Pullman nailed

on any number
of serious breaches,

but nothing seemed
to come of them.

So he went to Bryce's house
hoping to take over the file.

When I queried him on that,

Cleland said something
quite weird.

Bryce's death
might have been a mercy.

For who?

His greedy self.

His inference was that Bryce
was on the take from Pullman.

- Good work.
- There's one other thing.

Cleland's a diver
and owns a speargun.

Get forensics to go over
Cleland's inflatable and gear.

He'll regard that
as an act of war.

Get a warrant.
Make it official.

He likes that.

I'm not keeping you, am I?

I want access
to Bryce's bank accounts.

Absolutely.

As soon as I sight a court order
directing me to do so.

Did you know
that Noel Cleland

was out here
on Sunday afternoon?

I did, yes.

Were you out here too?

Nah.
I was at home.

Who else was out here?

No one that I know of.

So, what was he doing?

Snooping.
Officious bastard.

He rang with a list
of noncompliance issues

as soon as he got to shore.

On a Sunday.

Come back, Bryce Fahey.
All is forgiven.

Cleland's on a holy crusade.

And Bryce was hard-nosed, but it
was just business in the end.

Your boss says
that Bryce was a bully.

To some, maybe.

- To you?
- A hassle.

But Cleland?

He's a nightmare.

Did Cleland say that Bryce
was out here with him

on Sunday afternoon?

- Dead or alive?
- You tell me.

No.
No, he didn't.

And funnily enough, he didn't
mention finding Bryce's body

when he was checking
the droppers.

Were you aware
that they were both preparing

a big case against Pullman?

We knew something was going on.

That would have threatened
your livelihood out here.

Yeah, maybe.

What with losing your vineyard
and going bankrupt,

that would have been
hard to take.

If the fisheries department
closes down the mussel farm,

then I'm
out on the street again.

So your job is worth a lot.

Worth taking the rap
for Pullman, perhaps?

Come on.
No way.

Where were you Sunday evening?

I was at home with my wife.

Do you own a speargun?

- Yeah, of course, but...
- Can I take a look at it?

Well, it's at home.
It's not here.

Okay.
I won't hold you up any longer.

Thanks.

Let's go.

Hey, Mike, it's possible
that both Cleland and Nichol

were at or near the mussel farm

around the time that
Bryce Fahey was taken there.

Nichol reckons he's got himself
an alibi, but I'll check it out.

Got it.

Amy, tell Wes
I'll wait in the car.

Mm-hmm.

- Liam.
- G'day.

Ah, Wes Pullman, please.

Sorry, he's not available
right now.

Um, excuse me.

Detective Shepherd.

Off somewhere
with Liam Keely?

Business lunch.

Then you're gonna be late.
Sorry.

My time is money, Shepherd.

Mine isn't -- just precious.
Take a seat.

Please.

I've just had
an interesting conversation

with your solicitor
across the hallway.

- How nice.
- Not really.

He was obstructive, which is why
we're gonna get a court order

to access his client
Bryce Fahey's bank accounts.

Keeping yourself busy, I see.

And while we're at it, we'll get
an order to access yours.

Would you like to speculate
whether we'll find any payments

from your company
to Bryce Fahey?

You'd have to be blind
to miss them.

We used Bryce Fahey as
a consultant from time to time,

and we paid him a fee
for his time and expertise.

You're confirming
that a fisheries officer

was moonlighting
as a consultant

for a company he was charged
with overseeing?

Well, I assumed Bryce was
taking care of that side of it

with his employer.

Not my concern.

Show me the contract.

Oral.

Invoices detailing Bryce's work,
payments made?

Might have been
a bit dilatory there.

Have to get that sorted.
And the GST.

Tell Inland Revenue.

And fraud squad.

What do you think
you're doing?

I'll have you
for vexatious oppression.

Haven't seen that particular
charge in the Crimes Act.

Maybe it's under "F"
for "fisheries."

Or "B" for "bollocks."

Does your car always get stuck
in first gear?

You drove it back
in first gear?

Got you again.

Some things can't be
joked about, Sims.

What, boys and their cars?

Mm, I think they can.

What about the fact
that Bryce Fahey

was on the take
from Pullman?

Mm. Okay.
That is not funny.

Chances are Bryce shredded
the contents himself.

Wes Pullman was employing Fahey
as a consultant.

He's completely open about it,
brazen.

Well, that's bribery and
corruption in anyone's book.

Absolutely.

What are you doing?

You just proved
the guy's dodgy as heck.

Well, whatever else he is,
Pullman's no mug.

In confessing to bribing Fahey,

he's eliminating himself
from the murder inquiry.

No motive.

He had Bryce Fahey
right where he wanted him,

in his back pocket.

Why would he want to kill him?

Do you think Dominic Nichol
had any idea

that his boss
did a deal with Bryce?

Unlikely.

Those kind of arrangements
tend to work

on a need-to-know basis.

Which means he genuinely thought
his job was under threat

from Bryce's investigations.

Which means he has motive.

Stopping a potential threat
to his job.

Man under pressure.

And he has a speargun.

Any more on Cleland?

Forensics have taken away
a lot of bloody swabs

from Cleland's inflatable

but say they could
possibly be from fish.

He's a fruitcake,

and he strongly suspected Bryce
had been gotten to by Pullman.

Saw it as a betrayal
of the cause.

Was he capable
of murdering Bryce

to prevent a blight
on God's work?

He does have that Old Testament
fire and brimstone about him.

And the old bastard threatened
to prosecute me.

- Really? What for?
- Vexatious oppression.

Oh, phew.
Is that all?

I thought it might have been
for undersized "muscles"?

Okay, whoa.
That's workplace bullying.

I'll get you counseling.

Oh, yeah.
I would throw those back.

Don't.

Mike Shepherd.

Detective.
Jools Fahey.

I know it's late, but there's
something I need to tell you.

Certainly.
I'm listening.

Uh, it would suit me better
if you could come to mine.

Okay. Sure.

Thank goodness you've come,
Detective.

You'll have one, Detective?

Mike.

Perhaps you'd better tell me
what I'm here for.

I like a man who's up front.

So...

You won't stay with me

unless I provide you
with some information.

If you need some company,

someone to talk to,
Detective Sims --

I don't want you to think
I'm trying to protect Dennis.

I didn't say that.

I'm simply not the sort of woman
who blindly commits to one man.

I've always found one
is never enough.

I'll take your word for it.

And there's something I need
from you, actually.

An assurance.

Yes?

That all those papers
you removed from Bryce's office

will be returned.

Of course.

And the book.

Sentimental value.

Bryce picked it up
at a flea market.

One of the last things
we did together.

You understand.

I should go.

Sims, I need you
back at the office.

You're practicing
for a magic trick?

Hmm.

Magic would be good
right now.

Jools had me
'round at her place.

Had you?

To tell me something.

I think she was
putting the bite on me.

You think?

She says
she's not a one-man woman.

Oh, poor old Dennis Buchanan.

Out with the lawyer
and in with a cop.

It takes two to tango.

Or three in her case.

I need you to take notes
on everything that was said.

Okay.

Can't wait.

There's something
she's not telling us.

Something to do with this.

She asked for it back.

Drop it.

- Where?
- Just drop it.

No.

Why are we doing this, again?

I found this in that book.

I closed it
before I noted the page.

This is quite a big book.

Mm.

Again.

- Morning.
- Hi, Mike.

Early start or late finish?

You casting aspersions
on my morality?

Never.
Just being neighborly.

Hey, uh, usual, thanks.

Coming up.

No, I just finished
tai chi class.

It's good
for the biorhythms.

Yeah, you should come along.

Ah, maybe when
I'm not so busy.

Yeah, right.

Any luck with the freaky hand?

Not yet.
About that --

The morning you found the hand,

did you see anyone else
at the beach?

Any vehicles
in the sand hills?

Nah.

But if you didn't want to
be seen, it'd be easy enough.

You said they were protective
of their pots, the Keelys.

Very protective, you said.

Yeah, like I said,
I crossed them once,

snorkeling for kina and paua.

This was years ago, when the old
man, Devil Des, was still alive.

Well, I come up
with a full kete

to find myself staring down
the shaft of a speargun.

Whoa!

Poaching our crays, eh?
You little bastard.

No, just paua.

You show me.

I never forget a face
or a name, Morehu.

I'll never forget the way
he was leaning on the stern

and pointing his finger.

It's freaky.

- Had you taken his crays?
- Nah.

But Keely holding the gun
and threatening to use it,

I believed him all right.

I could see it
in his mad, bad Keely eyes

that he'll pull the trigger.

Breen, someone here for you.

Mr. Alderston.

Ah.

Mr. Green.

I've remembered
the color of that car.

When I was walking MacMillan
on Saturday afternoon

down by the boat ramp,
I saw these two men arguing.

Saturday is
my roster day, Bryce.

I mean, how can I conduct my
duties without the proper craft?

- He called him Bryce?
- Yes, he did.

And what did Bryce say?

Well, I couldn't quite hear

because he was facing away
from me.

I think it was something
about it being personal.

Personal use?!

All the more reason why this is
completely unacceptable!

- Which car?
- What?

You're describing two cars.

Which one is the same as the one
that knocked you down?

Ah, well, now, the one that was
hooked up to the trailer

was very light, so it wasn't
that one, obviously.

- Obviously.
- Yeah, obviously.

Um, but there was another one
parked nearby

that was very similar.

And I'll tell you this --
Those two men were very angry.

And the car that ran me down
was driven in anger.

Oh!

And in your mind,
it was silver?

Oh, yes, yes.

Or metallic blue.
I often get those two confused.

But in this case
I am absolutely sure.

Of what?

That it was
one of those colors.

Edward Alderston recalls seeing
Noel Cleland and Bryce Fahey

in an argument at the boat ramp
Saturday afternoon.

What about?

His hearing-impaired
version of events

suggests Bryce's trip
was personal,

not fisheries related.

And that's about it.

Okay, interesting.

With that in mind...

The GPS data from Bryce's boat
is back,

with a digital track of Bryce's
boat's movements last weekend.

So Bryce's boat anchored here
on Saturday night,

stayed there all night.

Then just before dawn
on Sunday,

he received a call
on his VHF radio and moved here.

He stayed there for an hour

and then returned to
his original anchorage

for the rest of the day.

Then at 6:35 in the evening
on Sunday,

he started drifting
in this arc,

which basically corresponds
to wind and current,

where it was spotted
by a container ship on Thursday.

His radio was able to send
a ship-to-shore distress signal,

but it never did.

So it all happened underwater

and Bryce never made it
back on board his boat.

Bryce's boat was clean.

So whoever killed Bryce

took his body
back on board their craft

then moved the body
to Pullman's mussel farm,

then moved the cray pot with
the hand to Brokenwood Beach.

What the hell was Bryce doing
way out there?

Yeah, what was the attraction?

Who did he rendezvous with
on Sunday morning?

If it was personal,
Dennis and Jools were out there.

That's a long way to go
for a threesome.

What if he didn't know about
the arrangement?

Ah.

What's more personal than your
wife having a ménage à trois

that you don't know about?

And look at these distances.

What this digital track shows us
is that

whoever was involved
in Bryce Fahey's demise

had serious
oceangoing horsepower.

Which leaves two
with oceangoing craft

capable of traveling those
distances in that time frame.

Could Tommy Keely
have been out there?

What's the French word
for "foursome"?

I mean, is it worth talking
to Buchanan again?

We need leverage.

Jools?

Ditto.
We need something else.

Maybe the key is the boat.

Maybe -- Maybe the boats
can tell us something

that their owners can't.

I don't mind
rattling Tommy's cage again.

Provided I have
some backup muscles.

Huh.
Go for it.

Hmm.

That's more like it.

Oh!

Bugger.

Just don't give him any hint

that his sister's been talking
about their father's death.

You brought reinforcements.
Who's the pencil neck?

Detective Constable Breen.

This is Tommy Keely.

Takes two of you to tell me
who stole my cray pots?

Same bastard as knocked over
Bryce Fahey, right?

We need to know your movements
last Sunday, Tommy.

Why would I put a chopped hand
in my own cray pot?

Where were you?

Here.
Ma and Liza will back me up.

I'm sure they will,

but we'll need to download
the data from your GPS system

to confirm
where your vessel was.

So the word of my mother
and my sister isn't good enough?

Under the circumstances, no.

Under what circumstances?

Ma and Liza are family.
Of course they'll back you.

Because they're family?

I wouldn't jump to conclusions,
Detectives.

Isn't that what they say?

Why don't you ask me
who my enemies are,

who's pointing
the evil finger at me, eh?

Who is your enemy, Tommy?

You never told me your feelings
about Bryce Fahey.

Wouldn't waste feelings
on that loser,

especially now
that he's carked it.

I told you --
Pullman's pulling the strings.

He's got everyone
in his pocket.

Who's in his pocket, Tommy?

You know the story
of Cain and Abel?

Why don't you ask my brother
who speaks no evil

how he can live off quarter of
a share of our cray quota

and we can scarcely
make a living

off the other
three-quarters, eh?

So who's Cain and who's Abel?

Hmm.

Why don't you bugger off?

Arrest me
or get off my property.

That was enlightening.

Something happened there.

Oh, Christ.

Call for backup.

- Eh?
- Now.

Comms from BDC 2.

We need backup to the Keely
compound, Greenwood Road.

Who are you calling?

I hope I'm wrong.

Oh, you bloody fool!
Now you've set him off!

Get off!

You stupid bitch!

Liza.

He's got a knife.

Liza, where in the house
are you?

You've got to stop him!

You've got to,
or he'll kill her too!

When will you understand
who runs this family?!

What did you think
would happen, eh?!

You've really been
asking for this.

Haven't you, Sis.

Please stop.

You stupid bitch!

I wouldn't have picked you
for a bloody nark, Sis.

Don't hurt me.

Drop the knife!

How about you drop the gun?

- Jesus, Tommy!
- Shut up!

Drop the knife, Tommy.

Don't think I won't!

Tommy, you'll put
the knife down.

I don't think so, pencil neck.

I do!

Drop the knife, Tommy.

On the ground!

Hands behind your head!

I'm so sorry, Mrs. Keely.

You make sure my girl's okay.
You owe us that much.

Two sugars.

Tommy knew
from something you said

that Ma and me
had been talking to you.

Liza, I am sorry,

but I can guarantee Tommy
will be charged with assault

and won't get police bail.

You guys always get it wrong.

You could put him away
for a lot longer if you want to.

What do -- What do you mean?

What you said on the phone.

You've got to stop him!

You've got to,
or he'll kill her too!

Who did Tommy kill, Liza?

Hey, he will go away
for a long time.

And we will
make you and your mum safe.

Did Tommy kill Bryce Fahey?

No.

No, not him.

Liam told me that it was Tommy
who called your father

from the phone box
in the club car park.

Do you believe that too?

Hello.

Dad.

Dad, Tommy said he's got word at
the club there's poachers out.

Aaah!

It was Tommy.

I wanted to tell you.

For God's sake, shut up.

- Did you have a falling-out?
- Who?

You and Bryce.
Over the gold.

Don't be ridiculous.

Well, isn't that
what thieves do?

A falling-out of thieves?

It's not what you think.

So it wasn't that easy,
that grubby?

You didn't murder your husband

for his share of the gold
that he had recovered?

No!
We wouldn't do that!

Bryce had been looking
for that ship for a long time.

Jools!
Jools, just...

"On the 23rd of December 1940,
a German raider, the Orion,

sank the 13,000-ton freighter
the Doncaster Star

somewhere off the northeastern
coast of New Zealand.

The ship took down with her
the crew, the ship's cat,

and 590 gold bars,"

including

this.

On Sunday morning,
you radioed your location here.

Bryce left the site
of the wreck

and brought this to you,
right?

He didn't want it
on the fisheries boat.

There's all sorts coming and
going down at that boat ramp.

We were about to
alert the police

that we'd found the wreck,
so consider yourself notified.

You had every opportunity
to report the wreck and didn't.

Salvage law in this country

is a vague
and uncertain mess these days.

I don't care about
the Doncaster Star.

I want to know why you went to
the site of the wreck

and murdered Bryce Fahey.

Oh, my God!
No, we didn't. Dennis!

We couldn't do that
even if we'd wanted to.

Really?

Bryce wouldn't tell us
the coordinates!

We still don't know
where the wreck is!

Yeah,
he was paranoid about it.

He said someone else knew about
it, that we had to be careful.

Did he say who it was?

No.

How worried?

Afraid of.

I suggest, you find that man,
you've found your murderer.

Why didn't you report or notice
Bryce's absence?

Look, the arrangement was that
we were to stay where we were,

and Bryce would ferry the gold
to us each day.

You were expecting him Monday?

He didn't show.
He didn't answer his VHF.

And you thought what?

Silly Bryce had been having
some jealousy issues, actually.

Right.

We thought
he'd gone home in a huff,

so we came in
on the Wednesday.

Come this way, Liza.

Is that you, Sis?

Eh?

Hey, it's okay.

Liza?

Constable, can you
show these two out?

Mike, Liza Keely
is making a full statement

regarding her father's murder.

And Tommy Keely
is in the cells.

Could you grab the maritime
chart out of Room 2?

Sure.

And Sims?

Good work.

So we've reopened and closed
the Keely case,

but we're still no closer
to finding Bryce's murderer.

Dennis Buchanan and Jools Fahey

say that someone else knew about
the site of the wreck,

someone who Bryce was afraid of.

Well, it can't have been Tommy,
as evil as he is --

He was with Liza that Sunday.

Unless she's lying, but why?

If we add degrees and minutes
to these numbers,

they turn out to be coordinates.

They're all eliminated, crossed
out, except the last one...

...which marks the position of
the wreck of the Doncaster Star.

It's also exactly where Bryce
was anchored on Sunday night

when he was murdered.

By someone that knew
the position of the wreck

and wanted the bullion
for themselves.

Someone who would have been...

...very protective
of their patch.

Ma Keely?

No?

Mike.

When Des busted you
for poaching...

It was only pauas and mussels,
Mike.

God's honor.

You said he was leaning on
the stern and pointing at you.

Yeah, I told you --
the finger of death.

So he wasn't holding
the speargun?

- Nah.
- Who was holding it?

I told you,
I looked in his eyes,

and I knew he could use it.

- Tommy?
- Nah.

- What?
- Come on.

- How can you not love this?
- No cassette player.

Ugh!

And the shockies are stuffed.

So Bryce Fahey was murdered
because he discovered the wreck

and was taking the gold.

No! No!

Liam Keely killed Bryce,

then tried to cover his tracks
with a plan to implicate

the biggest maritime businesses
in town,

both of whom he knew
were pissed off at Bryce.

By planting the body
at the mussel farm

and the severed hand
in the cray pot,

he pointed the finger,
so to speak,

at both Wes Pullman
and Tommy Keely.

- His own brother.
- Yeah.

Nice day for it.

What do you want?

Bit of a chat.

About Bryce Fahey.

Yeah?

You can bugger off.

Now, now.

Back off!

Put your hands
above your heads.

You've only got
one shot with that thing.

I'll take
whoever moves first.

Come on.
Who fancies your chances?

Not me.

- You?
- Nope.

Nah.

No heroes here, Liam.

- You going somewhere?
- What do you think?

Forget something else?

Bastards!

Now, I hate boats, I really do,

but I've heard about
the fellowship of the high seas.

You bastard.

I'd just as soon
bugger off back to dry land

and leave you stuck out here
in the sea lane

with no propulsion
and a storm brewing overnight.

But these old sea dogs
say that's not kosher.

So can we help you
with anything?

A lift home?
A tow?

A warm cuppa?

Have a chat about things.
Murder.

That sort of thing.

That's the ticket, Liam.

Now raise your hands
above your head.

Good man.

You can drop them.

Just checking to see
you've still got both of them.