New Tricks (2003–2015): Season 12, Episode 5 - Prodigal Sons - full transcript
When the recently deceased pathologist Dr Hatton's findings are discredited the team looks into the 2005 drowning in his bath of cricketer AJ Da Silva, a suicide according to Hatton though ...
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♪ Listen to what I say
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♪ Doesn't really matter
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♪ It's all right I say it's OK
♪ We're gettin' to the end of the day. ♪
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Remind me why we're doing this?
Basic fitness-level requirements
for all serving officers.
Yes, but there should be an exemption
for those of us above average IQ.
Yeah, well,
why not just... pick up the pace?
Yeah, who voted you Mr Motivator?!
Well, "What doesn't kill you
can only make you stronger" --
Superintendent Nietzsche!
- Yeah, you tell Nietzsche these are
vintage Scottish arteries! - Yeah.
And option one's a distinct possibility.
Yeah, well, fully qualified first
responder, expert in CPR...
Oh, terrific(!) No tongues, OK?
Not my type, mate. Alive or dead.
See you at the finish line.
I'm liking him less and less.
I'm gone, leave me. Save yourself.
Well, if you're sure?
Oh, shit!
Oh...
Oh! Well, that's what
I call... motivation.
Excuse me?
Excuse me, do you know where a guy
can get a decent cup
of coffee around here?
- Do all forensic anthropologists bring
their work home with them? - What?
Yours, I believe.
Back of the sofa, halfway
through Newsnight.
Quite a journey from Serbian war grave
to supporting Danny Griffin's posterior.
- Did you talk to Holly last night?
- Yeah, we caught up.
And then we had "the discussion".
About you and me, you know, making
this whole thing official?
- How did it go? - Well, it turns
out I had nothing to worry about.
In fact, to use her exact words,
and I quote, "Go for it, Dad."
Ah... I always liked her.
- And are we?
- Are we what?
Going for it?
You know, the whole grown-up,
genuine, adult commitment thing?
I'd like that very much.
Me too.
So, I think we should tell her, don't you?
Sarah. I mean, you are still
married, we owe it to her.
Of course, you're right,
I'll... I'll talk to her.
Do you want me to come with you? For
moral support? I know it's not easy.
- No, no, I'll talk to her
face-to-face... But thank you. - OK.
- Well, have a good day.
- Yeah. Yeah, you too.
- See you later.
- Bye.
Yes, sir.
OK, I'll meet you there as soon as I can.
Yeah, they can go on ahead.
What, all of them?
OK, I'll give them the good news.
Morning.
Oh, it's still last night
from where I'm standing.
You drinking your own snot now?
Kale smoothie, packed with antioxidants.
Bleurgh!
Only seems like last week I was pushing
you around in a wheelchair.
- Yeah, it was. - Oh, have
you got any of your, um...
industrial-strength painkillers left?
Yeah, strictly speaking,
those are for people that have just
had a bullet surgically removed.
Believe me, right now,
that's what it feels like.
- Kitchen cupboard, right? Behind
the goji berries? - How do you know?
- Are you ready?
- Ah, absolutely.
You've heard of Dr David Hatton?
Home Office pathologist,
retired a few years ago.
Something of a professional
eccentric, if memory serves.
Actually, he was struck off just
before the public inquiries
of the McKenzie case.
He was found to have made multiple errors,
which brought all his previous
work into question.
Ah, the hallowed ground.
I truly believe that little green square
is the beating heart of England.
So, what happens here, then?
Really?
Lord's Cricket Ground.
Where do we fit in, sir?
His cases are being reinvestigated,
new postmortems where possible.
- Basic box-ticking?
- Exactly.
- For some reason, they
thought of us. - Hm!
These are from September 2005.
Ajuna Da Silva. Professional
cricketer, 26.
Universally known as "AJ".
His younger brother also played
for the team -- Sanjeev Da Silva.
He found AJ's body... Apparently
drowned in his bath on a match day.
- And Hatton did the PM. - Uh...
Found alcohol and prescription drugs
in his system. No sign of foul play.
The coroner passed a
verdict of misadventure.
But somebody disagrees.
My son was a great player.
A genuine loss to the game.
The idea that a dedicated
professional sportsman
would risk his health and career
this way is frankly preposterous.
Prem... um, Mr Da Silva
has always maintained that
his son was murdered.
But according to the original PM
there were no other signs
of injuries on the body.
Well, clearly that idiot of
a pathologist missed them!
I know my son.
Misadventure?
The whole thing is completely
out of character.
And as I've assured Prem,
we'll be leaving no stone unturned
during this investigation.
- Sorry I'm late, sir.
- Ah, perfect timing.
Prem, this is DCI Miller.
Sanjeev, my son.
I understand you found
your brother's body?
DCI Miller rarely wastes
time on formalities.
Um, it was an away match, and...
the entire team was staying in the hotel.
AJ missed breakfast and
so I went to check on him.
- I assumed he'd overslept.
- He did that a lot?
Sometimes. Not often.
Um, anyway, I couldn't wake him,
so we ended up getting
a passkey from reception.
- And when you entered the room? - Um...
The bed was empty.
I called, but there was no reply. Um...
At first I thought he'd already left,
- but his coffin was still there
by the room. - Coffin? - Kitbag.
Cricketers call them coffins
cos basically, they're
big enough to hold a...
a... lot of kit.
Uh, I thought maybe
he must just have gone to
another room or something.
Anyway, I needed to use the bathroom.
And then you found him?
So, the hotel room door was locked
from the inside when you got there?
-- Um, yes. -- And no sign of a struggle?
Um...
We wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.
Um... He was just lying there.
His head was under the water
and I knew straight away.
Sorry.
Was there empty bottles?
Pill packets, a note?
AJ didn't drink!
He didn't smoke.
He certainly didn't take drugs.
Someone killed my son, DCI Miller.
I want you to bring them to justice.
Look, guys, I'll catch you up.
- Sir...
- Mm-hm.
.. with all due respect,
I don't understand why we
are investigating this case.
I've known Prem Da Silva for years.
He's never accepted the official
line on his son's death.
And when the news about Hatton surfaced,
he immediately came to me and
demanded a new investigation.
Prem trusts me. He's been obsessed
with this for the last ten years.
If I can tell him myself that his
son's death was misadventure,
- I think he'd finally let it go,
life can go on. - I understand.
And not that it's relevant,
- but he's also my proposer for
membership of the MCC. - Sir?
The Marylebone Cricket Club.
We do this right, and I can
fulfil a lifelong ambition.
I see.
- Win-win.
- Exactly.
- Below average? - All of us?
- Well, except me, obviously.
I-I don't understand.
Six minutes for 1,500 metres
is my personal best.
While I salute the achievement
of a personal goal,
the fact remains that you all failed
the compulsory fitness test.
- But who came top out of us three?
- Well, it doesn't matter.
- Believe me, it does.
- You all retest in three weeks' time.
Failure is not an option,
which means we've got
some serious work to do.
And by we, I mean YOU, which is
why I've bought you all these.
Pedometers.
Put them on your wrist
- and they record the number
of steps you've taken. - Really?
Or we could always go back
to my initial idea --
freestanding desks and a treadmill each?
- No, no.
- Great, yeah.
Brilliant.
I've reviewed the new postmortem.
Cause of death remains
the same -- asphyxiation.
No cracked ribs or head injuries
to indicate any kind of assault,
but the new pathologist has flagged
the lack of water in the lungs.
Now, Hatton originally called this
as a dry drowning, but nobody...
OK, OK, stop. Translation, please.
Well, when you enter cold
water, there's a reflex
that shuts the larynx tight,
meaning that you drown,
but the lungs are dry
because the water didn't
have a chance to go in.
- But, it is uncommon. - Which suggests
he was dead before he hit the water.
- And no clear cause of death.
- What about the toxicology?
Well, cocaine and stimulants
are all negative.
Uh, hair samples suggest moderate
levels of dihydrocodeine,
which is a prescription painkiller.
- Otherwise known as "bowler's
breakfast." - Mm.
A daily painkiller's part of the
routine for professional sportsmen.
They found alcohol as well.
Mm, approximately three times
over the legal limit.
Well, that's hardly rock star excess!
His father said he didn't drink.
And if he wasn't used to it
and mixed it with the pills...
Accidents happen.
It's possible, and young sportsmen
do die unexpectedly.
Generally after exertion, yes, not
in the bath after half a lager.
I knew it!
There was another death, same team,
three months earlier. Peter Collins.
Left-arm medium pacer, middle-order bat.
Fell from a fourth floor
window, where he lived,
and assumed to be suicide.
I don't remember that.
Well, both cases barely
scraped the back pages.
We'd just won the Ashes, remember?
It was all Flintoff and
humiliated Aussies.
So, we've got two deaths in the same
team in the space of three months,
both fit athletes.
I mean, the odds of that must be...
16,800-1.
By multiplying the baseline death rate
of males aged between 20 and 40,
but obviously, it's just an approximation.
It could still be a coincidence.
Prem Da Silva seems convinced
that his son was killed.
The new PM doesn't add up and
now we've got another death.
There was an autograph hunter
in the hotel, Alan Power.
AJ signed his book at approximately
8pm in the hotel lobby.
- Why don't you two pay him
a visit? - All right. - Yeah.
- Yeah?
- Mr Power?
Police, we'd like to talk to you.
Wait a second.
Thank you.
Uh...
Oh, I have a licence for that.
I'll be happy to show you.
- You take your security very seriously.
- Uh, can't be too careful.
This estate's a den of iniquity.
You know how much this collection's worth?
- How much?
- £28,643.
Approximately. Tea?
Maybe you should take this one.
- Thank you.
- Thank you.
A lot of the top sports teams
use the Water Bridge Hotel.
There was a whole squadron of hunters
that went down there on match days.
The lobby is a natural pinchpoint.
But you are predominantly a cricket fan?
Not really.
But... But with autograph hunting,
you have to take your chances.
I mean, I don't consider cycling
a sport, but I once spotted
Sir Bradley Wiggins in a
Little Chef in Towcester.
Got him to sign my bill.
But that year, it was
all about the cricket.
The Ashes.
Freddie Flintoff?
KP beating the Aussies.
Well, I remember. Do
you still have the book?
- Yep.
- Could I?
- Mm.
- Thanks.
Uh-ah!
Oh... Sorry.
September 16, 2005.
Water Bridge Hotel,
championship team group.
I got the skipper...
Uh, AJ Da Silva, a couple
of others, small fry.
We were all really waiting
for KP to arrive.
May we keep this?
Uh, I do have a personal message
from Sir Steven Redgrave.
"Please don't come to my house again."
Banter.
There's mutual respect there.
Clearly(!)
I'm going to need a receipt.
When you were his coach,
did you know anyone that might
have wanted to harm AJ Da Silva?
AJ?!
Take your pick! The whole bloody
team wanted to kill him.
Oh, he was a cocky little
bastard. They hated him.
The lad wasn't a team player.
He didn't care if we won or
lost, as long as he did well.
But you still picked him.
Well, he was a selfish little sod,
but he was the best cricketer we
had, so he played, end of story.
Yeah. Best for the team, right?
But it must have caused
a lot of resentment.
There were a few scuffles.
What, handbags at dawn
or... proper fisticuffs?
They meant it all right.
Well, I took 'em apart, made
'em shake hands and...
all got on with it.
- So, what about his brother,
was he a prima donna? - Sanjeev?
Nah, no, he's a nice lad. Pottsy,
concentrate on that off stump, yeah?
No, not a patch on his brother, but...
he was a good, solid cricketer.
Of course, word was they
came as a package --
take AJ and play Sanjeev.
From what I heard from the lads,
Sanj ended up being his brother's
minder half the time.
Kick out the girl, clear up the mess.
Send the bottles to the recycling.
Prem Da Silva insists
his son didn't drink.
AJ?
Spent all his cash on
wine, women and song.
The rest, he just wasted.
- OK, what you got?
- Um... 1,027.
1,150, get in!
It's not a competition.
The mantra of the eternal loser.
Well, perhaps some of us refuse
to be so easily manipulated.
Oh, yadda yadda yadda...
I've left my wallet at the
office, could you get these?
- Thank you.
- Yeah.
Hi.
Hm.
How bad is it?
Did you do anything about it?
Me and Reedy, we... tore
a strip off him every week!
That's Ryan Reed, the skipper?
Yeah, he didn't take
a blind bit of notice.
But, when you can pitch
up on a Saturday morning,
looking like death warmed up and score
a century before lunch, then...
And, of course, you also, well,
had another death that year.
Peter Collins.
No-one saw it coming. Least, not
that he'd do a thing like that.
You think he topped himself?
Well, it's a funny sort of accident --
falling out of your own bedroom window.
Was he depressed?
Well, his marriage wasn't in
great shape, we all knew that.
She was sleeping around
and it got back to Peter.
Look, it's not common knowledge, but...
Laura Collins wasn't just sleeping around,
she was sleeping with another player.
One of his team-mates.
AJ Da Silva?
- I'm just surprised you let it get
this far. - I overstretched myself.
As long as the pay cheques
keep coming in, you...
stay one step ahead.
Until they don't cover the bills any more.
That is the basic flaw.
The divorce cleared me out.
- All right. Well, the first
thing we need is a budget. - We?
If I'm going to help you,
I need total disclosure, OK?
All assets, income and liabilities.
There is a way out of this, Steve.
I don't want the others to know.
OK. Just between you and me.
Right, let's start with the assets.
- Um, property?
- Well, there's my flat and...
- .. a mortgage that I can't pay.
- Mm, death grip.
- What? - Literal translation
of mortgage, from the French?
Look, if I'm going to do
the confessional thing,
can you knock it off with the
QI bollocks for five minutes?
- Sorry.
- Yeah.
- Well, I'd advise you to sell
and downsize. - It's my home!
- Which you can't afford.
- I've sweated blood for that place.
Well, strictly speaking, you sweated
blood for 24% of that place,
- the rest of it is owned by the bank.
- I'll live in the kitchen.
Have it your way.
Liabilities?
How long have you got?
'Miller.'
AJ Da Silva was messing
about with Laura Collins,
that's Peter Collins' wife.
'Interesting.
'OK, why don't I go and have
a chat with this Laura Collins?'
It's a lovely kitchen. I looked
at one of these. A bit pricey.
I believe in quality, DCI Miller.
You should have treated yourself.
Thank you.
Oh, take one. I'd be happy
to sign it for you.
- You're Laura Wilding? - They
say everyone has a novel in them.
- Turned out I had 17!
- Hm! It's not really my cup of tea.
Well, everyone says that, and
yet, they just keep on selling!
- So, how long was your relationship
with AJ? - About three hours.
AJ and I had a one-night
stand. It was just sex.
Good sex. But just sex, nothing
more, nothing less.
But then your husband found out.
That was unfortunate. He
wasn't supposed to know.
- No, they never are. - Peter was
a serious man. Borderline obsessive.
I married him because I thought
he'd be good for me.
He was strong, single-minded.
Also, he had the body of an Adonis.
So, what went wrong?
The silly man killed himself, DCI
Miller, over a stupid bloody game.
You'd slept with his team-mate --
you don't think that was a factor?
Oh, they all blamed the slut, of course.
But I know Peter, and I
know why he really did it.
The stats don't lie. He was
as depressed as his average.
His wife was sleeping with his
team-mate, and you really think
he killed himself because he
wasn't playing well enough?
You don't know Peter. Cricket
was all he talked about.
- And AJ? - It was a
distraction, nothing more.
Peter guessed I had my little
moments and it worked for us.
Then the rest of the team
found out about AJ and me
and the you-know-what hit the fan.
Ryan tried to keep them all together,
but it got very difficult.
The team hated me.
Everything that happened
to Peter was my fault.
Breaking Boundaries with Ryan Reed
is about maximising your potential.
So, remember...
.. running your business
is like going out to bat.
The opposition don't want you there.
They'll undermine you.
Try and knock your confidence. Their
only desire is to see you fail.
So, here's the positive.
You're going to be prepared.
You're going to be tough.
Keeping your eye on the ball
and your body in line.
So you can hit the opposition
for six... every time.
OK. Time for another exercise.
Break-out groups, please.
I've compared the market and switched all
your utilities to the best current deals,
- but you will have to review them every
six months minimum. - Six months, right.
I've also deleted your online accounts,
your credit cards are here.
Oh, and this... is your new daily budget.
I'll get it laminated.
Now, no more takeaways.
Home-made packed lunches only and
a total avoidance of alcohol,
which has added health
benefits, obviously.
- Or I could just kill myself right now.
- Well, I can't advise that.
At the moment, even basic funeral
costs might be a problem.
What, are you telling me
I can't even afford to die?
Well, I'd certainly rule it out
for the next eight weeks or so.
But if you stick with the programme,
I estimate your monthly saving will be...
Well!
They love it.
I mean, it might mostly be middle-aged
guys on the verge of diabetes,
but if at the end of the
day you can send them home
feeling like they've scored a
century, they're all winners.
That's certainly what they look like.
When I retired, I thought I'd
left the game with nothing.
Then I realised what cricket
had really taught me.
The ability to motivate a team.
Get under the skin of individuals,
see what makes them tick.
And AJ Da Silva. What made him tick?
I'm not going to sugar-coat it.
AJ was lazy, disruptive, arrogant.
But he was a great cricketer.
- I deeply regret what happened
to him. - So, um...
You have any theory about his death?
He was a young man who pushed things
too far and paid the price.
On the night he died, where were
you between sort of eight o'clock
and midnight?
In the hotel bar with some of the guys.
Only, we've got some new
evidence that suggests that
AJ Da Silva was possibly murdered.
Well, AJ was immature.
He was like a kid who'd been let
off the leash for the first time.
He had no boundaries. We all
assumed he'd paid the price.
Police seemed to agree with that.
Keith Ainsworth.
He told us that you and AJ used
to fight on a regular basis.
AJ had been hothoused by his father
since he was seven years old.
He never grew up. I tried to force
him to conform but it wasn't in him.
- Basically, whatever he wanted,
he took. - Like Laura Collins.
Laura's a...
A slapper?
I've got no problem with Laura.
Peter was a complex guy. Introverted.
I assumed he was dealing with
his problems in his own way.
And that was a mistake.
- Thanks for your time.
- Not at all.
Glad to be of help.
If I can do anything else in
the future, just let me know.
There's one tiny little thing.
Come on! My arthritic old mum
could bowl faster than that.
I want the real thing.
It's been a while.
Got your message.
What the hell are you doing?
I always wanted to know what it was like
to face a real first-class bowler.
This is probably the only
chance I'm going to get.
- That was the slow ball, was it?
- Sure you're ready for this?
Yeah. Come on!
I want to feel the heat.
If you've still got it in you.
Does that mean you're out?
Reckon so.
We now know that AJ Da Silva
was unpopular within the team.
He was arrogant and selfish.
Well, a lot of people
wind up their workmates.
- They don't end up dead in a bath.
- But we have a theory.
I mean, there were ongoing
fights within the team.
Someone comes to his hotel room,
an argument gets out of hand...
And yet there's not a mark on his body.
And he was seen alive at 8pm, I've
checked the original investigation.
All the alibis from that
time onward are rock solid.
So what about our autograph
guy, Alan Power?
I checked his record...
From 2005, he's been a busy boy.
Four restraining orders and
one conviction for stalking,
all professional sportsmen.
Doesn't make him a murderer,
though, does it?
Yeah, but he broke into their homes.
The only reason he got off with a caution
is nobody wanted to press charges.
We know he was at the hotel.
He says he went straight home.
We've only got his word for that.
Let's make him sweat and see if
he knows more than he's saying.
Oh, I've got something for you.
Three pairs of tickets to the
Mums And Dads do this Saturday.
I thought it'd be a great opportunity,
a team-building opportunity.
Um, actually, I won't.
Well, I've booked a table,
Danny, I thought
both you and Fiona could come.
It's just our relationship's
in a rather delicate phase,
I'm not sure the timing's right
for this sort of commitment.
The last time I looked, it
was just a party, you know,
bring your partner to meet your work
colleagues, that kind of thing.
With respect, I think it's a little
naive to call the Mum And Dads
"just a party".
So, how would you describe it?
- Paintballing with vomit? - Terrible
food. - Warm white wine.
- Or chilled red, if you choose.
- And then, there's the acts. - Yeah.
- Sir Methane. - Sir Methane? - Mm.
He performed renditions of popular
songs using intestinal gas.
- Up to and including God Save The Queen.
- I hope you all stood up.
- Why is it called the Mum And
Dads do, anyway? - I don't know.
It's more of a don't
than a do. It's cursed.
What do you mean it's cursed?
Look, everyone knows, if you take
your other half along to that dance,
you may as well call your lawyer.
The Mums And Dads has broken
up more relationships
than unexplained chlamydia.
Here's my decision.
Cursed, or not cursed,
we are going, all of us.
And we are going to enjoy it.
And that is a direct order.
Madge and Ben Tanner, the Cavendishes,
Barry Edwards, all broke up.
- Because of the curse?
- Exactly.
Not even this is going to help,
and this is the only
reason I'm still here.
I'm sorry, this is like I've fallen
asleep and woken up in 1947,
a cigarette case? You don't even smoke.
Neither did my grandad or my dad.
That has been a good luck charm for
three generations of my family,
right through two world wars
and finally saving my life
on the streets of Brixton.
I'm no ballistics expert,
but that suggests to me that
the bullet went right through.
Yeah, but it would have been
much worse without it.
Didn't it puncture your lung
and leave you in intensive care?
I don't think you're getting
the bigger picture here, boss.
Look, Ted. I get that you don't
want to go, and that's fine,
but you should know that
losing Gerry was a big deal.
I know that we don't talk
about it because, hey,
that's not how we do things around here.
But that could have been the
beginning of the end for us,
the perfect excuse to
call time on this unit.
- Surely the record speaks for
itself? - Oh, you think so?
We're the awkward squad, Ted.
Do you know that Strickland has
to fight for us every single day?
Look, I booked us a table
because I wanted us
to feel like a real team,
maybe even a family.
Dysfunctional, obviously,
but still a family,
and I was hoping that you and
Pat might be a part of that.
Curse or no curse.
I could be ill. You could be ill.
We could pretend to get a dog
and then say that was ill.
Basically, all I'm saying
is we don't have to go.
No, we don't have to,
but I want to, Danny.
This is what we're talking about --
being part of each other's lives,
going to each other's dreadful
work dos and then laughing about
it afterwards. And I like to dance.
- I love to dance.
- I had no idea.
East of England Junior
Ballroom Champion, 1986.
My waltz was highly commended.
You know this is going to keep happening.
Things about me you don't
know. Like the sex change.
Yeah, but you can barely tell.
Apart from the prominent Adam's apple.
- I'm surprised you didn't
get that fixed. - Ha-ha-ha.
- So, how did it go today?
- Sorry? - Sarah.
You said you were going
to see her. How was it?
Do you know, she was fine about
it, took it really well.
- What, just like that?
- Yep, just like that. Sends her best.
Oh, that looks delicious.
We've got a convicted stalker
in the hotel who was the last
person to see AJ Da Silva alive.
He's got to be a suspect.
Yeah, but AJ argued with
his captain and his coach.
The rest of the team hated him because
he slept with Laura Collins.
It seemed that everyone who
knew him harboured a grudge.
Not to mention the brother.
We know he was AJ's first port
of call when things went wrong.
All the time the father thinks the
sun shines out of AJ's proverbial.
Maybe Sanjeev got sick of clearing
up after his brother
and just snapped.
So, we've got motives
coming out of our ears
but we still don't know how he died,
we've got no injury or... signs of...
Phew!.. restraint bruises.
And of course you can't choke
somebody to death without
- leaving a mark.
- I agree.
If we could just work out why,
we could understand what happened.
Steve and I will go and visit Power
again. You two, press Sanjeev.
Find out what he really
thought of his brother.
So, Nathan, point, high
arm, point, all right?
OK, let's go, lads.
Well done.
Having an ex-professional on the staff
goes down well with the new parents.
I'm even in the prospectus.
You must miss it, though,
playing the game?
Not really. The kids are great.
Mostly. After what happened
to AJ, I needed to get away.
After he died I couldn't
function, let alone play.
The club had connections with
the school, offered me a job.
I was grateful.
Truth is, I was never good enough.
Finally admitting that
was actually a relief.
Get on with the rest of my life.
Why didn't you tell us about your
brother's affair with Laura Collins?
AJ made a mistake. I didn't
see it as important.
And my father has no idea
about AJ's... proclivities.
I want to keep it that way.
The rest of the team blamed your
brother for Peter Collins's death,
didn't they?
Can we talk about this inside?
AJ was never popular,
but this was different.
I couldn't believe he'd been so
stupid. As if I could fix this.
Did he call on you a lot to fix things?
All he cared about was cricket.
When he wasn't playing,
nothing else mattered.
I suppose he got bored, needed
a distraction. Drink. Girls.
And you cleared up the mess.
This was in a different league.
- And then the messages started.
- What messages?
E-mails, texts, once had
a note pinned to his coffin.
Always anonymous, physical threats,
abuse, anything you can think of.
- Even racial things. - So, why
didn't you go to the police?
Because AJ knew who was
sending them, didn't he?
- After he ended it, she just
went crazy. - Laura Collins?
Kept trying to contact him,
just making things worse.
I begged him to leave the club, he
told me had it all under control.
I know it sounds crazy, but I
think... he actually liked it.
It motivated him, you know, the hatred.
The more they abused him,
the better he played.
Do you think anybody hated him
enough to have murdered him?
He called me the night he died.
He needed to see me urgently,
something had happened,
something bad. I knew from his voice
there was something really wrong.
But...
But it had all happened so many times.
I told him I'd see him in the morning.
And... I never got the chance.
You believe he had something
on his mind, something serious?
I believe he needed to talk to
me, a cry for help. I ignored him.
Then he killed himself.
And you're absolutely convinced
that's how he died?
My brother carried my father's hopes
and dreams with him for 20 years.
I believe that night it
all finally got too much.
He reached out, for me, I wasn't there...
And now I have to live with that.
What did you make of him?
Eccentric, mostly harmless.
Type who lives with his mum.
The state of this place, she's probably
buried in there somewhere.
Mr Power, it's the police!
- Shit. - Stand back. - Hey.
Sasha. We need to call this in.
You're wasting your time,
the place is like Fort Knox.
- Give us a leg up.
- This is a bad idea.
Get down!
For God's sake!
Unconscious, burns to the hands and
feet. Significant smoke inhalation.
The place is full of paper,
accident waiting to happen.
Yeah, or maybe someone
was trying to shut him up,
maybe he knew something.
Maybe. Oh, by the way, boss,
that stunt with the window
was pretty damn stupid.
You don't have to prove anything to
anybody, you know? Least of all me.
- Do you buy it?
- Well, it's possible.
Cricket has an unusually high suicide
rate amongst professional sports
but, psychologically speaking, it
doesn't seem to fit any profile.
Everything we've learned about
AJ suggests a rampant ego
out of control.
Leaving a trail of destruction in
its wake, which means pretty much
anyone on the team might
have felt they had a motive.
For some it might have been
more personal than others.
Ryan Reed and Peter Collins went
to the same prep school together.
In fact, they were childhood
friends until they left in 1997.
So, AJ sleeps with Peter
Collins's missus, right?
And he's Reed's best friend.
Then, two months later,
Collins takes a walk off
the top of a building.
Now, is that motive enough
for Reed to kill AJ? Doughnut?
Don't worry, she's out, she's out, she's
chasing up forensics on our stalker friend.
Handmade by Parisian artisans.
- You're spoiling us,
Mr Ambassador! - Indeed.
Don't worry, it didn't cost a
penny. It's called freecycling.
Got it from one of those
websites you suggested.
I mean, you've no idea how much perfectly
edible food they're throwing away every day.
- You mean this is... - It's
straight out of the bakery bins.
It's unbelievable, they're literally
chucking this stuff away.
Forensics from Powers' flat are back.
- What? - Nothing, something I ate.
Traces of accelerant
all over the front door.
- Someone squirted acetone through
the letterbox. - Acetone?
Nail polish remover. You can
get it from any supermarket.
Yeah, probably from those, those bins.
- Or you're someone who uses
it every day. - Laura Collins?
- Where were you this morning
between 7am and 9am? - Here.
Is there anyone that can confirm that?
I live alone, why?
Because I'm arresting you on
suspicion of attempted murder.
Just another 860 steps today
and I've got my quota.
Might have to go round the block.
Can I ask you something?
I wish you would, you've been building
up to it for the last 20 minutes.
Your right eyebrow twitches.
Never play poker.
- Did you ever lie to your wife when
you were married? - All the time.
- And you were comfortable with that?
- Well, it depends. - On what?
Well, there's the big lie, the, "Are
you sleeping with my sister?" lie.
- Did you? - No, I married a good
looking one. Probably my mistake.
- Then there's the little
white lie. - Such as?
"Does my bum look big in this?"
"Is this skirt too young for me?"
- And they're... all right, are they?
- I'd say they're essential!
What if you can't tell which is which?
Look, nobody said this stuff is easy.
But maybe you shouldn't be taking
advice from the broke, divorced guy.
Fiona and I are taking the next step.
- There's even talk of a place together
in York Road. - Serious stuff. - Quite.
But I promised Fiona I'd
tell Sarah all about us.
I am still married to her,
despite the... situation.
- How well's she taken it?
- I've no idea.
Sarah's condition is neuropathological.
Any emotional conversation
can disrupt her.
Even with her new medication, it could
put her back months, even years.
Well, maybe the little white lie.
Don't tell Sarah but let
Fiona think you have.
It does seem to be the
most logical answer.
- You've got the wee voice,
haven't you? - The wee voice?
The one that won't shut up
when you're about to stuff
everything up big time.
Yes, perhaps.
Well, you know what they say about advice.
A fool won't take it and
wise man doesn't need it.
I've always had you pegged
as a very wise man, Danny.
This is the place.
Well, somebody's been
switching their utilities.
I don't see that it's at all relevant.
AJ slept with your best friend's
wife and then your best friend,
- Peter, committed suicide.
- Which makes you our new prime suspect.
Congratulations.
And I did this how, exactly?
You've got nothing, have you?
This is just some pathetic attempt
to try and frighten me.
Yes, well, it hasn't worked.
I'd like you both to leave.
Now.
Thank you.
That was the hospital. Alan Power
passed away three hours ago.
We've got evidence of arson,
so the murder squad are
picking up the case.
Let's push Collins. Did you speak to Reed?
Yeah, he called our bluff, too.
All we've got on him is
the revenge motive, so...
Right. This is from the Intel unit.
They pulled Peter Collins's bank records.
Confirms several large lump sums
entered the account between April
and August 2005.
Yeah, but Laura told us that
he'd got a new contract.
Which is interesting because we
know he was about to be dropped
and these amounts here certainly
don't come from the club.
- No, this source comes from
an Asian bank. - Exactly. - So?
Well, it all points to
one thing. Spot fixing.
There. His foot's about
half a yard over the line,
he's made it far too obvious.
That's the only reason he got caught.
- People bet on this stuff? - Mm.
No balls, wides, it's easy to fix.
Doesn't really affect
the outcome of the game.
Some players see it as a bonus,
like tipping a waiter.
So, Collins is cheating for money?
Well, the writing was on
the wall as far his career,
he's got a high-maintenance
wife, she'd already strayed,
- you can see the attraction.
- And the rest of the team?
Well, I don't know, but
I doubt if he acted alone.
So how can we prove it?
That's simple. We can't.
Well, let's face facts, shall we?
We've got a handful of motives
but no cause of death.
We've got no forensics to speak of,
and all our suspects have watertight
alibis for the time of death.
Even if the entire team were match fixing,
it's impossible for us to prove it.
It's a dead end, all of
it. Bloody waste of time!
OK, fine.
I'm here, aren't I?
- Hello. I'm here to see Sarah
Griffin. I'm her husband. - OK.
It's Mr Griffin to see Sarah.
.. Yes, OK.
Go through, Mr Griffin.
Thank you.
Hey. 1,500 steps before
breakfast. Not bad, eh?
Has it stopped yet?
- Has what stopped?
- The wee voice.
- I figured that's where you
were going last night. - Yes.
- You were right, thank you.
- Hey, no problem.
Always happy to give you the benefit
of my years of marital failure.
She just keeps springing
surprises on me, Fiona.
I tried to put her off going
to the Mum And Dads do.
It turns out she loves dancing,
she was a junior champion.
What's the problem?
And... One, two, three...
Now, Danny, will you just try and relax?
I'm tensing up because you're
becoming quite rude.
I'm not becoming rude,
just, just take it easy.
You're leading me, remember? Right,
now... Forward on your left, OK?
And... One, two, three... One, two,
three... Let's do the turn, and...
One, two, thr...
Zero!
You know what, Robert, I'm not
happy with this line of inquiry.
My understanding was that you wanted
this case investigated thoroughly.
Not in order to drag my family's
reputation through the dirt.
Sanjeev and I gave you a full statement.
But more relevant information came
to light. There's a suggestion
that some of the team may
have been fixing matches.
- Ridiculous! - Do you have
any evidence for this?
There were payments from unusual sources.
We're going to examine the whole
team's financial records.
Do you have any witness statements?
Not yet, but we are still investigating.
You mean you have nothing!
This is intolerable.
I asked you to find out
what happened to AJ.
Now you're accusing my
team of fixing matches.
- No-one's accusing anyone of anything.
I'm sure it's just one of many lines
of inquiry. - Exactly.
And it's unacceptable. I
repeat. I want this stopped.
Now.
How much do we really have?
Alan Power was killed, which means
someone's got something to hid.
- And your suspect, Laura Collins?
- Denies everything.
I still think there's a case here.
I want to see this through.
Instinct?
If you want to call it that.
You'd better be right.
So, Prem Da Silva wants us called off?
All he sees is his golden boy and
his county team's reputation.
Yeah, well, with family you
see what you want to see.
Say that again.
Well, AJ was the apple
of his father's eye,
the boy that could do no wrong.
No, no, you said, "You
see what you want to see."
But what about...
see what you expect to see?
AJ's last sighting was the only
solid part of this case, yeah?
It provided alibis for all our suspects.
We had an eye witness that placed
him in the lobby at exactly 8pm
and the victim even signed his own name.
It's not the same.
- It's not even close.
- But Alan Power saw AJ sign the book.
No, no, two brothers,
similar age, same build,
both wearing identical team kit. What
if it wasn't AJ that signed this?
- What if it was Sanjeev?
- Well, it's possible, but why?
- Why would I pretend to
be my own brother? - Simple.
To give yourself an alibi.
AJ was already dead because
you'd killed him.
You were sick of covering for
him, sick of the demands,
sick of the abuse.
And all the time your father is
worshipping the ground he walks on.
No, you hated him, didn't you?
That's not true, I loved my brother.
I told you, he called me that night.
You told us you didn't help him.
The team were fixing matches.
Three or four players were involved.
Peter Collins was one of them.
That day they approached AJ
and asked him to get involved.
I think they assumed he was a sure thing.
Well, if you'll sleep with
your team-mate's wife,
- what's a little fraud between
friends? - But he refused?
Point blank. Wanted nothing to do with it, told
them he was going to go to the authorities.
- My brother loved the game.
- And that's why he called you?
He was going to go to the press,
to the county. I told him not to.
The next day he was dead.
Who else was involved?
I don't know, a few players.
I don't think they had a lot of choice,
not when the skipper gave the orders.
Ryan Reed.
So you think it was Reed who
signed the book, not Sanjeev?
Well, it's possible. Sanjeev
was right next to him.
All Reed had to do was add AJ's name.
That would mean it was Reed
who wanted to create the alibi
- and not Sanjeev.
- OK, let's run with it.
We assume our new timeline is correct --
that alters the recorded time of death.
No, no, we're missing something
here. AJ Da Silva was an athlete.
How do you murder somebody like
that without leaving any trace,
any signs of restraint?
Well, there wouldn't be, would there?
Not if we're in the delicate
hands of an expert.
It was Ryan's idea -- revenge.
He told me to call AJ and arrange
to meet him in his room.
'I phoned him and told him I wanted
just one last time with him.'
'And that's when you tied him up.'
'I knew what he liked. A lot of
big egos like that kind of thing.'
Cabinet ministers, even police officers.
And so the skill is in
not leaving any marks.
Soft restraints available online.
That way, wives and
girlfriends never find out
what their naughty boy's been up to?
And you just left him like that?
That was what we agreed.
'It was all going to plan, he was
tied up and he was loving it.'
'I called Ryan as soon as I left.
'The others were supposed
to come in and find him,
'take pictures, that kind of thing.
'Look, I wanted to humiliate him.
'When I left, he was still alive.'
I didn't mean to kill him.
When they found him the next day,
only Ryan knew what had really happened.
- So, to confirm, you spoke to Ryan Reed?
- He knew it was an accident.
He promised me he'd keep quiet.
He's not going to get into trouble, is he?
It's a great theory. Really imaginative.
There's only one problem.
It's not true.
Peter Collins killed himself because
there was no other way out.
You destroyed the game he loved.
But AJ Da Silva was tougher, wasn't he?
He was about to blow your
spot fixing ring wide open.
You needed to silence him, and
fast. AJ died of asphyxiation.
He was helpless.
You used a pillow so there
wasn't a mark on him
but you told Laura Collins
that you'd found him like that
and that she'd been responsible for
his death. Guaranteed her silence.
As far as she was concerned,
it was all a horrible accident.
But you wanted an insurance policy
just in case she talked.
A rock solid alibi.
KP. Kevin! Kevin!
Amazing. And you don't
have a shred of evidence.
Apart from the handwriting analysis that
proves that you faked AJ's signature.
So I faked a signature for a fan
-- it's hardly a crime, is it?
True. There's no way we can convict
you of AJ Da Silva's murder,
whether it's true or not,
not enough evidence.
You drive a red Lexus, don't you?
Registration X667 LBW?
Strange that that same car
was spotted on CCTV next to
Alan Power's flat yesterday morning.
Sure you had good reason to be in Peckham.
And that the fire that killed him
was started 20 minutes later.
- He's dead? - Trapped
inside. Smoke inhalation.
And the evidence you tried to destroy
was in our hands the entire time.
Now, if we were to impound that car,
and test it for the acetone accelerant...
Where's my car?
Don't worry, if it's not true,
I'm sure everything will be fine.
Boss, you all right?
You all right?
Ryan Reed, I am arresting you
on the suspicion of the murder
of AJ Da Silva. You don't
have to say anything....
I phoned ahead.
Brains.
Beats the other thing every time.
What I don't understand
is why move the body?
If you murder somebody you hated,
why not let them be found like that?
Complete the humiliation.
'After he called, I couldn't
sleep so I went to see him.
'I found him tied up. I couldn't
let him be found like that.
- So you protected him?
- He was my brother.
A lot of people didn't like him,
but he deserved a little dignity.
Do we go now?
I think you're next in.
Thank you.
Straight bat!
I think he knows that.
Press it three times
and you get the lap time
- and the split time comes
after that. - No sign of Ted?
Er, no. He told me he was coming, though.
OK, well, I'll do this now
anyway. Three exemptions.
From the fitness test.
- Ah, yes. - Strickland got his tie so
I asked him to pull a string or two.
- You can ditch the pedometers.
- Oh, yes! - Thank you.
This calls for a celebration.
Oh, hey! Drink, anybody? Cheers!
Steve!
- Um, would you like to dance?
- Yes. I'd love to.
Sorry I'm late. Um...
Everyone, this is Pat.
Pat, this is everyone.
Can I get... anyone a drink?
No, thank you.
- Hi, I'm Sasha Miller. It's lovely
to finally meet you, Pat. - Hi.
- You didn't tell them, did you?
- They didn't ask.
I told you not to do this again.
I can't believe he's done
this again, I'm sorry.
Let me get a round in.
- No, I'm... - Oh, I'll have
a single malt. Double.
- Yeah, that sounds good.
- You can get your own.
- Mm, not bad. - You should see my
foxtrot. - I'll hold you to that.
I'm glad you finally told Sarah.
I really want to make this work.
- Me too. And we will, I promise.
- I'll hold you to that.
- Well, no farting men so far. All
very civilised. - The night is young.
Would you mind if we don't talk?
Gets in the way of the counting.
Those two are thick as thieves already.
Yeah, probably the bloody Arsenal again.
I refuse to have the Wenger
conversation at home.
Either that or I need to watch my back.
You never know who's in
the closet these days.
- Thank you.
- What for?
For sharing your life with us.
Well, you're right, families
need to stick together,
even dysfunctional ones.
So, how did you two meet?
Look, if we're going to do this,
we'll have to have some
ground rules, all right?
Number one, I'd rather take another bullet
than do the gay best friend thing,
and number two, I have no special insight
into the human condition,
and number three,
more important than all of
them, I do not understand men.
No, neither do I.
Believe me, no-one does.
Even Arsene Wenger.
I'll drink to that.
Whoever Arsene Wenger is.
♪ It's all right It's OK
♪ Doesn't really matter
if you're old and grey
♪ It's all right I say it's OK
♪ Listen to what I say
♪ It's all right Doing fine
♪ Doesn't really matter
if the sun don't shine
♪ It's all right I say it's OK
♪ We're getting to the end of the day. ♪
♪ Doesn't really matter
if you're old and grey
♪ It's all right I say it's OK
♪ Listen to what I say
♪ It's all right, doing fine
♪ Doesn't really matter
if the sun don't shine
♪ It's all right I say it's OK
♪ We're gettin' to the end of the day. ♪
Play one of the best new FPS shooters,
search Steam for PROJECT WARLOCK
Remind me why we're doing this?
Basic fitness-level requirements
for all serving officers.
Yes, but there should be an exemption
for those of us above average IQ.
Yeah, well,
why not just... pick up the pace?
Yeah, who voted you Mr Motivator?!
Well, "What doesn't kill you
can only make you stronger" --
Superintendent Nietzsche!
- Yeah, you tell Nietzsche these are
vintage Scottish arteries! - Yeah.
And option one's a distinct possibility.
Yeah, well, fully qualified first
responder, expert in CPR...
Oh, terrific(!) No tongues, OK?
Not my type, mate. Alive or dead.
See you at the finish line.
I'm liking him less and less.
I'm gone, leave me. Save yourself.
Well, if you're sure?
Oh, shit!
Oh...
Oh! Well, that's what
I call... motivation.
Excuse me?
Excuse me, do you know where a guy
can get a decent cup
of coffee around here?
- Do all forensic anthropologists bring
their work home with them? - What?
Yours, I believe.
Back of the sofa, halfway
through Newsnight.
Quite a journey from Serbian war grave
to supporting Danny Griffin's posterior.
- Did you talk to Holly last night?
- Yeah, we caught up.
And then we had "the discussion".
About you and me, you know, making
this whole thing official?
- How did it go? - Well, it turns
out I had nothing to worry about.
In fact, to use her exact words,
and I quote, "Go for it, Dad."
Ah... I always liked her.
- And are we?
- Are we what?
Going for it?
You know, the whole grown-up,
genuine, adult commitment thing?
I'd like that very much.
Me too.
So, I think we should tell her, don't you?
Sarah. I mean, you are still
married, we owe it to her.
Of course, you're right,
I'll... I'll talk to her.
Do you want me to come with you? For
moral support? I know it's not easy.
- No, no, I'll talk to her
face-to-face... But thank you. - OK.
- Well, have a good day.
- Yeah. Yeah, you too.
- See you later.
- Bye.
Yes, sir.
OK, I'll meet you there as soon as I can.
Yeah, they can go on ahead.
What, all of them?
OK, I'll give them the good news.
Morning.
Oh, it's still last night
from where I'm standing.
You drinking your own snot now?
Kale smoothie, packed with antioxidants.
Bleurgh!
Only seems like last week I was pushing
you around in a wheelchair.
- Yeah, it was. - Oh, have
you got any of your, um...
industrial-strength painkillers left?
Yeah, strictly speaking,
those are for people that have just
had a bullet surgically removed.
Believe me, right now,
that's what it feels like.
- Kitchen cupboard, right? Behind
the goji berries? - How do you know?
- Are you ready?
- Ah, absolutely.
You've heard of Dr David Hatton?
Home Office pathologist,
retired a few years ago.
Something of a professional
eccentric, if memory serves.
Actually, he was struck off just
before the public inquiries
of the McKenzie case.
He was found to have made multiple errors,
which brought all his previous
work into question.
Ah, the hallowed ground.
I truly believe that little green square
is the beating heart of England.
So, what happens here, then?
Really?
Lord's Cricket Ground.
Where do we fit in, sir?
His cases are being reinvestigated,
new postmortems where possible.
- Basic box-ticking?
- Exactly.
- For some reason, they
thought of us. - Hm!
These are from September 2005.
Ajuna Da Silva. Professional
cricketer, 26.
Universally known as "AJ".
His younger brother also played
for the team -- Sanjeev Da Silva.
He found AJ's body... Apparently
drowned in his bath on a match day.
- And Hatton did the PM. - Uh...
Found alcohol and prescription drugs
in his system. No sign of foul play.
The coroner passed a
verdict of misadventure.
But somebody disagrees.
My son was a great player.
A genuine loss to the game.
The idea that a dedicated
professional sportsman
would risk his health and career
this way is frankly preposterous.
Prem... um, Mr Da Silva
has always maintained that
his son was murdered.
But according to the original PM
there were no other signs
of injuries on the body.
Well, clearly that idiot of
a pathologist missed them!
I know my son.
Misadventure?
The whole thing is completely
out of character.
And as I've assured Prem,
we'll be leaving no stone unturned
during this investigation.
- Sorry I'm late, sir.
- Ah, perfect timing.
Prem, this is DCI Miller.
Sanjeev, my son.
I understand you found
your brother's body?
DCI Miller rarely wastes
time on formalities.
Um, it was an away match, and...
the entire team was staying in the hotel.
AJ missed breakfast and
so I went to check on him.
- I assumed he'd overslept.
- He did that a lot?
Sometimes. Not often.
Um, anyway, I couldn't wake him,
so we ended up getting
a passkey from reception.
- And when you entered the room? - Um...
The bed was empty.
I called, but there was no reply. Um...
At first I thought he'd already left,
- but his coffin was still there
by the room. - Coffin? - Kitbag.
Cricketers call them coffins
cos basically, they're
big enough to hold a...
a... lot of kit.
Uh, I thought maybe
he must just have gone to
another room or something.
Anyway, I needed to use the bathroom.
And then you found him?
So, the hotel room door was locked
from the inside when you got there?
-- Um, yes. -- And no sign of a struggle?
Um...
We wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.
Um... He was just lying there.
His head was under the water
and I knew straight away.
Sorry.
Was there empty bottles?
Pill packets, a note?
AJ didn't drink!
He didn't smoke.
He certainly didn't take drugs.
Someone killed my son, DCI Miller.
I want you to bring them to justice.
Look, guys, I'll catch you up.
- Sir...
- Mm-hm.
.. with all due respect,
I don't understand why we
are investigating this case.
I've known Prem Da Silva for years.
He's never accepted the official
line on his son's death.
And when the news about Hatton surfaced,
he immediately came to me and
demanded a new investigation.
Prem trusts me. He's been obsessed
with this for the last ten years.
If I can tell him myself that his
son's death was misadventure,
- I think he'd finally let it go,
life can go on. - I understand.
And not that it's relevant,
- but he's also my proposer for
membership of the MCC. - Sir?
The Marylebone Cricket Club.
We do this right, and I can
fulfil a lifelong ambition.
I see.
- Win-win.
- Exactly.
- Below average? - All of us?
- Well, except me, obviously.
I-I don't understand.
Six minutes for 1,500 metres
is my personal best.
While I salute the achievement
of a personal goal,
the fact remains that you all failed
the compulsory fitness test.
- But who came top out of us three?
- Well, it doesn't matter.
- Believe me, it does.
- You all retest in three weeks' time.
Failure is not an option,
which means we've got
some serious work to do.
And by we, I mean YOU, which is
why I've bought you all these.
Pedometers.
Put them on your wrist
- and they record the number
of steps you've taken. - Really?
Or we could always go back
to my initial idea --
freestanding desks and a treadmill each?
- No, no.
- Great, yeah.
Brilliant.
I've reviewed the new postmortem.
Cause of death remains
the same -- asphyxiation.
No cracked ribs or head injuries
to indicate any kind of assault,
but the new pathologist has flagged
the lack of water in the lungs.
Now, Hatton originally called this
as a dry drowning, but nobody...
OK, OK, stop. Translation, please.
Well, when you enter cold
water, there's a reflex
that shuts the larynx tight,
meaning that you drown,
but the lungs are dry
because the water didn't
have a chance to go in.
- But, it is uncommon. - Which suggests
he was dead before he hit the water.
- And no clear cause of death.
- What about the toxicology?
Well, cocaine and stimulants
are all negative.
Uh, hair samples suggest moderate
levels of dihydrocodeine,
which is a prescription painkiller.
- Otherwise known as "bowler's
breakfast." - Mm.
A daily painkiller's part of the
routine for professional sportsmen.
They found alcohol as well.
Mm, approximately three times
over the legal limit.
Well, that's hardly rock star excess!
His father said he didn't drink.
And if he wasn't used to it
and mixed it with the pills...
Accidents happen.
It's possible, and young sportsmen
do die unexpectedly.
Generally after exertion, yes, not
in the bath after half a lager.
I knew it!
There was another death, same team,
three months earlier. Peter Collins.
Left-arm medium pacer, middle-order bat.
Fell from a fourth floor
window, where he lived,
and assumed to be suicide.
I don't remember that.
Well, both cases barely
scraped the back pages.
We'd just won the Ashes, remember?
It was all Flintoff and
humiliated Aussies.
So, we've got two deaths in the same
team in the space of three months,
both fit athletes.
I mean, the odds of that must be...
16,800-1.
By multiplying the baseline death rate
of males aged between 20 and 40,
but obviously, it's just an approximation.
It could still be a coincidence.
Prem Da Silva seems convinced
that his son was killed.
The new PM doesn't add up and
now we've got another death.
There was an autograph hunter
in the hotel, Alan Power.
AJ signed his book at approximately
8pm in the hotel lobby.
- Why don't you two pay him
a visit? - All right. - Yeah.
- Yeah?
- Mr Power?
Police, we'd like to talk to you.
Wait a second.
Thank you.
Uh...
Oh, I have a licence for that.
I'll be happy to show you.
- You take your security very seriously.
- Uh, can't be too careful.
This estate's a den of iniquity.
You know how much this collection's worth?
- How much?
- £28,643.
Approximately. Tea?
Maybe you should take this one.
- Thank you.
- Thank you.
A lot of the top sports teams
use the Water Bridge Hotel.
There was a whole squadron of hunters
that went down there on match days.
The lobby is a natural pinchpoint.
But you are predominantly a cricket fan?
Not really.
But... But with autograph hunting,
you have to take your chances.
I mean, I don't consider cycling
a sport, but I once spotted
Sir Bradley Wiggins in a
Little Chef in Towcester.
Got him to sign my bill.
But that year, it was
all about the cricket.
The Ashes.
Freddie Flintoff?
KP beating the Aussies.
Well, I remember. Do
you still have the book?
- Yep.
- Could I?
- Mm.
- Thanks.
Uh-ah!
Oh... Sorry.
September 16, 2005.
Water Bridge Hotel,
championship team group.
I got the skipper...
Uh, AJ Da Silva, a couple
of others, small fry.
We were all really waiting
for KP to arrive.
May we keep this?
Uh, I do have a personal message
from Sir Steven Redgrave.
"Please don't come to my house again."
Banter.
There's mutual respect there.
Clearly(!)
I'm going to need a receipt.
When you were his coach,
did you know anyone that might
have wanted to harm AJ Da Silva?
AJ?!
Take your pick! The whole bloody
team wanted to kill him.
Oh, he was a cocky little
bastard. They hated him.
The lad wasn't a team player.
He didn't care if we won or
lost, as long as he did well.
But you still picked him.
Well, he was a selfish little sod,
but he was the best cricketer we
had, so he played, end of story.
Yeah. Best for the team, right?
But it must have caused
a lot of resentment.
There were a few scuffles.
What, handbags at dawn
or... proper fisticuffs?
They meant it all right.
Well, I took 'em apart, made
'em shake hands and...
all got on with it.
- So, what about his brother,
was he a prima donna? - Sanjeev?
Nah, no, he's a nice lad. Pottsy,
concentrate on that off stump, yeah?
No, not a patch on his brother, but...
he was a good, solid cricketer.
Of course, word was they
came as a package --
take AJ and play Sanjeev.
From what I heard from the lads,
Sanj ended up being his brother's
minder half the time.
Kick out the girl, clear up the mess.
Send the bottles to the recycling.
Prem Da Silva insists
his son didn't drink.
AJ?
Spent all his cash on
wine, women and song.
The rest, he just wasted.
- OK, what you got?
- Um... 1,027.
1,150, get in!
It's not a competition.
The mantra of the eternal loser.
Well, perhaps some of us refuse
to be so easily manipulated.
Oh, yadda yadda yadda...
I've left my wallet at the
office, could you get these?
- Thank you.
- Yeah.
Hi.
Hm.
How bad is it?
Did you do anything about it?
Me and Reedy, we... tore
a strip off him every week!
That's Ryan Reed, the skipper?
Yeah, he didn't take
a blind bit of notice.
But, when you can pitch
up on a Saturday morning,
looking like death warmed up and score
a century before lunch, then...
And, of course, you also, well,
had another death that year.
Peter Collins.
No-one saw it coming. Least, not
that he'd do a thing like that.
You think he topped himself?
Well, it's a funny sort of accident --
falling out of your own bedroom window.
Was he depressed?
Well, his marriage wasn't in
great shape, we all knew that.
She was sleeping around
and it got back to Peter.
Look, it's not common knowledge, but...
Laura Collins wasn't just sleeping around,
she was sleeping with another player.
One of his team-mates.
AJ Da Silva?
- I'm just surprised you let it get
this far. - I overstretched myself.
As long as the pay cheques
keep coming in, you...
stay one step ahead.
Until they don't cover the bills any more.
That is the basic flaw.
The divorce cleared me out.
- All right. Well, the first
thing we need is a budget. - We?
If I'm going to help you,
I need total disclosure, OK?
All assets, income and liabilities.
There is a way out of this, Steve.
I don't want the others to know.
OK. Just between you and me.
Right, let's start with the assets.
- Um, property?
- Well, there's my flat and...
- .. a mortgage that I can't pay.
- Mm, death grip.
- What? - Literal translation
of mortgage, from the French?
Look, if I'm going to do
the confessional thing,
can you knock it off with the
QI bollocks for five minutes?
- Sorry.
- Yeah.
- Well, I'd advise you to sell
and downsize. - It's my home!
- Which you can't afford.
- I've sweated blood for that place.
Well, strictly speaking, you sweated
blood for 24% of that place,
- the rest of it is owned by the bank.
- I'll live in the kitchen.
Have it your way.
Liabilities?
How long have you got?
'Miller.'
AJ Da Silva was messing
about with Laura Collins,
that's Peter Collins' wife.
'Interesting.
'OK, why don't I go and have
a chat with this Laura Collins?'
It's a lovely kitchen. I looked
at one of these. A bit pricey.
I believe in quality, DCI Miller.
You should have treated yourself.
Thank you.
Oh, take one. I'd be happy
to sign it for you.
- You're Laura Wilding? - They
say everyone has a novel in them.
- Turned out I had 17!
- Hm! It's not really my cup of tea.
Well, everyone says that, and
yet, they just keep on selling!
- So, how long was your relationship
with AJ? - About three hours.
AJ and I had a one-night
stand. It was just sex.
Good sex. But just sex, nothing
more, nothing less.
But then your husband found out.
That was unfortunate. He
wasn't supposed to know.
- No, they never are. - Peter was
a serious man. Borderline obsessive.
I married him because I thought
he'd be good for me.
He was strong, single-minded.
Also, he had the body of an Adonis.
So, what went wrong?
The silly man killed himself, DCI
Miller, over a stupid bloody game.
You'd slept with his team-mate --
you don't think that was a factor?
Oh, they all blamed the slut, of course.
But I know Peter, and I
know why he really did it.
The stats don't lie. He was
as depressed as his average.
His wife was sleeping with his
team-mate, and you really think
he killed himself because he
wasn't playing well enough?
You don't know Peter. Cricket
was all he talked about.
- And AJ? - It was a
distraction, nothing more.
Peter guessed I had my little
moments and it worked for us.
Then the rest of the team
found out about AJ and me
and the you-know-what hit the fan.
Ryan tried to keep them all together,
but it got very difficult.
The team hated me.
Everything that happened
to Peter was my fault.
Breaking Boundaries with Ryan Reed
is about maximising your potential.
So, remember...
.. running your business
is like going out to bat.
The opposition don't want you there.
They'll undermine you.
Try and knock your confidence. Their
only desire is to see you fail.
So, here's the positive.
You're going to be prepared.
You're going to be tough.
Keeping your eye on the ball
and your body in line.
So you can hit the opposition
for six... every time.
OK. Time for another exercise.
Break-out groups, please.
I've compared the market and switched all
your utilities to the best current deals,
- but you will have to review them every
six months minimum. - Six months, right.
I've also deleted your online accounts,
your credit cards are here.
Oh, and this... is your new daily budget.
I'll get it laminated.
Now, no more takeaways.
Home-made packed lunches only and
a total avoidance of alcohol,
which has added health
benefits, obviously.
- Or I could just kill myself right now.
- Well, I can't advise that.
At the moment, even basic funeral
costs might be a problem.
What, are you telling me
I can't even afford to die?
Well, I'd certainly rule it out
for the next eight weeks or so.
But if you stick with the programme,
I estimate your monthly saving will be...
Well!
They love it.
I mean, it might mostly be middle-aged
guys on the verge of diabetes,
but if at the end of the
day you can send them home
feeling like they've scored a
century, they're all winners.
That's certainly what they look like.
When I retired, I thought I'd
left the game with nothing.
Then I realised what cricket
had really taught me.
The ability to motivate a team.
Get under the skin of individuals,
see what makes them tick.
And AJ Da Silva. What made him tick?
I'm not going to sugar-coat it.
AJ was lazy, disruptive, arrogant.
But he was a great cricketer.
- I deeply regret what happened
to him. - So, um...
You have any theory about his death?
He was a young man who pushed things
too far and paid the price.
On the night he died, where were
you between sort of eight o'clock
and midnight?
In the hotel bar with some of the guys.
Only, we've got some new
evidence that suggests that
AJ Da Silva was possibly murdered.
Well, AJ was immature.
He was like a kid who'd been let
off the leash for the first time.
He had no boundaries. We all
assumed he'd paid the price.
Police seemed to agree with that.
Keith Ainsworth.
He told us that you and AJ used
to fight on a regular basis.
AJ had been hothoused by his father
since he was seven years old.
He never grew up. I tried to force
him to conform but it wasn't in him.
- Basically, whatever he wanted,
he took. - Like Laura Collins.
Laura's a...
A slapper?
I've got no problem with Laura.
Peter was a complex guy. Introverted.
I assumed he was dealing with
his problems in his own way.
And that was a mistake.
- Thanks for your time.
- Not at all.
Glad to be of help.
If I can do anything else in
the future, just let me know.
There's one tiny little thing.
Come on! My arthritic old mum
could bowl faster than that.
I want the real thing.
It's been a while.
Got your message.
What the hell are you doing?
I always wanted to know what it was like
to face a real first-class bowler.
This is probably the only
chance I'm going to get.
- That was the slow ball, was it?
- Sure you're ready for this?
Yeah. Come on!
I want to feel the heat.
If you've still got it in you.
Does that mean you're out?
Reckon so.
We now know that AJ Da Silva
was unpopular within the team.
He was arrogant and selfish.
Well, a lot of people
wind up their workmates.
- They don't end up dead in a bath.
- But we have a theory.
I mean, there were ongoing
fights within the team.
Someone comes to his hotel room,
an argument gets out of hand...
And yet there's not a mark on his body.
And he was seen alive at 8pm, I've
checked the original investigation.
All the alibis from that
time onward are rock solid.
So what about our autograph
guy, Alan Power?
I checked his record...
From 2005, he's been a busy boy.
Four restraining orders and
one conviction for stalking,
all professional sportsmen.
Doesn't make him a murderer,
though, does it?
Yeah, but he broke into their homes.
The only reason he got off with a caution
is nobody wanted to press charges.
We know he was at the hotel.
He says he went straight home.
We've only got his word for that.
Let's make him sweat and see if
he knows more than he's saying.
Oh, I've got something for you.
Three pairs of tickets to the
Mums And Dads do this Saturday.
I thought it'd be a great opportunity,
a team-building opportunity.
Um, actually, I won't.
Well, I've booked a table,
Danny, I thought
both you and Fiona could come.
It's just our relationship's
in a rather delicate phase,
I'm not sure the timing's right
for this sort of commitment.
The last time I looked, it
was just a party, you know,
bring your partner to meet your work
colleagues, that kind of thing.
With respect, I think it's a little
naive to call the Mum And Dads
"just a party".
So, how would you describe it?
- Paintballing with vomit? - Terrible
food. - Warm white wine.
- Or chilled red, if you choose.
- And then, there's the acts. - Yeah.
- Sir Methane. - Sir Methane? - Mm.
He performed renditions of popular
songs using intestinal gas.
- Up to and including God Save The Queen.
- I hope you all stood up.
- Why is it called the Mum And
Dads do, anyway? - I don't know.
It's more of a don't
than a do. It's cursed.
What do you mean it's cursed?
Look, everyone knows, if you take
your other half along to that dance,
you may as well call your lawyer.
The Mums And Dads has broken
up more relationships
than unexplained chlamydia.
Here's my decision.
Cursed, or not cursed,
we are going, all of us.
And we are going to enjoy it.
And that is a direct order.
Madge and Ben Tanner, the Cavendishes,
Barry Edwards, all broke up.
- Because of the curse?
- Exactly.
Not even this is going to help,
and this is the only
reason I'm still here.
I'm sorry, this is like I've fallen
asleep and woken up in 1947,
a cigarette case? You don't even smoke.
Neither did my grandad or my dad.
That has been a good luck charm for
three generations of my family,
right through two world wars
and finally saving my life
on the streets of Brixton.
I'm no ballistics expert,
but that suggests to me that
the bullet went right through.
Yeah, but it would have been
much worse without it.
Didn't it puncture your lung
and leave you in intensive care?
I don't think you're getting
the bigger picture here, boss.
Look, Ted. I get that you don't
want to go, and that's fine,
but you should know that
losing Gerry was a big deal.
I know that we don't talk
about it because, hey,
that's not how we do things around here.
But that could have been the
beginning of the end for us,
the perfect excuse to
call time on this unit.
- Surely the record speaks for
itself? - Oh, you think so?
We're the awkward squad, Ted.
Do you know that Strickland has
to fight for us every single day?
Look, I booked us a table
because I wanted us
to feel like a real team,
maybe even a family.
Dysfunctional, obviously,
but still a family,
and I was hoping that you and
Pat might be a part of that.
Curse or no curse.
I could be ill. You could be ill.
We could pretend to get a dog
and then say that was ill.
Basically, all I'm saying
is we don't have to go.
No, we don't have to,
but I want to, Danny.
This is what we're talking about --
being part of each other's lives,
going to each other's dreadful
work dos and then laughing about
it afterwards. And I like to dance.
- I love to dance.
- I had no idea.
East of England Junior
Ballroom Champion, 1986.
My waltz was highly commended.
You know this is going to keep happening.
Things about me you don't
know. Like the sex change.
Yeah, but you can barely tell.
Apart from the prominent Adam's apple.
- I'm surprised you didn't
get that fixed. - Ha-ha-ha.
- So, how did it go today?
- Sorry? - Sarah.
You said you were going
to see her. How was it?
Do you know, she was fine about
it, took it really well.
- What, just like that?
- Yep, just like that. Sends her best.
Oh, that looks delicious.
We've got a convicted stalker
in the hotel who was the last
person to see AJ Da Silva alive.
He's got to be a suspect.
Yeah, but AJ argued with
his captain and his coach.
The rest of the team hated him because
he slept with Laura Collins.
It seemed that everyone who
knew him harboured a grudge.
Not to mention the brother.
We know he was AJ's first port
of call when things went wrong.
All the time the father thinks the
sun shines out of AJ's proverbial.
Maybe Sanjeev got sick of clearing
up after his brother
and just snapped.
So, we've got motives
coming out of our ears
but we still don't know how he died,
we've got no injury or... signs of...
Phew!.. restraint bruises.
And of course you can't choke
somebody to death without
- leaving a mark.
- I agree.
If we could just work out why,
we could understand what happened.
Steve and I will go and visit Power
again. You two, press Sanjeev.
Find out what he really
thought of his brother.
So, Nathan, point, high
arm, point, all right?
OK, let's go, lads.
Well done.
Having an ex-professional on the staff
goes down well with the new parents.
I'm even in the prospectus.
You must miss it, though,
playing the game?
Not really. The kids are great.
Mostly. After what happened
to AJ, I needed to get away.
After he died I couldn't
function, let alone play.
The club had connections with
the school, offered me a job.
I was grateful.
Truth is, I was never good enough.
Finally admitting that
was actually a relief.
Get on with the rest of my life.
Why didn't you tell us about your
brother's affair with Laura Collins?
AJ made a mistake. I didn't
see it as important.
And my father has no idea
about AJ's... proclivities.
I want to keep it that way.
The rest of the team blamed your
brother for Peter Collins's death,
didn't they?
Can we talk about this inside?
AJ was never popular,
but this was different.
I couldn't believe he'd been so
stupid. As if I could fix this.
Did he call on you a lot to fix things?
All he cared about was cricket.
When he wasn't playing,
nothing else mattered.
I suppose he got bored, needed
a distraction. Drink. Girls.
And you cleared up the mess.
This was in a different league.
- And then the messages started.
- What messages?
E-mails, texts, once had
a note pinned to his coffin.
Always anonymous, physical threats,
abuse, anything you can think of.
- Even racial things. - So, why
didn't you go to the police?
Because AJ knew who was
sending them, didn't he?
- After he ended it, she just
went crazy. - Laura Collins?
Kept trying to contact him,
just making things worse.
I begged him to leave the club, he
told me had it all under control.
I know it sounds crazy, but I
think... he actually liked it.
It motivated him, you know, the hatred.
The more they abused him,
the better he played.
Do you think anybody hated him
enough to have murdered him?
He called me the night he died.
He needed to see me urgently,
something had happened,
something bad. I knew from his voice
there was something really wrong.
But...
But it had all happened so many times.
I told him I'd see him in the morning.
And... I never got the chance.
You believe he had something
on his mind, something serious?
I believe he needed to talk to
me, a cry for help. I ignored him.
Then he killed himself.
And you're absolutely convinced
that's how he died?
My brother carried my father's hopes
and dreams with him for 20 years.
I believe that night it
all finally got too much.
He reached out, for me, I wasn't there...
And now I have to live with that.
What did you make of him?
Eccentric, mostly harmless.
Type who lives with his mum.
The state of this place, she's probably
buried in there somewhere.
Mr Power, it's the police!
- Shit. - Stand back. - Hey.
Sasha. We need to call this in.
You're wasting your time,
the place is like Fort Knox.
- Give us a leg up.
- This is a bad idea.
Get down!
For God's sake!
Unconscious, burns to the hands and
feet. Significant smoke inhalation.
The place is full of paper,
accident waiting to happen.
Yeah, or maybe someone
was trying to shut him up,
maybe he knew something.
Maybe. Oh, by the way, boss,
that stunt with the window
was pretty damn stupid.
You don't have to prove anything to
anybody, you know? Least of all me.
- Do you buy it?
- Well, it's possible.
Cricket has an unusually high suicide
rate amongst professional sports
but, psychologically speaking, it
doesn't seem to fit any profile.
Everything we've learned about
AJ suggests a rampant ego
out of control.
Leaving a trail of destruction in
its wake, which means pretty much
anyone on the team might
have felt they had a motive.
For some it might have been
more personal than others.
Ryan Reed and Peter Collins went
to the same prep school together.
In fact, they were childhood
friends until they left in 1997.
So, AJ sleeps with Peter
Collins's missus, right?
And he's Reed's best friend.
Then, two months later,
Collins takes a walk off
the top of a building.
Now, is that motive enough
for Reed to kill AJ? Doughnut?
Don't worry, she's out, she's out, she's
chasing up forensics on our stalker friend.
Handmade by Parisian artisans.
- You're spoiling us,
Mr Ambassador! - Indeed.
Don't worry, it didn't cost a
penny. It's called freecycling.
Got it from one of those
websites you suggested.
I mean, you've no idea how much perfectly
edible food they're throwing away every day.
- You mean this is... - It's
straight out of the bakery bins.
It's unbelievable, they're literally
chucking this stuff away.
Forensics from Powers' flat are back.
- What? - Nothing, something I ate.
Traces of accelerant
all over the front door.
- Someone squirted acetone through
the letterbox. - Acetone?
Nail polish remover. You can
get it from any supermarket.
Yeah, probably from those, those bins.
- Or you're someone who uses
it every day. - Laura Collins?
- Where were you this morning
between 7am and 9am? - Here.
Is there anyone that can confirm that?
I live alone, why?
Because I'm arresting you on
suspicion of attempted murder.
Just another 860 steps today
and I've got my quota.
Might have to go round the block.
Can I ask you something?
I wish you would, you've been building
up to it for the last 20 minutes.
Your right eyebrow twitches.
Never play poker.
- Did you ever lie to your wife when
you were married? - All the time.
- And you were comfortable with that?
- Well, it depends. - On what?
Well, there's the big lie, the, "Are
you sleeping with my sister?" lie.
- Did you? - No, I married a good
looking one. Probably my mistake.
- Then there's the little
white lie. - Such as?
"Does my bum look big in this?"
"Is this skirt too young for me?"
- And they're... all right, are they?
- I'd say they're essential!
What if you can't tell which is which?
Look, nobody said this stuff is easy.
But maybe you shouldn't be taking
advice from the broke, divorced guy.
Fiona and I are taking the next step.
- There's even talk of a place together
in York Road. - Serious stuff. - Quite.
But I promised Fiona I'd
tell Sarah all about us.
I am still married to her,
despite the... situation.
- How well's she taken it?
- I've no idea.
Sarah's condition is neuropathological.
Any emotional conversation
can disrupt her.
Even with her new medication, it could
put her back months, even years.
Well, maybe the little white lie.
Don't tell Sarah but let
Fiona think you have.
It does seem to be the
most logical answer.
- You've got the wee voice,
haven't you? - The wee voice?
The one that won't shut up
when you're about to stuff
everything up big time.
Yes, perhaps.
Well, you know what they say about advice.
A fool won't take it and
wise man doesn't need it.
I've always had you pegged
as a very wise man, Danny.
This is the place.
Well, somebody's been
switching their utilities.
I don't see that it's at all relevant.
AJ slept with your best friend's
wife and then your best friend,
- Peter, committed suicide.
- Which makes you our new prime suspect.
Congratulations.
And I did this how, exactly?
You've got nothing, have you?
This is just some pathetic attempt
to try and frighten me.
Yes, well, it hasn't worked.
I'd like you both to leave.
Now.
Thank you.
That was the hospital. Alan Power
passed away three hours ago.
We've got evidence of arson,
so the murder squad are
picking up the case.
Let's push Collins. Did you speak to Reed?
Yeah, he called our bluff, too.
All we've got on him is
the revenge motive, so...
Right. This is from the Intel unit.
They pulled Peter Collins's bank records.
Confirms several large lump sums
entered the account between April
and August 2005.
Yeah, but Laura told us that
he'd got a new contract.
Which is interesting because we
know he was about to be dropped
and these amounts here certainly
don't come from the club.
- No, this source comes from
an Asian bank. - Exactly. - So?
Well, it all points to
one thing. Spot fixing.
There. His foot's about
half a yard over the line,
he's made it far too obvious.
That's the only reason he got caught.
- People bet on this stuff? - Mm.
No balls, wides, it's easy to fix.
Doesn't really affect
the outcome of the game.
Some players see it as a bonus,
like tipping a waiter.
So, Collins is cheating for money?
Well, the writing was on
the wall as far his career,
he's got a high-maintenance
wife, she'd already strayed,
- you can see the attraction.
- And the rest of the team?
Well, I don't know, but
I doubt if he acted alone.
So how can we prove it?
That's simple. We can't.
Well, let's face facts, shall we?
We've got a handful of motives
but no cause of death.
We've got no forensics to speak of,
and all our suspects have watertight
alibis for the time of death.
Even if the entire team were match fixing,
it's impossible for us to prove it.
It's a dead end, all of
it. Bloody waste of time!
OK, fine.
I'm here, aren't I?
- Hello. I'm here to see Sarah
Griffin. I'm her husband. - OK.
It's Mr Griffin to see Sarah.
.. Yes, OK.
Go through, Mr Griffin.
Thank you.
Hey. 1,500 steps before
breakfast. Not bad, eh?
Has it stopped yet?
- Has what stopped?
- The wee voice.
- I figured that's where you
were going last night. - Yes.
- You were right, thank you.
- Hey, no problem.
Always happy to give you the benefit
of my years of marital failure.
She just keeps springing
surprises on me, Fiona.
I tried to put her off going
to the Mum And Dads do.
It turns out she loves dancing,
she was a junior champion.
What's the problem?
And... One, two, three...
Now, Danny, will you just try and relax?
I'm tensing up because you're
becoming quite rude.
I'm not becoming rude,
just, just take it easy.
You're leading me, remember? Right,
now... Forward on your left, OK?
And... One, two, three... One, two,
three... Let's do the turn, and...
One, two, thr...
Zero!
You know what, Robert, I'm not
happy with this line of inquiry.
My understanding was that you wanted
this case investigated thoroughly.
Not in order to drag my family's
reputation through the dirt.
Sanjeev and I gave you a full statement.
But more relevant information came
to light. There's a suggestion
that some of the team may
have been fixing matches.
- Ridiculous! - Do you have
any evidence for this?
There were payments from unusual sources.
We're going to examine the whole
team's financial records.
Do you have any witness statements?
Not yet, but we are still investigating.
You mean you have nothing!
This is intolerable.
I asked you to find out
what happened to AJ.
Now you're accusing my
team of fixing matches.
- No-one's accusing anyone of anything.
I'm sure it's just one of many lines
of inquiry. - Exactly.
And it's unacceptable. I
repeat. I want this stopped.
Now.
How much do we really have?
Alan Power was killed, which means
someone's got something to hid.
- And your suspect, Laura Collins?
- Denies everything.
I still think there's a case here.
I want to see this through.
Instinct?
If you want to call it that.
You'd better be right.
So, Prem Da Silva wants us called off?
All he sees is his golden boy and
his county team's reputation.
Yeah, well, with family you
see what you want to see.
Say that again.
Well, AJ was the apple
of his father's eye,
the boy that could do no wrong.
No, no, you said, "You
see what you want to see."
But what about...
see what you expect to see?
AJ's last sighting was the only
solid part of this case, yeah?
It provided alibis for all our suspects.
We had an eye witness that placed
him in the lobby at exactly 8pm
and the victim even signed his own name.
It's not the same.
- It's not even close.
- But Alan Power saw AJ sign the book.
No, no, two brothers,
similar age, same build,
both wearing identical team kit. What
if it wasn't AJ that signed this?
- What if it was Sanjeev?
- Well, it's possible, but why?
- Why would I pretend to
be my own brother? - Simple.
To give yourself an alibi.
AJ was already dead because
you'd killed him.
You were sick of covering for
him, sick of the demands,
sick of the abuse.
And all the time your father is
worshipping the ground he walks on.
No, you hated him, didn't you?
That's not true, I loved my brother.
I told you, he called me that night.
You told us you didn't help him.
The team were fixing matches.
Three or four players were involved.
Peter Collins was one of them.
That day they approached AJ
and asked him to get involved.
I think they assumed he was a sure thing.
Well, if you'll sleep with
your team-mate's wife,
- what's a little fraud between
friends? - But he refused?
Point blank. Wanted nothing to do with it, told
them he was going to go to the authorities.
- My brother loved the game.
- And that's why he called you?
He was going to go to the press,
to the county. I told him not to.
The next day he was dead.
Who else was involved?
I don't know, a few players.
I don't think they had a lot of choice,
not when the skipper gave the orders.
Ryan Reed.
So you think it was Reed who
signed the book, not Sanjeev?
Well, it's possible. Sanjeev
was right next to him.
All Reed had to do was add AJ's name.
That would mean it was Reed
who wanted to create the alibi
- and not Sanjeev.
- OK, let's run with it.
We assume our new timeline is correct --
that alters the recorded time of death.
No, no, we're missing something
here. AJ Da Silva was an athlete.
How do you murder somebody like
that without leaving any trace,
any signs of restraint?
Well, there wouldn't be, would there?
Not if we're in the delicate
hands of an expert.
It was Ryan's idea -- revenge.
He told me to call AJ and arrange
to meet him in his room.
'I phoned him and told him I wanted
just one last time with him.'
'And that's when you tied him up.'
'I knew what he liked. A lot of
big egos like that kind of thing.'
Cabinet ministers, even police officers.
And so the skill is in
not leaving any marks.
Soft restraints available online.
That way, wives and
girlfriends never find out
what their naughty boy's been up to?
And you just left him like that?
That was what we agreed.
'It was all going to plan, he was
tied up and he was loving it.'
'I called Ryan as soon as I left.
'The others were supposed
to come in and find him,
'take pictures, that kind of thing.
'Look, I wanted to humiliate him.
'When I left, he was still alive.'
I didn't mean to kill him.
When they found him the next day,
only Ryan knew what had really happened.
- So, to confirm, you spoke to Ryan Reed?
- He knew it was an accident.
He promised me he'd keep quiet.
He's not going to get into trouble, is he?
It's a great theory. Really imaginative.
There's only one problem.
It's not true.
Peter Collins killed himself because
there was no other way out.
You destroyed the game he loved.
But AJ Da Silva was tougher, wasn't he?
He was about to blow your
spot fixing ring wide open.
You needed to silence him, and
fast. AJ died of asphyxiation.
He was helpless.
You used a pillow so there
wasn't a mark on him
but you told Laura Collins
that you'd found him like that
and that she'd been responsible for
his death. Guaranteed her silence.
As far as she was concerned,
it was all a horrible accident.
But you wanted an insurance policy
just in case she talked.
A rock solid alibi.
KP. Kevin! Kevin!
Amazing. And you don't
have a shred of evidence.
Apart from the handwriting analysis that
proves that you faked AJ's signature.
So I faked a signature for a fan
-- it's hardly a crime, is it?
True. There's no way we can convict
you of AJ Da Silva's murder,
whether it's true or not,
not enough evidence.
You drive a red Lexus, don't you?
Registration X667 LBW?
Strange that that same car
was spotted on CCTV next to
Alan Power's flat yesterday morning.
Sure you had good reason to be in Peckham.
And that the fire that killed him
was started 20 minutes later.
- He's dead? - Trapped
inside. Smoke inhalation.
And the evidence you tried to destroy
was in our hands the entire time.
Now, if we were to impound that car,
and test it for the acetone accelerant...
Where's my car?
Don't worry, if it's not true,
I'm sure everything will be fine.
Boss, you all right?
You all right?
Ryan Reed, I am arresting you
on the suspicion of the murder
of AJ Da Silva. You don't
have to say anything....
I phoned ahead.
Brains.
Beats the other thing every time.
What I don't understand
is why move the body?
If you murder somebody you hated,
why not let them be found like that?
Complete the humiliation.
'After he called, I couldn't
sleep so I went to see him.
'I found him tied up. I couldn't
let him be found like that.
- So you protected him?
- He was my brother.
A lot of people didn't like him,
but he deserved a little dignity.
Do we go now?
I think you're next in.
Thank you.
Straight bat!
I think he knows that.
Press it three times
and you get the lap time
- and the split time comes
after that. - No sign of Ted?
Er, no. He told me he was coming, though.
OK, well, I'll do this now
anyway. Three exemptions.
From the fitness test.
- Ah, yes. - Strickland got his tie so
I asked him to pull a string or two.
- You can ditch the pedometers.
- Oh, yes! - Thank you.
This calls for a celebration.
Oh, hey! Drink, anybody? Cheers!
Steve!
- Um, would you like to dance?
- Yes. I'd love to.
Sorry I'm late. Um...
Everyone, this is Pat.
Pat, this is everyone.
Can I get... anyone a drink?
No, thank you.
- Hi, I'm Sasha Miller. It's lovely
to finally meet you, Pat. - Hi.
- You didn't tell them, did you?
- They didn't ask.
I told you not to do this again.
I can't believe he's done
this again, I'm sorry.
Let me get a round in.
- No, I'm... - Oh, I'll have
a single malt. Double.
- Yeah, that sounds good.
- You can get your own.
- Mm, not bad. - You should see my
foxtrot. - I'll hold you to that.
I'm glad you finally told Sarah.
I really want to make this work.
- Me too. And we will, I promise.
- I'll hold you to that.
- Well, no farting men so far. All
very civilised. - The night is young.
Would you mind if we don't talk?
Gets in the way of the counting.
Those two are thick as thieves already.
Yeah, probably the bloody Arsenal again.
I refuse to have the Wenger
conversation at home.
Either that or I need to watch my back.
You never know who's in
the closet these days.
- Thank you.
- What for?
For sharing your life with us.
Well, you're right, families
need to stick together,
even dysfunctional ones.
So, how did you two meet?
Look, if we're going to do this,
we'll have to have some
ground rules, all right?
Number one, I'd rather take another bullet
than do the gay best friend thing,
and number two, I have no special insight
into the human condition,
and number three,
more important than all of
them, I do not understand men.
No, neither do I.
Believe me, no-one does.
Even Arsene Wenger.
I'll drink to that.
Whoever Arsene Wenger is.
♪ It's all right It's OK
♪ Doesn't really matter
if you're old and grey
♪ It's all right I say it's OK
♪ Listen to what I say
♪ It's all right Doing fine
♪ Doesn't really matter
if the sun don't shine
♪ It's all right I say it's OK
♪ We're getting to the end of the day. ♪