Original subtitles

Will you get us a drink, pet?

Circulate, all right?

All right, Craig, get me a drink.

Oh, easy.

Excuse me.

Right, I'm just gonna say a few words.

Really?

All right, everyone. Gather round.

Scottie's gonna say a few words.

Turn it off.

Can we have you on the dance floor?

Where is he?

Peter? Peter!

Come on.

Little Peter Magath, where is he?

- There he is. - Go on, Peter!

Little Peter may not have been the smartest kid in the village.

But he was the slowest.

- I've got short legs. - We thought, Michael and me,

that Peter'd been dropped on his head as a kid.

- I had. - We felt sorry for him.

We worried about your future, Peter.

"How's little Pete gonna manage?"

Didn't know you'd end up one of the richest sods in Newcastle!

Did we, Michael?

Nae idea at all, Scottie.

Should've paid more attention, then, shouldn't they?

- They're only joking. - Hilarious.

Now, when Peter came to me and said,

"I'm gonna make my fortune laying pipe,"

I thought he wanted to be a gigolo!

- What's a gigolo, Scott? - Ask Michael.

Michael thought tonight was fancy dress

so he's come as a Danish porn star.

Have you finished? The pies have come.

Not yet.

Our mate Michael: The best dressed Bolshevik in Newcastle.

We're all grateful to him for standing up for our right -

not to have our rubbish collected.

It used to be I was talking rubbish, or he was talking it.

Now all Newcastle's talking it cos we can't get it collected.

- Hear hear! - Scott.

Yeah, yeah.

All right, seriously.

I love Peter Magath...

...just like I love Michael.

Lifelong friends.

I love that Peter's an original.

I love that he had a vision of what he could be,

and he pursued it, even when we laughed.

I love that he has faith in others,

maybe even in me.

God knows the world needs people like that.

- Peter. - Peter.

Right, music.

Yee-ha!

Yee-ha!

Yee-ha!

Ripped By mstoll

Whoo!

Yee-ha!

180 Council dustmen

have gone on strike for a higher basic rate of pay.

Fears the mouldering rubbish might become a health hazard

mounted following reports of rat sightings.

The markets disgorge their daily garbage onto the growing mess.

But the dustmen were adamant. They wanted their basic wage

upped from £15, 9 shillings a week to £20.

The dustcarts stayed in the depot.

The general opinion was that the whole business stank.

He's got wooden splinters in his head.

Body was discovered just after seven, sir.

The sergeant reckons he was a jumper.

Really?

There's been a few of them lately.

They've pulled two out of the Tyne already this month, sir.

If he was aiming for the river, he was a bad shot.

Debt. Unemployment.

Is this where they found him? He hasn't been moved?

No, sir.

There's no blood around him.

He was dead when he hit.

- Have we got a name? - His wallet has got no ID.

There's no money in it either.

So robbery, maybe?

And we've got this.

It's a receipt for a pawnbroker,

a couple of betting slips from the dog track,

and a note that says,

"Gwendolen Howard, five o'clock Wednesdays."

Who's she?

- Gwendolen Howard? - Sir?

Sir, we're a bit shorthanded with the bin strike.

I need to release men to other duties

if we don't absolutely need the scene sealed.

It's a crime scene, Sergeant.

No, no, no. You heard him. Seal it.

- Sorry. - Dawson pawnbroker.

A chance to get yourself a decent suit, John.

She died of leukaemia, left me her watch.

- With you in a tick, gents. - Thank you.

What was your gran's name, son?

Erm... I just called her Grannie.

I would have called her Glamorous Grannie.

This is a Rolex.

Look... I just need the money.

I'm sorry, son.

Mr Dawson has very strict rules about these things.

I'm not sure that this really belonged to your gran,

may she rest in peace.

- What are you accusing us of? - Being stupid.

- How are you today? - Champion.

I'm sorry about the smell.

The working stiff normally has all my sympathy

but this set of work-shy bastards I could crucify.

I've got rats.

We'd like to speak to Mr Dawson, please.

He's not in at the moment.

Perhaps I can help you?

Are you buying or selling?

Ah.

There is no "Mr Dawson".

It's just a name I can blame when I have to say no.

People can get erm...

What's the technical word? Arsey.

Anyway, how can I help you?

Can you tell us who you issued this to, please?

I can try.

Here we are...

6733...

He gave the name of "T Dan Smith".

- T Dan Smith? - That's what it says here.

So... T Dan Smith, until recently Leader of the Council...

has fallen on hard times?

Well, probably not.

Some people aren't comfortable about using their real names.

And not just the thieves.

There's a lot of shame in falling on hard times. Sad.

Yeah, I can see the tracks of your tears.

Aren't you supposed to take their identities?

I'll tell Mr Dawson.

I can do a full audit of this place, sir,

maybe get it shut down, you know.

Ee, and I thought we were getting along.

What was pawned?

Four weeks ago. And all on the one ticket.

- All this? - Aye.

He said he'd be back for all of it.

Mind, they all say that. But I believed him.

And all this is definitely his?

No question in my mind.

If he's half-inched anything, I'll be back to see you.

Now I'm torn, aren't I?

I don't want stolen goods on me hands,

but if it's a chance of meeting you again, Sergeant...

Your "T Dan". What's he look like?

Fortyish... short dark hair...

a bit taller than you.

Beautiful skin, soft blue eyes...

How much did you give him for this lot?

£4210s.

It's a hard life, isn't it?

- There you go. - Thanks, John.

No missing person report matches the dead man's description.

The pathologist hasn't got anything yet,

and won't have until tomorrow.

And we've got no Gwendolen Howard on any of our files.

Making progress, then.

Don't shoot the messenger, Inspector Bacchus.

She never irritate you?

No.

Our man's not a thief, John.

That pawnshop bloke could sniff out a thief a mile away,

we watched him do it - he's pawning the family silver.

This is a man with a wife, who's got rings and necklaces.

At least, she did have.

So, where is she? What's she waiting for?

- It's dead. - How do you know that?

Because there's no dial tone, that's how.

- We noted you've been cut off. - Well, why've we been cut off?

Anita Magath.

Anita, Jo.

Is my husband there?

Tommy Cary?

Aye. I've got me licence, just not on us.

No, you're all right. We just want to know...

if you know who this belongs to.

Aye, I know him.

He put a pony on the third race. Doesn't happen very often.

He chases his bets... makes us uneasy.

It's like watching them jumping off a cliff.

Is he... jumping off a cliff?

When you take the money,

you try not to think about the look in their eyes.

But there's some you feel sorry for.

- Was he one of them? - Jimmy!

What is it, an addiction?

Most people bet for a laugh.

But some can't stop till they've emptied their pay packet.

That's when the crying starts -

bills to pay, bairns going hungry at home, angry wives.

It certainly keeps those guys busy in that window, I tell you.

Who are they? Loan sharks?

I'm not really in a position to judge.

- Did our man use them? - I don't know. I suppose.

Always managed to find a bit of money from somewhere.

- Do you know his name? - Aye.

- Said his name was... - T Dan Smith?

No, Richard. Richard Grainger.

But when you find him,

tell him there's £210s to come back on that.

No, he won't be collecting it.

- Off the cliff? - Something like that. Yeah.

It's all part of the job, pet lamb.

- It isn't, actually. - Well, I had to do it.

Don't tell me this is character building

cos you're living proof that it's not.

I could have you disciplined for that.

Go on, then.

Lovers' tiff?

There's three Richard Graingers in the Newcastle area.

One is four years old, one's 78.

And the other one is alive and well

and works in the Ministry in Longbenton.

So the dead man's not from the area, then?

Do I amuse you?

What, is this that T Dan Smith bloke again?

He's called Richard Grainger now, is he?

Any chocolate biscuits, pet?

What's funny?

Grainger Street, Grainger Town, Grainger Market...

- Yeah? - Richard Grainger.

He pretty much built Newcastle about 100 years ago.

I knew that.

Local knowledge, John. Can't beat it, eh?

The dead man's obviously got a sense of humour.

He was interested in how the city was built

and he names himself after two different blokes

who were known as "Mr Newcastle".

I'll just go and chase up those choccy biscuits for you, eh?

- Still irritating you, then? - Teeny bit, yeah.

- Lab Report, sir. - What?

- Lab report, sir. - He's lost his voice, sir.

He's got a cold or flu or summat.

Chest infection.

Thanks.

Just be happy.

"Three skull fractures, injuries to the legs and upper body.

Injuries are consistent with a heavy blunt force.

Could have been caused by a fall..." blah, blah, blah.

"Multiple bruises and lacerations, victim was beaten.

Wooden splinters found in the skin and on the body."

- Well, we saw them. - Got his hammers, didn't he?

"Blood alcohol level: 293."

Surprised he could stand up.

In no condition to defend himself, was he?

So who is our Mr Newcastle?

Well, let her in, Peter.

Anything?

Have you spoken to Michael?

Michael's not answering his phone.

What happened to your face?

Have you called the RVI?

What was Scottie doing exactly the last time you saw him?

Getting a taxi, I think.

We were all stocious.

Jo, maybe you should go home and wait for him to turn up there.

What?

If you think Scott did something stupid,

you should be calling the police

not standing here staring at me after 36 hours.

Something stupid? Like what?

My phone's still not working. Can I use yours?

Police, please.

This way, please.

Sir.

Which one's the wife?

It's the woman in the cream coat.

Who's the other two?

The bloke is Peter Magath, the dead man's best mate,

and that's his wife Anita.

Have you seen the state of his face?

They don't seem especially close, do they?

She called in saying that she was worried

about her missing husband and feared for his mental state.

Her description of her husband matches our man exactly.

- I'll take them down. - No, no.

Rachel, you take her down. Sit with her.

Watch her face and remember everything that she says.

Afterwards, assuming it is her husband,

bring her back here and if she wants to talk let her talk,

but don't tell her anything.

Afterwards, bring her back here and I'll come and find you.

- Erm... - What?

Hasn't she the right to know her husband was murdered?

No. No one has a right to know anything

till I know who killed Mr Newcastle.

We work for the dead, not the living.

Off you go.

Are you sure she can manage it? She's never done it before.

Only one way to learn.

Are you ready?

Is this your husband, Mrs Parker?

I mean, yes, it's Scott, all right, but...

...just the shell of what he was...

...what he used to be.

I'm sorry, Scottie.

- Right... - Where did you find him?

I erm... I don't have any details.

How did he do it?

Do what?

Kill himself.

I'm afraid I don't know anything about his death.

Don't know much for a copper, do you?

Are you the tea lady?

When did you last see Scott?

Night before last, me birthday party.

Happy Birthday.

Thanks.

- Was it? - What?

Happy birthday.

Well, I was 40. Who wants to be 40?

I wouldn't mind.

- Were you there, Mrs Magath? - Of course. We were all there.

Us, Jo, Scottie... Michael.

Michael?

- Michael Woodruff. - Who's he?

Michael and me were Scottie's best friends since we were kids.

Where can we find him?

Organising the bin strike.

Oh, that Michael Woodruff?

Good news for rats.

Do you think we could take Jo home,

assuming she's identified the body?

Although it might not be him.

No, it is him.

You seem to be...

What?

Are you suspicious or something?

No. But I'd like to know who took a lump out of your face.

Oh, this? It's er... high jinks at the party.

Michael started smashing chairs over our heads.

Why was that?

Pissed.

Wanted to see if they'd break,

You know, like in the pictures.

Like Lee Marvin hitting John Wayne.

Did they?

Yeah.

- These are wooden chairs? - Aye.

Wooden chairs.

Tell me more about this party.

It was at our restaurant, Pete's.

Oh, the American one?

Ah, right, I've heard that's good.

- Do you own that? - Aye.

No, we both own it.

Right, near the cathedral?

Yeah.

Mighty fine ribs.

We should go.

Just near the High Level?

Yeah.

- Some tea, Mrs Parker. - I don't want a cup of tea!

Jo. Jo, it's all right.

- Could you just... - Come on.

- It's all right. Come here. - Where's me bag?

I've got it. I've got it. It's OK.

It's all right.

Shock.

- To be expected. - Yeah.

I'll need a list of all the people who were at your party.

Also the staff who were present.

I don't understand, Mr Gently.

My friend has taken his own life.

We need time to deal with this as best we can.

Why are you asking for lists?

I'm sorry, didn't I make myself clear?

Scott Parker was murdered.

So I'll call round the restaurant for that list.

About seven, all right?

I'm not always there.

Be there.

Bring your wife.

Guv, there's something very wrong.

That woman is weird.

In the mortuary, first she said it isn't Scott,

just the shell of who he used to be.

Next thing, she's banging on about how her car got stolen

- and how her house got burgled. - Were they?

I don't know, but I can find out for you.

And I think she said, "I'm sorry, Scottie."

I'd like you to get to know her over the next few days.

Meanwhile, we need everything that we can get

on Pete Magath, Scott Parker and this guy Michael Woodruff.

Right.

Let's not forget there was no money in his wallet.

It's likely to be a street robbery, if anything.

Nah, there was a ferocity to it.

Street robbers, they hit you once, they're gone.

I think there was hatred in this, a loss of control.

Gentlemen.

Looking for Michael Woodruff.

No?

Michael Woodruff?

What are you looking for him for?

That's our business.

What's he done wrong?

Who says he's done anything wrong?

This strike is not illegal and we are not disturbing the peace.

It's nothing to do with the strike.

It's about Scott Parker.

I'm Michael Woodruff.

What about Scottie?

I'm afraid he's dead.

It's all right, lads.

Gone.

Just like that.

Did you see him leave the party?

Was no party by the end, just the three of we.

Then just me and Peter.

What time did he leave?

I divvn't know... two?

Where had everybody gone?

The party ended pretty quick

when Scott started smashing the place to bits.

- Was he angry or summat? - Aye.

Smashing chairs and the usual crap.

Peter and me tried to stop him but he was...

What?

He was uncontrollable... off his head.

Was this the game where you were trying to see

if the chairs would break like they do in the Westerns?

- Eh? - That's what Pete Magath said.

Ah, well. Peter!

Peter's the nicest bloke in the world, man.

Trust him to put a nice gloss on it.

The bloke was smashing up his restaurant, man.

- Could Scott be violent, then? - Yeah.

Not head-banging violent, but...

Scottie felt the world was against him.

Take that resentment,

mix it with a couple of bottles of bourbon

and it's goodnight, Vienna.

Next day, he's full of apologies.

There's no next day this time.

Was he suicidal?

Nah.

You seem very sure about that.

All he talked about was the future, man.

His head bulged with his plans for the future.

- What sort of plans? - This place.

- Newcastle! - Ah, right.

He wanted to rip it down and rebuild it!

Like Richard Grainger and T Dan.

His heroes.

Promise us one thing:

You'll not let anybody con you into thinking

Scott Parker took his own life.

What was your last sight of him on that night?

Staggering from the restaurant, two in the morning,

blood on his head from hitting the wall, cursing us,

cursing the world, cursing God, cursing the sky,

singing at the top of his voice.

Which direction?

Towards the High Level.

Scott had no money on him when he died.

Scottie never had any money.

Now, I know you don't think he's a jumper,

but could he have been so drunk

he got himself into a mess and fell off the High Level?

No?

What was he singing?

Erm...

Oh, it was that thing... Five Bridges.

Gemma!

Gemma!

Gemma!

Are you all right, John?

Yeah, never better.

Is this all part of the celebrations?

Yeah. Me in the middle, Scott on the left.

We were ten.

Michael Woodruff was desolate about his friend's death.

I'm sure it's the same for you.

I'm very sorry.

I don't think I'll ever really get to grips with it all.

Is this one of the things that was being smashed, then?

Where did this take place?

- Just where you're standing. - Oh.

You've cleaned up a bit, have you?

Why else do you pay cleaners?

Not opening tonight, then?

Mark of respect.

Here's your list.

- Much good may it do you. - Thank you.

Will the names of the cleaners be on there?

No. But I'll provide them separately if you want them.

Yes, please.

Have you always been in the restaurant business?

No. I started out as a labourer,

installing pipe for the oil refineries.

Anita thought we could do it cheaper ourselves,

so I borrowed some money, set up my own company.

Are you an engineer, then?

No. I'm just lucky.

Lucky that you've got a wife that's so encouraging.

If you want to say "pushy", say it.

Opening this place was my idea as well.

How did you do it so cheaply... the pipes?

Non-union labour.

Yankee oil companies loved it.

What did your friend Michael Woodruff think about that?

That's the wonderful thing about lifelong friendships.

You don't have to like everything

about someone you really love.

Like it didn't matter that Scott was violent?

- Who told you that? - Michael Woodruff.

Michael should shut his face now and then.

Michael doesn't think it's suicide.

Yeah, he rang me.

Why are you playing games with us?

You tell me murder but you ask Michael about suicide.

Why don't you tell me why you assume it was suicide?

It's what Jo thinks.

So Scott Parker's wife thinks he's committed suicide

but doesn't call the police for almost two days?

Don't you think that's just a little bit odd?

She is a bit odd. Let's face it.

- Nita... - Seen the way they live?

I think the woman's borderline insane. I've always thought it.

- You're not best friends? - God, no, she hates me.

Why?

Because I've got what she wants.

Everything I got, I got through hard work and being savvy

and everything she got, she got on the never-never.

And where did that get Scott Parker?

At the foot of the High Level.

I'm sorry, gents, I think you're dead wrong.

I think he had a million reasons to chuck himself off a bridge.

That's all you're gonna get outta me.

Ask Jo Parker if you want the rest.

- You withholding information? - Yeah.

Arrest me, you jumped up smarmy-faced little shitehawk!

- Are you finished? - No.

So what was your last sight of Scott Parker?

Weaving his way down the road,

with blood down his shirt where his head had hit the bar,

or a chair smashed over his head, cursing, singing...

Those were pretty much the exact words Michael Woodruff used,

except you're saying Michael started smashing chairs

where he was saying it was Scott.

Maybe...

Nita, you weren't there, remember?

Does it matter who smashed the first chair?

Yeah, I think it does.

Oh, well, I'm sorry! I can't remember!

We were all completely pissed.

All right.

One more question.

Does the name Gwendolen Howard mean anything to you?

No.

Right. Just the names and addresses of the cleaners, pet.

"You don't have to love everything about..."

No.

- No. - "...someone you like."

That's arse about face.

"You don't have to like everything

about someone you love."

It's almost a definition of their friendship, isn't it?

Something strong that they had between them all their lives,

growing up together.

Anita's a bit of a mare, isn't she?

Took a shitehawk to point it out, didn't it?

To shitehawks everywhere.

- To friendship. - To friendship.

God bless you.

You can't bring yourself to tell me what's wrong with you.

Here we go.

Why have you not shared it with me if we're friends?

Your hands are shaking, you keep dropping things on the floor.

Oh, leave it out.

All right.

John, this is the way I deal with things. OK?

Besides, look.

It's gone?

Well... Yeah. Gone, maybe for good.

- Good. - Yeah.

- I bet you can't do this. - Oh, here we go.

Very good.

Oh, yes!

I am the king!

I erm...

I've just come to say night-night.

I'll pop in on Mrs Parker tomorrow like you said.

Yeah.

- You do know, you've got... - Yeah.

Yeah.

I don't think she has any respect for me.

Your house was burgled last month, Mrs Parker?

Broke in through the back.

And they took mostly jewellery and the television?

And a canteen of cutlery.

Silver.

- Did you make a claim? - Aye.

The loss adjustor came last week.

So we should get some money back.

Not "we", I.

And your car was stolen as well?

Are you on your own here, Mrs Parker?

Yeah.

Do you work?

No, not any more.

I used to, though.

No children?

No, I had a lot of miscarriages in me 20s.

At the finish, I had a hysterectomy.

Oh, I'm sorry.

So what will you do now?

I'm sorry to have to ask you this.

Was Scott worried about anything?

Money?

The thing with Scott is that he was so positive.

"Keep your eyes on the prize."

- And what was the prize? - Change, modernisation...

progress.

Is there anybody you can stay with for a while?

Anita.

Peter and Anita. I'll give them a bell...

when me phone's back on.

I could give them a call for you if you like?

I can manage.

I've got to go out in a minute.

Right.

Have you got business here, gents?

We are waiting for Mrs Parker to leave.

We have an arrangement with her until she goes.

Right. And who are you, please?

Sorry.

There we are.

Estate agent. What? She's selling the house?

Erm...

The mortgage was foreclosed a month ago.

Repossession.

Mrs Parker's allowed to live here until it's sold.

But she doesn't own it any more.

She's erm... a little bit fragile.

We don't show buyers around when she's in, at her request.

She goes out.

So they were completely broke, weren't they?

- The burglary, the car theft? - Frauds, I think, sir.

I think they got desperate to keep afloat.

We know where the jewellery went.

Maybe the mare was right.

A million reasons for him to chuck himself off a bridge.

So where did all the money go?

- Where is this place? - It's up near the university.

City Vision Developments.

Maybe he put all of his money into his business.

Last company accounts showed 25 employees.

I've told Jo to meet us there.

Can I just say?

I've got a lot of respect for youse,

if you don't mind us saying.

I mean, I had no idea that you were in a circus act together.

Is this supposed to be Newcastle, this?

It's not gonna happen, is it?

Scott always said it would.

He wanted to buy up all the warehouses

along the quayside as they fell into disuse

when the river trade fell off.

He could always see ahead, Scottie.

Did he buy those warehouses?

No. He couldn't afford them.

What he did buy was land near the Town Moor.

That was his Phase One redevelopment.

He borrowed from banks and investors to do it.

But the council rejected his plans.

Would they not give him planning permission?

Nobody would help him. Banks wanted their money back.

And the investors?

Them as well.

What was the argument against redevelopment?

I'd like to see this sort of thing happen.

- Who wouldn't? - Plenty of people.

Stick-in-the-muds.

People who think development should be "not for profit",

owned by the community.

Unions, for instance.

Michael Woodruff's union?

Michael's voice was the loudest.

Does he know you're in his chair?

He said I could.

I was looking for somewhere quiet.

I thought you were out.

Teacher's pet.

What is it you're doing, anyway?

Erm... swotting on this exam.

- Or trying to. - Sergeant's exam?

Yep.

What'll you do if you don't pass?

Fail.

What'll you do if you fail?

What'll you do if you fail, Rachel?

I'll do it again.

Do you mind?

Sorry.

Gwendolen Howard.

Gwendolen Howard.

Did you ask Jo Parker if she knew a Gwendolen Howard?

- No. - Why not?

Maybe I thought she had enough on her plate

without me putting the idea in her head

that her dead husband was shagging summat on the side.

Right, OK, but Confucius said that,

we serve the dead, right? Not the living.

I'll ring her.

She doesn't have a phone.

Inspector... Sir... Please will you not do this?

It's not funny. I'm...

I'm really stressing over this exam.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Good luck.

I mean it.

Thank you.

"Gwendolen Howard".

Hey, that's a slash. It's "Gwendolen/Howard".

Rachel...

- Rachel! - Right.

Pass us the A to Z, man, will you?

- A to Z. Quick. Come on. - All right!

Right.

"Gwendolen/Howard".

- I reckon it's a place. - It's not.

Do you want a bet? Ten bob.

- You're on. - Gwendolen Road.

Page 54, 1 E.

Road crosses Howard Street, Cowgate.

Hey-hey! Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Eh, look at that!

Eh, local knowledge, you can't beat it.

- You owe me ten bob. - That's me dinner the night.

You shouldn't bet what you can't afford to lose.

"Gwendolen and Howard, five o'clock Wednesdays."

- Why not? - Can I come?

No. You've got your exams to sweat over.

Go on, son. Get yourself aboard here.

Right.

You, Percy Street.

Howay, son. Up for a bit of graft, are you?

Go on.

Come on. I've not got all bloody day.

Right, wagons roll!

Lovely. Good man.

The lads are doing all right here. I'll see you later, son.

Rat! Rat!

I'm not paying you to catch rats!

Let them strike as long as they want, eh, bonny lad?

That Michael Woodruff. They call him "The friend of the rats".

"Good for business", I call him!

Ever come across Michael Woodruff?

Just the once.

How, man, what are you doing?

We're not taking old washers, man!

Just the stuff that stinks!

Howay, then. Come on. Clear up here!

Youse can all start drinking your pay, you lazy bastards!

There are issues of privacy.

I can get a court order.

I thought you might say that.

Both accounts, I take it?

Mrs Parker's first.

Basket case.

Like lending money to Bangladesh.

Debt, debts...

...unauthorised withdrawals, bouncing cheques,

missed deadlines.

How much?

At the last count, as of today...

£4,648, 10 shillings and 4 pence.

You've loaned all that to a woman without a job?

Her husband is her guarantor.

Not any more, he's not.

No. But he was.

I thought Scott was a good bet,

until the Planning Department holed him below the waterline.

What did she spend it on?

Oh, come on.

Bookmakers.

Jo would bet on two drops of water going down a window.

Do you think your bank was prudent

using its customers' savings to finance reckless gambling?

Oddly enough, exactly what Regional Head Office asked.

Next time you see me,

I'll be flying through the air with me trousers on fire.

Scott must have had other investors. Who were they?

Right.

Thank you.

What, man?

- It's for you! - Eh?

It's for you!

- Hello? - Rachel.

Sorry, Mr Gently.

Go and see Jo Parker again.

Investors in City Vision lost a lot of money.

Right.

Scotch, please.

I went to see Scott's bank manager.

- Did you? - Yeah.

How did it feel to lose so much money because of Scott?

Shit, actually.

No, no, no, no. On the house, Neil.

Oh, thank you.

Must be hard to come to terms with something like that.

No. It's the risk you take.

Investing's a bet.

You don't bet what you can't afford to lose.

Did Scott Parker take that advice?

No. Scott didn't.

No. Scott lost everything he had and more, didn't he?

His ship went down with all hands.

Are you still trying to call it murder, Mr Gently?

His head was full of wooden splinters.

So's my face. Look.

I've admitted to you what happened.

Michael's admitted what happened.

Scottie walked out of that door alive.

Do you know about Jo Parker's gambling habit?

- Oh, yes. - How?

The 500th time Scottie blagged us for a loan,

I made him tell us where all the money was going.

Did you tell Anita that you were paying Jo's gambling debts?

I mean, Anita and Jo don't get on, I know.

- What about Anita and Scott? - What about them?

Did they like each other?

Everybody liked Scottie. Everybody.

Did Scott like your wife?

What's not to like?

How long ago did the ship go down with all hands?

Four months.

What caused it?

No planning permission.

But you and Scott still owned the land.

Surely it had some value?

Not while there was no planning permission.

It was hard seeing Scottie get that decision reversed.

He went about things all the wrong way.

The committee saw through him.

He couldn't even keep up with the rent on his offices.

Too busy keeping up with Jo's bad debts.

Were you angry with him about that?

Nah. It was Scottie. That's what he was like.

No point being angry with him. Thanks.

He spent a fortune on these unnecessary drawings and models

made by these fancy architects from Sweden.

He even talked about chucking another bridge over the Tyne,

as if there aren't enough of those already!

This all had to be paid for and I got sick of forking out,

so he borrowed on the property.

He used property that was partly owned by you

as collateral for his own debts as well as his wife's?

- Yeah. - Did you give permission?

- No. - Did your wife know?

There you go, bonny lad. Didn't say I never gave you nowt.

- Mine's a pint. - Cheers, Gaffer.

Good man.

All right.

Where did you dump it?

On the tip, where else?

I'll wait on, though, till the pickets gan home.

- After dark? - Aye, too bloody right!

How'd you find out about us, anyway?

A friend of mine has done it before.

Scottie? Scott?

Might use a different name for the taxman. Richard Grainger?

Oh, Richard. Aye, canny enough lad, like.

Bit talkative.

Always banging on about bridges.

His hands were soft, I knew he needed the money, you know.

Mind, he could fight if he had to.

Get in. Cheers, lad.

- That surprised us. - What do you mean?

You know you asked us about Michael Woodruff?

It's the one time I come across Michael Woodruff.

Hey, what a bastard he is!

Hey up, lads.

Get out of here, you bloody scabs!

Aye, man. We've got a legitimate day's work here.

Not around here, you've not!

All right, pack it in! Come on now, cool it.

Right, move it. We're gonna gan now.

Scottie!

All right, ladies. Nowt to see here!

Go, Michael!

Just stay down.

Scottie... what are you doing this for?

I've got nothing! I'm on my knees, Michael!

I'm on my knees! I've got nothing, man!

I've got nothing!

I am nothing!

Aye, well done, mate.

Howay.

Come on.

Aye, he could fight all right.

Never seen anybody else fight Woodruff to a standstill.

He was obsessed with bridges, you know.

He used to say, "They're not an invitation to leave,

they're a door opening.

A new bridge is a new way in."

He loved the High Level for its dark grandeur.

But he adored the Tyne Bridge for what it said about change.

He used to point up, where it comes into Newcastle.

"Look, man, Jo, were they afraid of change?

Were they afraid to take a risk?

They smashed through the most beautiful Georgian houses

to inject the A1 straight into the heart of the city!"

That's the Scott I married.

And are you the Jo he married?

What time is it?

It's quarter past six.

You have to go, I've got some people coming round.

OK. Well, maybe I'll pop in on you tomorrow, eh?

Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow.

Right.

Where you going, pet?

I'm gonna see Mrs Parker, any objections?

She's a bit busy at the minute, come back in half an hour.

What's going on here?

Who are you, like?

Look... no one's forcing her to do this.

There's worse ways to pay off your debt, you know.

Forcing her to do what?

Nobody asked her to borrow money off we.

Forcing her to do what?

Rachel...

Jo, are these men harassing you?

No. Have an arrangement.

Now just go away and leave us alone, will you?

Jo...

Jo!

How often does this happen?

Wednesdays.

It's just your friend or?

Both we.

And how long will it go on for?

Till her slate's clean.

Do you know her husband died this week?

Nah, I didn't know that, like.

Seemed like a canny lad.

You knew him?

Yeah, he would come and complain.

Asked us to wait for the money, usual sort of stuff you get.

He knew?

Hey, pet, you'd better spend some time in the real world.

There's a cold wind blowing out here.

Yeah. These were the clowns we saw at the dog track, sir.

Do their alibis stand up for the night of the murder?

- Yes. - Then we're not interested.

Come on, man! It's 1969, not 1869.

Why must a woman sell herself to these pigs

just cos she owes them?

Rachel, if she's not being coerced,

what do you think I can do?

What law's been broken, eh?

Meanwhile, I've got to catch her husband's killer. John!

Aye, let's serve the dead, eh?

To hell with the living.

Find out where they drink.

What gives you a right to attack men going about their work?

Isn't their work, is it?

It's our work.

They're scabs and I batter them whenever I can.

It wasn't really an official strike, though, was it?

It was a wildcat strike. Are they really scabs?

Sorry, you've brought us in here to discuss my union's rulebook?

Do you hate scabs, Mr Woodruff?

With every breath in me body.

Did you hate Scott Parker, then?

Ah!

That's why I'm here.

How did you find out about that?

I'm a detective.

Nah.

Nothing could ever make me hate Scottie.

Well, somebody did. He was beaten to death.

Any idea who did it?

I cannot tell youse who he walked into on the High Level,

but I can tell youse the world is turning nasty.

There's some really bad people out on the streets.

We'd noticed.

Spend your time chasing them round the block 'stead of me.

Do summat useful.

We'll, I'll look into it after my tea. How about that?

So come on.

Who started smashing up furniture on Saturday night?

Scottie.

- Why? - I divvn't know. He was pissed.

Whose head got the first chair?

- Peter's. - Then what?

Peter smashed one over his head, got his own back.

Then I smashed one over Scottie's head,

then they smashed chairs over my back thinking it was funny.

Then Scottie smashed one round Peter's face,

then he staggered into the bar and hurt himself

and that's when blood got spilt and that's when we stopped.

And it was just the three of you present?

- Was that a yes? - Yes.

And you have no explanation for this extraordinary behaviour?

Aye.

And I've given you it twice. Alcohol.

Oh, alcohol?

High jinks.

"We all love each other so much,

we couldn't possibly hurt each other even with a chair leg.

We're just three mates having fun."

You know what? I don't believe a word of it.

Your mate was beaten to death.

I divvn't know what else to say to you.

Well, try answering this, then.

Why did your union veto Scott's redevelopment plan,

his city vision?

You really don't understand the political process, do you?

We were one voice among many.

That's not a veto.

It's democracy.

I'm sure you lot are in favour of it.

Cos whenever there's a struggle for democratic rights,

the cops are always on the wrong side.

He needed your support. You refused to give it to him. Why?

Because analyse the so-called vision and guess what?

It's just another piece of property speculation

designed to make a few guys rich.

Guys like Scott Parker and Peter Magath?

See, I don't understand why you bothered hanging around them.

You despise everything they stand for.

Like I told youse, you don't have to like...

Yeah, no, yeah, no. I've heard that one before.

This guy that you loved, this guy that you wouldn't hurt,

you beat the shit out of him

cos he's trying to earn three quid to pay his bills,

and now he's in a fridge with his name tied to his toe

and his skull smashed in three places!

How many times did you hit him with that chair leg?

Once.

What about Peter Magath? How many times did he hit him?

More than once.

How many?

Three times... maybe four.

Rachel, it's your exam today, isn't it?

Yes, sir.

Good luck, not that you need it.

- Thank you, sir. - Knock 'em dead, Rachel.

Thank you, sir. Inspector Bacchus?

- That pub you asked about? - Yeah?

It's the Printer's Pie in Jesmond.

Right. I'll give it a go.

- Give what a go? - They've an Aunt Sally team.

So she said, "I'm not doing it twice."

Hello, lads.

Fancy a beer tonight?

Aye.

Companies House sent this over, sir.

Thank you, Peter. Hang on.

Can I call you back?

I will.

Gem, let's talk about it.

All right?

Half a dark, please.

Ta.

- Could I have a quick word? - What about?

Spot of bother that I've got myself into.

- Someone said you can help us. - Who said?

Bloke called Tommy Cary at the dog track.

Oh, Tommy, yeah. Yeah.

Financial bother, is it, er?

John. Yeah, I er...

I lost me job.

I've taken a few too many liabilities at once.

- A little bit of bad luck? - Aye.

Knows when to turn up, doesn't it?

Just when you least want it, usually.

What are you looking for, John?

250.

Over what period?

Erm...

Well, I'm...

I could probably just get it back to you in two months,

three at the most.

It's 350 after two month, and 450 after three month.

Well, I'd probably feel more comfortable with three months.

- Confident in paying us back? - Oh, aye.

Cos we're professionals -

we will take your car, we will take your house if necessary.

I rent.

Just so you know what you're getting yourself into.

This man.

I've watched him take the rings off a bankrupt's wife's fingers

and smile when he's doing it.

I tell you what: Leave the rings, take the wife.

- She the bad luck, is she? - Aye, it's not going well.

What's she called?

- Gemma. - Good looking, is she?

It's always the good-Iooking one's that bring trouble.

Ah, she's a...

she's a real beaut.

Oh, yes!

That's trouble.

That is trouble.

Yeah, we'd like to help you, John.

Ah, fantastic.

Great that's... that's... that's great, lads.

Could I ask for a bit of help now for tonight?

Like... Like an advance? Yeah, yeah, we can do that.

Have you got any identification, proof of address, anything?

Not here, John.

We've got to be a bit discreet.

- 20 notes suit you? - That'd be perfect.

There's a yard out back.

Meet us there, couple of minutes.

Right.

All right.

Thanks for everything. I really appreciate it.

It's a big weight off me mind.

Well, we like to help people, John.

There's a cold wind blowing out there.

Aye, I know. I'm all right now.

I've got me long johns on.

Tosser.

Hey! What's going on? Argh!

Agh!

All right, lads.

That's it.

Well done.

I'll see you tomorrow.

This is your only warning.

Jo Parker is protected from now on.

You go anywhere near her ever again

and you'll regret it for the rest of your life, understand?

Go home, get any agreements that she entered into with you

and burn them.

They won't be bothering her again.

You frighten me sometimes, Inspector Bacchus.

Me? I'm just a pussycat.

- Morning, sir. - Morning, Harpo.

- How'd it go, Rachel? - Oh, yeah, how did it go?

All right, I think.

I think. Fingers crossed.

You'll get the result you deserve, Rachel.

If she does, she can always re-sit.

You just couldn't resist it, could you, eh?

- Is he in? - Yep.

- Rachel, sit in. - Really?

So you knew he was skint.

You knew he was desperate.

I knew he was skint.

Did he ask you for money on the day he died?

Yeah. So you're telling us that you didn't know

that he was so short of money

that he was pawning his wife's jewellery?

Aye. Anita noticed the jewellery had gone.

Yeah, your wife noticed it so you knew.

Yeah. How many times do I have to bail him out

because she's a pathological gambler?

I don't know, I'm asking you what you knew.

Were you aware that he took work as a casual labourer

working as a scab collecting rubbish bags?

What?

Which led to a public fistfight with Michael Woodruff.

You're making that up. Those two were like brothers.

I had a brother like that once,

he knocked seven sorts of shit out of me.

Or were you aware that their debts were so severe,

Jo Parker is being physically harassed by loan sharks?

No.

No, I didn't know.

I'll find a way to help her out.

That's very nice of you.

So...

We're agreed he was desperate.

You didn't know, or maybe you didn't want to know.

This all kicked off on the night of your birthday party?

I wanted to help him.

What stopped you?

Or maybe it's a case of who stopped you?

Cos your wife isn't particularly keen on Jo and Scott Parker.

You leave Anita out of this.

I will when you tell me the truth about what happened.

The party had finished.

Me, Scottie and Michael were having one for the ditch.

Cowboy shit, phoney.

Phoney, phoney, phoney!

He's off.

Like you, Peter.

Yes, my Peter.

Nicest bloke in the world.

You know what?

You're empty, man.

Empty life, empty marriage.

Look. I think we'll call it a night, yeah?

Right, we're closed now.

Oh, Michael. Peter's stopped smiling.

- Why's that, you think? - Come on, I'll take you home.

No. What did I say, eh, that wiped the smile off his face?

Was it the bit about the marriage?

All right, Pete.

You're just drunk. I'll call you a taxi.

Yeah, taxi.

Taxi!

- This is phoney! - Ah, very clever!

- Phoney, cowboy shit! - Scottie, put that chair...

Come on, Michael! You want a piece of that?

Hey!

End of story.

So it wasn't three drunken boys having fun.

And it had nothing to do with John Wayne and Lee Marvin.

It was about Scottie lashing out at me, and at Michael.

What did he mean by "your empty marriage"?

He wanted to lash out at Anita as well. He was angry.

That was it. That's all it was.

If the taxi firm had answered, if he'd got home safe...

...if he hadn't died that night, we'd all be friends again.

- All this would be forgotten. - You sure?

Well.

I wonder if Scott would have forgiven you for this.

Yeah.

It's a transfer of land ownership, isn't it?

The land that Scott bought for his vision of Newcastle

and failed to get planning permission for.

You and your wife invested in it.

And when the bank foreclosed, you had the right to buy it,

which you did at a knockdown price,

leaving Scott with the debts.

It's a hard world.

It's a nasty world, isn't it?

Especially when you consider the following:

There are three directors of this company -

you, your wife...

...and Michael Woodruff,

the man whose loud voice

scuppered the planning application

upon which Scott Parker's dreams depended.

You all shafted him.

Perhaps it's just as well he never lived to find that out.

Go and pick them up for me, would you, please, John?

Rachel, go and get Jo Parker.

Right, sir.

You'll find Michael at my house.

So when did Scott first tell you about his scheme?

Yeah... it was at Pete's Bar.

I've just had these plans drawn up from the architect.

- Have a look at that. - Spending on architects again?

What I loved about Scottie was his infectious, naive belief

in the power of architecture, public planning,

changing the cityscape and thus people's lives for the better.

Streets in the sky...

houses made of... sunlight and steel.

You had to love him for it.

All mad, of course.

Pie in the sky.

Made no sense as a business venture.

So why did you invest?

Because the astonishing thing was...

...somehow Scottie, with all his barking mad ideas,

had managed to get a piece of prime development land

for a pretty good price.

He couldn't pay for it, unfortunately,

but that didn't seem to matter, because...

...in some way it couldn't go wrong, as a business deal -

with the right people in.

And the wrong ones out.

He had a chance - the chance of a lifetime.

He could have been rich on his share

if he'd just been willing to... modify his plans.

Bin them, you mean...

...in favour of yours?

Go easy on Anita and Michael when you see them, Mr Gently.

They're in love.

When we were kids...

...the three of us...

...Scottie was the strong one somehow...

...the leader.

I was the troublemaker...

...always in fights.

What makes you? Where does it come from?

I got chucked out of the Cubs on me first night

for laughing at the National Anthem.

Why?

How did I know I thought it was funny?

Don't forget your meeting at the Town Hall, sweetheart,

or you'll get drummed out the Brownies as well.

Yeah, there's plenty of time.

I'm gonna have you again before I go.

Oh, are you? Don't I get a say?

No.

Lovely.

Peter was the cow's tail...

...always hanging behind.

Why are you telling us this, Michael?

Because.

How is it, all these years later...

...I more and more get the feeling I'm part of some plan

Peter's got worked out for us all?

All his life, people have underestimated Peter Magath.

And now it's Inspector Gently's turn.

Oh, ignore it. It'll be somebody selling insurance.

Police!

Jo?

It's Rachel!

Jo?

Having a bit of trouble locating Mrs Parker.

Your wife and Michael are on their way.

As there's a reasonable chance you could be facing a charge

by the time we finish,

I'm reminding you of your right to a solicitor.

No.

Thanks.

Oi!

Can I have some bacon, please,

and some eggs and those cigarettes, Jo?

All right.

Go upstairs and wash your face.

Put some smart clothes on and brush your hair.

We've got to go down to the station.

Jo.

Those men. They won't be bothering you any more.

So you can forget about them.

Right. Take a seat, please.

They're to have no contact with each other

and none with Peter Magath.

Same goes for Mrs Parker when she gets here.

Were they in bed together?

Think so.

Sir?

It's come back.

There's two lads just arrived, sir.

Oh?

Why didn't you mention this two nights ago, Neil?

- Didn't think. - Didn't think...

or wasn't told what to say?

You both work for Anita and Peter Magath.

- Just a bloody coincidence? - No.

That's why we were in the area, wasn't it?

We left Pete's Bar at about 20 to one.

Mr Magath locked the door behind us.

And then we went over the bridge to a lock-in, in Gateshead.

Got there about one o'clock.

We stayed for just over an hour and then came back the same way.

When we were crossing the High Level again, about half-two,

that's when we saw him.

And you're telling me the same story?

Aye.

So you both saw Scott Parker,

alone, alive, and on his own two feet,

on the High Level Bridge

at approximately 2:30 on Monday morning?

Is that what you're telling me?

What did you say to him?

We said, "Goodnight, Mr Parker."

- And what did he say to you? - Nowt.

He just stared into the parapet.

He had blood on his head, but he was standing up straight.

And you would both be prepared to repeat this story in court,

where to tell a lie is called perjury

and carries a prison sentence?

Write it down.

Done us up like a pair of kippers.

So, what do we do now - just let them all go home again?

If you'd like to take a seat.

A man is dead.

Between you, you four people,

supposedly his nearest and dearest,

are responsible for that death, however it came about.

Yes, and I know that I may never know exactly what happened.

Mrs Parker, your addiction to gambling ruined his finances

and led him into desperation

and yourself into what amounted to prostitution.

Mrs Magath...

There was no love lost between you and the dead man,

so at least in your case, it was simple greed,

not hypocrisy like these two, his so-called best friends.

You betrayed and cheated a man that you'd grown up with

and you must carry that on your consciences

for the rest of your lives -

assuming, of course, that you have consciences.

But it's my opinion that one or both of you killed him.

But two witnesses have come forward,

both employees of the Magaths...

...who are prepared to swear that they saw Scott Parker alive,

if not exactly well,

after he left Pete's Bar on that Sunday night.

That being the case, Mrs Parker,

I will inform the coroner that I now have no objection

to releasing your husband's body for burial.

Jo, do you want me to take you home?

Oh, no, no. I'll take Jo home.

Jo, is that OK?

Come on, then.

Merciful Father and Lord of all life,

we praise you that we are made in your image

and reflect your truth and light.

Above all, we rejoice at your gracious promise

to all your servants, living and departed,

that we shall rise again at the coming of Christ.

Which one of them actually did it, do you think?

We'll never know, John, will we?

Phoney, phoney. Completely phoney.

He's off.

Like you, Peter.

Look, I think we'll call it a night, yeah?

Right, we're closed now.

Oh, Michael. Peter's stopped smiling.

- Why's that, you think? - Come on.

No. What did I say, eh, that wiped the smile off his face?

Was it the bit about the marriage?

Ooh...

You're really drunk. I'll get you a taxi.

Yeah, taxi!

You shut it now, Scott.

I've put you down once. Don't make us do it again.

You're right, mate. You're right.

- I said, phoney! - Ah, great!

- Phoney, phoney! - Scottie!

Crap! Come on, then! Want a bit, Michael?

- Hey! - Come on, big man!

- Stop being a bloody idiot! - You want a piece?

- Come on, then! - Scottie! Hey, man!

We thank you for the life of your child Scott,

for the love he received from you and showed amongst us.

Above all we rejoice at your gracious promise

to all your servants, living and departed...

- Enough! - Come on, then!

Scottie, stop!

Agh!

And we ask that in due time, we may share with our brother

that clearer vision when we shall see your face

in the same Christ our Lord.

We now commit his body to the ground.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

In the sure and certain hope

of the resurrection to eternal life.

...hotel, restaurant...

Good, glad you like it.

Cos Anita and I both...

...see this very much being Scottie's legacy.

Don't we?

Very much, very much. It's what he would've wanted.

And we're gonna make sure Jo benefits as well, aren't we?

We're family.

- You had a brother? - Mm?

You said you had a brother, used to thump you.

Yeah, died in the war.

- In action? - Yeah.

Well... ... diphtheria.

He was my best friend.

Till I met Isabelle.

No.

Ripped By mstoll