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No bloody way.

Good morning, my little duckies!

Rise and shine!

Don't shoot!
Don't shoot!

So, what have we got?

Well, victim
is Leslie Garrett —

43, married,

as the sign suggests,
a prominent wildlife activist.

Seemingly placed herself
between the ducks and the guns.

Okay.

Leslie, my name
is Mike Shepherd.

What were you thinking?

I have never approved
of this duck hunting.

It's like shooting whales
in a barrel.

Well, on that we can agree.

Although it's fish.

Whales are endangered.

Yes, but they just don't fit
in a barrel.

So save the ducks
but not the whales?

Sometimes I don't
understand you.

Gina, you can get under way.

So, all these folk
were in the area?

Yeah.

Tony Canetti.
Bloodsportz Hunting and Guns.

D.S.S. Mike Shepherd.

Yeah, yeah. I've helped you
before with my expertise.

I'm a bit of an expert
in all things lethal.

Look.
Can I get my boys home?

It's their first day out,
and,

it's not really a good start
to a love of hunting.

This was their first time
shooting?

Yeah, yeah.
Fully supervised.

I mean, I run a gun store.
I know the rules.

They aimed high.

There's no chance in hell
they hit poor Leslie.

D.C. Breen will be by later
for a chat.

Okay, boys. Come on.
Let's go.

Um, and that's Jenny Lyons,
Leslie's sister.

She made the I.D.

Mrs. Lyons, hello.
I'm Mike Shepherd.

I'm sorry for your loss.

It's Ms., but thank you.

Jenny, I'm so sorry.

Don't touch me.

Hey, don't be like that.

For God's sake.
I've just lost my sister.

My sister! How the hell
did that happen, Don?

Hey.
Come on, now.

Let's just stick to the facts,

Mr. Ducker, can I speak with you
over here?

She's crazy.

Can I get you something?

I just need a moment.

Jared, hear you jumped in
to pull the victim ashore.

I didn't know you were
a duck shooter.

Well, I'm not.

Just here helping out
my Uncle Walter.

Supposed to be his last season.

Frodo's almost catatonic.

Keeps muttering something
about his mate Hayden.

The one who was shot
at his stag do?

Yeah.
I'll give him some time.

Uniform branch have secured
all the firearms in the area.

Okay.
Maybe not all of them.

Cozy.

Yep.
And it's a convertible.

The art of surprise.

So, who was where?

Well, Frodo was there.

That maimai belongs
to his dead mate's family.

Jenny Lyons' maimai
is over there.

That's Don Ducker's.

And Tony Canetti
and his kids were down there.

Anyone on that old one there?

Nah.
Hasn't been for decades.

Guess it's your lucky day.

Yeah. No. It won't be able
to hear you, Mike.

It's, um, it's a decoy.

Nice camo look.

Yeah. Nothing wrong
with a bit of stealth.

Lance Gifford, right?
D.C. Breen.

Yeah.
I remember.

Been shooting this morning?

A couple of shots
to see in the new season.

Misty conditions, I understand.

I've seen worse.

Hit anything?

No. There was too much
commotion on the river.

The ducks made themselves
scarce.

Is this about Leslie Garrett?

It's a hell of a way
to start a season.

How'd you know about Leslie?

I passed by. Saw her dinghy.
Saw you cops.

That's her trailer there, so I
just put two and two together.

So you knew her?

Well, saw her here this morning.
I warned her.

Hey, you trying to get yourself
killed?

Is that a threat?

And was it?

If it was,
do you think I'd be telling you?

- So that was it?
- Nah.

Then she said some greenie
liberal remark

and went on her way.

Where on the waterway
were you shooting?

Well, I have a floating maimai,

so I was drifting further down
the inlet from them.

Can you be specific?

Sorry.
No.

We'll need to examine
your firearm.

You're joking.
Seriously?

You were in the vicinity.

It's part
of an elimination process.

Yeah.
All right.

But I'd appreciate it back ASAP.

Of course.

- Ollie Garrett?
- Yes.

Um, Detective Kristin Sims.

Um, can we go inside?

Why?
Is — Is there a problem?

It's your wife, Leslie.

Would you like to sit down?

W- What about her?
What's happened?

I'm afraid
there's been an incident.

We have yet to find out
what happened,

but... she was killed.

I'm so sorry.

Would you like to go inside?

Is there someone I can call?

No.
This c— This can't...

This can't be happening.

In this job, you never get used
to the heartbreak.

I think it's nice.

Russian men cry only over
their mothers and spilled vodka.

Kiwi men are more sensitive.

Especially when their spouse
has been murdered.

Well, we don't know
it was a murder.

- It could've been accidental.
- So naive.

He wants some time alone.

Okay. But not too long.
I need to get started.

She's Russian.

Um, Ms. Lyons, you said
to Don Ducker this morning,

"How did that happen?"

I was... I was out of line.

Emotions just got the better
of me.

That poor, sweet man.

Walter Elliot was shooting
with his cousin Tamati Taylor

and nephew Jared Morehu, though
Jared wasn't using a firearm.

Tamati recalls a gun blast

coming from Jenny Lyons' maimai
here.

Jenny Lyons went first.

- Don't shoot!
- Pull!

Then we all went.

It was foggy.
Pea soup.

I didn't see what happened.

I didn't get any ducks.

Okay.
Thanks.

Mr. Elliot.

- Walter.
- Walter.

Um, can you tell me what —

Uncle didn't get anything
either.

That'd be right, Uncle?

Pretty much.

It was a wasted opportunity

thanks to that lunatic
Leslie Garrett.

Are you saying she had
mental health issues?

She put herself in a boat

between a bunch of hunters
and a flight of ducks.

What do you think?

Clearly she was protesting
and —

And so no one can be held
accountable for what happened.

Yeah. Reckon that'll be it.

It's been a difficult morning.

It's. Don Ducker.

D- U-C-K-E-R.

And you're the head of
the Duck Stalkers Association?

Is there something
you want to say?

No. No.
That's — That's — That's good.

A little ironic.

- What is?
- Nothing.

What — what happened?

All hell broke loose.

Everyone fired like
trigger-happy maniacs.

Can I take it from that
that you didn't fire?

No, no.
I fired, too.

Obviously someone didn't aim
high enough.

Took out poor Leslie.

And I spoke to Tony Canetti.

They were positioned here.

Tony was supervising,

being the holder
of the firearms license.

Hence he wasn't using a gun
himself.

And you spoke with Frodo?

Yeah, for what it was worth.

I was just doing my thing,
you know.

Don't shoot!
Don't shoot!

You fired?

Didn't hit nothing, though.

Of the seven people
that went hunting,

everyone discharged their guns.

Once Gina's finished
the postmortem,

it should be reasonably easy
to trace the type of shot

to the matching shell case
to the specific gun.

There were eight.

Lance Gifford was on the inlet
somewhere during the time frame.

So eight people went hunting.

One protester was killed.

And no ducks fell from the sky.

Hardly feels accidental,
does it?

I have identified
two impact zones —

about the left side of the face
and the right side of the chest.

Any idea which came first?

There are wounds
on her left knuckles

and damage to the microphone.

So I think she was holding
the microphone as such.

She was hit.

Six pellets — two on the hand,
four on the face —

one entering behind the eye.

Then the second blast caught her
midriff with eight pellets.

Perhaps not so bad,

but unfortunately two of them
tore through her heart.

Death in seconds.

So she was hit
from two opposing sides?

It looks that way.

But not necessarily?

I think it's safe to say

that the ducks were the winners
on the day.

We should consider
both possibilities.

Any idea what range
she was hit from?

From experience,
given the penetration depth,

20 to 40 meters.

But I will conduct some tests.

Get those pellets
to ESR and the armory, too.

So, what's the lowdown
on this protester business?

The victim took 14 pellets
in two blasts.

Misty conditions.

Bloody amateurs.
Steel?

- Would it be anything else?
- Shouldn't be.

Lead shot was phased out
years ago.

Is the ammunition much
of a muchness?

Well, like anything,

all manufacturers
like to believe their brand

has a point of difference
and therefore an edge.

So all hunters have their
preference for gauge and shot.

It won't be difficult
to tie your pellets

to a certain brand of shell.

That's what I was hoping.

We're out of luck,
Detective.

Damn.

And I was so looking forward
to my almond macchiato.

This will be due to the Leslie
Garrett business, no doubt.

Foul play?

Well, you know I can't say.

Dear.
Well, poor Frodo.

He really does have bad luck.

I knew things
were going to go badly

when Leslie Garrett turned up
at the Duck Stalkers Club.

When was this?

Night before she died.

You were there?

Yes.
I've been a member for years.

Not that I shoot, mind you.

I make tea and cheese rolls
for the meetings.

But my late husband, Rufus —
Now, he was a stalker.

I was more of a plucker.

Plucking ducks is quite a skill,
you know.

And when your husband
is as successful as Rufus was,

you need to know
the art of a quick pluck

to get through them all.

I imagine so.

I had a little ditty I used to
sing when I was plucking.

Tell me —

I used to get through
an entire bird in eight verses,

all of them different.

Well, that's very impressive.

But can you tell me about Leslie
Garrett's visit to the club?

She wasn't invited, of course.

So let's remind ourselves
of quota.

It's eight ducks to a bag.

- Yeah. You got that Lance?
- Yeah, yeah. It was one year.

It was a miscalculation.

It's club rules,
so no firing before 7 a.m.

Now, the conditions are forecast
as foggy,

so let's just all be careful
out there?

For Christ's sake, Leslie.
You're in no way welcome here.

But I'm a lifelong member, Don.
You know that.

Mrs. Marlowe, would you care
to come with me to the station?

It's much warmer, and I can
make you a coffee there.

That would be lovely.

- Thank you.
- Great.

- Here we go.
- Thank you.

Now, you said
that Leslie Garrett claimed

to be a lifelong member of
the Duck Stalkers Association.

Well, she was,
because her great-grandfather

was a founding member.

Dear.

What?

Nothing.

Did you wibble?

Wibbling is the art of bringing
the crema to the surface.

Now, before you plunge,
you must wibble

until two small stationary waves
start jiggling.

Okay.
So sort of like, um —

Nipples, yes.
Wibble, wobble, double nipple.

And then and then only...
do you plunge.

So Leslie was entitled
to be at the meeting

because she was
an active member.

Active troublemaker, really.

We don't want your rantings
here, Leslie.

Consider your membership
revoked.

You have no right
to shoot innocent ducks.

What I do
or this club does on my land

is none of your business.

Really?
I think that's about to change.

Read it and weep, Walter.

And until that takes effect,

I will do whatever it takes
to protect those ducks

because birds' lives matter too!

That's enough, Leslie.

What did it say?

Don't know.

Let's just say I'm confident
it wasn't a love letter.

This is a really good coffee.

It's the art of wibbling,
my dear.

Kimberley.

Double mocha, right?

Yeah. Sure.

But I'm actually looking for
Frodo.

I tried your house.

He was there for a bit —

totally freaked
about what happened.

- You know where he is now?
- No.

He had a bit of a cry,

muttered something
about ghosts from the past,

asked if I'd look after the
cart, and then just disappeared.

If he makes contact,
can you get him to call us?

We really need to speak
with him.

Is he in trouble?

Just tell him to call me.

Why are you here exactly?

Um, I have a few questions
if that's okay.

Some — Some of them are
a little delicate.

Um, did Leslie have
any life insurance?

No.

We, didn't buy into
that stuff.

We sourced everything
from the land.

That was our insurance.

I have some tucked away.
Things will be okay, Ollie.

I don't want your pity.

I just want her back.

It's not pity.
We're family, hon.

I'm off to see Reverend Greene.

We'll get Leslie
a nice send-off.

I promise.

Goodbye, Detective.
You have my number?

Yes.
Thank you for the tea.

Um, were you aware that Leslie
visited the Duck Stalkers Club

the night before she was killed?

Yeah.

Well, it's quite
a provocative thing to do.

I told her not to go,
but she was a stubborn person,

always looking for a way
to make a point.

And, um, when I came to tell you
about Leslie,

you were arriving home.

Um, I'm just wondering
where you'd been.

Why?

We're just trying to get a
picture of where everyone was

when Leslie died.

I was delivering eggs —
organic duck eggs.

That's what I do.

At 8:30 in the morning?

People like fresh eggs for their
Saturday-morning omelets.

Right.

And, um, finally, do you have
any firearms on the property?

We're animal lovers.

What use would we have
for a gun?

Okay.

Thanks.

And, do you have
the list of deliveries you make?

Can I send it through?

That'd be helpful.
Thanks.

Walter.
D.S.S. Mike Shepherd.

It's been a while since we met

through the tragedy
at the golf club.

Angela Stone was no friend
of mine.

I understand Leslie Garrett
wasn't either.

Nothing personal.
I just didn't like her politics.

That being?

The bandwagon type.

I'm not a fan of greenies
trying to tell me

how to look after my land.

Maori have looked after
the whenua for over 600 years

and done a bloody good job
of it.

Except for the moa.
They went extinct.

'Cause they're bloody stupid.
That's why.

Body the size of a car,
brain the size of a pea.

What do you expect?

Anyway, we won't have
our customary rights threatened.

Though mallard ducks
aren't native.

No, but the kereru is.

Wood pigeon.
Beautiful.

Not that we shoot them.

- Mutton bird.
- Or those.

- Pukeko.
- Yeah. Okay.

We shoot them.
Bloody nuisance.

The point is I'm a farmer.

It's in my interest
to look after the land.

I understand Leslie Garrett
gave you a document of some kind

at the clubhouse.

I tore it up.
It was a threat.

I don't take too kindly
to threats.

Leslie Garrett was trying
to take control of Uncle's land

by putting a protected-species
caveat over it.

What species?

The whio.
The blue duck.

It would prevent
the Duck Stalkers Association

from renewing their lease,
getting access to the waterway.

Not that there's
any whio around these parts.

You're more likely to find
hen's teeth.

She was making it up?

Anything to shut us down.

Why would you bother to belong
to a club

only to shoot on your own land?

Well, without members,
the club will close down.

And not renew its lease?

Something like that.

Plus they were handing
out free boxes of shells.

To mark the opening
of the season

the Brokenwood Duck Stalkers
Association

is gifting each shooter a box of
a new brand of 12-gauge shells.

- Yes!
- Yeah!

This is,
this is to say thank you

for your continuing loyalty.

So please come up, grab a box,
tell me how they perform,

and then I'll feed back
to the company.

Everyone that night
took a box of shells?

Compliments of Tony Canetti
and Don Ducker.

Guess he'll do anything
to keep the club alive.

Have you still got the box?

Jared?

Yeah.
I'll grab it.

How are you coping
with the Parkinson's?

Some days are good.
Other days are good, too.

Today is a good day.

Excuse me.

- Breen.
- Yeah, boss.

ESR came back with a match
on those BB's in the victim.

They match with a brand
called —

Triple X Steel?

How'd you know?

Just had a feeling.

So the fatal pellets could have
come from any of these?

From any of the 12-gauge.

Tamati...

Walter...

Don...

and Frodo.

Still no sign of Frodo.

I'm yet to get
a formal statement.

Tony Canetti's kids and Jenny
Lyons were using.410-gauge.

We need to find out for sure
whether the.410 uses

steel shot.

My understanding is
that it doesn't.

And we need to find out
why Don Ducker was so keen

on everyone using
identical ammunition.

It's good to have
old Bessie back.

Bessie?

Named after
my great-grandmother.

She was known to give you
a good blast

when you did something wrong.

Mr. Ducker,
we have a few questions.

Naturally.
It's a terrible business.

Detectives Sims and...

Breen.

Breen.
Yeah.

This is my wife, Marion.

Hello.
Everything all right?

One hundred percent.

- Is this about —
- Listen.

Why don't you go and whip us
all up a cup of tea, love?

Of course.

Come on through.

So my great-grandfather Don
here,

he started the club in 1922.

So you're Don Ducker IV?

I am indeed.
Proud to carry the family name.

So, um, this would be
Don Ducker I.

Yes. Well, Donald.

Donald Ducker?

Donald Duck.

Everything all right there,
Detective?

Yeah.

Just the... Louise slice.

- It's unbelievable.
- It is, isn't it?

Marion is a whiz in the kitchen.

So my great-grandfather was born
in 1901.

Christened Donald Duck.

There's nothing unusual in that,
until, of course,

Walt Disney created a friend
for Mickey Mouse in 1934.

And by then, my grandfather,
Don Jr., was 10 years old.

Well... you can imagine
the teasing.

So Don Sr. Decided to change
their names.

It's interesting he didn't
choose Smith or Brown.

Why should he?
The Ducks are a proud family.

Big in the linoleum business.

Don Ducker was a compromise.

But as you can see,
duck shooting —

That's the true family legacy.

Do you partake in the sport,
Marion?

Sadly, no.

Not my thing.

But if you like her baking,

you wait till you try
her roast duck.

I knew it was a passion of Don's
when I married him.

And as the saying goes, "If you
can't shoot 'em, pluck 'em."

Um, can you tell me
about Leslie Garrett?

I didn't really know her
that well.

Even though she was
a lifelong member?

Well, in name only.

It was her great-grandfather
and mine

that started the Duck Stalkers
Association together.

Hence she was a lifelong member.

But then she went
all stridently greenie,

tried to pull the club down.

So you had her expelled?

As chairman,
I felt I had to pull rank.

I'd rather die
than see this club fail.

Just out of interest —
Do you always shoot alone?

Yes.

I thought it might be
more social, perhaps even safer.

No, no.
I prefer to shoot alone.

There's nothing unusual in that.

I find it meditative.

You know, some people do yoga.

I shoot ducks.

So you stayed at home?

Yes.
I was here.

In the kitchen.

Donald Duck?

And proud of it.

I nearly choked.

You did choke,

which is why you're not
supposed to eat on the job.

It would've been rude
not to.

Her baking — next level.
Some sort of secret ingredient.

Well, regardless,
she's a reluctant plucker

who is no doubt relieved

that the duck-shooting season
only lasts six weeks.

Who's next?

Tony Canetti,
Bloodsportz Hunting and Guns.

Tony, how long
have you been a member

of the Duck Stalkers
Association?

Years.
It's been like a second family.

You didn't take a box
of the shells

that Don Ducker was dishing out?

I supplied them at cost.

Selling then taking would be
a bit weird.

And my kids shoot the smaller
.410, so they wouldn't fit.

Why dispense only the 12-gauge?

It's the most popular.
Most of the club shoot 12.

Personally, I'm a 20-gauge guy.

- You know, I picked that.
- Really?

How about that?

Must be the hat.

Maybe.

Anyway, the 20-gauge gives me
more maneuverability.

But, each to their own.

Like I always say —

The best gun to have in
a gunfight is the one you have,

not the one you wish you had.

Not that I've ever been
in a gunfight.

Strictly animals for me.

Wild animals.
Nothing caged.

That wouldn't be sporting.

Nor legal, I suspect.

Is it possible
to get steel pellets

in the.410 shotgun shell?

Not yet.

Manufacturer is slow
to fill the demand

for the less-used gauge.

Was Leslie hit with steel?

- She was.
- Yes.

- You're pretty happy about that?
- Well, yeah.

N- No. No. Only that I told my
kids it couldn't have been them.

I mean, I knew it couldn't.
I was there. They aimed high.

But now it's definite,
it's a relief.

For them.
Not for Leslie, obviously.

But...

Okay.

Was it your idea to hand out
the Triple X Steel?

No, no. Don Ducker came by
and hit me up, and I said yeah.

Thanks, Tony.

Detective.

You shouldn't have.

They're for Ollie.

I'm sorry again for your loss.

I have a sister.

Can't imagine
what it feels like.

You close to her?

In that "don't need to call
but always there" kind of way.

Call her, Mr. Shepherd.
Don't take anything for granted.

We were told a gun for learners.

Let me guess.
Tony Canetti.

Possibly.

I've been scoffed at by men with
their 12-gauges all my life,

but there's more sport in a.410
in my view.

I noted there was a shell
still in the chamber.

You only fired once?

It was a potshot.

I knew I'd misjudged the range
and a second would be a waste.

And you fired first?

Then everyone followed, but the
ducks were well out of range.

I'm guessing they all got
a little trigger-happy,

being the first day
of the season.

And... that's when we saw Leslie.

No. No!

Your.410 only uses lead shot?

I know it's not best
on the environment,

but there's no choice
at the moment.

How did Leslie feel about that?

Leslie was a crack shot
in her day.

She left a fair few kilos
of lead in those waterways

as a youngster.

The.410's the only gun you own?

Never shot ducks
with anything else.

Thanks.

I'm slowly getting the
peculiarities of duck shooting.

I won't hold you up.

Better get this back
in the safe.

15.6.

It's almost the same as Walter's

and about two meters closer
than Frodo's.

You will have to add
three degrees,

which will change
the hypotenuse.

- Why?
- To allow for the tide.

I don't know how to do that.

It is easy.

C equals A squared
plus B squared

then divided by pi.

If in doubt,
always divide by pi.

Right.

And finally Jenny Lyons' —

Can you hear that?

- Eco tours?
- That's right.

- Is it electric?
- No.

What, biofuel?

- No.
- So what's eco about it?

Well, it's nature.
It's what the tourists want.

With the quad bikes
out in the forest,

the eco barge out on the inlet,
I've got all my bases covered.

It's the maiden voyage tomorrow.

I need to know if you took a box
of the Triple X Steel shells

from the DSA the other night.

No.

Well, as a matter of fact,
I did.

I took two.

Bad luck for the.410ers?

Would you mind
if I grabbed yours as well?

Yeah, help yourself.
Cheapskate.

Hey, waste not, want not, Jenny.

They were going to waste.

What's not to like?

Ka pai.
Thanks for this.

You said on the phone
Walter wanted a word.

Yeah.

Nah.
Not really.

He's struggling a bit today,
so probably —

What's the holdup?

Nothing, cuz.

The detective's
just leaving.

Yeah, yeah. He's just leaving.

Why?
Doesn't he want to know?

Know what?

Stop interfering, Tamati.

I'll say what I want to say.

You know,
he's not in the best health.

Physically, yes.

But if he's got something
to say, I want to hear it.

I know I should have
mentioned this earlier,

but the morning in question
was chaotic,

and I didn't want to accept
it was true.

But in the cold light of day...
I know it happened.

Are you sure
you want to say this, cuz?

Don't patronize me.
I saw what I saw.

What did you see, Walter?

Leslie Garrett was shot
by Wild Bill Baker.

Wild Bill Baker?

- He seemed pretty definite.
- So what?

We just bring in this Bill Baker
and we're done?

Could be a bit tricky.

Hey, Mike.

Look, I know Uncle believes
he saw what he saw

but, well, the thing is that
Wild Bill Baker died in 1987.

It says here William Hemi Baker

died in a hunting accident,
though his body was never found.

Technically,
it remains a cold case.

Walter reckons it was him.

Right.

So I guess
we've just got to figure out

if dead men shoot live rounds.

Walter Elliot's maimai

is almost directly opposite
that abandoned hut there.

According to Walter...

Working on
the reasonably solid theory

that it wasn't a ghost,

are we looking for
a ninth shooter?

How'd you get on
with Lance Gifford?

Lance is expanding
his business.

He still can't be specific about
where he was on the waterway

but supposedly somewhere south
of here.

Could he have been
on Bill Baker's maimai?

Maybe.

We need to look into
any possible motive.

We can park the Canetti kids, as
their ammunition doesn't match.

Nor, for that matter,
does Jenny Lyons'.

Plus she only expended
one round.

And I'm yet to verify
Ollie Garrett's movements

that morning.

Don Ducker has no one
to verify his position.

And I'm still yet to receive
a statement from Frodo.

Tamati Taylor is covering
for something.

And his uncle saw a ghost.

Plus we're yet to determine
whether the victim was hit

by one shooter twice
or two shooters once.

All I know was that his nickname
was the Grey Mallard Bandero.

He always shot
from the same maimai,

and every year he took out
the club's leaderboard.

Then, legend has it, he went
shooting on his own one day

and disappeared under
mysterious circumstances.

Our records have him as missing,
presumed drowned.

Well, then I guess
that's what happened.

It was all before my time.

Did you see what Walter saw?

No.
It all happened pretty quick.

- Don't shoot!
- Pull!

Holy shit.

Are you sure Jenny Lyons
shot first?

Yeah.
A fraction before 7:00 a.m.

That's why everyone got
a bit jumpy.

Got caught off guard.

And then Leslie called,
"Don't shoot"?

It was the last thing
she ever said.

Pity no one listened.

Glad to see you're taking
this incident seriously.

Tell me more
about Wild Bill Baker.

He was a legend.

Total legend.
Hands down.

Renowned for his bag count
each season.

He held the top tally
year after year.

No one could get near him.

He could get two birds with
a barrel each, then reload...

and get two more
off the same flight.

Of course, he had the best spot,
but even so.

And one day he was taking
his final shot...

Perhaps it wanted to have
the final say.

Some kind of utu, maybe.

- That's what happened.
- Just like that.

Were there any witnesses?

All that was found was his gun,
a full bag of ducks,

and a thermos of tea.

Cold by the time
the alarm was raised.

By then, the tide had taken him.

At least he died
with his boots on,

doing what he loved.

If there were no witnesses,

how do you know
that's what happened?

Because he's a legend.

What other way
could he have gone?

Are you sure it was Bill Baker
that you saw in that maimai?

Wouldn't be anyone else.

His maimai has been derelict
for years.

No one uses it out of respect.

Even though it's the best spot?

Yeah.

Birds tend to fly
from east to west,

and Bill's maimai is angled
in such a way

that he gets first look
as they come over the ridgeline.

So why wouldn't someone use it?

Be a brave man who did.

He died there.
A rahui was put on it.

It's tapu.

Could it have been someone else?

Nope.

So you're asking me to believe

that Leslie Garrett was shot
by a ghost.

I don't believe in ghosts,
but I do believe in spirits.

And if Bill Baker's spirit

decided to manifest itself
as a ghost...

You're right-handed.

That would be
your trigger finger.

I know what you're implying.

It's my left arm
that does all the work.

With my left, I aim.

See?
Steady as a rock.

Are you an accurate shooter?

One of the best in the club.

- Tamati?
- Straight and true.

What about Don Ducker?

Between you and me?

Don's a great chairman,

but he has trouble
getting his eye in.

Most days he comes away
empty-handed,

so one of us throws him a duck
to take home.

God loves a trier.

Walter could be saying this
to deflect blame.

Let's say he accidently
shot Leslie

given his physical state.

Out of panic,
he decides he saw Bill Baker.

He may even truly believe
he saw Bill Baker.

Tamati plays along in support.

Yeah, but why blame a ghost?

He must know
that won't stack up.

Why not say it was someone real?

Because ghosts can't be proven
or disproven.

It is kind of a gray area.

Well, no. I'd say it was
pretty black and white.

They don't exist,

and they certainly don't
run around discharging firearms.

If someone was there,
they were really there.

So we are looking for
a ninth shooter.

You know, this whole rahui tapu
thing makes me kind of nervous.

We're investigating it.
We're not using it.

I think it's okay.

Sound of nature.

Yes.

Okay.
Thanks.

Frodo's at the Toad and Lion.

Apparently he's in
a bit of a state.

Suss him out.
I'm good here.

Frankie Oades has been on
the bender for a couple of days.

He's been here the whole time?

Well, no. I mean,
we don't offer accommodation.

But he's been coming and going.

As you know, the Toad and Lion

is an aspirational
establishment.

We try to encourage
happy drinkers.

When a punter gets morose,
it's a bit of a downer.

But he won't leave.

How you doing there, Frodo?

He won't give me beer.

I can't serve him any more.

I think that's a good thing.

Is it?
Beer helps me forget.

Forget what?

The first time I picked up a gun
after Hayden died.

The first time, man,
and this happens.

I'm jinxed.

I doubt that.
But you are drunk.

How about I take you home?

You can sleep it off, and we
can talk about that statement.

There's no beer at home.

Yeah.
You don't need more beer, Frodo.

You're killing my buzz.

To be honest, mate, it doesn't
seem like a good time.

What if I refuse to go?

Then I'll have to arrest you
for being drunk and disorderly.

I think I'm feeling
the depressions.

Yeah.
I can see that, mate.

Let's go?

Come on.

Hey.

Here you go — one almond
and turmeric macchiato.

Thank you, Kimberley.
No sign of Frodo?

He's at the cop shop
sleeping off a bender.

Always sorted me out
in my youth.

Not tired of wibbling
so soon, Detective?

I'm still getting the hang
of it.

But why wibble
when I can have the real thing?

Coconut milk, flat white?

Thank you.

Um, Jean, did you get
your usual delivery

from Ollie Garrett on Saturday?

The duck-egg man?

They're very underrated,
you know.

Yes.
So I hear.

They're fattier, you see, so
they provide fluff and lightness

and general oompf to cakes
and pastries — and flavor, too.

Right.
So you did get your delivery?

Alas, no.

The deal is first in,
first served.

And I've never missed out
before, so I can't complain.

But my Saturday genoise cake
had to wait.

So if Mrs. Marlowe missed out,
being sixth on the list,

does that mean nearly half
of your clients on Saturday

didn't get deliveries?

Yeah. I-I didn't make it
through all of them.

Ran out.

The girls, they,
weren't laying well that week.

Sorry.

My thoughts have been
like jelly.

Well, you say you ran out,

but when you arrived home,
I saw eggs still in your ute.

Must have been the cracked ones.

So do you remember
your last delivery?

Yeah.
Um, I got to Mrs. Campbell.

Before you ran out of good eggs?

Only the best for my clients.

Okay.
Thanks.

Are, um, you doing all right?

Not really.
But what can you do?

Well, at least
you've got support.

Jenny?

Yeah.
I guess that helps.

Okay. Well, um,
we'll keep you updated.

Okay.

Good day for it, Detective.

Is Lance Gifford taking
Triple X Steels in bulk now?

- What?
- By the box?

No, no. Just picking up
some new T-shirts.

One for each day of the year?

No.
They're for fundraising.

You want one?

I'll pass.

I'm interested in Bill Baker.

Why?
He's been dead for 30 years.

I know. Technically
it's a cold case, but...

Well... he was the greatest
shooter this club's ever had.

I, don't see your name
up there.

Well, as chairperson,

it might be a bad look
if I was hogging the limelight.

Have you ever known anyone
to use Bill Baker's maimai?

No.
Never.

It sits there as a monument
to his greatness.

Even though it's the best spot?

Well, that's a matter
of opinion.

Walter Elliot believes
that anyone wanting an advantage

would opt for that spot.

That would be disrespectful.

Well, someone's been there —
recently.

We found two shell cases.

At first glance, they seem to be
12-gauge Triple X Steels.

Didn't see anyone.

Were you wearing your glasses?

Of course.

Well, the shells
are being fingerprinted.

We'll know more soon.

This here?

That's my great-grandfather,
Don Ducker Sr.

He's with Henry Lyons, Leslie
and Jenny's great-grandfather.

The original stalkers.

First day of the season 1935.

You know, they built this club
from nothing.

I still use that gun
as a sign of respect.

Kicks like an old mule.

Jenny still has
her great-grandfather's, too.

See, they're a matching pair.

There's something timeless
about their simplicity.

Jenny Lyons still owns that gun?

Well, Leslie inherited it,

and then she passed it on
when she went all greenie.

- But that's not a.410?
- God, no.

Those men did not muck around.
Twelve-gauge all the way.

Well, everyone squeeze in
a little bit closer.

Don't be shy.

We all know each other,
don't we?

"Cheese," everybody!

Okay. Righto.

Everybody take your 100% pure
New Zealand coffees

back into the van,
and off we go, okay?

You've got a good smile.
All right.

Lance?

I'd love to stop and chat,
Detective.

I've just got a busy day, okay?

Sir, this is your camera.

Such a charlatan. Double mocha?

As relieved as I am
to see you open, Kimberley,

hold that thought.

I didn't mention it
'cause it isn't used.

Shouldn't it be in a safe?

When Leslie gave it to me,
it was decommissioned.

It's an heirloom.

It's the gun
my great-grandfather owned

when he set up the club.

With Don Ducker Sr.?

He fought in the Great War?

Gallipoli.

My great-grandfather served,
too.

Charles William Shepherd,

Auckland Mounted Rifles,
Gallipoli.

Wounded off at Chunuk Bair.

Who knows?
Maybe they were trench buddies.

Auckland 6th Battalion.
Arrived after Chunuk Bair.

Fought till the end.

The Great War.
Such an ironic name.

At least it's great
that they both came home.

Otherwise,
we wouldn't be talking.

Nice way of looking at it.

Well, if that's all,
I should get back to dear Ollie.

So much to organize
to farewell Leslie.

Of course. I will need to take
the gun to be examined.

I told you it's decommissioned.
It's merely an heirloom.

I understand.
But all the same.

Hey.

How'd I get in here?

Well,
Breen was taking you home

when you jumped out
of the moving vehicle

and started taking your clothes
off at the traffic lights.

Man.

It was the tequila, I bet.
Shouldn't drink that stuff.

Perhaps not in such volume.

How's the head?

Bad.

I want my one phone call.

Frodo, you can have
as many as you like.

We're letting you go
with a precharge warning.

- But we do need that statement.
- But I want a lawyer.

Well, you don't need one.
But if you so wish...

Yeah.
No. I totally need a lawyer.

In the unlikely event of
an emergency, follow your crew.

They know what to do.

Carew?

No.
I'm — I'm the crew, Mr. Chan.

Now, everyone test
your whistles.

Lance.

Lance?

All right. All right.
Stop.

Stop, please.

This had better be good.

I've got a bunch
of happy campers here

about to experience the tranquil
waterways of Brokenwood.

Interested in the local
bird life, are they?

Indeed.

And what do we do, people?

We take only photographs,
and we leave only...

- Fingerprints.
- Fingerprints.

Foot — Footprints.

We leave only footprints,
Mr. Chan.

These T-shirts.

Are they members of
the Duck Stalkers Association?

Look, what is this?

I'm trying to run
a legitimate business here,

and police harassment looks
bloody bad on Trip Advisor.

- What's going on, Lance?
- It's nothing.

Everyone gets a free T-shirt
with a ticket.

They don't even know
what it says.

Excuse me. Photo?

No.

- Yes. Go for it.
- Lovely red hair.

No.
Wait. Stop.

We love Kiwi ducks.

- Bang, bang, bang.
- Bang. Bang.

- Bang! Bang!
- Bang. Bang.

- Bang! Bang, bang, bang!
- Bang! Bang!

- Bang.
- Bang!

Hello.
Marion speaking.

Marion Ducker?
It's Detective Kristin Sims. Hi.

I'm just wondering if you
received a delivery of duck eggs

from Ollie Garrett on Saturday.

No.
Why?

It's just a routine inquiry.

Yes.
Sorry. Yes, I did.

Um, I was confused.

I thought you meant last weekend
when I missed out.

Yes, I did.

Right.

Well, that's all I need.
Thanks.

Okay.
Bye.

Hi, Ollie.
It's Detective Sims.

Um, it seems you made a delivery
to Marion Ducker

after Mrs. Campbell.

Do you remember delivering
to her the week before as well?

I, can't actually remember.

Well, Mrs. Marlowe received
her order that week,

and she's further down the list.

Does that help?

Then I, must have.

Yes.
I did.

Okay.
Thanks.

Detective!

Salutations.
I'm here for the Hobbit.

What?

Frodo.
He called me.

All that's required
is a statement of facts.

- You got it?
- Yeah.

That's all.
Nothing more.

That's all
you have to give them.

- You've got nothing to hide.
- No.

You've got nothing to hide,
right?

I don't want to hide anything.

Splendid!
I'll lead you through it.

Right.

Are we ready?

As you know, Detective Sims,

I've had limited time
to be briefed by my client.

But Mr. Oades is very happy
to furnish you

with his simple account
from his point of view

as an innocent witness
to this tragic accident.

In other words, he's prepared
to give a statement?

Yeah.

Good.

So, Frodo, can you tell me about
the events leading up to —

My client recalls
very little other than —

I killed that Garrett woman.

- Steady on, there.
- No. I did.

Well, Frodo,
I don't think that's accurate.

If my client and I could have
a further moment alone?

- Why? I killed the lady.
- Right.

My client is clearly hungover,

possibly still
under the influence.

Both barrels, man.

Totally wasted her.

It was real misty.

I was calling the birds in,
thinking about my mate.

Just like old times, bro?

It was supposed to be
a day of remembrance —

you know, of celebration.

I'd just gained the confidence
to get back out there.

But then that's when I saw
Hayden, over the other side.

Don't shoot! Don't shoot!

Next thing, the lady is slumped
in her boat, dead as.

Frodo, where exactly was Hayden?

This old maimai that this dead
Maori fella used to shoot from.

Can you indicate it
from this map?

It's that one.

And do you recall
what Hayden's ghost was wearing?

Some weird hat
and bandanna thing.

His face was covered
in camo paint.

So how could you be sure
it was him?

No one else uses that maimai.

I was thinking about him
real hard.

I summonsed his ghost, man,
and then it all turned to crap.

I know what I did.
I got to own it.

I know what I saw.

- Or do you?
- You're my lawyer.

I thought you were
supposed to believe me.

Gentlemen,
can you give me a moment?

What happened to me doing
all the talking?

I told you I wasn't gonna hide
anything.

You proved that, Frodo,
in spectacular style.

The Brokenwood Duck Stalkers
Association is nothing

without its exclusive lease

to shoot
on Walter Elliot's property.

It's nothing to do with me.

- You're a member.
- So?

You and Don Ducker got together

to create a quid pro quo
scenario

whereby you guarantee
increased membership to the DSA

in exchange for him guaranteeing
access to the waterways.

Fly in the ointment —
Leslie Garrett

and her plan to shut down
duck shooting in the area.

If Walter had to revoke
his lease,

Don would lose his club
and you'd lose your business.

If you're suggesting
that I shot Leslie,

then how do you explain the fact
that I wasn't even there?

I don't know that,
because you've never been clear

exactly where you were.

How can I prove that I was
nowhere in particular?

You know what?
This is complete bullshit.

You deny an arrangement between
you and Don Ducker exists?

'Cause Don's on his way here now
to talk to my boss,

give his version of events.

I want to call my lawyer.

Thank you for your honesty,
Frodo.

I know that must have been hard
to talk about.

We're not going to charge you
at this stage with manslaughter,

although, given your statement,

we may need to enforce
careless use of a firearm.

- You have no evidence.
- Is that it?

We have a confession, Dennis.

Made under the duress
of posttraumatic stress,

not to mention
a three-day bender.

Yep.
Lance.

Okay.

Where?

Right. Well, I won't be charging
for travel time, will I?

Say nothing.
I'm on my way.

Well done, Detective.
You are quite right.

My client, Gifford Eco Tours,
does have a special arrangement

with the Duck Stalkers
Association

whereby a ticket bought entitles
the holder to a free T-shirt,

which purchases
a temporary membership

of the aforementioned
association.

Now, this is all completely
legitimate under Section 21.1

of the Incorporated
Societies Act, 1908.

In other words, Detective,
as the old saying goes,

seems pretty legal to me.

And to which my client admits.
Right, Lance?

- That's right. I do.
- Which is bloody refreshing

given I've got another client
next door

who's admitting to something
he in all likelihood didn't do.

- Frodo?
- Yes! Foolish Frodo.

Yet, on the other hand,
Mr. Gifford here is admitting

to something he did do

that is completely immaterial
to the event in question,

which is the inadvertent
and tragic death of a woman

who by all accounts was
an accident waiting to happen

given she sailed willingly

into what can only be described
as a war zone.

So unless you have
any actual evidence

of any actual wrongdoing,

then this fishing expedition
must end.

You all right there, Detective?

Detective Sims, please.

Detective?

Ollie.
My message said to call.

I didn't mean for you
to come in.

That's okay.
Probably easier in person.

- Okay.
- Ollie.

Don.

I'm here to see
Detective Shepherd.

I'm...

I'm so sorry for your loss,
mate.

You doing okay?

Moving through it.

Don.

Could we go somewhere quieter?

As I mentioned,
these two shells were found

on Bill Baker's maimai.

The only fingerprints on them
are a match to yours.

Can you explain that?

No.
That's impossible.

Don, they're a match.

No, no. They're not mine.

I mean... perhaps birds
carried them from mine.

I mean, it's only a few yards.

Or perhaps you shot
from that maimai

and have been reluctant
to admit it

given it's a breach of code
amongst the other shooters.

No.

We have three witnesses
who saw someone on that maimai.

They all described him
the same way.

Yet, curiously,
you didn't see anyone at all.

And this is you
on the morning in question.

As you can see, the similarities
are hard to avoid.

Look, I-I never set foot
on Wild Bill Baker's maimai.

Never.

You see, the reason

why the deliveries
were incomplete is, um...

Man.

When I got to the Ducker house,
to Marion's...

- Hi.
- Hey.

Do you want to come in?

Her kids were away,

and we both just had this
feeling that we wanted to...

Like we couldn't help it.

And that was the only time.
The one time.

And then Leslie...

I just feel so bad.

Well, I, um, understand now

why you wanted to be away
from the station.

I take it Don is not aware.

You think he would have shaken
my hand?

I just can't believe
that happened.

That was surreal.

Look, I will need to
corroborate this.

My husband is more interested
in his damn club

than he is about me.

Over the years,
it wears you down.

You have no idea how much
I despise all things duck.

But not the eggs.

Well, that was just an excuse
to get to know Ollie.

Our paths had crossed,
and I liked him.

He'd come by each week,
and we'd talk,

each time a-a little longer.

And... well,
and finally last Saturday —

Between 7:00 a.m. And 8:00 a.m.
on Saturday morning,

were you anywhere near
the duck shooters' cove?

No.

Can you prove it?

You're not suggesting
we killed Leslie?

My God.
Seriously?

We look at
all the possibilities.

I- I never liked Leslie,
but I never wished her any ill.

No.
God, no.

I mean, w-with Ollie,
it was what it was.

But if Leslie hadn't...

Well, I-I'm sure everyone
would be none the wiser.

I don't suppose we can keep this
between us, can we?

I don't — I don't think Don
will handle it very well.

I can't make any promises.

Will you be all right?

What's going on?

Yeah.

Detectives.

Sorry to bother you.

It's fine.
I've just been at the church.

Funeral arrangements?

I've had to organize everything.
Ollie's still so distracted.

Were you aware of any frictions
between Ollie and Leslie?

In what way?

Lingering resentments,
domestic-violence issues?

Heavens, no.
They were married 10 years.

Perfectly happy.

Well, it's come to light
that Ollie was...

had an affair.

So perhaps not so perfect.

Are you sure?

Yes.

Well, who with?

Marion Ducker.
They've both admitted to it.

Wow.

I didn't see that coming.

We're yet to verify
the exact whereabouts

of both Ollie and Marion
when Leslie was killed.

Wait. They were...
That morning?

No, no.

Ollie would never hurt Leslie.

He might have stumbled,
but he wouldn't fall that far.

As for Marion,
well, I don't really know her.

And... you know,
I'm sure she drove him to it.

Well, Ollie claims it was
a mutual decision.

No, not Marion.
Leslie.

She was so absorbed
in her causes.

Poor man.

The other issue is

the tests carried out on
your great-grandfather's shotgun

reveal that it was fired
recently.

Well, it's not possible.
It was decommissioned.

Leslie told me
when she passed it on.

You never checked?

No. I told you —
I'd never shoot with a 12-gauge.

They have a kick like a mule.

Okay.
Thanks.

Well, will I be getting it back?

After a few more tests.

Sure.

How many ducks
would a duck plucker pluck

- if a duck plucker...
- ... would pluck ducks.

- And...
- And how many...

how many mothers pluck ducks
with their brothers —

D.C. Breen.
Hard at work, I see.

Senior.

Mrs. Marlowe was just
dropping off some food.

For Frodo.
He's in the slammer.

I remember Frodo.

Mrs. Marlowe,
this is Area Commandeer Hughes.

Well, hello.

Mrs. Marlowe.

Jean, please.

Are you, undercover?

Day off.

But you know what they say.
No rest for the wicked.

Thanks.
Don't let me stop you.

Now, shall we try it
a little faster?

I should probably carry on.

Thanks.

What's this?

Bent piece of wire.

Haven't found any significance.

These shells here correspond
to what was found

in Frankie Oades' maimai?

Yeah.
They're, Triple X Steel.

It's what all the 12-gauge
shooters were using.

- It's our main lead.
- Except they're not.

Pull Frodo from the slammer.

Get me the key
to the evidence room.

These shells were found
on the floor of your maimai.

They're of the Triple X brand.

Confirming they're yours.

Yeah, they're mine.
I already admitted it.

They're over 15 years old.

So?

They belonged to my mate
who got killed.

I was having a shot for him.

Hunting just meant so much
to him.

Even though you had access to
a fresh box of Triple X Steels?

I wanted to get a duck
with his ammo.

For old times, before it all
turned into this nightmare.

You see, this cartridge
has the logo of Triple X

running down the length,

and this one says "Triple X"
here.

See the difference?

Yeah?

Well, that tells me
that these cartridges, yours,

housed lead pellets.

They're Triple X Lead,

banned over 10 years ago
after a law change.

The victim was killed
using steel pellets.

You know what that means?

They were dodgy?

No, Frodo.

It means that you didn't fire
the fatal blast

or any blast that made contact.

So I... I didn't do it?

You couldn't have.

I don't know what to say.

How about,
"I won't use lead shot anymore"?

Bugger that. I'm not shooting
nothing no more.

I was over it before, and I'm —
I'm totally over it again.

Frodo, if you were always
gonna use Hayden's old shells,

why did you take the Triple X's
from the meeting?

'Cause they were free.

I'm never gonna use them,
though.

Do you want them?

- No, thanks.
- Okay.

You've still got it.

Didn't get any ducks, though.

Crafty buggers were staying
on the water.

Perhaps they're getting smarter.

Always next year.

Gina.

Mike.

I am a sight for your sore eyes.

Any chance you could
translate this for us?

The impact of the first blast
was on the victim's left hand

and side of her face.

It would have knocked her
around.

Please.

Did you say "please"?
How can I refuse?

When I realized, of course,
it was very simple.

For every action, there is
an opposite and equal reaction.

When Leslie Garrett was hit
with the first blast,

one of two things happened.

Boom!

The force would have knocked her
to her right and off balance.

She would have dropped
the megaphone,

her left leg traveling across
in front of the right

to keep balance.

But this is a boat,
so the motion was continuous,

spinning her around, presenting
her right side, when...

Boom!

.. the second blast hit.

That's why she was hit
on both the left and right.

So both shots came from
the left-hand side of the cove?

Correct.

If the blasts
only came from the left bank,

then it can only have been
Don Ducker or Bill Baker.

Or Jenny Lyons?

No.
She was shooting lead.

And given Bill Baker is
an apparition, he and Don are...

Probably one and the same.

Don?

Don, are you out here?

Marion Ducker is in
a critical condition,

and we have an eyewitness

who saw a figure in a long,
dark coat leaving the scene.

But dogs say the scent
went cold.

Don Ducker's phone still off?

Yeah. Breen picked him up
at the clubhouse.

He took him to hospital.

Don's gun was found
across the road from his house,

and his gun safe
has been jimmied open.

Home invasion?

There's no sign of forced entry
on either exterior door.

- Staged?
- Feels that way.

His fingerprints were found
on the shell casing

at Bill Baker's maimai.

He was the only one on that side
of the cove using a 12-gauge.

Motive?

To get Leslie Garrett
out of the way,

to ensure his beloved
Duck Stalkers stayed viable.

He said, "I would rather die
than see this club fail."

Substitute "die" with "kill,"
you think?

Yeah.

And if he's messed up enough
to do that,

then he could have probably shot
his wife.

Devastated at her betrayal.

Bring him in.

Marion's parents
have picked up the kids

and... drove them to the city.

We didn't want them around

as we, you know...
tried to work through things.

And did you work through things?

Well, I said I needed
some space.

So you decided
to bed down at the club?

Yeah.
Big mistake.

Because?

Because I wasn't there
when Marion was attacked.

If I had been,
I could've stopped it.

Would've shot the intruder
myself.

Look, what I mean is I...

I should have been there
to protect her.

There was no sign
of forced entry into your house.

No. Marion probably left
the door open.

She wasn't thinking straight,
what with —

Yet the gun safe
was broken into.

Yeah. Well, there you go.
See? It's a burglary gone wrong.

I mean, have you talked
to that bastard Garrett?

Ollie wasn't angry with Marion.

I see.

What, and I am?

Your gun was found
dumped across the road.

The only prints on it
were yours.

The expended shell cartridges

have your prints on them, too.

Well, okay.

If — If they were taken
from my box,

then they're probably
the unused ones

that I put back
the morning I went shooting.

The morning Leslie Garrett
was shot with shells —

again, bearing only your prints,
Don.

I've got kids, for God's sake.

Do you seriously think
that I would shoot my own wife?

But how angry were you?

Yeah. Okay.
I was angry.

But not like that.

Did you shoot Leslie Garrett?

No!
I've already told you!

You were desperate
to keep the DSA afloat.

Did you pose as Bill Baker?

- No!
- Well, someone did.

Well, it wasn't me!

Well, he's not saying anything
else without his lawyer.

Tell me it's not
Dennis Buchanan.

No. Thank God.
Some big shot from the city.

He'll be here in the morning.

Should we charge him
with something just to hold him?

Not yet. He needs to be there
for his kids when they get back.

He's not going anywhere.

His house is a crime scene.
Shall I book him a motel?

And get uniform
to keep an eye on him.

It's late.
Get some sleep.

Another big day tomorrow.

You know the difference
between myths and legends?

Try me.

Well, a myth
isn't necessarily true.

It grows into a legend.

Whereas a person can grow into
a legend with mythical status.

But they were definitely real
in the first place.

Yep.
Myths and legends, Mike.

It's what our world's
made up of.

It's how we explain
everything we can't explain.

Your Uncle Walter and Tamati,

they didn't see Bill Baker
or his ghost.

Yeah, but they're not porangi.

They seen someone.

They did.

Yeah.
Well, any ideas?

We have a prime suspect.

Yeah.
I heard about Don Ducker's wife.

Things are getting pretty weird,

Here's what I don't understand.

Jenny Lyons fired first
and once.

And then everyone else
fired twice.

I mean, why did everyone else
fire twice?

It seems very arbitrary.

Well, it's like
any other hunting.

You shoot to kill.

Bone pine.

What?

Anzac Cove.

You okay there, Mike?

All right.

Um, since reading ain't much
of a great spectator sport,

I might just get a move on.

Jared, I need you
to accompany me to the station.

Somewhere in here.

See this bent piece of wire?
What do you see?

Um, in my expert opinion, Mike,
a bent piece of wire.

It is.
And maybe so much more.

Gallipoli.

Arrived after Chunuk Bair.
Fought till the end.

- You've got a shotgun, right?
- Yeah. A.410.

- A bird scarer.
- Grab it.

And in the implement shed at
mine by the mower is a dead rat.

Can you bring that?

A dead rat.
Why?

We've got some building to do.

Okay.

Someone's been busy.

I thought you said to get
a good night's sleep.

In December 1915,
Anzac troops needed to evacuate

the doomed campaign
on the Gallipoli Peninsula.

They were hemmed in
under constant fire

from the Turkish army.

So they set their rifles to fire
intermittently from the trenches

while they slipped down the hill
and onto boats,

ferried away to safety
on the island of Lemnos.

The Turks believed they were in
their trenches for several days

when in fact they were
30 miles off the coast.

Ha.

And this is how they did it.

The drip gun, a cunning decoy.

The troops were evacuated
without loss.

Jenny Lyons' great-grandfather
was one of them.

Let Don Ducker know
that he won't need his lawyer.

That's why Jenny's shotgun
only fired once, not twice.

She only needed one blast
to set off a chain reaction.

So Jenny created the illusion
of being in her maimai.

When really... she was here,

dressed as Bill Baker's
ghost.

Hat, bandanna, trench coat,
camo paint.

It was a gift.

But the shells had Don's prints
on them.

The two he held up
at the meeting the night before.

So please grab a box,
see how they perform,

and I'll feed back
to the company.

And then, while everyone else

was getting their free boxes
of Triple X's...

She had access to a 12-gauge
that we didn't know about,

hiding it in plain sight
above the mantelpiece.

Hang on a minute.

Jenny was seen
moments after the shooting

coming out of her maimai.

Jared saw her running,
screaming.

How was she not seen going from
Bill's maimai back to her own?

Good point.
I- I'm not sure.

But I am sure

that the dead rat in the
corridor needs to be dealt with.

The...

Sweet God.

That is huge.

Not to mention disgusting.

We have a real vermin problem.

If there's one rat...

That's a real
health-and-safety issue.

there's like hundreds.

I promise you
the station is rat-free.

I got Jared to bring it in
to help me prove a point.

H- How did you...

The art of distraction

is how a person can move
between two points

in plain sight
without being noticed.

Where were all eyes focused
when the mist cleared?

Bugger.

Holy shit.

Giving Jenny time
to decamp back to her maimai.

No. No!

We only have a bent piece
of wire as evidence.

That's not gonna stand up
in court.

I'm sure she'll cough.

About why she might want to kill
her sister?

Well, as the Good Book says,

"Thou shalt not covet
thy neighbor's wife."

Nor thy sister's husband.

Jenny, it's Mike Shepherd.

Try around the back.

Sorry. I was just putting
something in the oven.

Jenny, we need you
to come down to the station.

Yes?
Why is that?

We have a few more questions
about Leslie.

And Marion Ducker.

As I said, I didn't know her.

And I've got baking on the go
for the wake this afternoon.

- We'll bear that in mind.
- It must be important.

It is, Jenny.
Thanks.

Can I wash my hands?

I really hope
this doesn't take long.

The service is at 1:00 p.m.,
and I've got a lot to do.

We'll be as quick as possible.

Good, 'cause it really
doesn't leave much time.

I'll grab my coat.

In fact, to be honest,

it doesn't leave enough time
at all.

Mike, there's no baking.

So I won't be coming.

Easy there, Jenny.

I have no interest
in coming to the station.

Mr. Shepherd, you're to stay.

You.
Get out.

- Jenny —
- Get out.

Get out!

Sims, do as she says.

- Mike, I can't.
- I'm pulling rank here, Sims.

Leave.
That's an order.

Shit.

I'd like to say
it was a difficult thing,

killing my sister,
but it wasn't.

She had it all,
and she disrespected everything.

What about the wildlife?

"Birds' lives matter"?

It's pathetic.

Our great-grandfather,
grandfather,

and father would all turn
in their graves.

And to subject lovely Ollie
to all that righteousness.

He deserved so much better.

By that you mean
he deserved you?

Leslie was more interested
in birdlife

than loving
her beautiful husband.

It's little wonder he strayed.

You shot Marion Ducker?

It wasn't hard.
I was angry.

Hands!

She shouldn't have used Ollie
for her own problems.

I want to see him.

That's not gonna happen, Jenny.

I'm sure you want things
to end peacefully, Detective.

I'm sure we all do.

So get him brought to the house.
Then you can leave.

We have AOS getting in position,

but the curtains are drawn,
so we have no direct visual.

The area police negotiator
is involved in another situation

in Tahuna Point.

For now, it's up to you
to keep things stable.

In other words
conduct hostage negotiations?

- Are you up for this, Sims?
- Of course.

Keep this line open,
and we'll work it out together.

I'm traveling to you
as we speak.

Um, we have Mike calling out
on another line.

Let me listen, but we reply
with only one voice — yours.

Understand?

- Yeah. Got it.
- Yeah. Okay.

I'm putting Kristin on now.

Mike, it's Kristin.
Are you okay?

I am okay.

I imagine there's some activity
out there.

As you might expect.

Tell the boys
not to get too enthusiastic.

I don't want any damage to
the paintwork on the Kingswood.

Top of mind, Mike.

- Top of mind.
- Good.

Now, Jenny assures me
that nothing bad will happen

on the condition that she
gets to see Ollie Garrett.

Copy that.
Can I speak to Jenny?

Negative.
She's not keen on that idea.

Just Ollie.
Here in 10 minutes.

It's a matter of some urgency.

Jenny says if she sees Ollie,
then things will end well.

Send for him,
but under no circumstances

will he be allowed inside
or anywhere near a line of fire.

Understood?

Copy that, Mike.

Tell Jenny we want
a peaceful resolution

and we're doing our best
to find Ollie.

Wasn't so hard after all,
was it?

Oi.
Detective.

Not now, guys.

Jenny Lyons has your boss
at gunpoint?

Yeah.

So she was
the Grey Mallard Bandero.

Yeah.

Hey, Detective.

She's a crack shot.

- Just so you know.
- Thanks for that.

Did you call your sister?

No.
You were keeping me busy.

Excuses.

What's her name?

Susan.

She has a son, Theo.

No other family?
No wife?

Not currently.

Marriage has never been
a strong point.

Why is it taking so long?

Maybe they're having...
trouble locating him.

He only lives across town.

They're stalling,
thinking they can wear me down.

Well, there's plenty of food.
There's enough food for a week.

They'll cut the water off
and then the power.

Then they should know
that that won't end well.

How do you see this ending,
Jenny?

When Ollie looks me in the eyes
and declares his love.

And then?

Then I'll be satisfied knowing
that he'll be there for me.

Doing time won't be hard
knowing that he's waiting.

Do you think he feels
the same way?

Deep down.

But he hasn't had
the opportunity to express it.

With Leslie gone, he can —
he can think for himself.

They won't let you see him,
Jenny.

They will.

I promise you they won't.

It's a simple request.

It's not like I'm asking
for a million dollars

and a helicopter.

I'm sure they value their senior
officer enough to allow me that.

Let's hope so.

Kristin.

It wasn't easy.

Ollie, hi.
Thanks for coming.

- I don't want to see her.
- It won't come to that.

Then why am I here?

Your presence will help us
talk her down.

She's sick in the head,

and you can't talk sense
to someone like that.

I appreciate that, but we have
a colleague in there.

and we need to get him out
in one piece.

If needed,
can you talk to her via phone?

Are you serious?

I wouldn't ask if I wasn't.

How much can one man take?

Sims.

We have Ollie here.

Here's what's going to happen.

Jenny needs to come through the
front door and put the gun down.

An officer will approach
and secure it.

Then she can come out
and speak with Ollie.

No. He needs to come in here,
where we can talk in private.

That can't happen, Jenny.

It's a simple request.
I'm not gonna hurt him.

Sims, give us a minute.

Ollie might want to come in here
to help you,

but he won't be allowed to.

The only way you have of seeing
him is by giving yourself up.

You need to tell your people
to make an exception.

Tell them there are two shells
in this gun — one for you

and one for me if I don't see
Ollie in person in one minute.

Sims, is Ollie still with you?

Yes.
He's ready to talk — out here.

Jenny needs him to come inside.

Can we make this happen?

Negative.
She needs to come out.

Really?

There are two of us in here,
and it's a sweaty situation.

It's like that feeling
before a tropical rainstorm.

You know that feeling, Sims?

He's warning us the offender has
deadly intent for both of them.

Mike, can you tell Jenny
Ollie is out here waiting?

He wants her to come out
so they can talk.

That's what he wants.

Okay.
Here's the deal, all right?

They're using Ollie as bait
to bring you out.

Negotiate.

Demand to talk to him
on the phone.

Look, I'm trying to help you
to at least talk to him.

Jenny needs to talk to Ollie
on the phone

to make sure he's there.

Then she'll come out.

Well, I need to know
that if that happens

she'll throw out her gun
and surrender.

Do we have a deal?

That's a deal.

Okay.
We're putting him on now.

Hello?

Ollie.

You need to come out, Jenny.

How nice to hear your voice.

No one else needs to get hurt.

I wanted you to know
how much I love you.

I've always loved you
and cared for you.

And I forgive you for what
happened with that Ducker woman.

I know Leslie drove you to it.

If only I'd been
more forthcoming

with showing you a way out,
a true happiness.

Everything's gonna be all right.

Do you love me?

I do.

You're a special person.

I love you, Jenny.

I- I guess I just...

I didn't realize it.

Do you think there's still time
for us?

I do.

Thank you, Ollie.

Thank you for your honesty.

We need to head out there now.

Don't answer that.

Are we okay, Jenny?

We had a deal.
Jenny.

- Why won't he answer?
- I need to answer it.

Just decline it!
Do what I say! Now!

Okay. Okay.

Okay.
That's not good.

Can you get him back on?

The liar.

After everything that I've done
for him.

Well... I was lying too...

when I said there was
two shells in this gun.

There's only one.

No!

Shots fired!
Shots fired! Armed police!

How could he lie to me?

Enough, Jenny! Enough!

Enough!
Just stop!

Just stop.

Just stop.

Mike, you good?

Yeah.

Jenny Lyons, you're under arrest
for the murder of Leslie Garrett

and the attempted murder
of Marion Ducker.

You have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you say can be used
against you in a court of law.

Looks like I missed
the fun part.

Trust me.
It's overrated.

Well, you were in good hands.
You okay?

Yeah.
You?

Yeah. All the better
for that being over.

Fancy a beer?

Susan, it's Mike.

No, no.
Nothing's wrong.

You know — same old, same old.

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