Low Winter Sun (2006) - full transcript

Joe,

I can't begin to thank you enough.

Your help tonight.

Even

I mean that.

The thing is, Frank...

You have to drink yourself into the state
where you are inured to what you have to do,

both emotionally and morally,

while still being capable
of actually carrying it out,

physically and, er...
and physically. Practically.

Aye.



It's a balancing act.

Are you drunk enough yet?

No.

- Will be.
- Cos...don't get too drunk.

I won't.

- And fuck it all up.
- I know. I won't.

I won't get too drunk.

I'm not drunk enough yet, though.

She didn't suffer, did she?

When she was dead, he cut off her hands?

And her head as...

I don't know.

That's what he told me.

There was a lot of blood.



And he got rid of them separately.
That is what he told me.

I'm never gonna find her, am I?

You don't know the half
of what this man is like.

He's a contamination.

He's a vicious disease,

and Sinada is just the last
fucking nail in his coffin.

- Definitely sea water?
- Aye. I asked Mr Gim Yeung.

Definitely?

Aye. I said, "The stuff you keep your lobsters in,
is it stuff you make with chemicals?"

He looked at me like I was fucking daft and
said, "It's sea water out the fucking sea."

Makes sense.

Then your lobsters are happy as fuck.

Before they die.

Livin' in sea water. Total sense.

Right. Are you fit?

Uh-huh.

Partners?

Partners.

Come on. Let's get Brendan.

Big man.

All on your own?

Brendan, wake up.

Brendan? Time to go home, big man.

You're still here?

Fuck's sake...

We're gonna have to drive him.
We're gonna drive you home, big man.

- I can drive.
- Your car'll be there when you wake up.

It's a good plan.
It's a fucking good plan, eh?

We'll put your keys through your letter box, eh?
You get a good night's sleep. You'll need it.

Aye.

Big day tomorrow, eh?

Aye. Every day's a bigger day.

Big day!-

Fucking can of worms...

Fucking load of bollocks, this.

I'm pished, boys. I'm fucking blootered.

Put your coat on, Brendan.
It's cold at this time of the morning, big man.

Fucking coat? That's what it is, love.

Fucking big fucking coat. Fucking brand-new.

I...fucking love this coat!

Ah, ya...

HEY"

Oh... Oh, God... Jesus...

It's all gone down the fucking plug.

Come on.

Get out!

Fucking Complaints!

I'll fucking drown, man...

(Speaks Chinese)

- Ya bastard!
- No, don't, Bernard.

I'll give you fuckers one warning!

Fucking bastards! Don't fuck with me!

Ya murdering fucking prick!

Fucking gently! Frank, pull out!

No fucking marks!

He's nearly done.

A Little bit more, eh?

Nearly done.

Nearly done.

What can fuck us up, Frank?

What can fuck us? Think.

You're the best at this, Frank. If you can't
think of anything, honestly, nobody else will.

I can't think of anything.

Can hardly fucking think at all.

The swap outside Bernard's house.
If I work that right then we're nearly there.

I think that's the only thing.

That's the only thing I can think of.

Right. Let's finish this.

- Ready?
- Right.

Right? Ah, Jesus...

- Right?
- Got him.

Make sure your window's open.

There's one thing. With determined suicide,
often they'll attach themselves to the car

so there's no way back.

Now, would a cop like Brendan
cuff himself to the wheel?

Oh. Christ... Er...

You're right. Couldn't that also look like
somebody had cuffed him, a third party?

I know it's a fucking risk, but if he would
do it, then I think we should cuff him.

Use his own cuffs.

Chuck the key in the back seat and make it...
Make it Look right, even though it's a risk.

Yeah, it's a fucking big risk.

Come on. It's the psychology.
If it looks right, then we'll sell it.

It's a simple question.
Would Brendan cuff himself to the wheel?

If Brendan was determined to do it,
yes, yes.

Right. Then we cuff him.

- Jesus! Frank!
- Psychology.

You see, I believe this murdering
piece of shit ran out of bottle

when it came time to
fucking takin' his own shit life.

Aye. And you might have just fucked it.

So? Arrest me.

Or if you like, I'll arrest you.

Morning.

PC Geddes.

Morning, Detective Geddes.

You look like how I feel.

See that? Can't meet my eye.

- Shouldn't have shagged her then, should you?
- How the fuck do you know that?

Saw it coming a mile off.

Anyway, it was her shagged me.
Busy, busy. Can't chat now, Sheena.

Morning, sir.

There's an overpowering smell
of stale booze in this building.

I had one martini and lemonade
and was in my bed by 10:45.

Big Brendan's Chinese New Year.

What can I say? We'll have to humour him when
he goes on a grump for the next 12 months.

So how come I never get a bloody invite?

Are you getting your eight hours?
You Look a bit peaky.

Last night was too much.

Couldn't sleep a fucking wink.

Had to get up and come in early.

How was Brendan?

Usual fucking story.

Me and Frank had to lug him home.

I've...

I tell you,
I've fucking had it with this job.

Partners with Brendan.

Thank God for Frank Agnew cos I don't think
I could have handled him on my own.

What's the story with Frank?

How?

Just seems so fucking on edge
at the minute. ls it his love life?

Big Brendan said she's a total shag.

Apparently he fancies her too.

She's called Sinada. How fabulous is that?

- Sinada?
- Yeah. It's like Lolita, only more grown up.

Brendan fancies the pants
off anything with an accent.

He fancies the pants off anything with a pulse.

Brendan fancies the pants
off anything with pants.

Brendan fancies me.

- Long time no see.
- DC Morton.

- Who the fuck's that?
- Fucking Complaints, that's who.

Chief Inspector David Westwood. That means
someone's about to be in lots of fucking trouble.

Dani? Who's that?

- Complaints.
- Complaints?

- Professional standards.
- Fucking hell.

Do you think Brendan reported me for shagging
John Hoey? I thought Brendan was passed out.

I strongly object to
the inference your visit has.

George, George, you know how this
has to work. Nobody's making any inference.

Then why was I not given any prior notice?

Yeah. I'll, erm call you back.

It allows the rest of your officers
to carry on doing their jobs.

It's the way we have to work. I couldn't give
prior notice of an investigation if I wanted to

because prior notice
would compromise your position.

Which one of them is it?

Morning.

- What the fuck's this?
- Complaints. Straight into the boss's office.

What the fuck are Complaints doing here?

Nobody knows.

All right?

Ellliott?

What's this all about?

- This is fucking serious, Frank. I think it's us.
- Us?

Uh. Not you and me, the division.
The boss is in the dark, and that only happens...

Sheena, have you got in touch with DS McCann?

I think he must be on his way.
His home phone's just ringing.

- His mobile?
- It's going straight to messages

which usually means
he forgot to put it on the charger.

Keep trying him, will you?

It's fucking Brendan.

It's fucking Brendan, isn't it?

Eh?

Fucking Complaints.

Which desk is DS McCann?

It's here. Here.

The one from me.

This is Brendan's desk.
That's Brendan's partner.

(Geddes)
Where do you think you'll be going with that?

Empty room.

Interview room. Room nobody's using?

Somebody show me the way?

I'm sure we can find you somewhere.

Thanks very much.

Usually got to carry my own stuff.

No problem.

Also, no one's allowed in here at any time
until we're done with this.

What is it you're looking for?

Can't say.

Fine.

Get your own fucking case on your way out.

Take a deep breath cos the shit...

- Did you know about this?
- About what?

Complaints were on to Brendan.

Course not.

- He said it, didn't he?
- Who said what?

- Brendan.
- Said what?

Last night. "Fucking Complaints".
I didn't know what he meant.

Look, you fucking deal with this.
You needed your revenge so you took it.

So we did what we did and you've got me
to thank for helping you.

- Do I?
- And I had my own reasons as well.

- And is this them?
- What?

Fucking Complaints.

- Fuck Complaints, Frank.
- Did you lie to me?

What kind of trouble is DS McCann in, sir?

Let's just, um...

Talk us through the meal, Joe.

Stick to the matter in hand.

Well, DS McCann is... well, you know.

We've been partners for four years.

I mean, with respect, we all know
Chief Inspector Westwood is from Complaints.

Who was at the meal?

Er... myself, DS Agnew, DC Hoey, DC Cullen.

The new girl Sheena Bailey was there for a bit.

But then she had to get back home
to make her man's dinner.

Danny was still off sick.
DCI Torrance would have been there

but he's got more sense and he can say no.

Er... what state was Brendan in
by the end of the night?

Totally inebriated.

Emotionally?

Totally emotional.

I wasn't being facetious.

Neither was I, sir. He was maudlin.

He was self-pitying. He was very abusive.

And he was a bit weepy.

Did he make any mention of any worries
he had about a Complaints investigation?

No, sir. None at all.

Do you think McCann is worried
he might be under investigation?

No. I think he's worried
he's another year older and fatter

and he can't get it up as much as he'd like.

You were in a Jesuit ceremony, DC Geddes,
between the ages of 13 and 18.

Yes, I was.

But you're a policeman,
you're not a priest.

That's my understanding as well.

Well, my understanding is that's a lot of
vows you broke, a lot of promises.

This is completely irrelevant.

Do you think
McCann is concerned about Complaints?

I don't think he'd have told me
even if he was.

- Why not?
- Because we're partners.

We're not friends.
I don't socialise with Brendan out of hours.

So what were you doing on his night out?

Because he asked me.

Even though you're not friends?

Sometimes with Brendan, sir, it's easier just
to do as he asks rather than argue with him.

And does that apply in professional
situations as well as social ones?

As his partner?

Do you do as he asks
rather than argue with him?

DC Geddes.

(Dani) He's never exactly
been a paragon of orthodoxy.

You have to keep your blinkers on
when you work with Brendan.

But he's got his lovable side.

Except when he walks in and finds you talking
about him. That's not the side you want to see.

- I'm not saying anything bad. Just asking.
- Mm.

Yeah. The arrival of Complaints
isn't the shock of the century.

Secure delivery for Chief Inspector Westwood.

- I'll give it to him.
- I've already tried that

but Robocop here is only programmed
to give it him himself.

Do you want me to sign for that?

Sir. You want me to drive over to Brendan's
and drag him out of his pit by his bollocks?

Frank, I want you to head over to Brendan's.
See if you can rouse him.

There's no need for that.
He's not there.

- He might be asleep.
- He's not because he's no longer there.

So Brendan's done a runner?

Brendan was in no state to do a runner.

He was in no state to talk
last time we saw him.

For Christ's sake, he was fucking legless.
Completely fucking legless.

There's CCTV on Brendan's street.
I've got the last 12 hours on disk.

Is there some way I can view this now?

Show Chief Inspector Westwood,
would you, Frank?

Of course.

This is you arriving.

Jesus Christ...

Talk me through this.

Brendan lets himself into his flat.

And I sit in the car and wait for Joe Geddes.

That's Joe in Brendan's car.

Drops his keys through the letter box.

And then I give Joe a lift home.

- How long have Complaints watched him?
- Have you any cause to worry about that,

DC Geddes?

Sir...

Due respect, now.

Hey, I know we all go through this hoo-ha
about everybody hates cops,

Let's spy on cops.

Well, believe you me,
that's a load of old fanny.

Brendan's been up to some shite or other?
Fuck him.

I've not and I'm not associated with him,
whatever it is he's been up to.

- Tell you the truth, I'm not even...
- You're not under investigation.

As far as I've been made aware by Westwood.

Right.

Two hours and 11 minutes
after you and Joe Geddes leave,

McCann leaves his flat.

Jesus. I could have sworn
the bastard was utterly legless.

DS McCann's not available to help right now.
Would you be prepared to speak to DS Bonetti?

Joe Geddes by the looks of it.
Brendan's done a fucking runner.

There's a Mr Rickson on line 3 who says
Brendan's on a rape charge Thursday week.

- He wants a word.
- OK. Got it.

Mr Rickson?
Yes, how can I be of assistance in this matter?

Indeed I am a woman, yes.

A woman detective.

Arsehole.

He's a fucking sectarian bigot,
a misogynist,

a homophobe, an alcoholic binge drinker,

and if he's not been on the fucking take
from the first split second

he got his skanky paws on that
fucking warrant card, then...

Look. I'm sorry, OK? I'm fucking sorry,
but that's the way it goes.

I've been DS McCann's partner
for the last four years,

so that means, for me,
guilty by association.

- That's the way it works.
- It's not the way.

That's the way Complaints fucking work!

I mean, that fucking Mercedes, sir.

I mean, come on!

All due respect, no offence,
you couldn't afford that.

Jesus!

It's taken this fucking long.

That's enough out of you for the time being,
DC Geddes.

Joe Geddes says he and Brendan aren't friends.

- That's right. I don't think they are.
- Because?

Well, you've obviously been watching
Brendan yourself. Why do you think?

Are you friends with Joe Geddes?

How do you mean?

Are you and he friends?

He's a good bloke but I don't know him
well enough to call him a friend.

- Yes?
- I need a wee word, boss.

Excuse us a moment or two.
Things are progressing at a pace.

So all the computer actually does
is re-flag those files.

- Which still leaves data.
- Exactly.

Data's recoverable but if you really know what
you're doing, you use a deep-level scrubber.

- Is anything recoverable?
- No.

Basically, every part of the hard drive has been
overridden with randomly-generated shit.

The original data no longer exists in any form.

So, when you say a specialised program...

Frank? What are you doing?

I'm finding out where it is we all stand.

- How does McCann know about this?
- That's a very good quest/on.

From what we've learnt of McCann so fan...
He might prove me wrong,

but from what we've learned of him so far,
/ I don't think he's capable of this.

This is sophisticated.

They think they've found Brendan's car
in the Firth of Forth.

There's a body in the front seat.

(Dani) Er... No. He's in a meeting
at the moment. OK.

- What's going on?
- Dumfries ferry on the phone.

- They found Brendan's car.
- What do you mean?

- In the Forth Estuary.
- Jesus.

They think somebody's inside it.

Holy fuck.

Well, fuck me.

A local resident called it in, sir. Saw it while
fishing for seagulls off the end of the pier.

Fishing? For seagulls?

(Dani) It's a local thing, sir.

- What do they do with them?
- Stamp on them.

So...how do you catch them?

Apparently you catch them
using bread and a string with a hook.

Dear Christ...

The lifting gear's just arrived, sir.
The divers have already been down twice.

Is it Brendan McCann?

I'm DCI Torrance, Black Moss.

- Is it Brendan?
- Diver knows DS McCann, sir.

He plays five-a-side with him. He's pretty sure
he's the individual in the driving seat.

- Where's Frank Agnew?
- ls it Brendan?

Sounds very much like it.

We'll have a positive ID when they
get that car out of the water.

Does it look like it was an accident or...

Diver says DS McCann is handcuffed
to the steering wheel of his car.

So somebody's killed Brendan?

That's one conclusion we might be looking at.

- Although...
- Although what, sir?

That also means we have the possibility
of a determined suicide here.

David, I don't think we need
Complaints at the crime scene.

I'll keep you appraised of events.
You know how these things work.

Chief Inspector. Parameters.
We have to respect the integrity of procedure.

Possible murder investigation, we wouldn't
want to compromise anybody's position.

- Dani?
- Boss?

Get on to the Fiscals Office.
Speak to Sally Findlay.

Explain this. Get her to call me.

I'll speak to the fucking chief constable.

"Possibility of determined suicide",
Westwood's very words. You're a genius.

You wiped his computer.
You knew Complaints would come after him.

Fuck, Frank...

Somebody wiped Brendan's computer hard drive.
Brendan could barely turn the fucking thing on.

You're fucking everything up. Get off me.

Dani, will you see what's keeping Frank?

No, I don't bloody care if she's in a meeting.
Get her out of the meeting.

- You knew about fucking Complaints!
- Get off!

Frank? The boss wants you suited up
and on the plot with him.

Right.

"Fucking Complaints."

- I beg your pardon.
- Brendan said it last night.

He did say something about Complaints.

- Oh, he did?
- Uh-huh.

- When?
- Last night in the restaurant.

- When?
- At the end of the evening.

Did he?

Uh-huh. He said...
"Fucking Complaints. I'll fucking drown."

I remember. He said it just before he threw
the bottle that smashed the fish tank.

You can check with Frank Agnew if you want.
See if he remembers as well.

This has just come back to you?

I didn't know what he was on about
so it didn't sink in.

I thought he meant complaints about the food.
Chinese. Fucking inedible.

Big fish tank in the Dong Gwai?

- He's SIO on this one.
- Sir?

DS Agnew.

What about this thing?

That's Brendan all right.

Happy new year, Brendan.

I'm racking my brains but I cannot
come up with a single next of kin.

No wife, no kids.

- I know for a fact both his parents are dead.
- Poor Brendan.

- He's history.
- Any Luck, that shit is too.

- Sir?
- What the fuck's this now?

- What is it?
- Somebody's in the boot.

There's somebody in the boot.

Is it her?

Unidentified male, deceased.

Head been removed.

Seems that both hands have been removed.

And the body's wrapped in chicken mesh.

We have an unidentified male.
Mutilated. Head and hands removed.

First guess is about 35 to 40.

- First estimate 35 to 4O years.
- Frank? You thought you knew who this was?

- Frank?
- Huh?

- This here. You said to Geddes...
- Yeah. Help me find the keys to the cuffs.

I will, sir. Aye. Sheena'll have it.

Kenny, you owe me. Brendan's home address.
We're looking for another crime scene.

Get onto a SOCO team
and get them to meet us there.

- What have they got, John?
- Boss doesn't know. We don't know.

Brendan was handcuffed to his steering wheel.

Then they got another body in the boot
of the car. Head and hands chopped off.

Brendan's car? Fuck me.

I know. So we're looking for where
Headless got topped and dismembered.

Another crime scene,
that's what we're looking for.

DCI Torrance wants you and me to Brendan's
flat. Full forensic, see what we can find.

- Thanks, Sheena.
- Body in the boot of DS McCann's Mercedes?

You think Brendan knew it was there?

You think Brendan put it there?

Jesus, you think Brendan did it.

Any idea of the shit storm this will mean?

Cop kills himself and we find a decapitated,
dismembered body in the boot of his car.

Fucking shit storm of all proportions.
And he was your partner.

- I know.
- You know fuck all.

You know anything, you tell me now.
What the fuck was Brendan up to?

I don't know, sir. I nearly had a
heart attack when we opened that boot.

Stop fucking with me, Geddes.

- You're his partner.
- I was his partner, sir.

Brendan is fucking dead and gone.

Not any more he fucking isn't.

And unless I get some joy out of you, I'll hang
you out for that fucker Westwood with belts on.

Chinese porn? That's nice. Tasteful.

Hell... Big Brendan, eh?

Living like a pig in a palace.

So somebody planted a body in his car, then?
That's your working hypothesis, is it?

He didn't kill anybody.
Are you fucking daft?

I was at the dinner. Brendan was pished and
happy. He wasn't exuding remorse and suicide.

Why'd he do himself, then?

Look at the state of this dump.
Fucking manky bastard.

- Get a grip, Kenny.
- What, you think he used his teeth?

Brendan's fucking 11 years CID. You think
he chopped someone up in his own flat?

Get a grip.

OK. House keys. One Yale, two mortise.

One Yale, two mortise.

One zip-lock polythene bag,

approximately two grams
of unidentified white powder.

Zip...lock...

See, Brendan's planning on getting coked
out of his tits, not getting fucking drowned.

One mobile phone.

Also drowned.

Probably suicide as well.

If I was Brendan's mobile, I'd top myself.
The man had breath like a stegosaurus.

- You've cheered up.
- Aye. Well, it's being in a morgue.

Always makes my spirits soar.

Wow. Have you ever seen anything like that?
Brendan's shoulders. Did you know about that?

- No.
- They took off his shirt, I nearly died.

Did you know?

No. What can I say, he's fucking incredible.

If they were any slower,
they'd be going backwards.

Who, the lab?

It's either seawater in his lungs or it's not.

Fucking students on placement.

Have to give them something
to keep them out of our way.

So we're happy with drowning
as the cause of death?

Probable cause at the moment.
Nothing to suggest otherwise.

As yet.

I saw that.

He struggled? What do you think?

If he tried with all his strength to get free,
there'd be more damage to the tissue.

- The boss sent you to observe?
- He was my partner.

Nearly four years.
The man was my partner, Dani.

(Lennox) Practically an autonomic reaction.
You can't just let yourself drown.

You keep on strangling yourself.

- So he struggled at the end?
- Couldn't help it.

No matter how determined.

Final moments, water floods the lungs,
you struggle like a maniac.

Every last one of us.

(Frank) Enough to break his own wrist?

- Sir.
- (Lennox) Brendan's a big man.

- Do they have a cause of death?
- The prof seems to be going with drowning.

It's that sneaky shitbag David Westwood.

(Frank) The microphones are on, Barry.

Oh.

Chief Inspector.

The CCTV disks you and I viewed earlier
of McCann's house.

DCI Torrance needs them sent over
to the incident room at Black Moss.

As of now, those disks are pertinent
to an ongoing murder enquiry,

which I'm sure you'll agree

takes precedence
over any Complaints investigation

into the alleged wrongdoings
of Brendan McCann.

Tell Torrance he'll get his disks.

See ya.

Come on.
We're getting back to Black Moss pronto.

- We should wait till scene of crime's finished.
- Why?

Because we might find the head and hands,
smart arse.

- There's our prince.
- Aye, right. In a bowling bag?

Come on. We'll wait till Forensics have done
the whole place cos there's nothing visible.

On you go, then.

What?

Come on, you twat.

- You're not happy about something, are you?
- I don't know.

There's little internal bleeding.

No haematoma.

Fairly extensive tissue damage from the
fractured ulna and hardly any internal bleeding.

Which means?

Well, if he broke his wrist struggling,
then he was still alive when it broke.

Bonetti.

He's just in with Prof Lennox at the moment.
Just got going on Brendan.

Yeah, he's up first.
They're leaving Headless till last.

(Lennox) Zero mobility,
so they happened when he was drowning.

(Frank) So he's kicking up a struggle, you say?

These were made the instant Brendan died.

Otherwise, we'd be looking at enough time

for the shins to have developed
extensive deep tissue bruising.

(Frank) so?

Well. . just.

- He was in his seat in the car.
- Aye. We pulled him out the Forth.

So how did he do this in the inside
of a Mercedes sitting in the driver's seat?

Underside of the dashboard.

In a Mercedes? It's Leather-padded to fuck.
At least mine is.

Well, the car's still in the police pound.
I'll get them to check on it.

You onto that, Dani? Anything
out of the ordinary on the drive as well.

OK.

Yeah. Right.
You need to check under the driver's seat...

(Lennox) Look, Frank. This is all subject
to further examination and comparison.

But what I need is a reconciliation
between the times of death by drowning,

the wrist fractures,
and injuries to the shins.

Holy fuck.

Do you buy Westwood
and his determined suicide? Do you buy it?

Big Brendan. So, what, he killed somebody

and then has a pang of remorse
when he goes to get rid of the body?

The Brendan I know
would napalm a fucking nursery

before he'd countenance
the slightest compromise to his wellbeing.

Would you get that for me?
Might be Torrance.

DS Bonetti on DS Agnew's mobile.

Hello?

Hello, hello? Anybody there?

Hello?

- Somebody there not speaking.
- Who's the name on the phone?

- What?
- It's your girlfriend.

I must have made her jealous
by answering your phone.

Fuck. What do you mean?
What does it say on the phone?

It says Sinada. I'm saying she must have
heard the sound of my voice and hung up.

What the fuck's going on with you, Frank?

Nothing.

She just, er...

She just... Her phone got stolen, is all.

So where is she?

She left.

We split up. I don't know where she went.

I see.

So is she giving you the run-around, Frank?

Everybody liked Sinada.

Apparently Brendan fancied
the pants off of her, so er... Kenny...

Look, just fucking cut it out, will ya?

We don't have time for this...this crap.

Just get a fucking grip.

Even/body out?

Just me at the moment.

Where the fuck's Geddes?

- Have you seen him?
- No.

- Only you here?
- Uh-huh.

I've just had a call from a woman who's dead.

Or is it you?

Huh? Have you got Sinada's phone?

Giving me hope so I don't turn us both in?
ls that it?

Christ was dead three days
before he rose again.

All the people we see in this job...

You have to tell them they're...
they're gone.

Your wife, your...man.

Your wee girl

And you can see all they want to say...

"Somebody. Please, somebody."

Just saying, "No... No...

"It's a mistake, it's a mistake."

It's never gonna die, Frank.

Tell me.

Brendan McCann.

He threatened her and he said, er...

He said he'd tell you
that she used to be a prostitute before.

They blackmailed her.

All she had to do was
bring a man back to the flat.

And then Brendan really hurt the man.

All night. Tortured.

When I got there, he was out of control.
Drunk, on charlie... He was out of his mind.

So I pulled him off Sinada.

And him, he whacked me
and I went through to the next room.

She didn't know where she was.
She was a mess.

His gun went off. He killed the man.

Then Sinada disappeared
while I was trying to handle Brendan.

She climbed out the bedroom window, Frank.
That's it.

- Do you know where she is?
- No. I've no idea where she is.

I don't know where she is.

- You told me Brendan killed her.
- I know.

Can you imagine all the things that have
been in my head since you told me that?

I know. And...

That made me do what we did to Brendan.

I know.

I couldn't have managed him on my own.

I couldn't have done it on my own.
I needed your help to end him.

Not just because of all the stuff
that he's done, but because of me.

For my own sake, for me.

Why?

Because...

Because he had my soul between his teeth,
Frank.

Right. Right...

Frank, Frank...

Frank... Frank!

Your fucking soul?

If I don't find her...

If I don't find Sinada now, then...

then you worry about your fucking soul.

Teeth would narrow it down,
but I reckon 35 to 40.

We'll know better when you find the teeth.

And the head.

- Same as Joe Geddes.
- I thought he was older.

No, no, the same guess.
Joe guessed 35 to 40.

There's a fucking world of difference
between a guess and a professional opinion.

Take a look at that bruising
at the base of the spine.

Give it some thought
and then share those thoughts with me.

How long have Geddes and McCann
been partners?

Since Brendan joined us
from the Hong Kong force.

Mm-hm. You earn twice the dosh out there you
do here. What did Brendan come back for?

I think he found himself in bad order
with some of the locals.

- These aren't bruises.
- What?

This discolouration isn't bruising.
I think these are Mongolian blue spots.

She's fucking winding you up now, Barry.

- You're quite right.
- Mongolian fucking blue spots?

Huh? Aye.

Congenital Dermal Melanocytosis.

Typical to Asian populations.

- That's very good, Marilyn.
- (Torrance) Does it help us?

Greatly.

Coupled with skin pigmentation, I'd hazard
Headless here is of Oriental extraction.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

Paul Branigan...

Geddes. Joe? ls it Joseph Geddes?

- Dear God, Joe.
- It has been 15 years since my last confession.

- You need a doctor.
- No, Father.

- You've been hurt.
- I killed a man.

I conspired and plotted
and took violent action

and I killed another human being
stone fucking dead, Father.

- Joe.
- And nobody knows about it but you.

- Joseph.
- And Frank Agnew.

Do you know what it's like when you
discover something terrible, Father?

- Do you know what it's like?
- Joe.

Do ya fucking know?

I'm all fucked up, Father.

I'm all fucked up.

Brendan! Brendan!

Brendan! Open this fucking door!

Brendan! Brendan!
Open this fucking door! Brendan!

Brendan! Brendan, open up!

(Sinada) No... Please...

For fuck's sake.

Shut up! Shut up, will ya? Shut up!

(Brendan) Get the girl

Mr Gim Yeung, I'm DS Agnew, this is DS
Bonetti. If you don't mind, we'd like to ask...

This is about Patrick.

Er...Patrick who?

Patrick Leung, my nephew.

He's missing. Have you found him?

Mr Gim Yeung, when did you realise
that Patrick was missing?

Tuesday morning. He missed his deliveries.

He doesn't answer his phone.

And there's nobody in his house.

Er, what deliveries?

Meat.

Patrick supplies meat to my restaurant and
to four or five other Chinese restaurants.

We have to find other meat since Tuesday.

- When did you last see your nephew?
- Monday.

- Where?
- In my restaurant.

He was having lunch with his friend.
Brendan McCann.

Sir, I'm gonna ask you to take a DNA test
over here if you don't mind.

- This will enable us to establish...
- I know all about DNA.

Good.

You've found him, haven't you?

It's possible.

Would you sit here, please, sir?

Could you open your mouth, please?

Thank you.

Well, what's that?

This was found in the bath with the lobsters.

Thank you...

for taking care of Brendan.

He was a very bad man.

Have you seen these? Do you know that they're
alive when they put them in the boiling water?

Yeah.
Get that over to the lab to get it tested.

We don't have time to worn] about
seafood's feelings.

I know we don't.

Sinada.

Sinada.

Is that you?

Sinada!

- Get off me!
- Is that your phone?

- What? Yeah, of course it is.
- ls that your fucking phone?

- Show it to me.
- No, I'm sorry. I found it. Take it, OK?

You found it?
Where did you fucking find it?

- I found it in...
- Where?

Savanna Street, on the pavement.

- Just take the bloody thing.
- When?

I found it last night. OK?

- Savanna Street?
- Fuck off!

Fuck!

Savanna Street.
What the fuck is in Savanna Street?

Savanna Street.

Sinada's phone.

There's er...

Carnegie brothers.

Liam and Val

They own a sauna...

in Savanna Street.

That's where Brendan met Sinada.

What's he saying?

- Hiya.
- Hiya, Joe. How are you doing?

Just, er...

telling Frank...

one of them asked me for a light,

and the other one smacked me from behind.

- On the Meadows.
- Did you recognise them?

No, I didn't.

Couldn't see their faces.

Hoods over their faces.

Hoodies.

I got mugged, that's all.

What were you doing on the Meadows?

Crossing over there on my way home.

Fucking weird way to go home.

Well, I've a lot on my mind.

Are you all right, Joe?

Eugene, my...cat...

needs fed.

- No problem.
- Dani, Dani.

Dani, Dani.

It hates women.

It has to be Frank.

No problem. I fucking hate cats.

Come on.

Fuck!

Ah!

Frank.

What the fuck are you going here?

Er...

Joe Geddes is in the hospital.
He needs some stuff.

- The hospital?
- Aye. He was, er...

attacked last night. He's in the Southern.

Who by?

Er, nobody. Muggers, guys in hoods.

What the fuck are you doing here?

Me?

Complaints business.

What did you get out of Geddes?

I've got a couple of names.

I have Val and Liam Carnegie.

- Brendan mixed up with them.
- The Carnegie boys.

They run saunas and they own an abattoir.

We've never been able
to get anything on the Carnegies

because they always take steps accordingly.

We think that's because they have somebody
inside the CID who's giving them the heads-up.

We think that somebody was Brendan McCann.

- How do you think that?
- Our informer.

Works for the brothers.

A little nobody called Aidan Pollock,
you might want a word at some point.

Why?

- What's he saying just now?
- Oh, he's gone to ground.

LMF.

LMF?

Lack of moral fibre.

Here. I'll take your bag.

- Huh?
- The bag.

The bag, why?

Well, I'm going to the Southern now.
Interview Geddes.

I'll see he gets his stuff.

Oh, fuck!

What have you got?

So far, that.

Who's she?

No fucking idea.
Some bird Brendan's dragged back.

She's way out of Brendan's league.

So he's obviously paid her.

How long did she stay?

Eight hours.

That's probably enough time
for Brendan to get it up.

Don't look too happy when she leaves.

Means he must have definitely got it up.

Baby oil or talc?

Er...

Talc.

Would you like to take off your big coat?

Sure.

Would you like to take off
the rest of your clothes?

Look. Can we just...

talk for a minute?

Course.

I'm looking for...a girl who used to
work here a few months back.

Uh-huh.

You might, er...know her...

maybe.

- Come on, a foreign girl
- You're not allowed to do that.

Do what?

You're not allowed to make use
of physical coercion.

And you're not allowed to ask me to tell you
personal details about any of the girls.

- She's a friend.
- You're not allowed to.

Her name's Sinada. She used to work here.

Come on. She's not...

What's that? What did you do that for?

- We're not allowed to answer any questions.
- I just need to find her.

I'm only asking you if you know her.

If you know where I can find her. Come on.

Her name's Sinada.
I just want to know if...

All right, sir.

He's been asking questions
about that girl called Sinada.

He grabbed me as well, hurt my wrist.

Skedaddle.

Are you Val?

Is Val short for Valerie
like that chick out of Blue Peter?

If Shep here prods me with that
fucking thing one more time,

I'm gonna shove it up his arse
and turn him into a Lollipop.

Fuck off then out, Gary, eh?

So who's this girl? Sinada?

If you were here on official police business,
you'd have a partner with you.

Cos yous pricks likes to hunt in pairs.

Don't yous?

We're short-handed, Valerie.

On account of the fact Brendan McCann
killed himself the other night.

- Brendan?
- Aye.

Handcuffed himself to the steering wheel
and drove his Mercedes into the Forth.

What the fuck would he go and do that for?

Probably because he'd been grassed up to Police
Complaints and didn't fancy the jail time.

You and your brother fancy the jail time,
do you, Valerie?

Got no one to Look after you now.

Brendan on a slab in the mortuary and some
wee grass sneaking around, telling us things.

Sinada.

Sinada.

Rings a bell.

Aye, she were that...a foreign bird.

Yeah, used to work here.

I can picture her now, aye.

Ankles round her ears, fucking loving it.

Big Brendan had a thing about her as well.

Kept asking for her.

Me and Liam broke her in
when she first arrived.

The pair of us,
both at the same fucking time.

The thing with the foreign birds is they...

sometimes just disappear.

Nobody even notices they're missing,

cos they're illegal.

They just...

vanish.

Like fuckers in the night.

Geddes.

Get your fucking arse round here.

- Who is this?
- Liam Carnegie.

- Round here. Now.
- (Meowing)

Hey, go on. Get the fuck.
Fuck off. Fuck off, cat!

Where are you?

I'm in your fucking fridge.

If it is Patrick laying in the morgue,

then I don't think Patrick was at home
when he was decapitated and dismembered.

This is the queerest place
I've ever been in my puff.

Do you know what a place like this costs?

Over a million squids.

Aye. He supplies meat and poultry
to five Chinese restaurants.

What do you think was going on
between Patrick and Brendan?

Do you think Patrick made all this dosh
dealing cocaine?

Maybe.

Him and Brendan had some kind of row about it.

Maybe. I don't think
Patrick's coming back to tell us, though.

You know that he's got a jacuzzi.

Upstairs.

It's a double one.

Fuck off, john.

Neptune Casino.

He's a gambling man.

Not a very lucky one.

As well as the ribs, there is a concussion.

How long does concussion last?

He won't be leaving here today.

This is the right room?

God knows how he even got his clothes on.

DCI Westwood.

Well, if that's what the Procurator
Fiscal's Office require of me, then...

who am I to challenge their parameters?

Briefing at Black Moss
I'll be there in 15 minutes.

You fucking let my cat escape.

Your door's been kicked in.

The fucking state of you, Geddes.

What happened?

That cat doesnae get out...

Well, it's out now,
so forget about the fucking cat.

Boss says Brendan killed himself.

- What the fuck did he go and do that for?
- How should I know?

Because you're his fucking partner!

- You're supposed to look after your partner!
- Oh, Jesus!

So what are we supposed to do now?

Who?

Me and Val

Brendan's let us down.

You've let us down not looking after Brendan.

So who's going to take his place?

Our eyes and ears in Blackmoore's CID?

You are.

The manager at the Neptune Casino

has Patrick Leung playing roulette
on Monday night till 2:23am,

at which time he left
in the company of a young woman.

Makes her the last person we know
to see Patrick Leung alive and in one piece.

- Apart from Brendan.
- Apart from Brendan.

Do you have a name for this young woman?

No name.
The manager thinks she might be Lithuanian.

- Lithuania?
- That's what the manager said.

Right.

Good.

Do you have an address
where we can find her?

The manager said the barman
has a List of numbers for the girls.

He'll let them know if it's a busy night,
lots of randy punters playing the tables.

The barman's away, back tomorrow.

- We need to get hold of him now.
- We're on it.

The prostitutes all have two phones,
one for business and one for boyfriends.

(Louise) So it's only the work number
the barman would have anyway.

Right, well. As soon as you speak to him,
I want this girl's number.

The senior manager describes her as 5ft 10,
blonde hair worn loose,

slim build, 20-25 years of age,

nice tits.

Excuse me, but I'm being verbatim here.
And a Lovely, lovely arse on her.

I think I might have seen her.

When do you think
you might have seen her, Kenny?

A girl looks like that on the CCTV
going into Brendan's house.

- Is that right, Dani?
- Yeah.

- So she's the prostitute. Right, Frank?
- When was this?

Er, according to the tapes,
about three weeks ago.

I mean, there's no way

Brendan gets to shag a doll like that
unless she's shagging him for the money, right?

John, Louise, back to the casino tonight.

Talk to the girls that work the place.

We need to find the whereabouts of this...
Lithuanian girl

She's a priority, OK?

This girl

Chief Inspector Westwood is here
at the request of the Fiscals Office...

to contribute any information
to the investigation which may be relevant.

On you go, then, David.

Oh, Complaints have a source, er...

an informer,
who is prepared to testify in court...

that DS McCann was selling information
about ongoing criminal investigations

to the criminals involved.

Which criminals?

- Val and Liam Carnegie. Possibly others.
- Who's the source

and how reliable is his information?

Complaints' policy
is not to share such information.

Chief Inspector.

- Aidan Pollock. He's in Airdrie somewhere.
- Kenny.

Run the name through the system,
get an address and bring him in.

Sure.

- Dani.
- Er, yeah.

OK. The Lab's confirmed a DNA match.

Our headless corpse is Patrick Leung.

Professor Lennox also has given us
a toxicology report.

Brendan McCann and Patrick Leung had a high
concentration of cocaine in their bloodstream.

According to Lennox, Brendan had enough
to give a herd of bulls a heart attack.

Right.

So, in summary...

Brendan McCann murdered
and dismembered Patrick Leung,

hiding the body in the boot of his car.

Patrick Leung was Living way above
his apparent means.

So we need to Look into his income
and business sources. You're on that, john.

Brendan discovered he was the centre of
a police complaints investigation.

This investigation centred around his criminal
association with Val and Liam Carnegie.

Now, do we have any connection between
the Carnegie brothers and Patrick Leung?

We don't have the whereabouts of
this missing Lithuanian girl

We don't have the whereabouts
of Aidan Pollock.

Lennox thinks Patrick Leung was killed
by a shot in the head,

but we don't have a crime scene, we don't have
a murder weapon, we don't have a motive...

and we don't have the missing body parts.

(Geddes) The head and hands are gone.

Joe,

Er... Now we have a positive
DNA match on Patrick Leung,

- the head and hands are less of a priority.
- I know, Frank, but they're missing.

Joe. In the name of God,
Look at the state of you.

Is that eye going to be OK?

Should you not be in your bed in the hospital?

Should you not be at home, son?

I've lost my cat as well.

Frank. See this.

Aidan Pollock.
Ran the name through the system like you said.

It's flashing fucking red lights.

East Side have him down as a
suspicious death this morning,

his body's lying at the bottom of Salisbury Crag,
so Forensics already there.

Jesus Christ!

You just let your source get murdered,
Chief Inspector.

Believe this is yours.

The feet...

and lower legs...

have been subjected to extreme heat.

Was he burned?

Much of the dermal tissue,
the connective tissue

- and muscle fibre has gone.
- Was he burned?

Frank, shut the fuck up a minute, would you?
Let me have a proper look!

You're always in such a fucking hurry.

And you know it doesn't help.
I don't respond well.

- Cos he doesn't Look burnt to me.
- Huh?

He looks like he's been cooked.

Boiled, not burned.

(Dani) What the fuck's Geddes doing here?

- I'll see to him.
- Frank.

Back in a minute.

Professor Lennox.

Aye.

How are we getting on
with Brendan's determined suicide?

Well, I've got Mongolian Marilyn
reviewing the pathology findings.

- What the fuck are you doing here?
- You found Sinada?

Carnegies have her.

Or they know where she is.
They're holding that over me.

- How did that happen?
- Because I fucked up with Val, that's how.

So, what are you gonna do?

I'm gonna arrest him.
Then I'm gonna charge him,

then I'm gonna do a deal so I get her back
before she ends up on a slab like Pollock.

- What deal?
- I'll think of something.

I'll lose the evidence or...

fuck up the case against Pollock.

I'll trade them for her.

Only if you have a case to charge them.

- Bonetti's suspicious.
- Oh, fuck Bonetti, it doesn't matter.

If I don't find Sinada...

nothing fucking matters.

- What is this?
- Bullet entry?

Maybe they put him out of his misery,
maybe he was dead before they did this to him.

Aye. And maybe not.

- Bullet still in there, Professor?
- Hold the head steady, Marilyn.

Oh, my God! What's that?

Probable cause of death.

Driven into the base of the skull.

I'll have it sent over to
forensic ballistics, they might be able...

It's a concussion bolt
from an abattoir gun.

What?

- How the hell do you know that, Marilyn?
- My cousin's a slaughterman.

It was him who got me intrigued with death
in the first place.

- ..It's going to need at least two coats...
- Shut up!

You hear this, Frank? A slaughterhouse gun.

The Carnegies have an abattoir.

The Carnegie brothers bought me out.

Well, actually, bailed me out
would be more accurate.

I can't believe the smells in here.

Ah, well, you see,
we're top end of the trade.

Supplying exclusive organically reared
beef and lamb.

The main slaughterer in top quality butchery.

We don't do reconstituted turkey slurry.

Eyelids and bottoms?

Ah!

This come from here?

That's years old.

It's from an old concussive bolt gun
and they're banned now.

What we use is approved by the EU.
It's pneumatic.

When did you last see
either Valor Liam Carnegie?

I only ever see Val

Once every quarter he comes up
and does the paperwork.

You're going to love this, Frank,
it's a thing of fucking beauty.

Marilyn finished the report.

Cause of death - he drowned in saltwater.
No question, fact.

- You've already told us that.
- Aye.

Now, the contusions to his shins.

No deep bruising.

So the injury happened
close to the time of death.

No way these injuries happened in the car.
Mercedes are Leather-padded to fuck.

So Brendan didn't die in his car.

Plus...

Marilyn did an analysis of the stomach
contents and saw something else.

You'll love this.

- What's that?
- Chinese food, barely digested.

Brendan died shortly after
he'd eaten his dinner.

This dinner.

Not after he'd driven home
and waited in his house,

then driven down to the Forth Estuary.

Otherwise this would be closer to shit
than chop suey.

Broken wrist.

Complex double fracture
of the radius and ulna.

No bleeding, no haematoma.

So the injury occurred
after Brendan was already dead.

So, you've got yourself another murder.

Fuck that determined suicide baloney.
We all knew that was a load of fanny.

Somebody murdered McCann.

Dragged him somewhere else
and faked up his suicide.

Some sneaky, clever fucker.

But not as clever as our Marilyn.

Eh, Frank?

(Dani) Freeze that again.

- What is it?
- Step it back.

Freeze it.

You vanish.

If Brendan McCann's been murdered,
then it's going to be you killed him.

If you...

vanish,

all that shite you told me about Christ
being dead three days and then coming back...

Well, you took Sinada away from me once,
I'm not gonna lose her again.

You turned me into a murderer.

This is what needs done.

So you vanish.

Agreed?

You agree with me?

Good.

We're agreed.

Fuck you, Joe! Fuck you!

Fuck you.

The Fiscal's going to get Lennox's report
in the morning,

and it's gonna say Brendan McCann
was murdered.

We're going to jail.

I cannae stop Val and Liam.

I cannae protect her.

I don't know what to do.

This nearly fucked us already.

Brendan McCann,

strong and true.

Keep-your-mouth-shut money.

Brendan gave it to me.

I don't know...

how much.

Unsuspecting soul.

You arse.

Uh-huh.

- Dani?
- Yeah.

- DS Bonetti?
- Yep.

Daniella Bonetti rhymes with spaghetti
fancies Frank Agnew?

The most blindingly obvious case of fancying
someone I've ever seen in my entire life.

What are you doing?

Is it not blindingly obvious?

Let it go.

Kenny.

Listen. Tommy Carnegie,

Val and Liam's dad.

He's in jail serving a life sentence.

Whipped a boy to death
with a length of electrical cable.

He was arrested at his place of work.
Tommy Carnegie was a slaughterman.

The slaughterhouse he worked at
was Culcrennan Farm.

Black Moss is looking for physical evidence.
Link you to Pollock's killing.

Well, they'll find fuck all.
We're no' that stupid.

They already have something.

What?

If you let the girl go,

I will fuck up Black Moss,

lose the evidence.

Couple of weeks from now,
before it goes to court,

I'll fuck up the case.

If you let her go.

No chance.

As long as we've got the girl,
we've got Agnew.

We own him.

So...

what's Black Moss got?

I don't know...yet.

You...

are fucking...

useless.

I'll find out.

I think they got something at the postmortem.
I'll get it out of the evidence room.

How much?

- Ten grand.
- You're fucking joking.

You wait here.

I'm going to speak to my brother.

We're at Culcrennan Farm.

There's a number of vans parked up.
We're investigating.

John, it's the fucking stink.

Come in, Frank.

Have you got a minute?

Aye.

I just need to...

Er...

Jesus.

Look.

Six weeks ago,

about six weeks...

I met someone.

A girl

What girl?

Her name's, er...Sinada Liadanska,

she's, uh...

Lithuanian.

- The one we're looking for?
- That's her.

The prostitute?

I didn't know that at the time.

Frankly, I didn't care.

Er, Brendan introduced us at a party,

and, er...

one thing led to another,
we slept together that night and...

she moved in with me the next day.

- And was this her idea?
- All mine.

I had to persuade her.

Where she comes from,
the cops aren't the good guys.

When did you find out she was a prostitute?

That wasn't an issue.

She's...

She's all I've ever been looking for...

in my entire sorry life.

And I've never...

felt anything like the way I feel about her.

Even

I'd die for her.

I'd kill for her.

I'm sorry.

Three nights ago she didn't come home.

There was no phone call, nothing.

I was, er...frantic.

Beside myself, you know?

And then...

Joe Geddes told me...

she'd been with Brendan.

John Hoey just called in, boss.

They found the murder weapon.

The one that killed Pollock. Culcrennan Farm,
it's a disused slaughterhouse.

Come and sit with me, Joe.

- Sit with ya?
- Uh-huh.

Take a Look at this.

Brendan gets in his car.

Goes all the way down to the waterfront.

Handcuffs himself to the steering wheel
of his Mercedes and drives into the sea.

That's right.

So when does he change his trousers?

How?

Me and Frank undressed Brendan at the morgue.

The trousers he's wearing here are
different to the ones I tagged and bagged,

the ones he was wearing
when we pulled him out of the Forth.

Different how?

The difference between
Light-coloured and dark-coloured.

What have you got in the fucking bag, Joe?

The bag?

Aye. The bag.

Clean towels.

Kenny.

No, I'm at Joe's.

I heard you. I'm on my way.

Forensics gonna love this.

What's pig and what's Pollock?

This thing.

Mechanical meat recovery.

That's what they tortured him with.

Hold that.

Fucking got them.

I spoke to Professor Lennox...

and then I spoke to Joe Geddes.

- What about, Dani?
- About Brendan.

What about him?

He didn't kill himself.

He was murdered.

Drowned.

In the restaurant.

Bath full of salt water,
in amongst the lobsters.

You drove to his house with the body
in the boot of your car. You and Geddes.

You went into his house in his coat,

came out later and drove his car to the water.

You and Joe killed Brendan McCann
and then you faked his suicide.

- Now, why would I do a thing like that, Dani?
- Sinada.

You did it because of her.

If what you're saying is that you wish
to make a formal confession

to a crime you may have committed,

then I advise you, DI Geddes,
and I can't emphasise this strongly enough,

that in my view you should take advantage
of legal representation.

- What's going on?
- Sh.

- (Geddes) I choose not to.
- Well, that's your choice, Joe, I'm Listening.

Years now, Brendan's been feeding
information to the Carnegie brothers.

Any time any one of us
get anywhere near them,

he would warn them, fuck us up.

Er...

Just over a year ago, Val and Liam
branched out from the sauna business.

They already owned the old Culcrennan Farm.

They bought a respectable abattoir as a cover,

a way to get certification.

They take in condemned carcasses,

contaminated meat,

not fit for human beings,
not even for pet food.

They're paid £25 a ton to destroy it.

Instead they clean it up

and sell it on for £1,500 a ton.

This, er...Patrick Leung

- was a distributor.
- Go on.

Er...

Brendan got wind,

wanted in on it.

The brothers told him to fuck off.

So big Brendan, being big Brendan,

lured Patrick Leung into the casino,

threatened him.

How did Brendan lure
Patrick Leung into the casino?

A girl. A gorgeous girl.

Patrick Leung thought he was spending the night
with her. She spent the night with Brendan.

The brothers went crazy.

Good morning, sir.

- Thanks, Kenny.
- (Joe) Patrick had given them up to Brendan.

- They went mad.
- How did they hear?

I told them.

Are you sure you don't want a lawyer...

before you go any further, DC Geddes?

Me and Liam killed Brendan.

Ah.

Brendan was already dead in the boot of
his own car. That's Liam you see in the video.

I helped Liam fake it up.

Make it Look like suicide.

Jesus.

Why did you do that?

To get them off me.

Frank Agnew said you and him
drove Brendan off...

Frank Agnew is lying.

I asked him to.

At the end of Brendan's party, Frank Agnew was
so drunk I had to literally pour him into a taxi.

I took his car keys,
and me and Liam used Frank's car.

Then the next morning...

I come up to Frank
and asked him to back me up.

Why would he do that, agree to that?

Because I told him that if he didn't,

I would let it be known
that his new girlfriend...

his big love,

is a prostitute,

who works at the Carnegie brothers' sauna.

John, would you get some water,
would you, please?

Do you want to see a doctor?

Let's take a wee break.

I have to erm...

I have to get some things organised.

I know.

I know you do, boss.

Interview paused 07:22.

DS Agnew, you're relieved of duty
as of this time.

Dani,

take away Cullen and Morton,

bring in the Carnegie brothers.

Boss.

- I knew Geddes was bent.
- You're a fucking prick!

I want him charged.

I'm not charging him till I have him
psychiatrically assessed by a doctor.

He looks and sounds completely sane to me.

Joe, what the fuck are you doing?

Huh?

It won't work.

Torrance won't believe this.

He's been beaten half to death.

He will.

How?

David, get an ambulance and a fucking doctor!

- Get the fuck off me!
- ..the Criminal Procedures Scotland Act.

Keep still!

...to have committed the murder of
Detective Sergeant Brendan McCann.

...anything you do say will be recorded
and may be given in evidence.

Bingo, Dani.

Head and hands.

Brendan's fucking watch.

Frank.

Liam's phone.

Sinada's name's on a number.

Hello. This is Sinada.

I'm sorry I can't speak right now,
please leave a message for me.

Goodbye.