All language subtitles for The Brokenwood Mysteries S04E04 E

Get that out of here.

Come on.
Come here.

Show your bloody face.

Stay away from me.

You hear me?.

Stay away.

Mr. Waterson?

Mr. Waterson?

Hello?

Holy...

Who the hell are you?

Oh, my God.

Somebody's doing well
for themselves.

Wealth... It's overrated.

Remember, money
can't buy you happiness.

- Wait here.
- Why do I have to stay?

You were first on the scene,
Frodo. You called it in.

What else was I supposed to do?.

You did the right thing.
You need to stick around.

Firstly, there's this.

According to the deceased's
wife, it doesn't belong to them.

- Where is the victim?
- Around the back.

Mitch Waterson.

The name rings a bell.

Money guy.

- Finance company collapsed?
- Yeah.

Blue Monarch Investments.

Left a lot of people
out of pocket.

Has somebody moved the body?

According to Frodo, his
wife did, trying to save him.

Why is it
that wherever there is trouble

Frankie Oades
finds himself close to it?

He's like a bad-luck charm.

Remind me
never to work with him.

- Asian?
- Maybe.

Is it a Japanese suicide dagger?

It's too small to be a samurai.

Well, Mitch, if you were
trying to commit hari-kari,

you had an unusual style.

Given his reputation,
perhaps he fell on his sword.

Backwards?

Is Gina on her way?

- The deceased's wife?
- With Constable Richards.

His wife is Jools Fahey,
by the way.

From the missing hand case?

I thought she was
with Dennis Buchanan.

Guess she's moved on.

Jools, hello.

Mike Shepherd.
Detective Sims.

Richards, could you get
Mrs. Fahey another cup of tea?

Jools, we are so sorry
for your loss.

Usually when I'd arrive home,

Mitch would be waiting
by the door.

He'd give me the biggest hug.

He'd miss me if I go away...

but he wasn't there.

I came in, looking for him.
Stepped outside.

Who the hell are you?

Oh, my God.
Get away from him.

Get away.

Mitch.
Mitch.

Mitch.

My poor Mitch.

I didn't know what to do.

But, of course,
he was utterly lifeless.

Yeah, I need ambulance, police,

everybody, man.

You'd just arrived home from?

Hamilton.

Visiting my mother.

Jools, is there anybody
that you can stay with

while we do
a full scene examination?

- Or we can arrange a motel.
- Don't you have the guy?

That strange man by the pool.

Frankie Oades?

He was mowing your lawns,
I believe.

First I've heard of it.
Mitch mowed the lawns himself.

Trying to save money.

We'll follow that up.

The gym bag by the doorstep...

Not ours.

There was a note inside.

- Not surprising.
- It's happened before?

Oh.

Sometimes they're left
with a plastic bag.

One time, a cake tin.

Even a wheelbarrow once.

Any idea who wrote these?

There were hundreds who held
that attitude towards Mitch.

Through
the Blue Monarch collapse?

Before my time.
Oh.

- Thank you.
- Richards here will take care

of your living arrangements.

We'll talk again soon.

I'm so pleased that you're
in charge, Mr. Shepherd.

I know you will do
an excellent job.

It's a team effort.

But a team is only
as good as its captain.

You'll bring someone to account.
I know it.

We'll be in touch.

First Bryce, now Mitch.

What's the universe
trying to tell me?

Gina.

Death occurred
less than 12 hours ago.

No sign of bloating.

The body has not yet
been waterlogged.

Unless he was dead
before he went in.

That remains to be seen.

In the meantime,
this is very concerning.

I think it could be a khanjali.

A khanjali being?

A Russian dagger.

Smaller than a shashka.

They have been used in the past
by the KGB for assassinations.

Although the markings
look Asian.

Have you never been to Mongolia?

- Uh, no.
- I have.

It is
where the East meets Russia.

Thanks.
We'll look into it.

If not a khanjali,
perhaps a clytch or a shamshir.

If so, sinister forces
are at play.

He could be a Russian spy.

Living in Brokenwood?

He's no longer living.

That's what happens to spies.

Thanks, Gina.

Keep up the good work.

How long have you been mowing
Mitch Waterson's lawns?

Okay.
This was my first time.

Did you see Mr. Waterson
before you started?

Didn't see him.
I never met him.

Until the pool.

You'd never met him,
yet you were mowing his lawns?

It was a freebie.

I sent out a new business offer.

"Let me mow your lawn.
You'll see how amazing I am

and want to sign up
as a regular."

See?

I put these
in people's mailboxes.

Did an e-mail thing.

- And Mr. Waterson replied?
- Of course.

I wouldn't mow his lawn
for free, otherwise.

That's no way to run a business.

What happened to your eye?

What?
Nothing.

Frodo.
You have a black eye.

Eh? Oh.

Must've hit a branch
when I was mowing.

We're on.

Scent, scent, scent.

Good boy.
Seek.

Good boy.

Seek. Seek.

Over.

Back over again.

- Thanks, Sandra.
- Seek, seek.

Now raise those arms up.

Looks like we have
a mass surrender.

- Thanks again.
- No problem.

This was found en route.

All roads lead to Sunset Manor.

Yeah, so it would seem.

- You have a bag?
- Yeah.

Lydia Lee.

General Manager of Sunset Manor.

- D.S.S. Mike Shepherd.
- Detective Kristin Sims.

It's quite a commotion
you've caused.

Our police dog tracked a scent
here from Bandon Drive,

the scene
of an unexplained death.

We need to know
whether any of that group

have been out walking.

You think one of my residents
might be tied to a crime?

Not necessarily.

There's probably
a simple explanation

as to why the dog
indicated on this place.

And the sooner
we can discount it,

the sooner we can carry on
with other lines of inquiry.

All right.
But I think you might be...

excuse the pun...
barking up the wrong tree.

All my residents
are in full-time care.

They can only leave the premises

if escorted by family,
friends, or staff.

Of course.
But we need to follow process.

Well, we could start
by getting them warm.

- Amber.
- Yes?

Can you please take the
residents to lounge room one?

- Yep.
- Thanks.

Good luck.

Several have
varying levels of dementia.

I'll need to alert
their powers of attorney

and supervise any questioning
until they arrive.

Okay.

All right.
Listen, everyone.

These two people are detectives.

- Ooh.
- Ooh.

Good afternoon, everyone.

They want to ask several of you
some questions.

If you feel at all confused,
I'll be here to help.

Is that understood?

- Yes, Margaret?
- Yes.

- You're confused?
- No.

All right.
Well, that's good, then.

- Yes.
- Yes.

- I love dogs.
- I know.

Wasn't that
a lovely dog outside?

Yes.

Margaret is an avid walker.

You might be best
to catch her on her rounds.

- I see.
- I've had enough of this.

Yes, George.

I think
you're doing an amazing job.

Thank you, George.
You're always so positive.

Hello.

Ooh, he's lovely.

Lovely hair.

According to Jools Fahey,
Mitch Waterson's father, Kenny,

is one of the residents here.

Lydia.
Which one is Kenny Waterson?

You mean Pummel?

He's just left.

I am not saying anything
until Trudy gets here.

Desiree is waiting
for Trudy Neilson to arrive.

She used to always
play poker with her.

Very generous with her time.

Breen, why don't
you give Desiree a game?

See what you can gather.

Sure.

You're not Trudy.

No. I'm Sam.
Fancy a game?

Fancy getting your butt whipped?

Show me your money.

I'll take you to Pummel's room.

Excuse me.

Oh, it's Edward, isn't it?

Yes.
I believe so.

Do I know you?

Yes, we've met before.
Through Mrs. Marlowe.

Oh, Mrs. Marlowe.

- Who?
- Your friend, Jean Marlowe.

Oh, yes. Jean.
Yes, marvelous woman.

Edward, these are detectives...
Shepherd and Sims.

Yes. Well, look,
I think you should take me in.

Why is that?

Well, there's been a crime.

I want to admit to it
and get it over with.

Now, Edward.

You're not using this
as an excuse to leave us.

You've only just joined.

Yes. Even so.
I think...

I'm sure we've met before.

Would you like to go
back to your room?

- No.
- Ms. Lee?

Excuse me a moment.

Oh, there you are.

Mrs. Marlowe.

Oh, nice surprise
to find you here.

I brought you your favorite.

Anzac biscuits.

Do you know Jean?

Yes, we've met.

We met in the war.

No, we didn't.

- Gallipoli?
- No, no.

- It was at the bowling club.
- Oh.

Is everything all right?

Some routine inquiries into
a nearby unexplained death.

Oh. Homicide?

It's early days.

Oh.
Edward's only recently moved in.

He was reluctant, but with
the scourge of Alzheimer's,

it was time.

And he's settling in
very nicely.

I can't stand the place.

But don't worry.
I make a run for it every night.

- They can't keep me here.
- Now, now, Edward.

I think we're making up stories.

Would someone mind explaining
what the hell is going on?

We got here
as quickly as we could.

Wes and Catherine,
these are the detectives.

What's this about our brother
being questioned?

- Routine inquiries.
- Routine?

I had to drop everything.
Wet canvas. Ruined.

And they're not cheap.

Uh, what are you doing here?

Shoo, shoo, shoo, shoo, shoo.
Off you go.

Oh, come on, now, Catherine.

No.
Your intentions are transparent.

Can't you understand
the well is dry?

I thought
we'd made it clear about her.

Mrs. Marlowe plays piano
for all the residents.

- This time every week.
- And that's all.

Well, I hope so.

My brother is
at a very vulnerable stage.

Which is
why he should only be spoken to

through us or his lawyer.

Come on, Eddie.

Let's go
and get a nice cup of tea.

- Huh?
- Mm.

If we split up,
we'll get through this quicker.

- Hello.
- Yes.

- What?
- Kenny?

- Pummel.
- Pummel.

We met before in the lounge.

Did we?

My name is Mike Shepherd.

I'm from Brokenwood CIB.

Oh.

You were a boxer.

Middleweight.

Detective.

Mr. Alderston.

How are we going, champ?

- Who's this bloke?
- He's a detective.

What does he want?

I need to talk to Mr. Waterson
about a couple of things.

Talk to Wes.

It's probably for the best.

I'm sorry.
Are you his brother, as well?

Coach.
And old friend.

They're investigating
an incident near here

and checking on everybody's
whereabouts last night.

What?

They want to know
where you were last night.

I don't know.

You weren't out clubbing again,
were you?

Clubbing?

Disco dancing.

Don't think so.
Was I?

I think you can safely assume
he was here, Mr. Shepherd.

The incident involves
the death of Kenny's son...

Mitch Waterson.

Oh.

An accident?
Or what?

Something more.
We're working through things.

Obviously,
Kenny needs to be informed.

Yeah, of course.

Uh... champ.

You need to listen carefully
to what Mr. Shepherd has to say.

Mr. Waterson.

Your son Mitch.

Cassius?

- Mitch Cassius Waterson, yes.
- Yes.

I'm sorry to tell you this,
but, unfortunately,

he has been found dead.

No.

Cassius?

Gone?

How?

Well, that's what the
detective's trying to find out.

- Again, Pummel, I'm very sorry.
- Cassius.

My little Cassius?

I think we should go
somewhere more private.

Don't you want to stay with him?

I don't think
you quite understand.

Pummel?

How's your son?

Cassius?

He's no son of mine.

You bring him in here.
I'll soon show him who's boss.

Does that allay your fears?

Back soon, champ.

Jean.
Are you okay?

Oh, yes.
I just forgot my sheet music.

I have to say,
it seemed rather rude.

Oh. Edward's brother and sister
are very protective.

They think my intentions
aren't legitimate.

- In what way?
- That I'm a gold digger.

That I'm after his money.

- Oh, I see.
- But I'm not, of course.

I'm just a friend
and a neighbor.

I didn't realize
that Edward was wealthy.

Oh, he's not.
He's as poor as a church mouse.

It all disappeared when that
investment company collapsed.

- Blue Monarch?
- Mm.

Run by that devil of a man
Mitch Waterson.

Legitimized theft
is what I call it.

As you can see, Pummel
has fairly advanced dementia.

Has he started wandering?

Not that I'm aware of.

When he does, they'll put him
in the secure unit.

Truth is, it's probably time,

but they got a waiting list,
you see.

Does it affect
his short-term memory?

Oh, completely.

His long-term comes and goes.

When you said coach,
you meant boxing coach?

Yeah.

We were quite a team.

Held the world middleweight
titles from 1969 to '73.

Undisputed.

What he lacked in stature,
he made up for in fury.

Hard to imagine now,

but he had
an unrelenting ability

to pound his opponent
into submission.

Hence the name... Pummel.

Ah.

Cassius, as in Cassius Clay.

He named his son
after a certain famous boxer.

Well, he was
hardly likely to name him

after a famous florist, was he?

You're doing an amazing job.

Thanks.

- George, isn't it?
- Mm.

What's the name of the dog?

- The dog?
- The one that was out there.

You know?
Woof, woof.

Uh, Nikau, I believe.

Oh.

Who's Nikau?

The dog is called Nikau.

What dog?

You're doing an amazing job.

So, any comings and goings with
a resident is recorded here?

Yes.

And can they leave at night?

No. The doors
are locked at 7:30 p.m.

They'd need to be let out
by a night staffer,

and only then if accompanied
by a family member.

And what about CCTV cameras?

We don't have them.

Please understand, Detective,
this is a home, not a prison.

Our residents' privacy
is respected.

Excuse me, Lydia.

I've settled Edward,
but he was very agitated.

Well, there's been some
unusual excitement this morning.

He talks about
leaving the premises.

You need better security.

What Edward says
and actually does

are not necessarily
the same thing.

What about the secure unit?

The time for that
will be decided

by the clinical professionals.

You mean it's full.

Spaces become
available regularly.

It's full, and you can't
meet my brother's needs.

Edward is safe.

Please accept that.

Detective.

- Detective Sims.
- Kahu.

Considering an early retirement?

Food's not bad, I hear.

Not quite.
What about you?

Here to take my koro
for an outing.

Down to the river
to feed the ducks

and a cup of tea at the kiosk.

- Why are you here?
- Uh, work.

Serious?

- Mm...
- Kahu.

Koro.

Koro, have you met
Detective Sims?

Hi.

You're doing an amazing job.

Oh, it's early days yet.

She's a dance instructor.

Okay. Let's get you
out of this place.

Dance instructor?

Hidden talents.

- Hello.
- Yes.

She has a disconcerting knack
for getting around.

I feel like I know less
than I did when I got here.

Desiree Smeltz has no idea
where she was last night,

but she sure knows
how to play poker.

Oh, did you get fleeced?

10 bucks in the line of duty.

Beaten by someone with dementia.
How does that work?

Mitch Cassius Waterson's
investment company,

Blue Monarch Investments,
collapsed after the GFC,

owing millions
to mum-and-dad investors.

There were clearly
a lot of irregularities,

but the Serious Fraud Office
couldn't get anything to stick.

Waterson walked away
from it all,

and there was deep resentment

that he was never charged
with anything.

Hence, there was a recent outcry

when he acquired a new
$1 million home on Bandon Drive

despite the fact
that he is supposedly bankrupt.

His creditors' list
is extensive,

but notable names
include Edward Alderston,

his brother and sister,
Wesley and Catherine,

Kenny Waterson...

- His own father?
- Yeah.

Margaret Dwyer, Desiree Smeltz.

But not George Morehu?

He's not on the list.

According to the dog handler,
the scent trail

led from the gym bag, exhibit A,

at the front door of Waterson's

to Sunset Manor
via Princes Park,

where they located a copy of
the rest home activities sheet,

exhibit B, presumably dropped
from the pocket of the offender.

And the dog indicated clearly
on Pummel,

Edward, Margaret,
Desiree, and George.

So one of those five...

or all five...
went to the Waterson house.

On foot?
Unlikely.

Maybe it was
your friend Margaret.

She's a mover.

But the scent is our main lead.

It's a strong lead.

A dog lead, even.

Sorry.

The good news is,
you were right...

The dagger is not Russian.

A tanto sword.

Double-edged like the khanjali.

But "worn by the samurai class
of feudal Japan."

Most likely a replica
of the Shinto

from around the 16th century.

- Mm. So not the KGB, then.
- You never know.

Using foreign weapons could be
a ploy to cover their tracks.

I have deleted
my Facebook account

and told my mother
not to call me.

Just in case.

Gina, whoever killed
Mitch Waterson

is unlikely to have been
a Russian operative.

There were plenty of people
unhappy with him

for reasons
a lot simpler than espionage.

Is that a banknote?

$10, to be more precise.

It can mean only one thing...

A collector came
and took his pound of flesh.

He certainly owed a lot
of people a lot of money.

So it is a message.

Blood money.

Mind if I join you?

Glad of the company.

George is off
in his own little world.

How long has he been
at Sunset Manor?

Few months.

Reckon he's gone downhill fast.

Is it the best place for him?

I wanted him to come and stay
with us after Kui died.

He said he didn't
want to be a burden.

Checked himself
into Sunset Manor.

No sooner was he there,
it was like he let go.

Can't remember a thing.

The ducks
are doing an amazing job.

Dementia?

Just a flash word
for getting old, isn't it?

The reason
that we were at Sunset Manor

is that a dog
picked up a clear scent

from an incident
on Bandon Drive.

Do you know if George
has any association

with Mitch Cassius Waterson?

Pummel Waterson's son?

You know him?

Only what you hear in the news.

I also train
at Pummel's old gym.

- Boxing?
- Yeah.

I love it.
It's great for fitness.

The ultimate cardio workout
while playing a game of chess.

Never thought
about it like that.

I love chess.

I don't get to play much
these days.

Well, if you want a game
sometime, you've got my number.

Better go follow the leader.

Catch ya.

You have a great eye.

Oh, thank you.

I hope all the excitement wasn't
too much for Mr. Alderston.

My brother has dementia.

Excitement and confusion
are often the same thing.

Catherine, I understand
you suffered financial loss

with Blue Monarch Investments.

Along with many others.

Mitch Waterson has been
found dead at his home.

Oh. I see.

- I presume it wasn't accidental.
- No.

And it can't have been
a heart attack.

- Because?
- He didn't have a heart.

We followed a lead
to Sunset Manor.

It seems that many victims
of his victims are there.

They're everywhere.

We were fools,
and we were fooled.

Did you ever
meet him personally?

My brother Wes knew him
through his father, Kenny.

- Pummel?
- Mm.

Wes and Pummel owned a gym.

About nine years ago,

Mitch got his father
to gather his friends

and acquaintances together.

That's how the seduction began.

Don't rely
on the government to give you

the retirement you deserve.

Rely on Blue Monarch.

Take what you have...

grow it with us.

He took our modest savings
with promises of great returns.

Of course, they never came,
and nothing at all was returned.

So now I live in a two-bedroom
rented unit with Wes,

and we struggle
to make ends meet,

but... we make do.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Yes.

Wes snores terribly.

But at least we have our health.

And your painting.

It reminds me that there is
still beauty in this world.

I'll leave you to it.

Detective, I don't mean
to sound bitter.

I was.
But I'm not now.

Life is too short
to carry bitterness.

- I understand.
- And can I be honest with you?

Yes.

When you told me Mitch Waterson
was dead, inside, I...

...smiled.

That's unkind, I know.

But I did.

Just being honest.

Unlike Mitch Waterson.

Lydia, is there any record
of when Pummel Waterson

last visited his son
or his son visited him?

Mitch Waterson?

It was in the Courier
this morning.

It's terrible.
Pummel's been very agitated.

Every time his son's death
is mentioned,

it's like he's learning it
for the first time.

I informed him yesterday.

Yesterday never
happened for Pummel.

Likewise,
today will be forgotten.

Did his son visit often?

Pummel's been with us
for six years.

Mitch never came once.

Given his history,
he's hardly welcome here.

His new wife did, though.

She made quite an effort.

Hello, Pummel.

Who are you?

Detective Mike Shepherd.

Detective Kristin Sims.

Oh, yeah?

We're just admiring all
your success on the wall here.

Oh, yeah, that's me.
Yeah, yeah.

Different times.

That looks like it once held
a sword of some sort.

Oh, yeah. Yeah, that was a gift.
From him.

Hashimoto Jones.

Oh, yeah.

I took him out in the 9th.

A good old... old-fashioned
double left jab and uppercut.

Ah, beautiful.

- Beautiful.
- 1971.

1971.

And you got the world title.

Yeah, yeah.
Third year in a row.

You know Hashimoto presented me

with a ceremonial sword
in honor of his own defeat.

Very honorable, you see,
these Japs, eh?

Good bloke, though.
Good bloke.

Fair fighter.

Not like some.

Such as?

What?

Some aren't honorable?

What?

I don't understand.
Who's she talking about?

Pummel, the scabbard is empty.

Do you know
where the sword might be now?

No, no idea.

Oh, this place is
full of bloody thieves.

Klisnik.
Yeah.

Bloody Klisnik.

As a matter of interest,
do you have a resident here

by the name of Klisnik?

No.
No one by that name.

Right. With the residents' rooms
being on the small side,

some valuables
are left in storage.

Anyway, Mr. Waterson's
sword's here somewhere.

Ah, here it is.

Do other residents
have access to this room?

No.

This is private property
and respected as such.

And if, say, Mr. Waterson
wanted to access his sword?

Then a staff member would enter
to retrieve what they need.

We wouldn't encourage it,
though.

Dementia patients
running around with swords.

It's not a good look
with Health and Safety.

It looks
exactly the same as the one

- found in Mitch Waterson.
- Yeah.

- Excuse me.
- Oh, Mr. Alderston.

Yes.

I think you should take me
down to the station.

Because?

I'm sure that I killed
someone last night.

Instead of the station,
why don't we find a seat

- and have a cup of tea?
- No one will be going anywhere

without a lawyer present.

- You okay?
- Yes.

I thought I made it clear

that my brother
was not to be harassed.

Edward approached us.

What?
What's that?

Did you approach the detectives?

Oh, you're detectives?

Yes, Edward.

Oh. Well, then I'm... I'm not
sure I should say anything.

Can't you see the distress
you're causing him?

Come on, Eddie.
Come on.

Let's get you settled.

My sister's very protective.

She's worried you're
putting pressure on Edward.

You have to understand,
he's likely to say

some very silly things.

- Who is it?
- D.C. Breen.

Brokenwood CIB.

Inquiring about an incident
near here the night before last.

- So, now you want to know.
- Sorry?

Do you have I.D.?

- Hi. D.C. Breen.
- Christopher Kramer.

Now I want to know what?

About unusual activity around
the area the night before last.

Yes.

Well, you've come
to the right place.

So, what can you tell me?

- You better come inside.
- Sure.

I'll just have
to scan you first.

Scan me for what?

Is this going to take
much longer?

Shh.

Just as I thought.

Negative energy.

Okay, step through, please.

Aah.

It's ozone.
It's quite safe.

It'll recalibrate
any indifferences.

Right, what can you tell me?

- Nothing.
- After all this? Nothing?

But I can show you.

Come into my office.

What exactly is
your line of work?

I discover and collate
the Unseen Truth.

- Is that a magazine?
- No.

No, it is what it is.
It's the Unseen Truth.

What we don't see
that we know to be true.

Five elderly residents
give a strong indication

to a police dog.

One uses a Zimmer frame.

The chances of Margaret

walking from Marrowbone Street
to Bandon Drive are...

Unlikely.

The weapon used
in Waterson's murder

is identical
to one his father owns.

But his is under lock and key.

Edward Alderston's
lawyer is here.

- Are you expecting someone?
- No.

I'm acting on instructions
from my clients.

Catherine and Wesley Alderston.

How did you become involved
with their brother?

I filed a class action
against Mitch Cassius Waterson,

suing for negligence, causing
the collapse of his company.

Now, that man clearly preyed
on the desperate and doolally,

but with
their retirement savings,

they were sitting ducks.

He used
his father's introduction

to gain their trust.

He unzipped his pockets
and just let the money pour in.

The banks are offering,
what, 5%?

With Blue Monarch, we don't get
out of bed for less than 12%.

Was it a Ponzi scheme?

More a sophisticated
form of deception.

In the end, the Serious Fraud
Office couldn't nail him, so...

I vowed to take him to task
and get some justice.

The case is strong.

The law is on our side,

so all in favor
of suing the bastard?

- Aye.
- Yes.

Fighting talk.
I love it.

And a handsome fee for you,
I presume.

Pro bono, Detective.

These victims have already
had enough taken away.

I saw it as a way
of giving back.

2, 4, 6, 8.

Waterson's a reprobate.

2, 4, 6, 8.
Waterson's a reprobate.

What's this place?

- This is your son's house.
- Who's that bloke, then?

That's Mitch.
Your son.

- Cassius?
- Yeah.

Waterson's a reprobate.

- Oh.
- Make no mistake.

Mitch Cassius Waterson
stole from the poor

to make himself rich.

Like an inverse Robin Hood.

"Perverse" would probably be
a better word.

So, you got their money back?

Unfortunately, no.
No.

About a month ago,
I had to break the news.

And we know he has your money.

But it is salted away in trusts.

Sadly, I've exhausted
all legal channels.

Both civil and criminal.

Sorry, folks.
It's over.

When you described the protest
outside Mitch's house...

Edward, Pummel, George,
Margaret, and Desiree

- were all there.
- Mm.

Plus, a number of others.

That puts five of the five
at the crime scene.

So, Waterson's money isn't gone?

No, it exists.

It just can't be reached.

Does his death change anything?

As to whether we ever see
that money again depends on

who the main beneficiaries
of his trusts are.

Let me save you some time,
Detective.

The main beneficiary
is his new wife.

- Jools Fahey?
- Yes.

So, why don't you look
into the affairs of that witch

instead of harassing
the aged and the ailing?

We'll let you know if we need
to talk to Edward again.

Actually, I represent all
of your "persons of interest,"

so I suspect we'll be seeing
quite a lot of each other.

We're still to get formal
statements from the residents.

Perhaps you could help?

Yeah, as you wish.

Well, I sense
a field trip coming on.

These people love an outing.

Last I remember, you and
Jools Fahey were an item.

Mm. Well, while I was
busy slaving away,

trying to take
Mitch Waterson down,

she was busy falling
in love with him.

That all ended
very acrimoniously.

And she broke your heart?

I wouldn't go that far.

But what I do know now

is, I wouldn't trust her
as far as I could throw her.

Hey, we have yet to verify
Jools' alibi, right?

The wife as beneficiary,
you mean?

Well, she has the most to gain.

There's a lot of money
somewhere.

And Dennis Buchanan
doesn't trust her.

See if she's ready
for the follow-up.

Okay. I really need you
to bear with me.

What have you got?

I've just returned
from Planet Wiggy.

And I mean that
almost literally.

A Christopher Kramer
lives at Number 0 Bandon Drive.

It's up the hill
from Waterson's.

Number 0?

It represents a tear
in the fabric of the universe.

Right.

Christopher Kramer
witnessed an alien spaceship

- land on Mitch Waterson's house.
- Oh.

Prior to that, he saw
Batman passing his house.

And apparently
it's not the first time.

He's been spotting him for
a couple of weeks walking past.

At the same Bat-time,
same Bat-channel?

It's safe to let this one slide,
I think, Breen.

I know, I know.
I was thinking that, too,

until he showed me photos.

- Is that...
- Uh-huh.

It's a gym bag.

Who is this Christopher Kramer?

A self-taught cosmologist.

He believes
in the "Unseen Truth."

Is this legit?

I think so.

Bring him in.

I'll try.

When I met Mitch,
I thought he had nothing.

Nothing but an amazing spirit.

I fell in love with the man,
not the myth.

And you must understand
that's all it was... a myth.

These people accepted there
was risk for higher return.

It failed.
Their money was lost.

That's the world of finance.

This happened
before you got together?

Yes.

Not all the money
has gone, though.

What do you mean?

I understand there were trusts
he set up to shelter his assets.

- Who told you that?
- Dennis Buchanan.

Dennis.

He's hardly objective.

But is it true?

It's complicated.

You said the harassment
had happened before.

The gym bag, cake tin,

wheelbarrow,
someone leaving notes.

Why didn't
Mitch come to the police?

Too proud.

He thought he could
handle it himself.

With a softball bat?

He was very stressed.

He called me that night.

They're at it again.

I can't call the cops.
There's no point.

I'll call you later.

When was this?

11:00?

10:47. There.

We talked.

He said he'd call back.

Never did.

Who do you think
might've done it?

Don't know.

There are so many angry people
out there.

I understand you visit
Mitch's father regularly.

Pummel?

Yes.
I felt sorry for him.

His and Mitch's relationship
was nonexistent

since the collapse
of the company.

Mitch was too embarrassed
to face his father?

Something like that.

So, I pop in weekly,
see how he's doing.

Not that I always feel welcome.

All right, I'm off now, Kenny.

I'm off to visit
my mum in Hamilton.

I hate Hamilton.

I'll see you next week,
as usual.

You really have
no place here, Ms. Fahey.

I don't think that's up to you.

Living well, are we?

High on the hog.

Dining out
on other people's money?

Sorry.

It's hard living as a pariah.

But love makes one
do crazy things.

Such as?

Sticking it out
through thick and thin.

But if you can't have
the back of the one you love,

well... what is there?

You said you were in Hamilton
when Mitch called you.

Yes.

You must've left very early
to make it back by 10:30.

I cut my trip short.

After Mitch's call,
I was worried.

With good reason,
as it turned out.

Could I have the phone number

and address of where
you stayed in Hamilton?

- Why?
- To verify your visit.

A formality.

Do you seriously think
that I'm capable

of stabbing my husband
in the back?

Can I answer that?

Uh, yes.

Really, Dennis?
You need to get over it.

Oh, my pride
may have been wounded,

but my heart has mended.

- What about you?
- What about me?

Are you over it?
Hmm?

You sleeping well?

Living off the ill-gotten gains
of others' misfortune?

See what I have to put up with?

As requested,
and they're all very excited

about giving you their full
and frank cooperation.

Come on.

Margaret, thanks for coming in.

- You're feeling well?
- Yes.

Tell me, do you remember where
you were the night before last?

Yes.

And where might that have been?

I was there.

- At Sunset Manor?
- Yes.

And can you remember
if you left the home at all?

- Yes.
- You did?

No.

You didn't leave?

No.

But I remember.

Oh, I did it.

Edward.

Let the detective actually
ask you a question first, okay?

You did what?

Killed the chap.

Who exactly?

- Him.
- Mitch Waterson?

You don't have to answer that.

No, no.
That... That was him.

He deserved
everything he had coming.

So, I'll go peacefully.

Can you remember
how you killed him?

Well, I shot him.
With a revolver.

Fancy a game of cards?

Sorry.
I'm working.

- I've got 10 bucks.
- Sorry.

On the night before last,
did you leave Sunset Manor?

Yes.

Yes, you did or you...

Yes, I love dogs.

Then I wrestled him
to the ground, and I hit him.

- With?
- Why, with a candlestick.

Pummel, can you remember

the last time
you saw your son Mitch?

Cassius?

No, he's no son of mine.

I was at Sunset Manor.

All night?

My client was
hardly out roller-skating.

I've had enough of this.

That's right.

I coshed him
with a piece of lead piping.

You're doing an amazing job.

I was a big fan of Strip Jack
Naked when I was younger.

- Sit down, Kenny.
- Boris.

- Sit down. You're making a fuss.
- Boris.

You're doing an amazing job.

No, I strangled him...

with a piece of...

- Rope?
- That's it.

Yes.
The rope.

All the weapons
in a game of Cluedo.

Except the dagger.

Well, that was fun.

I'm glad you were entertained.

Ah, well, sometimes you've got
to accept the obvious, hmm?

And what,
in your wisdom, would that be?

Most of them can barely
cut their corned beef,

let alone stab
a fighting fit man in his 50s.

Cheerio, Detective.

Edward, his brother and sister,

Pummel, Desiree, and Margaret

all lost money
to Blue Monarch Investments.

Having exhausted all legal
avenues, every one of them

had a very strong motive
to want to kill him.

But none of them
are strong enough to do it.

Mitch could swat them away
like flies.

Let alone make their way
from Sunset Manor

to the Waterson house.

Where the hell is Breen?

Mike.
Hello, Kristin.

Gina, hi.

I have been working the angles.

- On?
- The trajectory

of the tanto sword
into the victim.

Please.

The angle of the entry
is through the trapezius,

under the clavicle,
and down into the heart.

So, with Mitch Waterson
being about 6',

you're saying the offender
had to be tall?

No.
All I'm saying is,

the thrust
was clearly downward and strong.

Perhaps ceremonial.

Because if the victim
was kneeling,

it could have been done
by a dwarf.

- Ceremonially?
- Maybe.

That's a good idea.
Thanks, Gina.

I will keep thinking for you.

Good night, Mike.

Kristin.

I have Christopher Kramer
in the car.

That took a while.

Don't get me started.
Okay?

The guy is incredibly paranoid

about being identified
by the Unseen Truth.

- Yes?
- Christopher, it's D.C. Breen.

Hello, D.C. Breen.

I need you to come down
to the station with me.

- It won't take long.
- Look, I won't be laughed at.

Nobody's gonna laugh at you.

Mmm.

I've got some yummy
Thai beef salad here.

You want some?

I'm vegetarian.

Come on, Christopher.

I'm just feeling quite anxious.

There's nothing to be anxious
about. My boss is a nice guy.

Do you have a space blanket?

What's with the space blanket?

It's for deflecting
radio waves and isotopes.

Christopher, could you take
off your glasses, please?

I like this room.

Good.

It's reasonably secure.

Oh, what's your roof made of?

Tiles, I think.

Porous.
Vulnerable.

You might want
to get that looked at.

- I'll make a note of it.
- Well, don't humor me.

It's free advice.
Take it or leave it.

Christopher,
I understand from D.C. Breen

that you saw a man walking
past your house two nights ago.

Batman.

That's right... Batman.

Not the real Batman, of course.

Right.
Who do you think it might've...

Well, they made him
look like Batman.

He was a scout.

- A scout for?
- For them.

Those that are coming.
Or should I say have arrived?

They sent him here a few weeks
ago to look for a landing site.

Which you believe
to be Mr. Waterson's?

I don't believe it.
I know it.

I photographed it.

They arrived.

Obviously they killed
Mr. Waterson

because he witnessed it.

Now, of course, so did I,
but they don't know that yet.

For that reason,
I'm keeping a low profile.

If they arrived, as you say,
at Mr. Waterson's,

where might
this spaceship be now?

Spaceship?

Please.
This isn't "Star Trek."

This is real.

I know... He's a nutjob.

He's certainly passionate
about his beliefs.

But we can assume that
whoever killed Mitch Waterson

may have been masquerading
as Batman.

I agree.

If we find this Batman,
we may well have our offender.

Shall I look up Bruce Wayne
in the phone book?

Sorry.

It's been a long day.

It's not over yet.

- Yeah?
- Breen.

I need you to do something.

In position.

Okay, here we go.

Yep.

I can see it.

Right, keep going.

Take a look at that.

Yes. Yes.
My God, they're back. Oh.

Sorry, Christopher.

The plasma spacecraft
is a swimming-pool light.

Uh, I doubt that very much.

- Oh.
- Mike, turn it off.

Now turn it on.

Now turn it off.

Okay, thanks.

I-I don't understand.

It's pretty binary, really.
On, off. On, off.

I knew you were a skeptic.

I'm a realist.

And for the record, I do think
there is other life out there.

I'm just... I'm not sure they'll
want to come to Brokenwood.

It would seem
that whomever Batman was,

they lured Waterson
out of his house

by flashing his pool light.

The art of diversion
and surprise.

So, we have
that part figured out.

Except.
I'm Waterson.

I've got a softball bat in hand.

I walk out, I see someone
fiddling with my light.

Why didn't I just
give 'em a whack?

Maybe there were two offenders.

Yeah, a decoy
and the actual killer.

That would make sense.

Any prints on the money?

Mm, nothing.
Too much water.

Plus, money has
a thousand prints on it anyway.

And nothing from Exhibit B
or the ransom note.

The whio.

Who puts a picture of a duck
on money?

Why not a peacock or an eagle?

Because they're not native.

Wait.

I remember from Sunday school
how the Passover Lamb

was to be sacrificed on
the 10th day of the first month.

Could Mitch Waterson
have been a sacrificial lamb

in a process of restitution?

Well, given he was killed
on the seventh day

of the fifth month... no?

Bummer.

- Ooh.
- What?

Uh, I just remembered
it's my anniversary on Friday.

Four years.

Congrats.

As I recall, four years
is linen or silk.

So will it be a trip
to the lingerie shop?

No.
I'm getting Roxy a new Xbox.

Sexy.

You may mock, but she
actually loves "Mortal Kombat."

Okay, tomorrow, we go over
security at Sunset Manor.

Whatever way you look at it,
those with the biggest ax

to grind live there.

Time to get some sleep, eh?

We're going to the gym, champ.

- Morning, Detective.
- Getting out and about again?

Oh, I organize
a biweekly outing.

If you want to talk,
you'll have to come with.

Let's follow them.

I set this place up
when Kenny retired.

So I bring him here when I can.

And the others enjoy
a spot of pugilism, too.

They like watching
a new generation of boxers

come through.

Oh, here we go.

I know who my money's on.

Nice to see you, Detective.

Kahu.

And yours.

Come in.

All right.
I want a fair fight.

Nothing below the belt.
Three rounds of three.

- Touch.
- Go, green.

There's no green, Edward.

- It's red or blue.
- Oh.

Sorry.
Sorry.

Ooh. Ooh.
Dude, I wasn't ready.

We're here to box, Frodo,
not check out the women.

Oh.
Come on.

Oh.

Oh. Oh.

- That's the way, Kahu.
- It's blue.

What was that?

You're supposed to dance, boy.
Eh?

You were dragging your feet like
the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I've got a limp, man.

I shot myself in the foot.

What'd you do that for?

Well done.

- I lost.
- I know.

I made 10 bucks.

You, uh, still own this place?

No, not anymore.

I had to wind it up
along with everything else

when that... con man sold us out.

That con man being Mitch?

He drained every dollar
out of anyone he met.

He not only fleeced
his own father...

He shamed him.

Used him
and then cast him aside.

No respect.

Did you lose this place as part
of the collateral fallout?

Oh, the new owner
lets me come and go.

It's a respect
for the elderly and foolish.

You're hardly elderly.

But foolish?
Thanks.

There you go.

- Thanks.
- It's not so bad.

At least
they can be matching now.

Why didn't you tell us

that's how you got your
black eye in the first place?

'Cause if you don't acknowledge
it, it doesn't exist.

I'm not a loser.

There are no losers
in sparring fights, Frodo.

You came second.

Thanks, Frodes.
Good fight.

Next time, I'm taking you down.

Sweet.

You keen to give it a go?

I'm not sure I saw
much chess in the ring.

This is you?

Yeah.

After the Hashimoto fight?

Yeah.

There were two swords given?

One each.
Yeah.

I take it you still have it?

Oh, I think so.
Why?

- Could I see it?
- Yeah, sure.

It'll be at home somewhere.

Oh, can I get a ride?

I don't drive.

- Oh, of course.
- Yeah.

I'll give my sister a ring.

Tell her to put the jug on.

My sister's an artist.

Yes. I know.

She gives it her everything,
but...

Well, as my mother used to say,

if you can't say
something nice...

"Don't say anything at all."

I can count on your sensitivity?

My apologies.

I was painting when Wes called.

The light was so bucolic.

I couldn't let it go.

Detective Shepherd wants to see
that old ornamental sword

I got
from the Hashimoto Jones fight.

Oh, I see.

It made it in the move,
didn't it?

Well, if it's anywhere,
it'll be in the garage.

When everything went
pear-shaped, we had to downsize.

Always meant to declutter,
but... you know.

Ah.
Here it is.

Hardly pride of place.

Pummel and I collected
a lot of junk over the years.

- Doesn't feel that special.
- Hmm.

Even though you won
the world title?

For the third time.

I expect those things
are a dime a dozen

in the tourist shops of Tokyo.

Thanks.
Sorry to have troubled you.

Ah.
Thanks for the tea.

Oh, you're welcome.

Did you find it?

Yes.
Quite beautiful.

And these, too.

Oh.
You're too kind.

You're very prolific.

Wes and I have very little.

So I paint away
my time and my woes.

That would have to be
Sir Edmund Hillary.

Well done.
Yes.

The man who conquered
the highest mountain

and then gave back
to the community.

Helen Clark.

New Zealand's first elected
female prime minister.

What an achievement.

And?

Oh, come on, Detective.

Huh?

Your namesake.
Kate Sheppard.

She took the power
from a male-dominated society

and reallocated it fairly.

Of course.

They're very... good.

Well, I need to get
back to Sunset Manor.

Thanks again for the tea.

Good work
on the art appreciation.

Oh.
It's not too bad.

Oh, you don't have
to live with it.

Look, uh,
this business with Edward...

I'm worried it might be causing
a rapid deterioration

in his mental state.

I doubt we'll need
to talk to Edward again.

Oh. Well, that's good.

Ah.
Light... just too perfect.

Last night's casserole
to be heated up for dinner.

Casserole.
Again.

Not like the heady days
with Pummel.

We were wined and dined
across the globe.

Still, that's what
you get with age.

A gentle slide into irrelevancy
and culinary boredom.

Well, still time
for a power walk.

At least exercise is free.

Must let you go.

Here you are.

- Are we okay?
- Yes. Thank you.

It's been like
Grand Central Station today.

- In what way?
- I say, what do you think?

My sister just gave it to me.

Marvelous, don't you think?

Edward.
It's... very good.

Your sister's very kind
to sort that for you.

Oh, did she?
When?

Just before.

She swaps his pictures around,
keep things fresh.

I killed him.

- I killed him. I killed him.
- Excuse me.

Yeah, I killed him.

I killed him.
I killed him.

- Yeah, I killed him.
- Mr. Waterson, please.

Take it easy, brother.
It's all good.

I killed him,
and I can kill you, too.

He's gone crazy.
Again.

- Ah.
- Completely lost the plot.

He thought I hit his ball.

I killed him.

- Put the pool cue down, please.
- Killed him.

- I killed him.
- It's okay, Pummel.

How about you give me the cue?

- You want this?
- Yes.

What?

Give me the cue.

You want a game?

Yeah. Why not?

So, who did you kill?

Klisnik.

I killed Boris Klisnik.

Morning, Detective.

Wes. I was wondering
if I could have a word.

Yeah, of course.

But it's a beautiful morning.

I'm just off for a power walk.

If you want to talk,
you're welcome to join me.

Yeah, um...

Boris Klisnik?

There's a blast from the past.

I understand he was a boxer.

Yeah.

Pummel was heard
talking about him yesterday.

Really?

Well, he was Pummel's archrival

and the man who brought
his career to an end.

1973?

Yeah, that's right.

Mind if we take a breather?

Oh... sure.

You gotta realize
that in the four years

leading up to that fight,
Pummel was invincible.

48 wins, 13 by knockout.

Two draws.
No losses.

Only Klisnik ever managed
to find his weak spot.

In the fifth round, Klisnik
whispered something to Pummel.

Your wife says hello.

And in that brief second

while Pummel processed the
thought that this Soviet thug

had been intimate
with his wife...

he dropped his guard.

7, 8, 9...

And that was that.

He never boxed again.

- Did his marriage survive?
- No.

She took off with the Bolshevik.

Left Pummel with the kid.

Pummel believes he killed Boris.

That's hardly likely.

The last I heard,
Boris was alive and well

and living in Vladivostok.

Dementia really
is a fickle mistress.

Anyhow.
Onward.

Shall we?

I should probably get back.

Suit yourself.

Long black with extra hot water.

- Thank you.
- They call that an Americano,

- you know.
- Mrs. Marlowe, hello.

Or a gringo negro.
Colloquially speaking.

Oh, you learn
something new every day.

Yes. Quite.

Um, Detective,
have you got a moment?

Of course.

I have a confession to make.

Okay. About?

Well, it's been nagging at me,
and I feel I have to come clean.

It's about my friend Edward.

Yes?

Well, perhaps...

perhaps he wasn't
where he thought he was

the night
Mr. Waterson was killed.

Oh.

Edward goes walkabout, you see.

- At night?
- Yes.

I stumbled across him
quite by accident.

I was driving home
from the theater.

I'd been to the local
production of "Oh. Calcutta."

They were all completely nude.

Oh, it was very interesting.

He can't tell
the colors apart, you see.

He sees only in monochrome.

Edward?

- So he stops there.
- Ah.

Same place each night.

Where do you think you're going?

I really couldn't tell you.

Well, best we get you home.

So I make it my business
to pick him up

and deliver him
back to his room.

Every night?

Yeah.
Dreadfully tiring.

Best we get you back into bed,
you funny old thing.

Mrs. Marlowe,
why haven't you told someone?

Once they start wandering,

they're put
into the secure unit.

And I can't be putting up
with that.

Oh, no.

Not for Edward.

And when was the last time
he went walking?

The night Mr. Waterson died.

- Edward.
- Hmm?

It's come to our attention

that you've been leaving
the premises of Sunset Manor

late at night.

Oh, have I?

Specifically on the night
Mitch Waterson was killed.

How do you know this?

Jean Marlowe
has been picking him up

from the traffic lights
on Tullamore Street

over the course
of several nights.

Jean Marlowe.
Please.

She can't be trusted.

Edward, do you know
how you got there?

Where?

At the traffic lights.

Oh, no.
I don't drive anymore.

You were on foot apparently.

Was I?

Do you remember
leaving Sunset Manor?

At night, you say?

Yes.
Do you remember leaving?

Was there someone with you
or helping you?

No, I-I'm sorry.
I...

I don't.

Detectives,
this is leading nowhere.

And it's clearly
upsetting my client.

No, wait.

No. I'm sorry.
I...

I thought...

But then...

Detectives, really.
Must we go through this charade?

Wait.

Oh, this is cruel.

Okay.

Thank you, Edward.

Batman.

Did you say "Batman"?

- Oh, he's clearly confused.
- No, wait.

Edward, you said "Batman."

Yes, the Caped Crusader.

I was his lookout man.
That's right.

I waited by the lights

while he went to get
my money back from Waterson.

Have I got it back yet?
I...

I can't remember.

No, Eddie.

Not yet.

So, the reason the dog scent
traced back to Sunset Manor

is because Batman lives here?

Or, at the very least,
visits Sunset Manor.

To escort Edward out.

And if Edward got in and out,
who else did?

D.C. Breen has a warrant
to search several rooms.

If you must.

I take it the residents
don't know the key code?

No.
Only staff.

Look, I assure you, Detective,
this place

is absolutely secure at night.

- All doors are locked.
- Which other doors?

George.
Detective Shepherd.

Yes.

Unders or overs?

- Overs.
- Ah.

This door
remains locked, as well.

No one could enter.

Oh, it would hardly stop
someone from leaving.

This is the staff lockers.

But, again,
it's always checked at night.

No one could get in.

It's hardly Fort Knox.

Boss.

Still overs?

Yeah.
Yes, Detective.

You remember which ball.

I guess I did.

And you remembered me.

I guess I did.

Is that because
I'm doing an amazing job?

I guess you are.

George, have you ever been
diagnosed with dementia?

Detective.

Asking a dementia sufferer to
remember their medical records.

Really?
My client can't answer that.

I think he can.

I admit the dementia thing.

I play it up a bit.

So it's fair to say
you've never been diagnosed?

It's more a case
of "when in Rome."

I used to visit
my old mate Pummel there.

I got to know the place.

Then when my wife passed,
I thought I'd move in

rather than be a drain
on the family.

Your grandson Kahu says
they didn't want you to go.

They wanted to look after you.

Perhaps you had another reason
to want to be there.

Sadly, I've exhausted
all legal channels.

Both civil and criminal.

Sorry, folks.
It's over.

I'm crying.

Why are we crying?

It's all right, my friend.

That guy Waterson had caused
a whole world of pain

in those people.

I wanted to do something.

So I put together a disguise.

Oh.

Edward wanted in,
but was a liability.

So each night,
I'd park him at the lights.

I'll be back
when the light changes blue.

- Blue?
- Mm-hmm.

All right.

And then I'd visit Waterson's

and invite him
to give the money back.

Get that out of here.

Come on.
Come here.

Then I'd pick up Edward
on the way back.

But Mrs. Marlowe took over.

So I left Edward
in her safe hands.

It was only my intention
to frighten Waterson

into giving the money back.

I wanted to do something
for my friends.

Which places you
at the scene of the crime.

Not necessarily.

I was, yes.

Okay, but that's not the same
as committing any crime.

You were witnessed
by a Christopher Kramer

approaching the scene...

...then again leaving.

So, when you did
your hugging thing...

Kia or a, Margaret.

...you mixed
your scent with everyone else.

Kia or a, Eddie.

And on your way
back to Sunset Manor

through Princes Park,
you dropped this.

Look familiar?

I didn't kill Waterson.

I swear.
I didn't touch him.

But you wanted to?

Detective.
You have no evidence of that.

This has all got
a bit out of hand, hasn't it?

He seems like such a softie.

He's there.

He has motive.

Something doesn't add up.

Kramer photographed George
running away at 10:49.

See? He has no gym bag,
and he's heading west,

about a three-minute walk
away from Mitch's house.

But Mitch Waterson
phoned Jools at 10:47.

They spoke.
He wasn't dead.

He was alive.

And Kramer saw the aliens
landing at 10:51,

which means...

George can't have been present
when Waterson was killed.

So, exonerated
by a crazy Chris Kramer.

I fear you have nothing,
Detective. Not even harassment,

because Waterson
never laid a complaint.

So I'm not being charged?

Not even for a bad
costume design, my friend.

Unless you want to charge him
with asking a crook

to repay misappropriated funds?

George, you're free to go.

Sims here will show
you gentlemen out.

Knock, knock.

- Gina.
- I don't want to disturb,

but I had another thought
about the money.

Okay.

If the offender
had used a $100 note,

then it would have been
Ernest Rutherford

on the picture.

The man who split the atom?

Some say the father
of the atomic bomb.

This would have been a sign
perhaps that it was espionage...

but, also, a very rich person,
to throw away this money.

But if it had been a $5 bill,

then it would have been
Sir Edmund Hillary

and perhaps a poor person.

Of course.

I could kiss you, Gina.

Really?
Why don't you?

Breen. Kristin.
Let's go.

- Hi.
- Detectives.

We need to photograph
the tanto sword

your brother has in storage.

Boss, we have what we need.

We'll e-mail it to the lab
for cross-referencing.

Yep. Sure.

And you'll check on Pummel's one
at the Manor tomorrow?

First thing.
Thanks.

I'm sorry.

- Is there a problem?
- No.

It's just that a sword
of a similar description

was used
in Mitch Waterson's murder.

Oh, I see.

So we need to cross-reference

all known tanto swords
in the country.

It's the tedious side
to our job.

But now that we have Wes'
on record,

we won't need
to bother you again.

Thanks for your patience.

Of course.
Good luck.

Coming your way.

Mike...

the whio has flown.

Ms. Alderston.

Oh. Hello.
I was...

I was hoping to see you.

Why is that?

I'm keen to see
your new painting.

May I?

Oh, it... it isn't finished.

I like a work in progress.

It was easy to smuggle
Pummel out at night.

Edward and George were doing it.

The place leaked like a sieve.

- Where are we going? Eh?
- No. Shh, Kenny.

- Why?
- Quietly, quietly.

We're gonna see an old friend.

Ah.

After all, you're the person
that Pummel trusts most.

You drove Wes and Pummel
up to Mitch's house.

You knew
Mitch would be alone because...

You'd overheard Jools Fahey
saying she'd be away.

All right, I'm off now, Kenny.

I'm off to visit
my mum in Hamilton.

Where are we going?

To get even, Kenny.

To get even.

Boris Klisnik
is about to show his face.

Boris Klisnik.

Shh, shh, shh, shh.
Come on.

What the hell
are you doing here?.

It's Boris.
It's Boris Klisnik.

What?.

What are you on about?

Leaving by car meant there was
no scent for the dog to pick up.

And when, thanks to George,
the Caped Crusader,

our investigation quickly
closed in on Sunset Manor...

Then it became
a rather manic game

of switching the remaining sword
between two places

to keep us guessing.

I'll give my sister a ring.

Tell her to put the jug on.

Oh, hi, Catherine.

Just swapping
Edward's paintings.

Keeps his mind stimulated.

On the guise of helping Edward,

you were free to switch
the sword as needed.

But the giveaway?

Like any artist,
you felt the need

to put a signature to your work.

But I'm curious...

How could Mitch know
you'd got your revenge

with the $10 note in his back?

Oh, he knew.

Boris Klisnik
is about to show his face.

Boris Klisnik.

What the hell
are you doing here?.

I'm here to give you
my last $10, Mr. Waterson.

Why not have it all?

What?.

What are you talking about?
What $10?

It's Boris.
It's Boris Klisnik.

I'm not sure Kate Sheppard
would condone your version

of women taking the power back.

Justice was done.

And for Pummel, it's as
if nothing had happened.

He killed his son,
is what happened.

No.

In Pummel's mind,
he killed Boris Klisnik.

And in that brief moment,
he got what he wanted.

My client did not
kill Mr. Waterson.

But you put the murder weapon
in the offender's hand.

Party to murder... for now.

He took everything, you know.

Everything we built up
in the past,

everything we might want
to do in the future.

He had no right.

No right.

Well, at least
we got our own space.

Pummel will be deemed
unfit to stand trial.

You know that.
Is it worth pursuing?

Well, here's a familiar number.

Quelle surprise, ma chérie.

I am taking this seriously.
Very much.

All right, I'll meet you there.

Well, well. It seems Jools Fahey
has grown a conscience.

In what way?

She wants legal advice
on how to unlock trusts

and release the funds
back to Waterson's creditors.

I'm going to meet her
for a drink.

I thought
you couldn't trust her.

Innocent until proven guilty,
Detective.

Innocent until proven guilty.

Pummel Waterson
kills his own son,

thinking he's a Soviet boxer,
and has no memory of it.

Yeah, but does
it constitute murder?

Or even intent?

- I'll bring him in.
- Leave it with me.

It's Friday night.

You have
your anniversary dinner.

And I know you have a date.

What? What? A date?
Who with?

Um, "A,"
don't look so surprised,

"B," it's none of your business,

and, "C,"
it's not really a date.

Sort of more of a game.

The dating game.

Go, go, go.

Romance is in the air, I see.

It's fourth anniversary.

- It's an Xbox.
- You romantic devil.

Is it true you're wanting
to give the money back?

Something good
has to come out of all this.

- Hm.
- Time to bury the hatchet.

An unfortunate turn of phrase,
given the circumstances.

But come, let us dine
and talk fiscal morality.

I need to speak
with Kenny Waterson.

Pummel.
He's been playing up.

He's been most difficult.

He wanted to visit his old gym,

so the activities instructor
took him on an outing.

Right, what have we here?

"Tunnels under Colditz."

"More Escapes from Alcatraz."

"Prison Break"?

Oh, really, Edward?

Ready when you are.

Who?
Who's that?

Who is it?

Pummel.

Yeah?

I know you?

We've met before.

I'm a detective.

Oh.

We need to talk about something,
perhaps down at the station.

You want me to go...

Yes.

Okay.

Uh...

I can't remember how to get up.

It's a funny thing.

You... You wouldn't believe it.

It's...

I can't remember simple things.

It's just not there.

Tell me about Hashimoto Jones.

Hashimoto.

I...

I took him out
in the ninth round.

The old one-two
and the uppercut.

Hashimoto.

He's a good bloke...

fair fighter.

I took him out in the ninth.

Good old double left jab
and an uppercut.