All language subtitles for My.Life.Is.Murder.S04E07.WEB.x264-TORRENTGALAXY

- What time do you call this?

- Just gotta catch my breath.
- Maybe you should rethink that.

- Eh?
Apparently,
even breathing can be deadly.

- It's a sensory deprivation tank.
- Close.

It's a hyperbaric oxygen chamber.
- So? Where are we going
with all this?

- Couple of months ago,
one Charlie Scott was killed in
an explosion in a hyperbaric chamber

at the Southern Isle Country Club.
The coroner put the combustion
down to a hearing aid.

Charlie wore his inside the machine;
the battery sparked a fire.

- So if the coroner
thinks this is an accident,
what the heck are we doing here?

- Cos for the last two months, I've
been fielding calls from this guy ―

Donovan Hufnagel.
He's the victim's golf partner,

and apparently, he had his own
near-death experience at the club.

He and Charlie got locked in a sauna
two weeks before Charlie died.

Reckons they could've been
steamed to death.

And he insists both incidents
were deliberate.

Although Donovan comes across
as a little bit delusional.

- Well, just cos you're paranoid,
doesn't mean someone isn't
trying to kill ya.

- Well, Donovan's convinced
he knows who.

They call themselves
the Widows' Club.

Natural habitat ― the cocktail bar
at the Southern Isle Country Club.

We have Donovan's wife, Nadia.

We have Iris Coddington.

Now, Donovan thinks that
she's the queen bee.

And we have Charlie's
actual widow, Phoebe Scott.

- The Widows' Club, huh?

I'm going to fit right in.

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- Southern Isle Country Club.
18-hole golf course, bar,
restaurant...

Oh, the day spa looks amazing.
Tell me we get to go here.
- We get to go there.

- Oh, yes. They offer
a complimentary trial membership

for discerning businessmen
and their spouses.

Hold on.

Only men can be full members.
- That's Victorian.

'Women may join
as an associate member

'connected to their husband
or partner.' Is that legal?

- Tell me about hyperbaric chambers.
Are fatalities common?

- There've been quite a few.
The pure oxygen component

means that one spark can cremate
a person almost instantly.

One guy died when he brought his
electric hand-warmer in with him.
- Seriously?

- Oh, it gets worse. Another
recorded death where the person
lit a cigarette ― killed instantly.

- There's just too much
to say about that.

But Charlie's fire was sparked by
a hearing aid battery.

He'd been in the chamber before,
so presumably, he knew the risks.

- And the locked-in-the-sauna
incident two weeks prior?

Coincidence or a first attempt?
- Hmm.

- You know, you can kinda see
why Donovan thinks he's
a dead man walking.

- I'd like to meet this Donovan ―
while he's still with us.

- This is a gang of evil witches.

Right? They've already struck twice,
and it's only a matter of time
before they strike again.

- And what makes you think that?
- Cos I've been reading
their chat group.

They're called the Widows' Club.

- You know, in my experience, most
murderers don't start chat groups.

- Look, these messages are all
about how inadequate men are, OK?
How we're all stingy andhumourless.

- Gotta be honest ―
a lot of women talk like that
when they get together.

- Read this. Here.

So, Phoebe Scott says,

'Je taime Paris! Let's go.'

And then Nadia ― that's my wife ―
she says, 'My tight-fisted
husband says no.'

And look what Iris says.

- 'Tell Donovan not to be
such a tight old git.
You can't take it with you.'

- 'You can't take it with you'?
- Hmm.

- And then Nadia puts
a thumbs-up emoji on it.

- Right.

Fact is that what
you've got there is...
- Thank you, Nicholas.

- ...a bunch of golf widows...

slagging off their husbands.

Is that what it looked like?
- Yeah.

- Did he just taste your food?

- You may not wanna
take this seriously, but I am.

I've got a 20-minute alarm.
If he's in good health
in 20 minutes, I tuck in.

- Donovan, your friend Charlie
wore his hearing aid into
the hyperbaric chamber.

- Charlie never had a hearing aid.
His hearing was fine. He's only 61.

The person you wanna talk to is
Phoebe Scott ― considering how fast
she got another man inher bed.

- Charlie's widow has a new bloke?
- Ray Jones.

He didn't take long
to park his slippers.

- Hello.
- Did you know that the
widow's got a new man?

- She didn't share that
information with police, no.

- Yeah. Ray Jones,
some kind of tradie.

- I'm sure there's a few Ray Joneses
in the system, but I'll take a look.
- Good.

And did you know that women
can't get into this country club
on their own?

I need a husband to
get a foot in the door.

- You're gonna sneak in
anyway, aren't you?
- Certainly not.

I called hire-a-hubby.

'Sup?

You really scrub up.

- Oh, I've been known to frequent
a few of these places before,
in a previous life.

But you know about me and golf,
right? I can't play to save myself.

- Well, it's not like you haven't
bluffed your way through things
before.

- Ah, but I hate the game.
Everything about it.

- Uh-huh.
- With a passion.

Oh, um...

Did I also mention I might have
relieved a few of the members here
of their life savings?

- 'In a previous life'?

- Morning. Welcome. How can I help?
- Good morning. My husband and I

are interested in joining
your marvellous club.

- William Crowe.
This is my lovely wife, Alexa.

- Welcome, Mr Crowe. Ricardo Curry,
executive club manager.

I'm just finishing signing up
another couple at the minute,

but if you'd like to order yourself
a coffee, tea, water, at the bar?
Perhaps a mimosa?

- Actually, we'd really like to
take a little tour. Is that OK?

- Oh... Is that what
you want to do, Mr Crowe?

- Well... you know what they say ―
happy wife, happy life, eh?

- Yes.
- Is that what they say? Um...

Well, this is our club lounge, where
the ladies like to get hammered.

- Ha! While us men do
our men business, eh?
- That's right, Mr Crowe.

- Actually, Ricardo, I know that
my husband is simply desperate
to get out on that golf course

at earliest opportunity.
- No, I'm not.
- Oh, of course he is.

And I tell you what ― there's a four
missing a player that you can join
teeing off in 10 minutes.

- Splendid.
Except, darling,
I left my gear at home.

- That's OK. We have a pro shop
on the lower level that has
everything you need.

Golf balls, clubs, shirts, socks,
caps ― pretty much everything.

- Wow.
- The whole shebang. Anyway...
- Splendid.

- Follow me, and I'll take you down.

- So, who's the guy with Alexa?
Pretending to be Mr Crowe.

- It's Mr Crowe.
- Nah, but really.
- Nah, it's Alexa's brother, Will.

- What, the― the dodgy ex-criminal?
- All right. Don't say that
so loudly.

Hi, Donovan.

- What are you doing here?

- You asked me to investigate,
so I'm investigating.

- Well, don't talk to me.
Nadia will get suspicious.
- Oh, she's here?

- Yeah. She's got a jealous streak.
She'll think we're having an affair.

- Oh... Here's my brother, Will.
He's going to make up your four.

- What? Why?
- Because we're undercover,

and this place won't let
a woman join on her own.

- What do you play off?

- Well, I play with the... tee.

- Usually.
- Well, this is just great

You do me a favour and bugger off?
- Keep your tam-o-shanter on.

Good luck.
- Let's get this show on the road.

- Three Bloody Marys, darling.
- Certainly.

- I'll take one of those.
- Sure.

- It's breakfast
and a cocktail in one.

- That's what I always say.
- You speak the truth.
- Amen.

- Alexa Crowe. A new member.

- Nadia Hufnagel. A new friend.

Come join.

- So, Alexa, is it?
- Yes.
- Iris Coddington.

Phoebe.
- Hi.
- Hi, hi.

Thanks so much for
letting me crash your party.
- Oh, stay as long as you like.

- Unless, of course, you have to
rush off to your husband.

- Well, that'd be difficult.
He died six years ago.

- Well...

Youhavestumbled into your tribe.

- We're the Widows' Club.

- Uh, golf widows, I presume?

- Actually, I don't think we should
call ourselves that any more.

- I lost my Jakob many years ago,
but Phoebe is a more recent widow.

- My husband's still alive
and kicking. More's the pity.

- Well, I'm very sorry
to hear that, Phoebe.

She's OK. Oh, she's moving on.

- Nadia.
- Yeah! She's met someone already.

Very sexy.
If you like that sort of thing.

- I'm not gonna feel guilty, Nadia.
If it wasn't for Ray,

I would just be― I'd be so...
sad and lonely and, you know...

- We understand. We understand.
I mean, it is so hard.

It's so hard. Isn't it, Alexa?
- Oh, hardest time of my life.

- Anyway, Iris predicted that
Phoebe would meet her white knight.

- Oh.
- She is a genius
with the tarot cards.

- I dabble.
- Yeah, she predicted that Ray
was gonna have his accident.

- I did.

- Sorry, no― Your new boyfriend
had an accident?
- Yeah.

- Well, it was the fool
and the tower.

And the cards just indicated that
someone close to Phoebe was going
to have a fall and get injured.

- And raise a roofer!

So we're like, 'Uh-oh,
Ray's gonna fall off the roof.'

- No.
- So then I stopped him from going
on the roof for his next few jobs.

And then... we went away
on holiday to Queenstown,
and he fell off the ski lift.

I know.

- Wow.

- Mm-hm. Mm! Mm!

Iris.
- What?
- You should do Alexa.

- Oh.
- Yes, yes. See if she's
gonna find love again.

- Oh... no, I'm not looking.

- Well, I don't have my cards.

But next time, Alexa.

- OK.

- Shot, Donovan.

Guessing you don't play too often.
- Is it that obvious?

- Well, you're about to
tee off with a putter.

- Oh, thanks.
What was your name again?

- Ray Jones.
- Will Crowe.

Whoo.
- Nice.

Well, Will, looks like you're up.

- All righty.

Yep.

Here goes.

All righty.

Oh my God.
- Look, why don't you blokes
play ahead? We'll catch you up.

- Yeah, I think...
we'll go wait in the cart.

- So, what brings you to the club,
Will? Cos it's obviously not golf.

- Ah, nah, nah. My, uh...
My sister wants to be a member,
but no access without a bloke.

She's terminally single, so...
How about you?
- Girlfriend.

Her husband passed away.
She kept the membership.

We hooked up; she dragged me along.
- Ah, OK. That makes sense.

I didn't think old Donovan
and what's-his-knuckle
were your kind of people.

- No, well, they think I'm a bit of
a cadger ― just after Phoebe's coin.

Husband only recently died.
- Ah, that so?

- Look, tell you the truth, I'd much
rather be in a tinny having a fish
than here with thosetossers.

- Hang on. Stand back a minute.
- Oh.

- Nice shot, Will.
- Yeah. Thanks. Yeah,
really got behind that one.

- OK. Head inside, then.

- But I'm―
- It'll only be a minute.

- Uh, but I wanna―
- I need to try to lock you in.

- Yeah, nah. Not keen on that.
- Come on. In you hop.

There's no lock.
Let's see if I can jam it shut.

- Wait, can you see if you can
un-jam it as well?
- Yeah, it'll be fine.

- It's hot in here.

- Oh. Thanks, Reuben.
- That was very helpful.

There's no way to lock the sauna,
but maybe it got wedged shut?

I found these little bits of
yellow rubber on the floor.

Gosh. Someone's popular.
- Oh.

I've been added to the Widows'
group chat. Ugh. They love me.

- Evening.
- Hey. How was golf?

- Oh, I thoroughly embarrassed
myself. Thanks.

Man. Never any beer.

- No.
- Reuben would have swapped
with you. He loves golf.

- Ooh, but would this Reuben person
have just made friends with
the widow's new boyfriend?

- You met Ray Jones?
- Yeah, yeah. Yeah,
we hit it off right away.

- You know, Harry couldn't find
any kind of record for a Ray Jones
that fit our profile.

So what'd you find out?
- Well, Ray Jones owns
a roofing company.

He likes golf, obviously,
and fishing. And he's a nice guy,
all right? He did not murderanyone.

- Mm. That's not how it works, Will.
- Everyone's a suspect
until they're not.

- Come on. His only crime
was falling for someone
whose husband had just died.

- Well, actually, Ray Jones
and Phoebe were sleeping together
months before Charlie went boom.

- How do you know that?

- Cos Ray and Phoebe
went on a ski holiday in
Queenstown, and ski season is―

- Months before Charlie went boom.
OK, but that does not mean that
Ray knocked the old boyoff.

What about this widow?
- Phoebe Scott?
- Mm.

- An affair could be a reason
to kill your husband, but it's
probably easier to just leavehim.

Mm...

- Nah. There was alotof banter
about those men being tightwads.

You think being married to a stinge
is miserable? Try divorcing one.
- Ha! See?

It's Phoebe.
- Or Ray.

- No, he's my new
friend. I like him.
- Good. Stick to him.

See what else you can find out.
- Oh, fine. What, so I gotta just
pretend to be his new bestfriend

while working out whether
he's a cold-blooded killer?

- Wonderful. Thank you.
- And you'll stick with Phoebe?

- Just to find out how badly
she wanted to become a member
of the Widows' Club.

- So, what's the plan?
- Pedicure with the girls.
- Oh, it's 'the girls' now, is it?

- Pedicure, Madison, a pedicure!
- You know how much I hate having my feet touched.

- Yeah, you'll cope.

- I guess it beats rifling
through dirty locker rooms.

Yay! Super fun times ahead

Look, are you sure we can't
go to the wellness centre?
- No. It's for widows only.

Phoebe's late.

I wouldn't get up either if
I had a horny man in my bed.

And what's Donovan?
- I said horny, Iris, not portly.

- So Ray and Phoebe are at
thatstage, are they?
- Mm-hm.

She deserves a bit of fun
after putting up with Charlie
for the last seven years.

- Nadia, you've got to stop
speaking ill of the poor dead man.

- You're not enjoying
that massage there, Alexa?

- Oh, no.

I am.

A foot massage is totally my bag.

- Anyway, Iris, Phoebe's
not here, so I can say it.

Charlie was an old git.

- Then why did Phoebe marry him?
She seems so sweet.

- Oh, she is.

She is a gorgeous human being.

- And it was false advertising.

Oh, Charlie reeled her in with
expensive dinners, holidays,
romance.

- Then they get married, and...
- - No more romance?

- Ah. My marriage, on the other
hand, is nothing like that.

Donovan was a bore from day one.

- She's being a little bit hard
on Charlie. He was very sick,
after all.

- He was?
- Yes. Prostate cancer.

What happened to your husband,
Alexa? Was it illness?

- Um, no. He was a police detective,
and he was killed in
the line of duty.

- Oh.
- Oh, that's tragic.
- Yeah.

- Very sorry to hear.
He was cut down in his prime,
I would imagine, too.

- Yeah. But, uh...

So, Charlie was terminal, then?
- Oh, yes. Yes.

I think that was Phoebe's
only comfort ― that he
went out with a bang

and was spared a lot of the
long and drawn-out suffering.

- I mean, even a manicure
would be nice.

Hi there.
- Hi.

- Well, this is, um...

exactly what it looks like.
- Oh, Ray!

- Um... Don't mind me.

- Sorry.

That was so not OK.

- Hey, I'm not offended.
I'm just impressed.

- Well, he, uh, wanted to stash his
stuff in my locker, so I let him in.

And then, you know, one thing
led to another.

Oh gosh. I'm so late
for my spa treatment.

Bye.
- Bye.

Stashed his stuff
in your locker, did he?

Hey.

Was Phoebe seeing her new man
before Charlie died?
- Why do you say that?

- Nadia said something.

- I don't want you thinking badly
of Phoebe. She found herself in
a loveless, miserable marriage,

and she... needed a bit of fun.

- So, how deaf was he?

- What?

- You know it was a hearing aid
that caused the explosion?

Yeah.

Maybe he was like my stepfather,
Rusty. Can't even admit
that he wears one.

- Why the interest?

- Oh, it's a hell of a story.

- It's not as dramatic as yours.
Your poor husband, going out in a―
in a blaze of glory.

Poor Charlie went out
in a blaze of vanity.

Nadia, can you put your cougar claws
away, for goodness' sake?

I think you're right, though.

I think if Charlie wore a hearing
aid, he wouldn't have told anyone.

Silly old man.

- I ran a copy of Phoebe's laptop,
and guess who updated his will
six months ago?

- Well, people tend to do that
when they've been diagnosed
with a terminal illness.

- What? Are you talking
about Charlie?

- Turns out he had
an expiry date on him.

- Well, there goes my theory that
Phoebe did it for the inheritance.

- Nah. She was gonna
get it all anyway.

- And it makes sense of
a couple of emails I've
found from a travel agent.

Phoebe booked this Christmas
package tour for her and Charlie.

16 days on the Nile,
looking at the pyramids.

- Well, seems pretty pointless
if you're gonna kill him.

- Shall we have a look at
Ray Jones' laptop, then?

- You got that, too?
- Mm-hm. He very helpfully
left it in Phoebe's locker.

- Yay Ray, yay you!
- Mm-hm.

- Oh.
- Well, at least you hit it.

- Well, how come you know so much?
You can't have been playing
that long.

- Oh, I used to play the public
courses back home, but, um...
nowhere as flash as this.

- Oh, well, then you'd be
pretty happy you inherited

Phoebe's dead husband's membership,
then, wouldn't you?

- Look, I know the optics aren't
great, getting together so quickly.

- Nah, nah, nah. No judgement
here, bro. None at all.

So...

what made you move over
from Australia?

Oh!
- The Australian government.

- What?
- I was deported a few years back.

- Oh, you're a 501?

- Yeah. Was in Australia since
I was a baby. Didn't even know

I was a Kiwi citizen
until I got in trouble.

Then they hit me with the old 501,
and back to New Zealand I go.

What'd you do?

- Oh, no, no. It's all good, bro.
I know a couple of 501s.

My cellmate was one.

- Are you serious?
- Yeah. I mean, don't...

don't tell the club manager,
but... I'm on parole.

- Wow.
- Yeah.

Well, turns out a few of my finance
clients were a little precious
about their money―

well, their money funding
my rockstar lifestyle.

- Ah. You're one of those
white-collar guys.
- Yeah.

How about you?
- Oh, just a bit of
careless driving, mate.

- Eh? They deported you
for careless driving?

- Yeah. That, uh,
501 policy's pretty harsh.

Anyway, why'd you really join
the club? You trying to find
a few more rich pricks to fleece?

- Tempting. No. Changed my ways.

I'm here for Alexa.
She likes the finer things in life.

- Sorry, who's Alexa?
- My sister.

Oh!

Baby! Yeah!

- Here we go. A bunch of emails
from a random account.

And judging by the content, I'm
gonna hazard a guess it's Phoebe.

- X-rated?
- Uh-huh.

Whoa. She called it off with Ray
about seven months ago.

- Really? She broke up
with him by email?

'I'll always love you,
but I can't keep lying and
sneaking around when he's dying.'

- OK, so she broke up with Ray
when Charlie was diagnosed.
How did he take it?

- I mean, he's pretty reasonable.
He's sorry that Charlie is unwell,

and of course, she has to do
what she has to do.

- Too reasonable.

Why?
- Because he knew Charlie wouldn't
last long, and he just had to wait?

- Or maybe he thought he could,
uh, hurry things along a bit.
- Hmm.

- I think it's time
we talked to our man Ray.

Are you Ray Jones?
- He's round the back.
- Thanks.

Uh, Ray?

Ray Jones?
- He's just there.

- So, you think he's avoiding you?
- Looks that way.

- But how would he know who you are?

- What? Nah, I didn't
tell him you were a cop.

And I definitely didn't tell him
you suspect him of murdering his
girlfriend's husband.

- Well, none of it would matter
if he had nothing to hide.
- True.

- All right. How do I look? Hmm?

Do I look like a witch
of East Auckland?

- Is that the image
you're going for?
- Iamgoing for a tarot reading.

- Oh, come on. You always
get the fun stuff.
- I do.

- She certainly does.
- You wanna get your
tarot cards read?

- What? No. Just don't wanna play
any more golf. Anything but golf.

- You know, there's
an Italian degustation at
the club restaurant tonight.

- Ooh, we should definitely
investigate that.
- Mm-hm.

Wow.

- I know. Welcome to
my humble abode.

- Hi, girls.
- Cheers.

- Iris was just finishing
doing my card, so take a seat.
- Thank you.

- I got the Empress.
- Oh, is that good?
- Mm-hm.

- It is for Ray.
- It signifies lust
and unchained passion.

- Shall we finish?
- Yeah.

- Three of Swords.

It's not so good, I'm afraid.
- Oh.

- It's... miscommunication and
tension in a relationship.

- Well, actually, Raywasreally off
this afternoon. He said I'm spending
too much time at the club.

- What? Why would he say that?

- Two of Cups.

The cards agree.

I Think Ray is showing
his true colours.

Men are all the same.

- Alexa, are you ready now
to accept what the cards
have to reveal to you?

Oh, I'm ready for the big reveal.

- Queen of Swords.

You were close to someone...

and then they died.

- Yeah, we know that.

- Well... I'm just telling you
what the cards are showing me.

- OK, well, I'm just telling you
that it's easier to say the past
than the future, probably.

- Five of Wands.

Oh.

I'm afraid what is in your future is
a little bit more disturbing. Um...

Wands...

signify conflict.

You're in some kind of danger.

So no change there.

The tower.

- Hi, baby.
- Hey. Sorry. I didn't realise
there was a... party going on.

- Oh, um, Alexa, this is my
boyfriend, Ray. Ray, this is Alexa.

- Look, I'm pretty filthy after
work. Think I'll just get changed.

- Carry on, Iris.
The suspense is killing me.
She's in danger.

- Are you all right, Alexa?

I haven't frightened you, have I?
I mean, it's just a bit of fun,
really.

- Oh, no, no, it's nothing
like that. It's probably
just all the alcohol, so―

- Really?
- If you don't mind,
I'm going to just go home.

- Are you OK?

Bye.

- Oh, you still up?

Will and I just had the most sublime
tiramisu. I actually wanna stay
a member of that clubforever.

I had dinner with your brother,
but, like, not in a weird way.
We just both like Italian,

and I love hearing stories about
little Alexa. What are you doing?

- I'm just putting
the pieces together.
- And?

- I know who killed Charlie.
- OK. Are you gonna share?

- Ray Jones did it.

- Background check on Ray Jones?
- Yeah, nothing came up.

- What about his alibi?
- I sent a constable around.
She reckons he was up north.

- And was he?
- Still working on it.
- OK, thanks.

- Oh my God.
I'm gonna kill my husband.

He's meant to be at home sorting out
the garage, and I just saw his car
in the car park.

I'm a total golf widow.
- Oh, honey. Join the club.

- What, your husband's
on the course too?
- Donovan?

No, no, no. He's in the hospital
with food poisoning.

- Oh, that's terrible.
- Oh, don't feel sorry for him.

No, he digs through the leftovers
in that fridge like a dog
going through the trash.

But if you ask him,
he'll swear I poisoned it.

- Was that a joke?
- Nah. Donovan thinks
I'm trying to kill him.

- Why― Why would he think that?
- The man's a hypochondriac.

- Oh.
- And a conspiracy theorist.
It's so easy to tease him!

Oh, and I like it when he avoids me.
- So you're letting him
think that it's true?

- Mm! It's hilarious.
- He's a bag of nerves.

- Here you go.
- Oh. John.

G and T?
- No, thanks. I'll catch you later.
- Mm.

- You caught up with Ray Jones yet?
- No. He has a talent for
avoiding me.

Hey...

- Wait, you're going out?
Is it to do with the case?
Do you need me to do anything?

- Yes. Yes, I need you to
take the bread out of the oven
when the timer goes. Thanks, Mads.

I know, Chowder. I'm worried too.

- Whoo-hoo! Ah!

- Just having a bit of a hit
on my own, mate.

- Yeah. No, I― I'd love a few more
pointers, if that's OK?

I mean, none of the blokes here
wanna play with the slow guy, so...

- So, is your... sister here today?

- Why's that?

- Just wondering.

- No. She's...

at work, I think.

- What does she do, again?
- Uh, she's a baker.

Makes a mean sourdough.

Yum.

I hit it!

- OK. I hope that wasn't
beginner's luck.

- She ever mention me?

- Who?
- Don't be a dick.

Your sister. Alexa Crowe.
She ever talk about me?

- What, there some history
between you two or something?

- Look, I just wanna be left alone,
OK? Cops came around asking me
where I was when Charliedied.

It was upsetting...
for Phoebe and for me.

I just wanna live my life, mate. OK?

- Bro, I'm just trying to
work on my golf swing here.

Well, get a golf swing.

- Guess who's also been added
to the Widows' group chat.

- What? Have they not seen Reuben
wandering around in a towel?

- Actually, that's why they've
added me. They say I've upped the
eye candy factor in the club.

- Ooh.

- No, Alexa. Don't do it again.

- Do what?
- Walk out without telling me where
you're going or what you're doing.

- I'll be back soon, all right?
- Alexa.

- Just need to check one thing
with Raynor Jones. That's all.

All right, move it, buddy.

Let me take a peek, Chowder.
It's for her own good.

- Evening.
- Oh, um...

I thought you were Alexa.
- Nah.

She not here?

You're just on her laptop?

- OK. Yes, um, but this is the
first time I've ever done it.

- What were you looking for?

- There's an email that proves
Ray Jones was in Northland at 4.15
the day Charlie died.

His photo ID's attached.
- Well, then he didn't do it.

This is good.
- No, you're not understanding.

Alexa found evidence
that it wasn't Ray.
- Uh-huh.

- So why's she still
investigating him?

- Hewasacting
pretty weird this arvo.

Wanted to know if Alexa had
talked about him, mentioned him.

- You didn't tell him anything?
- No, of course not.

Maybe it's the 501 thing.

- 501?
- Yeah. You know, the Kiwi
deportees from Australia?

- Yeah. What about 'em?
- Well, Ray's one of them.
He's a 501.

- You didn't think to tell me that
before? Maybe she knew him
in Melbourne.

- Ah, he was deported for
some minor traffic thing.

And she was a detective,
not some baby cop handing
out speeding tickets.

Unless he lied about
the traffic thing.

- Right, got it.

- Ooh. You can just bring up
a list of deportees, can you?

- I have the access codes, so yes.

But there's no Ray Jones.

- 'Ray' short for 'Raymond'?

- Raynor. She said 'Raynor'
before she left.

Come on.

Who are you, Ray Jones?

OK, so if he's 42, then he would
have moved to Australia...

- Well, he said he was
a baby when he moved.
- In 1982, maybe?

Come on. How many kids
are called Raynor?

Johnson. There's Raynor Johnson.
- No way. OK, great.

Well, can you run a... police check
or a 501 check? Whatever you do?

- Yeah, yeah. Keep trying Alexa.
- OK.

Oh, come on. Just give us a call
back, will ya, sis? We're...

We wanna know where you are, Lex.

- Found him.

- And?

- Raynor Johnson was deported
after serving two years in prison

for careless driving causing death.

- Yeah, he didn't mention
the death bit.
- In Melbourne.

He drove his car
through a police roadblock,
killing an officer on duty.

- Oh crap.

Is it...
- Alexa's husband.

Yep.

- Raynor Johnson.

- Bloody hell.

You know...

People at this club waste
perfectly good golf balls.

It's a Taylor.
Hundred bucks a dozen.

- Oh, you're a recycler now?

Golf balls and other people's wives.

Yeah.

Look, I just wanna live my life, OK?

It was an accident.

OK? Melbourne was an accident.

I saw the cop cars.
I had some stolen gear in
the back, and I panicked.

And I just put my foot down.

I didn't even see him.

- And you didn't stop either.

You sped away. And you...

you hid your car in your
mate's garage for days.

- Yeah, I did.

You're right. I'm a piece of shit.

But I was also convicted,
and I paid my dues.

- Two years. You spent two years.

And that's what my husband's life
was worth?

- I... Look.

If it's any consolation,
as soon as I finished my sentence,

they threw me on to a plane and
dumped me back here in New Zealand.

I can't go back.

- Well, that makes two of us.

See, I could never go back to my life
the way it was before.

I live always in the after.

What do you want from me?

- Oh, isn't that the question?

See, I tried not to think
about you for years.

And I tried to will you
out of existence.

But here you are.

So now what do I want from you?

- Oh my God. I've been going crazy
worrying about you.

Will and I were out all night.

- Well, I'll make your
coffee extra strong.

- Alexa.

I know who Ray Jones is.

Raynor Johnson.

I know what he did.

- Well, it's a small world, ain't it?

I'm OK.

Sorry for worrying you.

- Where did you go last night?

- I wanted to talk to him.

I felt like I owed it to Gary
and to myself.

- To do what?

- I just wanted him...

I wanted Raynor to know who Gary was.

And― And what he meant.

I wanted him to know...

what it cost me.

- I would've gone with you, Alexa.

You only had to ask.

- I know.

- # Take my heart.

# It used to be so
supple and sweet.

# And now it's withered...

# on the vine.

# There's before...

# and then there's after.

# You were mine.

# Take my faith.

# So strong and full of fire.

# Now it's bruised. Broken down...

# and blind.

# There's before...

# and then there's after.

# You were mine. #

- Blunt force trauma. Prime suspect
is one ex-police detective

who had some serious beef
with the guy.

- A search warrant?

- You know I wouldn't do this
if it was up to me alone.

- Don't break anything.

- What the hell are you
doing here, murderer?

- I wanted him to know
what he'd done.

- My friends said
I shouldn't talk to you

because you're
Alexa Crowe's brother.

- I don't talk to Alexa.
I mean, she's a suspected murderer.

- Come to see that you'd done the
job properly, that he's really dead?