The Brokenwood Mysteries (2014–…): Season 3, Episode 2 - Over Her Dead Body - full transcript

My name is Brenda.

I worked with Declan
at the Wadsworth homestead.

And, um, he was
a really amazing gardener.

And the Wadsworths,

who are in France
for the winter,

sent this message.

“To our dear departed Declan.

You knew how to coax a prickly
stick into a perfect rose.

You cared for our gardens
as if they were your own.

You were and will remain
a poet and a gentleman.“

Thank you, Brenda.



In true O'Grady style,

he's insisted on having
the last word.

You know,
when the cancer found me out,

I said to myself, "Let's
not make this a gloomy affair.“

And I didn't know
how better to do that

than to leave you
with a final poem.

“The Sweet Smell of Death.“

Lower the mainsail,
lower the flags.

Lo and behold, I've run aground.

I'm holed, and I'm sinking.

Pour me a Guinness.
Don't stop me drinking.

Pour me a shot.
Pour me another.

Remember me.

Remember me well.



Tight to the wind, out on high.

Riding the horizon,

living it up
between Mrs. Smith's thighs.

And please remember
that Declan's final book,

"Having a Pint
on the Wild Blue Yonder, “

is for sale in the foyer.

Proceeds to the
Cancer Recovery Foundation.

Let the Lord be your judge
and jury now, Declan O'Grady.

Coward.

Oh, God.
God.

It doesn't look good.

Do you want to tell me
how you got that?

Stab wound.

I said that, not her,
in case you were wondering.

You're not a ventriloquist,
then?

No.

But a stab wound.
That'd be my guess.

Guessing gets you nowhere,
Detective Sims.

That's why I'm here.

Usually I take the body
to the morgue,

and from there the undertaker
takes them for burial.

Today it's all
very back to front.

I'm sure she feels the same way.

I came to pay my respects
to one of our great poets

and ended up in a crime scene.

A right busman's holiday.

Crime or negligence?

When I die, can you remind me

not to trust my body
to that bloke?

Got to get back to HQ
for a budget meeting.

I'll, um, alert the coroner
for you.

Keep up the good work, Spleen.

- It's Breen.
- Mm-hmm.

Please step away from the car.

When it comes to caring for the
dead, reputation is everything.

Well, I'm just after the facts

so that we can ascertain
what's gone on.

The fact is I delivered
the deceased to the church...

and he turned into a woman.

So you're positive
that Declan O'Grady's body

was in the coffin
when you sealed it up?

Of course.

Excuse me.

Bugle Funerals, where life
and death shake hands.

This is Warren.

Detective...
I'm at a loss for words.

There may well be
a simple explanation.

But tell me --
Was the casket always closed

from the time it arrived
here at the church?

Yes.
It was a closed-casket ceremony.

There's nothing unusual in that.

Except for an Irishman.

Oh.
Perhaps.

But funerals are
a personal affair.

So you never saw the deceased?

No, I didn't.

Tina.

On behalf of St. Judas,

my apologies
for this harrowing experience.

Don't take responsibility
for another's sins, Reverend.

Oh, I-I'm sorry.

Detective Shepherd,
do you know Tina Morehu?

Hello.

I'm Jared's auntie.

He speaks highly of you.

Ah.
Well, he's too kind.

He spoke highly of Declan, too,

but we won't hold that
against him.

The devil visited today.

There is --
if you'll excuse the pun --

a certain kind of poetic justice

to Declan being turned into
a woman --

and a young woman at that.

God bless, Reverend.

An exemplary Christian.

Devoted to the Scripture.

I sometimes feel
she puts me to shame.

So you don't know who she is?

At this stage, no.

Maybe her name is Scarlett.

Any idea
what she was stabbed with?

It will take some time
to figure out

what implement caused
that wound.

But I have special techniques.

I'll know more
when I open her up.

Did you do the autopsy
on Declan O'Grady?

Sadly, no.

Do you know who did?

He died of natural causes.

I understand
it wasn't necessary.

Unlike her,

who died of unnatural causes
and did need one.

We have a Jane Doe.

According to Gina,

dead for approximately
three days.

Which puts us at last Saturday.

No ID, nothing distinguishing

other than being Asian,
25 to 30 years of age,

and a tattoo of the word
“Scarlett."

Which could be her name.

Or the name of a lover.

Or her favorite color.

There are no reports
of a missing person

matching her description
on any police records.

Carry on with your inquiries.
We need to know who she is.

She's the only thing
that ties us to Declan's casket.

Which brings us
to the other big question --

Where is the body
of Declan O'Grady?

Probably a question
best asked...

...of this man.

Mr. Bugle.

Mr. Bugle.

You cannot sneak up on people
like that.

We did ring the bell.

Oh.
I didn't hear it.

Been playing long?

Since I was 12.

It's a good way to destress
and adds value to the services.

I'm a one-stop shop --
embalming, all arrangements.

I even offer
musical accompaniments.

Mr. Bugle, we need to understand

the exact process undertaken
with Mr. O'Grady

and his movements before you
took him to church this morning.

Well, I've told you what I know.

When you say one-stop shop --

You do all the embalming
yourself, right?

Yes.

So you embalmed Declan O'Grady.

Yes.
I don't have an assistant.

After you'd embalmed
Mr. O'Grady, what happened then?

He went in the chiller.

Until?

Today.

I brought him out
and took him to St. Judas.

I have a worksheet here.

It's, um, somewhere.

Sorry.

Ah.
Here.

Declan Patrick O'Grady.

It's all in order.

Except it says
he wasn't to be embalmed.

What?

Oh. Right.
Well, then I didn't. Obviously.

When was the last funeral
you conducted prior to today's?

Uh... the day before today.

Yesterday.

Yes.
That's -- That's correct.

And is it possible
it was in a casket

that was similar to Declan's?

Yeah. As a matter of fact,
it was -- very similar.

It's Autumn Cradle.

It's a lovely piece.
Very popular.

And can we assume
it was for this woman?

No. No.
I've never seen her before.

Until today.

So who did you bury yesterday?

Andrea Broadly.

A woman.

No. Arthur.

Arthur Broadly.

You seem unsure.

Is it possible
you buried the wrong person?

I think that's highly unlikely.

Mr. Bugle,
we'll be seeking a court order

to exhume the body...

- No. No.
- ...from Mr. Broadly's grave.

If word gets out,
this will ruin me.

It can be a discreet process.

Is it really necessary?

Whatever way we look at it,
there is a body missing.

And we need to make sure
we're looking for the right one.

Is it Declan
or this Arthur Broadly?

We appreciate your help,
Mrs. Marlowe.

Oh, not at all.

See, poor old Arthur had
no living next of kin,

and I knew him well.

There was bridge, bingo,
and tai chi.

Oh, yes.
That's Arthur.

Such a big nose.

Oh, and that ridiculous toupee.

Who would want to be buried
with a thing like that?

Father, bless this soul
for the disruption caused today.

- And let us remember that...
- I knew it.

You see? There was no
professional misconduct.

I think I deserve an apology.

Warren, the fact remains that
you have still mislaid a body,

that of Declan O'Grady.

So we will need to talk
about this down at the station.

Right.

Well, in the name
of good professional practice,

I must attend to the casket
first.

Well, at least we have one
dead body in the right casket

and the right place.

Thanks again, Mrs. Marlowe.

Oh, Jean, please.

An unpleasant task.

We're very grateful.

I'm happy to help.

I never forget a face --
unlike Declan.

Meaning?

Well, I guess he was more a man
of words rather than of faces.

“For You" is my favorite one
of yours.

Mine too.

And you wrote it about...

Oh, whoever the reader
believes it to be.

But really -- Who is it for?

For you, Mrs. Marlowe.

Oh.

Oh, Jean, please.

Thank you.

Can you sign it for Melody?

Do you remember me?

No. Sorry.
I don't.

Result of the cancer, you see.

Chipping away at his memory.

Oh, such a tragedy
for a man of words.

Well, I must take a wander

and check up on some old friends
of mine.

Cheerio.

Safely stowed.

Thank you, Reverend.

Of course.

Our Father which art in heaven,
hallowed be Thy name.

Give us this day our daily bread
and forgive us our sins.

Take a seat, thanks, Warren.

We'll be right back.

We've checked all backpackers,
motels,

the visitors' center,
pubs, cafes.

No one recalls seeing Jane Doe.

It's as if she came from nowhere

and has been invisible
until the coffin burst open.

Keep on it.
She came from somewhere.

I was called
to the Wadsworth estate

at around 11:00 a.m.
on Sunday morning.

- By?
- A woman.

Called?

White.

Barry White.

She was called Barry?

Oh. Brenda.
Sorry.

Names.
They can be so tricky.

Brenda. Yeah.
She's the housekeeper there.

She was waiting outside.

Has the doctor been
in attendance?

Yes, the doctor was here,
but I can't go in there.

His eyes are still open.

Oh.
Allow me.

Miss White?

Safe and sound.

Um, he left instructions.

But I knew that already.

Because?

Mr. O'Grady had visited
my parlor.

Something simple...

austere... earthy.

Yet comfortable?

Does that really matter?

So you would say he was at peace

with his impending death?

No, I wouldn't.

Apologies.

I'm sure you're world-weary
about death,

but... I'm still coming to terms
with it.

It's like a place where...
life and death shake hands.

I like that.

Hence the new logo.

But that'll have to change now.

Everyone saw it at the church.

I'll have to rebrand.

Again.

Mr. Bugle,
I'm not sure you appreciate

there is a body under your care
that is unaccounted for.

Well, nobody died.

Pardon?

Well, I mean they were dead
already.

So it's not a complete
catastrophe.

- What were the instructions?
- Sorry?

You said that Declan
left instructions.

Oh. Yes.

I did natural burial,
closed casket, quick interment.

Super.

How long
did he lie in the parlor?

After I straightened
the body, I labeled the coffin

and put him in the chiller.

At which point
the coffin was sealed?

Absolutely.

When a client is to be buried
au naturel --

that's without preservation --

it is imperative
that the casket is airtight

to slow down
the decomposition process.

Otherwise things can get
a bit... whiffy.

Then yesterday, Tuesday morning,

I placed him in the hearse
and took him to the church.

That was the last direct contact
I had with the coffin.

Thank you, Warren.

Until after the service, when...

Mm.

Thank you, Mr. Bugle,
for your time.

Your death is my business.

- Excuse me?
- That's catchy.

We may have more questions
later.

I've sent out copies
to all registered tattooists

hoping someone remembers
doing it.

Well, assuming it was done
in New Zealand.

Yeah.

I recognize the font
as lucida italic,

which should narrow it down.

Certain tattooists specialize
in certain fonts.

You have an encyclopedic
knowledge of tattoo fonts?

It's a common one.

And you know this
because underneath that suit

you are fully inked?

Roxy has one.

Oh, really?
Where?

Actually, don't answer that.

Someone needed to dispose
of Jane Doe

and switched Declan's body...

...out to where?

And why Declan?

Because they knew
he was entrusted

to the most hapless
funeral director on the planet?

Yeah, but the reason
must also lie

with why Jane Doe needed to be
disposed of.

Where are we at with the search
for Declan's body?

OC search have a team,
and inquiries are under way.

I can't get an answer
from Wadsworths'.

I'll take a drive over
on my way home.

He's missing,
and she appears out of nowhere.

But they're connected.

All ideas welcome.

Simon.

Lost poets, exhumations --

It's all getting quite gothic
up there.

Thanks for calling me back.

Developments?

A missing body

and an unidentified Jane Doe
linked by circumstance only.

Those Irish poets, eh?

Even when they're dead,

they like to be the center
of attention.

Could you chase up the coroner
again for cause of death?

Well, aside from too much
Guinness and a brain tumor?

Sure.

I'll put a call through
in the morning.

Got to get to hot yoga.

Hot yoga?

God.

Hey!

Excuse me!

Merlot?

Uh, sure.
Yeah.

Freaky day, eh?

You're referring to the funeral?

Yeah.
Well, Declan was a good dude.

I feel bad for him being
disrespected when he's dead.

So much for rest in peace.

You, uh, knew him well?

I only got to know him properly
recently

when I got shoulder-tapped
to take over his gardening role

in Wadsworths'.

He knew he was on his way out
with his cancer

and wanted to pass on
his wisdom.

Why you?

'Cause I'm good.

Of course.

Nah.
My Auntie Tina hooked me up.

She knew Declan was looking
to hand over the reins

and wanted someone
with green fingers.

I worked there for two weeks

while he went to Thailand
for some experimental operation.

Didn't work, apparently,
so he came home to die.

"For you are the stars,
the wind and rain,

for me shelter
from the storm of pain.

For you, I am yours.

And we are one again.“

"For You."
You know it.

It's my favorite.

As was she.

I wrote it about, uh,
an incredibly special woman.

But... she's moved on now.

As I will soon, too.

He certainly has.

But where to exactly
is a little unclear.

You're sure it was Lucas Greene?

Yet when I rang the doorbell,
no one answered.

And he came from inside
the house?

I didn't see, but he must have,

as did someone else
driving a Jaguar.

Number plate?

Oh, it was too dark.

But, you know, a reverend
plus a bicycle at nighttime

has to equal dodgy.

Well, curious at least.

Shepherd.

Seen last night's paper?

"Boo!
Who is Declan's mystery woman?“

That has to border on unethical.

At least it creates awareness
in the community.

It might help identify Jane Doe.

No.
It's insensitive.

That was Gina.

We need to take a detour
on the way to St. Judas.

Cushla.

Speak of the devil.

Any developments
you want to share?

You don't deserve a lead
after this.

Excuse me?

Parading an unknown dead woman
on the front page is offensive.

It's news.

What if her family don't know
she's dead yet?

That'd be a hell of a way
to find out, wouldn't it?

They'd find out eventually.

Yeah, through proper channels.

So pull your head in.

Work with us, not against us.

I have been working hard, Mike,
to isolate the murder weapon.

Given the shape, depth,
and circumference of the wound,

I have narrowed it down
to these.

All possibilities.

They're all long, narrow,
and tapered.

Yes. They all match the wound
and the piercing of the heart.

What about a knife?

No. Not a knife.
Too thin.

To make a wound
of that dimension?

Correct.

- Apologies.
- Please be careful.

You have a shoulder of pork
on your table.

- It's not for eating.
- Glad to hear it.

It's the closest thing
to the density of human flesh.

You stab this?

It's work,
not just fun and games.

I'll take your word for it.

You want to try it?
It's good for anger.

I'm not angry.

Everyone is angry deep down.

It's good to let it out.

Right.

Excellent.
Thanks, Gina.

Detectives.

Rev Greene.

A couple of questions.

Of course.

Uh, did I see you leaving
the Wadsworths' last night

around 8:00 p.m.?

Uh, yes.
Yes, that would have been right.

Do you go there often?

I was ministering
to Brenda White.

Oh.
So she was there.

Yeah. She's been fragile
since Declan's death.

She's been asking
the big questions --

meaning of life,
life after death, et cetera.

I rang the bell,
but no one answered.

Yes.
Well, it's a-a very big house.

One can so easily get lost
in it.

Um, she drives a Jaguar?

Oh, you're asking
the wrong person.

I've never been a car person.

Two wheels good,
four wheels bad.

Reverend, were you ever alone
with Declan's coffin

once it arrived here
on the morning of the funeral?

No.
No, I-I think not.

It was only a matter of an hour
before the service

that Mr. Bugle delivered Declan.

And I had my helpers with me.

They being?

Mrs. Marlowe, our organist,

and Janelle,
who does the flowers.

Declan.

The poor man.

He truly was a great poet.

“For You" is my favorite.

It is a particularly
passionate poem.

They say it's about
Denise Snodgrass.

Oh, really?

I thought it was about
someone else.

As I remember,
it wasn't long after that

that the first of the mourners
arrived.

Any idea
who that might have been?

Tina Morehu.

Uh, no.
Who the, uh, poem was about.

To be honest, no.

Please.
Don't get cold.

It's no secret Declan was
a lover of more than just life.

It could have been
any number of acquaintances.

I see.

The, um,
the woman in the coffin.

I didn't actually see her,

but I-I've heard said
she was Asian.

That's all we know
at this point.

Excuse me.

Simon.

I spoke with the coroner,
Jim Manson.

He wasn't notified of Declan's
death, as it was natural causes.

Do we know what exactly?

The cause-of-death certificate

was forwarded
to Internal Affairs.

By?

Uh, the undertaker,
Warren Bugle.

It cites heart attack a result
of invasive brain cancer.

And who signed off on that?

A Dr. Plummer.

Dr. Plummer.
Got it.

I've sent a copy through
to the station.

Thanks.

You said Tina Morehu
was in the church at that time?

Yes.

She comes often.
Nothing unusual in that.

Okay.
Um, that's all for now.

Only too happy to help.

Warren Bugle got
a cause-of-death certificate

from a Dr. Plummer,
and he forgot to mention that.

Well, he has been very busy
trying to think up a new slogan.

It's Lucas.

Storming out last night
was no solution.

Roger...
questions are being asked.

It was her.

Mike.

Jared, I have a couple of
questions for your Auntie Tina.

Do you have an address?

Well, it just so it happens,
I'm at Auntie's now.

15 Powers Lane.

Okay.
See you soon.

“For you, the devil departed.

For me, the Red Sea parted.

For you, I rise to the occasion,

riding you
with self-flagellation.

Swallow me whole.

I'm wholly yours.“

Way too many mixed metaphors.

I always liked poetry.

You know country music
doesn't count, right?

Oh, come on.
Three chords and the truth.

It's got to be poetry.

- No.
- Yes.

Yo.

Hey, Jared.

You said you were gardening
with Declan.

Yeah.

After he got back from Thailand?

- Yeah.
- After his brain surgery?

Oh, he was pretty banged up.

They'd only given him
a few weeks to live.

Obviously loved his work.

Well, I guess he was determined

to make the most
of the time he had left.

Detective?

Ah. Mrs. Morehu.

- Miss.
- Miss.

- This is Detective Sims.
- Hello.

We're just clarifying
a few timelines

around Declan's coffin.

What has that got to do with me?

You were one of
the first mourners to arrive.

I like to get a good seat.

You, Mrs. Marlowe,

Janelle the florist,
and Lucas Greene.

Yes.

And were you ever alone
at any point with the coffin?

I don't believe so.

You said it was poetic justice

that Declan turned into
a young woman.

I'm curious --
What did you mean by that?

- What are you insinuating?
- Nothing. I just --

This had got nothing
to do with me.

- How dare you.
- What?

“Cast them
into the furnace of fire.

There shall be wailing
and gnashing of teeth.“

Steady on, Auntie.

Do you want to know
where Declan's body is?

Well, yes.

It is burning in the fires of
eternal damnation, Mr. Shepherd.

Try looking there.

No one was left alone
with Declan's casket

once it was placed
in the church.

Therefore, the swap must have
occurred at the funeral home.

Or en route between Wadsworths'
and the funeral home?

Well, Warren Bugle said
he checked him over

before putting him
in the chiller.

Okay.

Dr. Plummer is based
in Riverstone

and has yet to return my calls.

But Brenda White
is at the homestead.

Let's get to Wadsworths'.

Uh, developments on Jane Doe?

We've checked out
all Asian-based restaurants.

Nothing.

I thought
maybe she was a singer,

perhaps in town
for the karaoke festival,

but that's next month,

and the organizers don't
recognize her from their lineup.

Borders?

We've got airport police
covering that off

- with Immigration.
- Keep it up.

- She came from somewhere.
- Came from somewhere.

I know.

They don't make them like this
anymore.

Probably because people got sick
of cleaning all the bathrooms.

There you go. English breakfast.
I hope that's okay.

Perfect.
Thanks.

That's quite a complex pattern.

Yes.

Well, I've always liked
knitting,

and now I have
the perfect excuse.

Oh, are you expecting?

No.

They're for my sister.
She's expecting twins.

And when the Wadsworths
are away,

things are quieter here,
so I steal a bit of time.

- Milk?
- Oh, I can do it.

No. Please.
Allow me.

It's what I do.

And if the Wadsworths knew
that we had special guests

and I didn't give
proper service, well...

Brenda, were you present
when Declan passed?

Yes.

First on the scene?

No.
Janelle was.

Where were you?

Here in the kitchen, cleaning.

And, uh, she was in the garden
with Declan.

Declan had been struggling
for weeks.

And ever since returning
from Thailand,

we'd said
that he needed to slow down,

you know, because we had
Jared Morehu on board, but...

Oh! Help! Someone, please!

It's almost
as if he was determined

to die with his boots on.

For God's sake!
Where's the doctor?!

- Where is he?
- Uh, by the camellias.

What time was this?

Just after 10:00, I think.

And you called the ambulance?

I did, but...

He's collapsed.

The --
The Wadsworths' homestead. Yes.

- Yes.
- It's too late.

Brenda, he's gone.

Let the Reverend know
and then call Mr. Bugle.

Okay.

When I came back out, Declan
had been moved to the cottage

to wait for the undertaker.

And Dr. Plummer waited too?

No.
He'd left.

Then what happened?

I didn't know what to do.

- I was in shock.
- Don't go in there.

God, his eyes are still
wide open.

But you didn't go in?

No. I couldn't go in there.

And then Mr. Bugle arrived
to take Declan away.

Has the doctor been
in attendance?

Yes, the doctor was here,
but I can't go in there.

His eyes are still open.

Oh.
Allow me.

Did you go with Declan
to the funeral home?

No, I called the Reverend

and then phoned the Wadsworths
in France.

Well, thanks for your time,
Brenda.

And most excellent tea.

You're welcome.

What were you cleaning?

Oh.
Uh... wine glasses.

How many?

Uh, six, I believe.

Had there been a party?

I clean, Mr. Shepherd.
That's what I do.

As you can see, the Wadsworths
expect the highest standards.

Yet when you went to call
for an ambulance,

Dr. Plummer came from
within the house.

Well, he stayed over.

- So he doesn't live here?
- No, no.

He's a personal friend
of the Wadsworths,

and when he has to work late
in Brokenwood, he stays here

so he doesn't have to drive
all the way back to Riverstone.

There's plenty of rooms.

And Janelle -- What was she
doing here on a Sunday morning?

Well, she's a florist.

And Declan let her pick
the more exotic blooms

when the Wadsworths were away.

So when the blooms are out,
she came running.

Well, we'll let you get back
to your knitting.

Kristin Sims.

Dr. Plummer.
Thanks for getting back to me.

Right.
I see.

I'll meet you then.
Thank you.

He's teaching at the university
in the city.

Won't be able to meet me
until this afternoon.

What sort of a doctor teaches?

Either a very good one
or a bad one.

It's me again.

I'm just wondering
where you are.

Oh, hello.

- Courier?
- What?

Well, you sound like
you're chasing a courier.

Oh, exactly.

I mean, how hard is it
to pick up some flowers?

It's not like I'm asking them
to pick up

some bizarre rancid cheese.

I'm sorry.
How can I help you?

Uh, we're still trying to locate
the body of Declan O'Grady.

A ghastly business.

I mean, how macabre.

To desecrate a man's memory
by stealing his body.

And to do what?

There are some sick people
in this world.

Uh, Janelle, you were
with Declan when he died.

I was.

He died in my arms.

Oh, for God's sake!
Get the doctor!

There was nothing he could do.

The attack was massive,
apparently.

He was dead
before he hit the ground.

Let the Reverend know
and then call Mr. Bugle.

And the ambulance came?

It did.

When Brenda returned
to the garden,

she said that Declan had been
moved into the cottage.

To give him some dignity
from the cold, hard ground.

The ambulance drivers
helped you with that?

Well, I couldn't have done it.

Despite Declan's illness,

he was a strong man,
full of life even in death.

And Dr. Plummer was...

Oh, he'd gone by that stage.

He had an appointment in town,
I believe.

Moutarde, sit.

Moutarde.
That's an interesting name.

It's French.

Isn't he lovely?

Cheers.

Yes!

A photo match of Jane Doe coming
through international arrivals.

Immigration records have her
as Scarlett Ming.

Chinese heritage
but hailing from San Francisco,

where she runs a clothing
boutique called Missy Scarlett.

She flew in on the 6:00 a.m.
Saturday morning

the day before Declan died.

On her immigration card,
she wrote 135 Dunvilles Lane.

Wadsworths'.

Interpol are tracking down
her next of kin.

They'll need to fly out
to formally identify her.

She came from somewhere.

Nice work.

Question is, what brings
a San Francisco clothes designer

to Brokenwood?

Maybe Mrs. Wadsworth had
a special fitting.

They're loaded enough, right?

Well, except she's in France.

Brenda White is the Wadsworths'
housekeeper right?

Yes.

And the florist is called
Janelle Peacocke.

- Yes.
- Brenda White?

Janelle Peacocke?

A woman trading
as Missy Scarlett?

And what sort of a doctor
teaches?

A professor.
Professor Hum-mer.

Surely this has to be
more than a coincidence, right?

All we need now is a colonel.

Moutarde.
It's French for "mustard.“

Are we suddenly in a board game?

Senior, there's a
Reverend Greene here to see you.

It started some years ago
when Brenda White,

Janelle Peacocke,
Professor Plummer, and I

realized we all shared
our rather unique surnames

with a timeless, classic,
and most rewarding board game.

And -- And with the Wadsworths
having a large manor

we could use while they were
away, we thought,

“Wouldn't it be jolly good fun
to adapt it into real life?"

A role-playing club was formed,

something of a whodunit evening,
you see.

And, uh, how exactly
does it play out?

Ah, yes.

Well, the evening begins
in the dining room.

Firstly, the six weapons
are made available.

We each take one and secrete it
in a random room of our choice.

When everyone returns,

we each draw three cards
that decide the weapon,

the room in which the murder
is to take place,

and the victim.

We draw a fourth card,
five of which are blank.

The sixth reads "murderer" --
the short straw, if you will.

The aim of the evening is
for the designated murderer --

let's say it was me --
to move the required weapon

- to the required room...
- What are we drinking here?

...and negotiate
the victim there as well,

at which point the victim
assumes the position.

The villain slips out
and assumes an innocent demeanor

so as not to be sprung
by the other participants.

We all meet back
in the dining room at midnight,

where the accusations begin.

Dr. Plummer in the billiard room
with the rope.

No. Brenda White in the kitchen
with the cleaver.

- No.
- No.

Aw!

If you're the villain
and no one guesses...

You get away with murder.

It really is totally harmless,
good old-fashioned fun.

A jolly good evening.

And the last time you played
was last Saturday night?

Yes.

That was the night
before Declan passed away.

And Declan took part?

He always played the colonel.

Even though his name's
not Mustard.

- No one's is.
- Except for Janelle's dog.

Quite.

But the chance of everyone
having the same name

would be a coincidence
too great.

However, Declan always
called himself Colonel Moutarde.

I think it tickled
Janelle's fancy.

He was well enough to play?

Oh, he knew it would be
his last hurrah.

And the other woman?

Denise Snodgrass.

A fine player,
but she left town.

Why?

Let's just say her feelings
towards Colonel Moutarde

weren't exactly murderous.

More amorous.

Unrequited, sadly.

So she left
to get on with her life.

So you needed a Miss Scarlett.

Yes.

Enter Scarlett Ming.

Her name really was Scarlett,
you know.

- How did you find her?
- Oh, she found us.

The Internet.

Somehow she'd heard about
our private soirees.

That game is my favorite
of all time.

I'll book my ticket.

She really was a lovely,
bubbly sort.

And when she arrived,

she was very polite
and courteous,

wearing a dress that she'd made
for the occasion.

Ah!

We all took a shine to her.

We couldn't have hoped for
a better participant.

Do you need a cup of tea?

Uh, sorry.

No, no. No.
I'm -- I'm fine.

Before each soiree,
we... take a photo,

a memento of the evening.

Oh, that one was taken
about six months ago.

Denise's last game.

And so the evening took shape.

We all went about our business.

Some were more active
than others.

China Girl, what joy you bring,

with your scarlet heart
and your name of Ming.

That's very good.

No, no. One more.
One more.

Um, There was a young girl
from Shanghai...

But the rules are clear.

You have to go to each room at
least once during the evening.

And there is strategy.

We -- We move the weapons around
to flush out the villain.

Eventually, we all met
back in the dining room

on the stroke of midnight.

Initially, of course, we all
thought Scarlett was the victim.

And she wasn't?

You see, no one had
the murderer card.

I don't have it.

She's not in the study.

- Or the library.
- Nor the kitchen.

We know the billiard room
is clear.

Yes, and the ballroom.

But I found this.

I have it here.

“Sorry. Too tired. Jet lag.
Hope the game goes well.

XX, Scarlett.“

We took it that she'd drawn
the murderer card

but then got cold feet
and slipped away.

It was a most disappointing
night.

And that was the last time
you saw Scarlett Ming?

It was.

Uh, we assumed she'd got on
a plane back to San Francisco.

Until you saw Declan's coffin.

Now, to be fair,
I didn't see her then.

And -- And the others, well,
they'd only met her briefly,

and she was wearing
a scarlet dress.

In the coffin, apparently,
it... was hard to tell.

It only made sense later.

Mm.

After you conferred
with the others

at Wadsworths' the last night?

I wanted to be sure
we all thought the same thing.

It's her, I tell you.

We can't be sure.
I can't tell from that.

Oh, my God.
What will the Wadsworths say?

This could all go
horribly wrong.

The others were adamant

that her demise had nothing
to do with us.

Regardless,
I felt very conflicted.

Hence I'm here today.

And you believe

your fellow role-players
are telling the truth?

My goodness.
Yes.

No -- Please. They're all
good Christian souls.

And it would have been
most unfair

to drag Scarlett
into something distasteful

if she were simply
back in San Francisco.

Oh, my God.

He converted you?

Something even more weird.

Something that was going on
up at Wadsworths'.

People playing murder.

What, like role-playing?

Uh, the Reverend Greene with the
pistol in the conservatory --

that sort of thing.

Don't they have anything better
to do on their Saturday night?

Well, what were you doing
on Saturday night?

Well, it was a quiet one.

Bottle of sav

and I'm bingeing my way through
the box set of “Downton Abbey."

Well, maybe they were having
more fun at Wadsworths'.

Hey, at least I wasn't murdering
anyone.

Well, neither were they if
Lucas Greene is to be believed.

But that was the last place
she was seen alive, right?

Yeah.

So whoever murdered her
used Declan's death

as the perfect way
to hide her body.

They got lucky.

Very lucky.

Until Warren Bugle dumped
her body on the tar seal.

Anyway, I'm off to Riverstone
to meet with Dr. Plummer --

or should I say Professor Plum?

Watch he's not hiding
a candlestick in his study.

Uh, Senior,
these people here to see you.

Jared.

- Tina.
- Yeah.

Um, so Auntie here
has some news.

I do not need to be airing
this issue with the police.

She reckons she knows who
the poem "For You“ was about.

Uh, sorry about the decor.

Uh, my office would be cozier.

No.
I want to keep this low-key.

Here is good.

This should remain as a matter
between us and the Lord.

No, the cops have the right
to know anything

that might help them locate
the body of my father.

Sorry?

Declan is your father?

According to Auntie.

The first I heard was today.

Can I help it

if Declan was a man
who shirked from responsibility?

So you've never known
who your father was?

But I had well-founded
suspicions.

When I heard he was dying,
I confronted him.

Surely he owed Jared
the courtesy

of acknowledging him as his son.

Oh, Tina,
you've got to let it go.

- What, are you denying it?
- What we had was what it was.

- We were young.
- Don't you change the subject.

This is the subject.
You've never gotten over it.

Running off with my sister?

No.
It was a little hard to take.

Miriana came on to me.

Just confess to Jared.

He's not my son.

If he was,
I'd be proud to admit it.

Ow!

“His sins are more numerous
than the hairs upon his head.“

Get out of here!
Enough of your crazy talk.

The truth will come out soon,
Declan,

and you -- you will rot in hell.

I'm not going to hell.

So you and Declan were...

Not something I'm proud of.

He was new in town.
I was 19.

But in the end,
he favored my younger sister.

And nine months later,
Miriana gave birth to a son.

Maths is pretty obvious,
don't you think?

Well, surely Miriana can verify.

I never knew my mum.

She died in childbirth.

Oh, hell.
Sorry.

The truth will come out.

I took samples of them both
and sent away for a DNA test.

- Ow!
- Is that what you were doing?

Results are due any day now.

And then Jared will know
the truth.

So the poem "For You" --

You think it could've been
about Miriana?

I wrote it about, uh,
an incredibly special woman.

But... she's moved on now.

Well, it certainly wasn't
about Denise Snodgrass

or any of the other women,
though they all think it is.

Detective Sims.
Please come through.

The cancer apparently affected
the hippocampus.

But the human brain
is remarkable

in that it can sustain
significant parts being removed

without losing
fundamental functions.

Hence the popularity
of the lobotomy for a while,

until they realized
it was robbing people

of their humanity.

Well, is a physical existence
worthwhile

without an ability
to experience emotion?

Exactly.

In Thailand, they were
apparently able to remove

a large part of the cancer,
but apparently not enough.

Apparently?

Excuse me?

Well, you keep using that word.

Surely as his doctor,
you'd know exactly what went on.

Uh, the cancer wasn't my domain.

I don't understand.

I wasn't Declan's doctor.

What?

Uh, there seems to have been
some misunderstanding.

I counseled Declan
as he faced the notion of death.

Uh, I'm not a GP.
I'm a doctor of psychiatry.

But you signed the
cause-of-death certificate.

H-How could I have?

The last time I saw Declan,

he was alive and well
and tending the garden.

The poet.

Yes, I know
who Declan O'Grady was.

And he was a patient here?

Not that I recall.

And even if he was,

there is the matter
of patient confidentiality.

All I need to know is when
and for how long

he was in the district
health board records.

And the next time I see you
down at The Frog and Cheetah,

your first margarita is on me.

And what will Roxy think
of that?

She'll be with me and probably
already onto her third.

It can't matter too much
since he's dead.

Appreciate it.

Yeah, yeah.

Dr. Plummer,
thanks for coming in.

DSS Shepherd.
Dr. Roger Plummer.

You're also a professor, I hear.

That is correct.

Dr. Plummer, as I mentioned,
we were under the impression

that you signed Declan's
cause-of-death certificate.

And as I said,
I did no such thing.

Well, this was forwarded to
Births, Deaths, and Marriages.

Is that your signature?

Well, yes.

Which would suggest
you filled it out.

I certainly did not.

But you were there
at Wadsworths'

on the Sunday morning
when he died.

Well, I may have been.

But as I said,
the last time I saw Declan,

he was alive, tending the
flowers with Janelle Peacocke.

Where is he?

Uh, out by the camellias.

I'm off!
Take care, Declan!

You too, Roger.

And with that, I left.

Then you're suggesting that
the signature on the certificate

is a forgery.

It must be.

Brenda White was at the sink.

- What was she doing?
- The dishes.

Glasses?

Um, cutlery, I think.

It's Breen.

- Sam.
- Excuse us.

Declan O'Grady never set foot
in the hospital,

nor does he appear anywhere

in the district health board
records.

For a cancer patient,

he somehow managed his treatment
completely independently.

And get this.

Right.

Thanks.

It seems Declan didn't have
a GP.

I've already said
I'm not an oncologist,

and I-I don't like
what you're implying.

But you have said

that you were Declan's
confidante and psychiatrist.

Therefore surely you would know
he wasn't receiving treatment.

Well, it was none
of my business.

- So he just never mentioned it?
- You're being very hostile.

- No. I'm just...
- Curious.

We're curious as to your
relationship with Declan.

I treated him as a friend and,
to be honest, a fan.

He was a great poet,
and I was happy to help.

Poets aren't wealthy.

They certainly can't afford
psychiatry fees.

Would you say that Declan's
psychological issues

were significant?

Now, that is not something
that I'm at liberty to discuss.

On the evening before Declan's
death, you were at Wadsworths?

Mm, yeah.

Doing what exactly?

That is a private matter.

It's no longer a private matter

when a murder investigation
is involved.

We know about the role-playing.

Reverend Greene was
very forthcoming.

I see.
What did he say exactly?

Why don't you tell us
what you can remember?

Well, I can barely remember,
and I wasn't really in the mood,

but the sweet girl had made
such an effort to be there,

and I knew it was most likely
Declan's last time,

so I played my part.

I spent most of the evening
in the study,

catching up on patient notes.

I moved a weapon or two

to see if I could, um,
twig to who the perpetrator was.

I moved the pistol

from the study to the library
at one point

when I had suspicions Lucas
may have been the perpetrator.

But it was merely a red herring.

And I wanted some light reading,
so I returned to the study.

- Why was that?
- That's none of your business.

You never know.

I feel I've said enough.

Anything else I say will be
in consultation with my lawyer.

Brilliant.
Thanks.

Declan O'Grady
never went to Thailand.

According to Immigration,
he never left the country,

because he has no passport.

Which means he never had
an operation.

Better than that.

The ambulance that was called
to Wadsworths'

was intercepted at the gate

and told that a doctor
had already been and gone.

What? So they never actually saw
the body.

- Declan's not dead.
- Declan's not dead.

Was the ambulance met by Janelle
or Brenda?

Neither.

Thank you, but the undertaker
has been called.

Lucas Greene?

Okay.
So he was there too?

- Why did he omit that?
- Must have been in on it.

Or he has something to hide.

Okay.
So Declan fakes his own death.

Why?

What motivates someone
to do that?

Well, we have a psychiatrist
in the next room.

Perhaps he could shed
some light.

Unless he was part of it.

I mean, Declan had help.

How else do you get out
of a sealed coffin?

- Warren Bugle.
- Possible.

But wherever he is now, he may
be depending on that help still.

The last one --
the farewell poem --

read the last lines.

“Tight to the wind, out on high.

Riding the horizon,

living it up
between Mrs. Smith's thighs.“

Who's Mrs. Smith?

A lucky lady --

or not, depending on your view
of Declan's literary genius.

We find Mrs. Smith,
we find Declan.

Since you did so well finding
Scarlett Ming...

You do realize there are a lot
more Mrs. Smiths in the world

than Scarlett Mings?

Have a little faith.

Meanwhile, we have zero facts
surrounding Scarlett's death

other than she was last seen
inside Wadsworth manor.

Everyone believes she ran off
after leaving the message.

Well, given that she was last
seen playing out a fantasy

and then ended up
in a dead gardener's coffin,

it seems unlikely.

Meaning someone else wrote
the note?

And why did she write,
“Hope the game goes well, “

when she had
the murderer's card,

knowing that the game
would fall apart without her?

And as cover-ups go, any one
of them could've done it.

Or all of them.

The shrink's lawyer is here.
Miranda Temple.

Ms. Temple?
Detective Sims.

Hello.
I'd like to see my client.

Of course.
I'll show you through.

Uh, shall we commence in, say,
five minutes?

Please.

Need I remind you that the time
alone with my client

will be at my discretion?

I'll let you know
when I'm ready.

What's to say he even is
a professor?

He might just be role-playing.

At least we know that Temple's
a lawyer and she's a good one.

Can you take this?

Sure.
What's your next move?

I'm gonna take these
and apply a fine-tooth comb --

with a glass of merlot.

And then tomorrow,
I'm gonna start again,

with Brenda White.

Good luck with Temple.

Wait.
Where'd she go?

I'm ready.

Are you?

So after the role-playing
had finished around midnight,

you went to bed?

Yes.

And it was just you and
Brenda White on the premises?

- Really, I don't understand --
- Your point is, Detective?

Scarlett Ming disappeared

somewhere just prior
to midnight.

She was next seen on Tuesday
morning in Declan's coffin,

but we know she died
late Saturday or thereabouts.

So I just need to make sure

that Dr. Plummer didn't see her
in the manor

after the game had finished.

I did not.

Then you woke on Sunday morning
around what time?

I slept late -- perhaps 9:00 --
showered,

and left Wadsworths'
around 9:45 a.m.

I'm off!
Take care, Declan!

You too, Roger.

- 9:45?
- That's what he said.

Because both Brenda White
and Janelle Peacocke

recall you leaving later --
after Declan collapsed,

which was just after 10:00 a.m.

- Well, they're lying.
- Both of them?

Clearly both of them.

Because I had to make an
appointment in town at 10 a.m.,

and I'm a punctual person.

Detective,
if my client had any part

in this elaborate ruse
that you're suggesting,

then why would he not have used
another name?

Why risk
his practicing certificate

to help Declan O'Grady
play hide-and-seek?

We will need to corroborate
your appointment in town.

Consider it corroborated.

- I’ll need a witness.
- That would be me.

Dr. Plummer was meeting with me
in my chambers.

My P.A., Cindy,
was there to take notes.

- On a Sunday morning?
- On a Sunday morning.

At 10 a.m.?

Sometimes it's the only time
when parties can get together.

Call Cindy to verify.

And since the certificate cites
10:35 a.m. as the time of death,

it can't have been Dr. Plummer
who filled it out,

as he was with me
in my chambers.

You look skeptical, Ms. Sims.

What was the meeting about?

A private matter.

His wife has issued
divorce proceedings.

It's been a very stressful time.

Now, it really is late,
and I believe

enough of my client's privacy
has been invaded.

Roger, let's go.

There's something you
haven't been forthcoming about.

I'm sorry?

The reason Dr. Plummer
stayed over on Saturday night.

Well, that's none
of my business.

But you were part of it.

- What?
- The role-playing.

Oh. Yes. That.

Well, you need to talk
to the others.

I have.

What I want now
is your version of events.

This is where we start the game
and finish.

- At midnight?
- Yes.

Where were you
just before midnight?

Uh, I was in the kitchen
for a while --

that's where I saw Reverend
Greene getting more wine --

and then the study
with Dr. Plummer.

And then I stopped for a while
in the ballroom.

Um, did some knitting.

But no one came,
so I just moved on.

What about Janelle?
Did you paths cross much?

I saw her several times --
once in the library

and in the hall.

I think she had the rope.

There was something
up her sleeve.

The weapons for the game
get placed in different rooms

before the game starts.

Yes.

Which one did you place?

I placed the candlestick
into the conservatory.

Then, depending on who draws
the murderer's card,

they need to locate the weapon

and get it
to the appropriate room?

Yes.

Uh, which cards did you get?

Uh, I got the dining room,
the cleaver, and Rev Greene.

I've had him before.
He can be really tricky.

But you didn't get
the murderer card?

No.
No, I didn't.

Was this room used?

No.
It's mine.

You planning a trip?

Oh.
No.

That's, um,
for my sister's birthday.

She's the one
with the travel bug.

Sorry.
My room's a mess.

This one?

Uh, that's just
the spare bedroom.

Where Dr. Plummer stayed?

Mm-hmm.

- Can I see the ballroom?
- Of course.

This is where the team photo
is taken before every match.

- Yes.
- Mm.

At the end of the evening,

when you realized Scarlett Ming
had disappeared,

you all searched the rooms?

Yes.

Which ones did you search?

Uh, the ballroom.
That's where I found her note.

And she was nowhere to be seen?

We just assumed she'd run off,

that the game wasn't
her cup of tea after all.

One more thing.

You said that when Declan died,

Janelle told you
to let the Reverend know.

Yes.

But you didn't need to
phone him, did you?

No.
But I did call him.

Reverend.

Reverend!

Reverend.

So he was in Dr. Plummer's room?

What is it?

Oh, God.
I've slept in.

You never mentioned
he'd stayed over.

W-Well, I didn't think
it was important.

Thanks.

A rose by any other name.

Oh, pretty much anything
but a rose.

Uh, camellias, Mike.

Ah.

Oh, well.
Nice day for it.

An auspicious day, no less.

How's that?

Well, this came in the mail
this morning from the DNA place.

I'm not sure I want to open it.

Jared, without giving
too much away,

we're now of the belief
that Declan isn't dead,

just disappeared.

If that makes any difference.

I'm not sure if that helps.

Kristin.

The phone rang.

Yeah, I know.
And I answered it.

No.

When we spoke to Warren Bugle.

He described putting Declan
in the chiller,

and then the phone rang.

So if he did get a callout, that
could've provided opportunity

for the switch to happen.

Good.

Follow it up.

All over it.

Ml'. Bugle?

Can I help you?

Warren.

Hi.

The place is unlocked.

Oh.

Got called out.

I have a new corpse to process.

She's in the car.

Warren, when you put
Declan O'Grady

in the chiller on Sunday,
your phone rang.

Did it?

Bugle Funerals, where life
and death shake hands.

- This is Warren.
- Who was it?

It was a woman, uh, wanting me
to pick up her dead husband.

And I wrote down the address,
but I noted it wrongly,

obviously,
because it didn't seem to exist.

So, what did you do?

Well, I drove around for an hour

trying to find
that phantom corpse.

No doubt one of my competitors
beat me to it.

But now, with my new GPS,
there will be no repeat.

You know, this has
12 separate functions for --

Finding dead people.

Not exactly, but...

What time was this?

Around noon Sunday.

Shaping up to be a busy day
after Mr. O'Grady.

- It was a woman?
- Yes.

But she didn't mention her name?

No.

Do you recall
a Dr. Roger Plummer visiting?

Dr. Plummer signed Declan's
cause-of-death certificate.

Oh, right.
That rings a bell.

And you forwarded that on to
Births, Deaths, and Marriages.

It's all part of the service.

Okay.
So who gave it to you?

This was over a week ago.

Jerome... Peacocke?

Not Janelle?

Janelle.
That's it.

She came to do the flowers
and passed it on.

Save the doctor a trip.

Thanks, Warren.

Oh, and some, you know,
friendly advice --

You should get into the habit
of locking your place up

when you leave.

Detective Shepherd.

A quick question, Reverend.

Of course.

Last Sunday morning,

did you give a sermon
at the 8:00 a.m. service?

Uh, no.
No.

Um, my associate Delia
did that service.

I took the 11:30 a.m. worship
and the 7:30 p.m. session.

That makes sense,
given that you were talking

to the ambulance officers
at Wadsworths.

Would you care to come inside?

You have to understand --
It's love.

And...

...y-you don't want it to be
a secret, but...

Although the church is
supposedly more open these days,

it's still...

A-And for Roger, you see,

well, it's even more difficult
for him.

Being married?

Indeed.

Who asked you to talk
to the ambulance?

It was Janelle.

Oh, Janelle.
I'm so sorry.

The ambulance is coming,
but it's too late.

I can't face them.

And Mr. Bugle is on his way.
Could you go and...

Of -- Of course.
Of course I will.

I'll, um, I'll say a prayer
and wash him.

Oh, thank you.

I shall so miss this place.

You'd think a man of the cloth
and a psychiatrist

could put a pretty compelling
case to the Lord

for some gay rights.

Warren Bugle is a liability
to the dead.

Why?
What's he done now?

It's more a case
of what he didn't do.

I mean,
he doesn't lock his doors.

Whoever did the switch,
he made it easy for them.

And it was Janelle Peacocke who
passed on the cause-of-Death.

Well, while you've been
hanging out with cadavers,

I've been tracing Mrs. Smiths.

There are 94 in the hinterland
of Brokenwood.

So busy day tomorrow.

Ah.
Putting your feet up, I see.

- Simon.
- Take it easy, Neeme.

Breen.

I was passing through on my way
to the ranges for a pig hunt

with a few lads from HQ.

Thought you'd appreciate this.

Is that Declan?

Or as he was known then,
Tom Romanski.

He's no more bloody Irish
than Vladimir Putin.

Well, 30 years ago in Southland,

he was charged with unlawful sex
with a minor.

He was released on bail
but disappeared.

Completely vanished.

So he headed north
and reinvented himself.

Hm.
And lived happily ever after.

Up until he decided to fake
his own death.

Yeah.
Must have got spooked.

Was the plaintiff a woman by the
name of Melody, by any chance?

Hmm.

Uh, Melody --

Yeah.
Melody Farmer.

Can you sign it for Melody?

Do you remember me?

No. Sorry.
I don't.

Coincidentally, around the same
time the brain cancer kicked in.

Which answers
the big question --

Why go to all that trouble?

To preserve his alter ego.

For the revered poet Declan
O'Grady to die an innocent man.

That is a complicated way
to live your life.

Well, when you find him,
tell him to try pig hunting.

That keeps it real.

After he's done his stretch.

- Neighbor.
- Jared.

Pour yourself a glass.

Sure.

You're up late.

So are you.

Burning the midnight
to find Declan?

Yeah.

But it's not helping.

You know, up until now,
I had no mother or father,

just a great bunch of whanau.

Now... I’ve got
this mystery envelope.

Don't you want to find out
one way or the other?

Well, if I open it and it's
positive and Declan is my dad,

then yay --
I got a criminal for a father.

And if it's negative,
then nothing changes,

so what's the point?

“Tight to the wind,
way out on high.

Riding the horizon,

living it up
between Mrs. Smith's thighs.“

Wonder if he had kids to her,
too.

Did he ever mention
a Mrs. Smith?

Not that I recall.

I mean, I can't see
the resemblance.

Can you?

And I've never felt very Irish.

Might not be any resemblance
to see.

And he's not Irish.

Turns out he's Polish.

What?

Oh, shit.

Don't worry. Don't worry.
It's old. It's old.

It's a boat.

What?

Mrs. Smith.

It's a 40-foot ketch
moored down at the inlet.

Maybe the "thighs“
are a poetic sailing term

for the deck
either side of the companionway.

If you... catch my drift.

Looks like it hasn't seen
any action in a while.

Perfect hiding place.

Well, we'll jump in my dinghy
and we'll check it out, eh?

I don't do boats.

Lovely morning for it.

Oh. Morning, Detective.

You come here often?

Yes. This is Moutarde's
favorite spot.

Okeydokey. Into the car.
Whoop!

Good boy. Good boy.

Janelle, I've been meaning
to ask --

You said that after Declan died
in the garden,

the ambulance paramedics
helped you move his body

to his cottage.

Yes.

Yet the ambulance
was turned away at the gate.

So they wouldn't have been able
to assist.

Right.

Well, I wouldn't know
because I wasn't there.

Oh.
You were...

I fainted.

- Fainted.
- M m.

The last thing I remember
is saying to Brenda...

- Yes.
- It's too late.

Brenda, he's gone.

It was shock

coupled with hyperventilation
from giving him CPR.

I was extremely overwhelmed.

Who do you think moved Declan?

Well, it must have been
Reverend Greene.

I believe Reverend Greene
was dealing with the ambulance

at the gate.

Yes.

After which,
he rode straight to the church.

Well, it must've been Brenda,
then.

Maybe.

Please excuse me.
I have to go and open the shop.

Jared.

Yeah.
No sign of life.

Maybe the Mrs. Smith in the poem

is actually a hot lady
after all.

Yeah.
Well, it was worth a try.

Hey, uh, I need to see a man
about a rug.

You want me to stake it out?

I can't ask you to do that,
Jared.

Is that official?

That's official.

Not a problem, sir.

We have special ways
to deal with this.

Then again,
maybe I should upgrade.

How much is this one?

You have exquisite taste.

That is a premium rug.

Highest price
but also highest of quality.

You sell many?

Hardly ever, which makes it
all the more unique.

Special just for you.

When did you sell the last one?

Admittedly, it was last Sunday,

but before that,
not for several years.

Today I can do a special price
just for you.

I should check the measurements
first.

Of course.

All the proceeds
from Declan's last book

go to the Cancer Recovery
Foundation, right?

I believe so.

It's actually
a limited liability company

registered in Vanuatu.

A tax haven.

He's all class.

Why?

These were all taken
before Saturday night.

I took this yesterday.

The rug is different.

Why did it get changed?

To hide the damage.

Nice.

What about the who?

Well, it was someone
who knew about the empty coffin

that Declan would vacate.

The person who was in on it.

- Janelle knew.
- Circumstantial?

Not when you consider this.

Watch carefully.

Living it up
between Mrs. Smith's...

The camera is switched off
without Declan leaning forward

or leaving frame.

He had help.

And see that?

Peacocks pendant.

Okay.

Let's go over everything
from start to finish.

I'll make the coffee.

Allow me.

That has to be it.

It's the only thing
that makes sense.

I'm liking it.

And you're okay with this?

I'd say it's time to round up
our suspects

and have a little chat.

A soiree, even.

Thank you all for coming.

It's not as if we had a choice,
did we?

While we appreciate that
all of you had the opportunity

to kill Scarlett Ming, only --

Excuse me.
That is slanderous.

Only one of you had the motive.

Which counts me out.

Roger, please.

Ah. Dr. Plummer.
Let's start with you.

You only gave the evening
a cursory effort.

What with news of your divorce,
you were distracted.

You weren't really in the mood.

You spent most of your time
in the study,

moving to the conservatory
and then to the library

to place the pistol
and to get a reference book.

So I find solace in Jung
when I'm stressed.

That's hardly a crime.

Reverend Greene,
on the other hand --

Well, you were always keen
to play.

You moved through all the rooms,

moving the weapons randomly
so as to unsettle the murderer

in the hopes that they might
give themselves away.

It usually works.

You visited the library
on two occasions,

once having followed Dr. Plummer
and again following Declan.

But he was distracted

by Scarlett entering
the billiard room.

Very good.

I'm -- I'm sorry,
but would it be wrong

for me to say I'm actually
rather enjoying this?

Brenda White moved through
the rooms with deft ability.

After all, she knows the place
better than anyone.

She spent time in the ballroom,

where she sat for a while,
knitting.

And it was here

that she accidentally left
her sewing scissors.

Oh. I wondered
what happened to them.

The only time Scarlett was ever
seen entering the ballroom,

Brenda was already in
the billiard room with Declan,

as witnessed by Reverend Greene.

So it can't have been Brenda.

I don't remember that.

I do.

Which... leaves us with Janelle.

But aren't you missing someone?

No.

Declan.

He was there.
Who's to say it wasn't him?

Because Declan was intent on his
own death, not someone else's.

You were the only one
not to mention

going into the ballroom
on that evening.

Because I didn't.

Not exactly in the spirit
of the game, Janelle.

Oh, do shut up, Lucas.

You came across Declan
and Scarlett during the evening.

He was flirting.

...with your scarlet heart
and your name of Ming.

You'd seen it too many times.

What's wrong with your head?

Ah.
Terminal cancer.

Oh, God.
I'm so sorry.

No, no, no, no, no.
Don't be. Don't be.

When I meet a woman
as beautiful as you,

it just reminds me how important
it is to fight the disease

and live on.

Make way, Declan.

Don't listen to him.
He's a poet.

You can't believe a word
he says.

Later, you would snap.

After all,
you had the right cards.

Then, having lured Scarlett
into the ballroom...

Oh, my God.

So excited!

My first time, and it's me.

With the rope?
So cool.

This is ridiculous!

And based on what?

This photo was taken
before the event.

The pattern on the rug has
three diamonds running across.

The rug there now also has three
diamonds but a black border.

Someone replaced the rug
to hide the bloodstains.

As the clock struck 12:00,

you all reconvened in here.

Clearly the victim is Scarlett.

I accuse you, Lucas -- with the
candlestick in the conservatory.

Ah.

- But the candlestick is here.
- Oh, so it is.

Really, Roger.
Where is your head this evening?

Well, I'm picking...

After several other
false accusations,

it became clear
that Scarlett wasn't around.

- Moutarde?
- No.

She's not in the study.

- Or the library.
- Nor the kitchen.

We know the billiard room
is clear.

Yes, and the ballroom.

But I found this.

“Sorry. Too tired. Jet lag.
Hope the game goes well.

Scarlett.“

Oh, she was clearly a dud.

We recruited a failure.

- Lost her nerve.
- Poor thing.

Oh, dear.

Port, anyone?

I admit I said that,
but it doesn't mean anything.

But you were in love
with Declan.

Yes, I was.

Everyone was in love
with Declan.

But that doesn't make me
a murderer.

But the killer had to know
of Declan's plan.

Riding the horizon,

living it up
between Mrs. Smith's thighs.

Declan.

You are so clever.

Thank you, Janelle.

So when you killed Scarlett

in a fit of jealous rage,

you knew you had a way out,
a way to dispose of the body.

In Declan's casket.

Please.
That is wrong.

It's all wrong!

All?

He was a strong man,
full of life even in death.

Yes. All right!

I helped him stage
his own death!

You treacherous woman.

How dare you jeopardize
my career.

I was doing it
to help our friend Declan.

- Janelle --
- But I didn't kill Scarlett.

So where is Mr. O'Grady now?

Well, if I knew that,
don't you think

I'd damn well be with him now?

Janelle Peacocke,
you're under arrest

for forging a death certificate
in Dr. Plummer's name

and for the murder
of Scarlett Ming.

No.
You are wrong!

You are so wrong.

- Can we go?
- Yes.

Thank you.
You're all free to go.

Shame on you.

- Jared.
- Yeah, Mike.

Unofficially speaking,
the fox has broken cover.

Mrs. Smith is heading
for open water.

Thanks.

It seems that Declan
has set sail without you.

Bastard.

Headed for international waters.

I feel boats coming on.

- Deep sea.
- Big swells.

I'll process Ms. Peacocke.

Oh, they really aren't
salubrious, are they?

Functional at best.

Your lawyer shouldn't be
too far away.

I didn't kill Scarlett.

But you did aid and abet
Declan O'Grady.

I was a fool.

It was a fantasy.

The thought
of leaving Brokenwood

and sailing away
and starting again.

But now it has unraveled in ways
I could not imagine.

And where do you think
he's headed?

He was always waxing lyrical
about the South China seas.

Surabaya, Borneo,
and then up to Sri Lanka.

With a stop in Vanuatu
on the way?

Yeah.

The things we do for love.

Even if it is unrequited.

I'll check on your lawyer.

Breen, try north-northwest.

Uh-huh.

See anything?

That's it.

Jared.

I opened it.

And how do you feel about that?

Let's talk about it tonight
over a merlot, eh?

Yeah.
Sounds good.

I'd like that.

We've recovered the yacht.

It seems Mrs. Smith
has turned into Mary Celeste.

And Declan isn't on board?

No, neither is there any dinghy
or life raft.

He's lashed the tiller.

This doesn't change anything,
does it?

Far from it.

We did it.

Like the chambers of a gun,
we --

We... are the bullets
ready to fly.

Not one of your greats, Declan.

Not like “For You.“

- How the hell did you --
- So where are we off to?

Baby-clothes shopping?

Prams, high chairs --
so much to get.

Far from those bootees
being for your sister,

they were for you,
weren't they, Brenda?

I've always liked knitting,

and now I have
the perfect excuse.

Are you planning a trip?

Why else would you be
taking pregnancy supplements?

And what sister expecting twins

would really be planning
on globe-trotting?

But Janelle...

Janelle didn't do it,
as you know.

But Detective Sims --

Was playing a role.

We needed everyone to think
we'd found the killer

so that the real killer
would lead us to Declan.

And look.

Here we are.

Ah.
Tea?

Must've been cold out there.

What do you mean,
the real killer?

Sorry.

While you were busy being dead,
you've missed out on so much.

You see, being pregnant to you

made Brenda
understandably vulnerable.

Don't listen to him.
He's a poet.

You can't believe
a word he says.

Fearing that you might
back out of your plan

for the more exotic
Scarlett Ming.

There was a young girl
from Shanghai

whose beauty enchanted my eye.

No. I must stop.

I have this for you.

I don't know what to say.

Oh, my God.

When you finally managed

to lure Scarlett
into the ballroom,

I imagine it all came
as something of a --

a reflex response.

He's so mysterious.

Oh, and that poem “For You“
is totally amazing.

I feel like it was written
for me.

Oh, my God.

So excited.

My first time, and it's me.

Oh, and with the rope?
So cool.

I couldn't find the rope.
I think Janelle has it.

Is this true?

I didn't mean to.

Then, while Janelle
was doing your dirty work,

staging your death...

She's upstairs.
Go!

...then sending Warren
on a wild-goose chase...

Hello.
My husband's died.

Marigold Lane.

I will be there forthwith.

...then rescuing you
from the chiller...

...Brenda was busy
covering her tracks.

Janelle described a clatter,
not smashing glass --

the sound of tin
clanking on tin.

What would that have been?

European precision.

Not cheap.

You couldn't bring yourself
to throw them away.

Look, honestly,
I knew nothing of this.

I'm sure you didn't.

I mean, why would Brenda
want you to know that?

It's one thing to run off
into the sunset

with your pregnant lover,
but knowing she's a murderer,

well... you'd want to sleep
with one eye open.

Declan, I love you.
Please.

Then again,
did Brenda know about you, Tom?

Tom?

Brenda White,
you are under arrest

for the murder of Scarlett Ming.

Tom Romanski,
you are under arrest

for faking your own death.

And we need to talk about
that historic matter

of sex with a minor.

What?

You two have so much
to catch up on.

Excuse me.

Take these.

Sir.

Despite what all the women
of Brokenwood think,

the poem "For You" was written
about your mother, right?

Oh, if it's any relief,
Jared Morehu is not your son.

It was certainly a relief
to him.

Ripped & Corrected By mstoll
April 2017