The Brokenwood Mysteries (2014–…): Season 3, Episode 4 - A Merry Bloody Christmas - full transcript

# Dashing through the snow

# In a one-horse open sleigh

# O'er them fields we go

# Laughing all the way. #

(SIRENS)

# Bells on bob tails ring

# Making spirits bright

# What fun it is to laugh and sing

# A sleighing song tonight

# Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells. #
How are you going?

# Jingle all the way



# Oh, what fun it is to ride

# In a one horse open sleigh

# Oh, giddy-up now. #

Hey! I'm home! It's just me.

Evan?

Someone needs to stop Clearway Law.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.

VOICEMAIL: Hello.
This is Mayor Evan Whitestone.

Please leave a message.
(BEEP)

Dad, hi. It's me.

I've just got back from the beach.
Where are you?

Maybe you didn't take your car.

Anyway, um,
look forward to catching up.

Hope the parade went well.

Dad.. .Dad, are you asleep? Dad.



Oh! Dad!

Somebody!

Oh, my god! Oh, my god!

A Christmas wonderland.

Baked snow...Santa climbing down
the chimney, reindeer, sleighs.

Wouldn't it be nice if once it did

actually snow, you know?
Like in the picture books.

You're dreaming
of a white Christmas?

Yeah, I know.

I thought you looked very handsome
in the parade today, Mike.

Thank you, Gina.

Perhaps next year
you could be Santa.

Brokenwood will be needing
a new one.

Let's see what we've got
here first, eh?

Mayor Whitestone.

He's held office
for a long time, right?

As long as I've been here.

Brokenwood's most popular mayor.

I remember his wife died
several years ago

so, there is no Mrs Claus.
Smell that?

What? Smoke?

No evidence of a recent fire.

Evan was on the Christmas float
less than 90 minutes ago.

Whoever did this can't have got far.
We need SSG and ESR

plus the dog team to see if they
can pick up anything fresh.

Your worship, we'll get you
out of here and cleaned up.

You were great
in the parade, by the way.

That must've been difficult.
What?

Whether to refer to him
as the mayor or Santa Claus.

Not at all.

Bring in pathology.

It looks like the carotid artery
was severed.

Judging by the volume of blood,
it was sudden and explosive.

The type of instrument used?

Something sharp. Not serrated.

You're not usually so forthcoming.

I already have a backlog, Mike.

Then I took
time off for the parade.

I love Christmas so much.
But now, I must pay the price.

I've been speaking
with Hayley Whitestone,

Evan's daughter,
and only next of kin.

She arrived back from a holiday
up north from the family bach.

She walks in and finds this.

She's seriously shaken up.

Well, I am glad to see
that you dressed

appropriately for the occasion.

Don't knock it.

He won best dressed elf.
Oh, congratulations.

It was a hollow victory.
Jared didn't show up, and I know

for a fact that Mrs Marlowe
had something amazing made for him.

He's got that sewing circle wrapped
around his little finger.

Roxy did alright.
I feel like a stalk of rhubarb.

Alright, what can we assume?

Evan finishes the parade.

He comes home, drinks some champagne
to celebrate something.

With someone,
hence the two glasses.

That person kills him, then leaves.

Do you think they ate the pie
before, during or after the murder?

Or Evan's a very sloppy eater.

The rest of the house
is immaculate.

Or he was eating
it when he was killed?

Cold, not congealed.
The king of pies.

Mince and cheese?
Steak and cheese.

(SCOFFS)
I think you'll find

the king of pies is mince
and cheese.

Not when a truly great steak
and cheese can be life-changing.

As in giving you a heart attack?
Mince all the way.

Boys! It doesn't matter.

Oh, whatever. It sure looks good.

You wanna eat that?
Yeah, Roxy's gone vegetarian.

I'm not seeing a lot
of meat these days.

Bag it. I wanna know what it is,
where it came from, OK?

Ten bucks says steak and onion.
Done. Anything else?

What do you call it when you find
a dead Father Christmas

inside your house?

In-Santa-cide.

(CHUCKLES)
Oh, that's quite good.

The deceased isn't Santa Claus.
He's just a man in a Santa suit.

Am I missing something?

You should really get changed.

We have a mayor
with his throat cut.

Who was dressed up as Santa.

And, a half-eaten meat pie...

Of an indeterminate flavour.
The local body elections aren't

far off. We can't discount
that being a possible motive.

Probable, even.
He was the most popular mayor ever.

Five straight terms in office.

If he's so popular,
then why kill him?

A frustrated opponent?

The parade started at 10am
and finished at 12pm.

The 111 call comes in at 1:19pm.

Trace Evan's movements from leaving
the parade and getting home.

And, who was he drinking
champagne with last night?

Last night? You mean this afternoon?

That ice bucket was warm.
That champagne was drunk last night.

Or, possibly this morning.

Perhaps he and whoever nicked
a bottle before the parade?

Dutch courage?

For all we know, he could have been
completely trolleyed up there.

(GIGGLES) Yeah, well, maybe that's
how he gets through it every year.

Then, he gets home,
slightly hung over.

Someone is lying in wait
and slits his throat.

Then best we find out
who has a bone to pick with Evan.

I say we start with those
challenging for mayor.

Pete London, Jed Charmers,
Daniel Bloom.

The chemist?
Pharmacist.

And, Victoria Speigleman.

Senior, Kylie from Victim Support
and Hayley Whitestone are here.

Thanks for coming in.

Usually we could do this
at your house, but obviously,

it's off limits
until an examination is finished.

God, I never to go back there.
It's like a house of horrors.

Your father was a great figure
in the community,

and he will always be
remembered that way.

I mean, he was popular.
How does this happen?

Well, that's what we're working on.

He had his throat cut!

Was there anyone that your father
talked about in a way that might

suggest he had an enemy?

God no.

I mean, he had rivals,
but enemies, no.

By 'rivals' you mean other
candidates for the mayoralty?

Pete London,
Jed Charmers, Neil Bloom?

Pete's an awesome guy.
It wouldn't be him. No way.

You seem certain about that.

Well, I worked for him as his PA
when he was expanding

his businesses. I mean, Pete has
a big personality, you know.

He's in your face even, but...

he's a teddy bear.

He might be a butcher,
but he wouldn't hurt a fly.

And, what about Jed Charmers
and Victoria Speigleman?

I... I don't know Jed. Um,
and...Victoria, well, she's um...

Eccentric?
That's putting it politely.

Any idea who Evan might have been
drinking champagne with?

Um... Maureen Moffatt maybe.

Maureen is...?
Evan's campaign manager.

Yeah, she's been
at the council forever, right?

She'll be absolutely devastated.

Was your father partial a meat pie?

What?

Did he like pies?

Pies?
Yes.

You know, steak and cheese, mince
and cheese, that sort of thing.

I'm sorry, how is that important?

We're not sure yet.

Uh, yeah.

Yeah, he used to,
but he was on a diet.

Goji berries. Kale.

The doctor gave me the hard word.

High cholesterol. No more pies.

Ha, I said it's not the pies
that are to blame, it's the idiot

who puts them in his mouth.

So, yes, it's spirulina quiche
from here on in.

So, he was off the pies?

Kylie has organised a motel
and we'll keep you informed

of any developments.
Thank you.

You were up north?
Summers Bay.

Family place?
Yeah.

Holiday?

Uh, a writer's retreat. I'm trying
to finish my first novel.

(SIGHS)
Seems so trivial now.

Still sounds impressive.
What genre?

Romance. It's Mills and Boon.

They can be lucrative, I hear.

Yeah, only if you get them right.
It's harder than it might seem.

That's always been
my feeling with romance.

That was Wally Seymour,
the curator of the float parade.

He reckons Evan left the warehouse
where the floats park up

around 12:30pm,

after doing some photos
with the kids.

Saw him drive off in his Captiva.

Was he with Maureen Moffatt,
his campaign manager?

Didn't mention it.
Find out what time she left.

Did she leave with him, et cetera?

Right, I'm off to see Crazy Pete.

And, I'm on to Jed Charmers.

Oh, look out.
You'll come back a hipster.

Is that good?

Some might say you already are.

You looked very smart in the parade
this morning, Detective Shepherd.

Mrs Marlowe, thank you.

Oh, Jean, please.

You know, next year I'd be happy
to whip you up a senior elf suit.

Well...
Santa's helpers

come in all ages, you know.
I'll bear that in mind.

And, the young ones
can be a bit unreliable.

Jared.
Oh, we put such a lot of work

into that costume.
I'm sure there was a good reason.

I suppose so. He does have
his fingers in a lot of pies.

Mm.

It's true, isn't it?

About Evan Whitestone?
That...?

He was found naked
and bound in his mayoral chains!

That is not the case.

Still...he was a very good mayor.

So it seems. Well, I must...
Are you going in to see Jed?

He'll get my vote now that Evan's
gone. He's a hipster, you know.

Thank you for letting me know.

Yeah, we'll talk soon.
(HANGS UP MOBILE)

Jed Charmers?

I am he. What can I do for you?

Haircut? Wet shave? Coffee?

They all sound good. Detective
Senior Sergeant Mike Shepherd.

Ah. I've just been told about Evan.

Not good.

Not for Evan, no.

(MOBILE RINGING)
Oh! Excuse me.

Breen.

Maureen Moffatt
is not answering her phone

and not answering her door,
but her car is in the driveway.

She's either gone to ground,
or done a runner.

Where are you?
49 Tyre Connell Place.

Standby.

I'll be back later.
Do that.

I could give you a look to match
that classic car of yours.

Maybe.

('TEXT MESSAGE SENT' SOUND)

There you go, Diane.
One pound of my best pork sausage,

hot and spicy,
just the way you like it.

(LAUGHS)
Mighty Meats, can't be beat!

Evan was a good man.

Cut down in his prime.

So to speak.
What?

Oh, I didn't mean it like that.

Why don't we get a coffee?

(KNOCKING)

I called her work, her mobile,
her after hours, nothing.

The neighbours don't recall
seeing her this morning.

Engine is cold.
Maybe she's a jogger?

Or into marathons.

Were you at the parade?

A good opportunity
to press the flesh.

Did you see Evan Whitestone?

Of course. Everyone saw him.
He's bloody Santa.

Did you speak to him?
Afterwards. Well, sort of.

Hey, thanks Evan,
for gathering my voters for me.

Evan! We've got
ten or so kids for photos.

(KIDS CHEER)
Santa! Santa! Santa!

Did you feel snubbed by Evan?
No.

I didn't take it personally,
if that's what you mean.

You see, like Evan,
I'm a people's man with

our affairs here
in public interest.

Mine from people interested
in the issues and...

well, his are mainly
for five-year-olds

wanting a picture with Santa.

Do you need to be somewhere?

Oh, it can wait.
I won't hold you up.

OK. Well, uh, good luck.
Where do you need to be?

Oh, I have a commercial
to make for local TV.

(SINGS) # Don't forget
to take a bit bitey off my meat. #

Well, I'm glad to see my marketing

is reaching its target.
It's hard to ignore.

Well, that's the power
of the jingle.

Oh, I'll take your word for it.

Although, I'm not your target.

You're not a bloody vego, are you?

No.

Anyway, it's not one of those
'ads for my meal' campaign.

Today?

Well, it was scheduled.
It's too expensive to cancel.

And besides, this town needs
a new mayor more than ever.

These are on me.

Still nothing.

Well, Pete London is wasting no time
in capitalising on Evan's death.

His mayoral ambitions
have never been a secret.

Oh, Jed Charmers obviously
didn't give you that makeover then.

False start.
We can't locate Maureen Moffatt.

And, we still have to cover off
Victoria Speigleman and Neil Bloom.

Kristin, come with me.
Breen, you take Speigleman.

Are you too busy
to tackle Speigleman?

Why?
It's just, you know,

I heard she's quite intense in that
way only crazy vegans can be.

No, no. Don't worry. Those claims
that she poisoned her first husband

were never substantiated.

Wally?

DSS Mike Shepherd,
and uh, Detective Sims.

Good to meet ya.
Hell of a shock about Evan.

You're the curator of the floats?
Yeah, curator, wrangler,

the photographer, chief bottle
washer, general dogs' body.

There she is.

This was the one
that Evan was riding?

Yeah, she hasn't changed
in 20 odd years.

Some things are best kept
the same, don't you think?

Do you mind?
Go ahead.

Did you notice anything odd
about Evan after the parade?

No.
He wasn't anxious or hurried at all?

Actually, now you come
to mention it,

he was a little absent-minded.

Evan! We've got ten
or so kids for photos.

(KIDS CHEER)
Santa! Santa! Santa!

Yeah, yeah, you could say
he was in a bit of a hurry.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Look this way. Smile!

And then, Evan headed off?

Do you remember what time?

No. I told your other guy
maybe 12:30pm.

And, what about Maureen Moffatt?
Was she with him?

Maureen? Of course!

And, they left together?

Actually, now you come
to mention it...

no, that's right. She wasn't really.

Usually she stuck
by his side minding his Ps and Qs

and making sure he's shaking
the right hands, but not this year.

So, you didn't see her at all?
Now you've come to mention it, no.

You look quite the part up there.

Gina was right, with a white beard
and a red hat,

you could be next year's
Brokenwood Santa.

No, I couldn't. I could only
be a man in a Santa suit.

Thanks, Wally. Most helpful.

Look, Mike, this whole
'man in a Santa suit' thing...

Our job is to find out
who killed a man in that suit.

We can't refer to him
as Santa because then, potentially,

people might start fearing
that Santa Claus is actually dead.

That would be a very sad day.

Yeah, OK.
To many of us, Santa is very real.

Well, it's good to be clear on that.

More importantly,
why didn't Maureen Moffatt show?

Wally implied that she came
every year with Evan.

Perhaps they drank the champagne
earlier, celebrating poll results,

but had an argument.

She refused to go to the parade
and by the time Evan got back,

she was fuming and...

Cut his throat? What would she have
done if the poll results were bad?

She's gone to ground, right?
Disappeared in a puff of smoke.

If it was a disagreement,
it must've been big.

Were they lovers?

Although,
Hayley would've mentioned that.

Whoa! What?

Where there's smoke,
there's always fire.

We smelt smoke in the living room,

but who lights a fire
in the middle of December?

Yeah,
when it's the height of summer?

If there was a fire,
it's been re-set.

You don't light a fire in the day.

Then he had one last night and then
cleaned it out this morning.

While drinking champagne?

The rubbish bin's empty.
That's been cleaned too.

You think someone
was burning evidence?

Trying to.

But then got smoked out.

Which is why they cleaned the grate.

Or they didn't want us thinking
about the fireplace.

Find a ladder.

Mike!

After you.

No wonder they got smoked out,
it's completely blocking the chimney.

(OMINOUS MUSIC PLAYS)

Two dead Santas in one day.
It's a freakish omen.

(CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKING)
I think Christmas will be unusual.

Hopefully that means snow.

On the other hand, two dead Santas
has to be some sort of a record.

(SCOFFS)
Not in Russia.

In the lead-up to Christmas,
they fall like flies.

Usually from accidents involving
roofs, ice and too much Vodka.

Remember, the deceased is not Santa.
Just a man in a Santa suit.

Or not.

This is a woman in a Santa suit.

Well, clearly this Santa
was intent on delivering

a certain kind of present.

Maybe a Santa stripper-gram?

Senior, I have Hayley Whitestone.

Follow me.

Hayley, thank you for coming.

I'm sorry to ask this,

but do you by any chance
recognise this person?

Oh, god!

That's Maureen.
Maureen Moffatt?

Evan's campaign manager?

What the hell is she doing
dressed as Santa?

Oh, I'm sorry. I feel sick.

Get a PM on Evan Whitestone.
I need a time of death.

Our busy day just got busier,
but he is next in line.

Can we rule out death
by misadventure?

I think so.

This is looking more and more
like a campaign against a campaign.

Someone or some people
didn't want Evan to be mayor again.

I still have Victoria Speigleman
to see. Should I stick with her?

Definitely.
Yeah.

Watch your step!

Interesting.

Victoria Speigleman?
Yes?

DC Breen. Brokenwood CIB.

Oh, yes.
I have a few questions.

Just to keep the dogs away.
What?

The lines. They crap everywhere.
Nobody picks it up.

Right.

So, I trip them up.
I hope they break their necks.

It works for cats too.

Lines are all different heights.
Plays havoc with their whiskers.

Right. Look, I'm here about Evan.

Evan Whitestone. What does he want?
You haven't heard?

Heard what?
He's been found dead.

You'll be needing a drink.

♪ Well, they're full of advice
that I won't ever need.... ♪

This'll put hairs on your chest.

So, when did you last see Evan?

Today at the parade.

Hey, thanks, Evan for gathering
my voters for me.

Speigleman to ban Christmas!

Give it a rest, Victoria.

Christmas is a retail conspiracy!
We can end this together!

People unite!

Not really a huge vote-winner
that policy though, is it? Really.

Who cares?

It's the truth, and true politics
is about truth. Truth and power.

However, if you can't get into
power, you can't effect any change.

Fidel Castro wasn't voted in

and look at the change
he made to Cuba?

That was a bloody coup.

Protest plus revolution
equals change.

Are you saying Brokenwood
needs a revolution?

It needs a change but democracy
favours those in power.

Drink! Please.

(COUGHING)
Wow. OK.

Kawakawa, ginger,
lemon, bitters and arsenic.

It was never proven, you know.

The nonsense said about me.

It's iodine.

Tastes worse than arsenic
but better for you.

Held my grandfather's bowels intact
in the trenches in the Great War.

Can I have a drink of water?
Help yourself.

If you'll excuse me,
my prunes for breakfast are calling.

Neil, if you weren't at the parade,
where were you?

I was at the pharmacy

holding the fort so my staff
could get to enjoy it.

You're a generous boss.

Well, the Santa Parade
is all about family.

My kind of family
have their own parade in the city.

And if you become mayor,
you could look at bringing it here.

Very progressive, detective.

Is Brokenwood ready for its first
gay mayor? I hope so.

Is it ready for a gay pride parade?

That may be a bridge too far.

Many customers this morning?

None. Very quiet.
Well, they were all at the parade.

So, between 9:30am and say,
12:30pm, you had no customers?

But I caught up
on a lot of paper work.

Fun.
Hm. Necessary evil.

I may have more questions.

Oh, just call me. Anytime.

You spoke of a campaign
against a campaign?

Now, there is a campaigner.

Passionate, principled.

Some of those types are prepared
to fight the big fight.

And, here's the thing,
she has a placard inside her house

that speaks out against Evan.
Saying what?

What was your problem
with Evan Whitestone?

Who said I have a problem?
Your placard.

It says,
"Whitestone is a whitewash".

When did you take the sign down?

Why did you take the sign down?

There was no room on the lawn.

Why was he a whitewash?
He was a spineless puppet.

For who?
The oil exploration companies.

There's no oil in Brokenwood.

Yet. But once the fracking starts,
who knows?

And, whether there is or not,
the damage is done.

Do you know what fracking does?
I've heard.

Your taps catch fire. Brokenwood
will become a toxic wasteland.

Are you saying Evan Whitestone
greenlit fracking in Brokenwood?

Not yet, but he would've caved.
They all do.

Oh, so she's delusional.
Which can mean dangerous.

And, what about Maureen Moffatt?

No love lost there.

And, Maureen Moffatt,
when was the last time you saw her?

Don't know. Don't care.

A mouse in wolf's clothing,
or little clothing at all.

She's been found dead
at Evan Whitestone's place.

She always was a coat-tailer.

So, Speigleman didn't like
Evan or Maureen.

She doesn't like anyone.
It's hardly proof.

Well, at least we have proof
of one thing.

That being?

Well, Mrs Claus being real,
it takes all the burden off Santa.

I always wondered how he managed to
cover the whole globe in one night.

Oh, and now we know what they did
for a little R and R afterwards.

Both deceased are just people
in a Santa suit.

They're not the real thing!

OK, I can't believe
I'm about to say this,

but I think Mike
actually believes in Santa.

Come on. That's really not possible.

Is it?

# Don't sit down
before the cookin's done

# You've gotta give it
half a chance before you cut and run

# When your new love needs workin at

# And the workin ain't that fun... #

Back so soon? Just as well.
I want to lay a complaint.

Of?
Burglary.

It was like that when I arrived.

And, you're sure
nothing is missing?

We don't keep cash on the premises.

There's valuable memorabilia,
but none of that is out of place.

I'll pass this on
to the uniform branch.

Probably kids looking for booze.
None taken?

None consumed. I'm tea-total.

I don't need that stuff in my life.

Do you want that new look
to go with your car?

(SCOFFS)
Maybe another time.

I do have a couple
of questions though.

OK.

You're running for mayor?

Are you implying I might
have offed my opposition?

No.

Did you?
No. Is that it then?

What are you offering
that your opponents aren't?

I believe in business and culture.

I want Brokenwood to be
a cultural destination.

A new art gallery, a new museum.

This town needs some vision
and style.

I like the sound of that.

A vote for me is a vote for change.

Don't they all say that?

Neil Bloom isn't.

He's running for the pink vote
which is a statement,

not a realistic manifesto.
Pete London.

In my opinion, he's only running
for mayor to expedite

his own business interest.
Might Meats.

That doesn't require expediting.
What does?

Pete has a property development
on the outskirts.

A massive 100-hectare
residential development.

Well, a white elephant really.
Because?

Evan wouldn't bend the rules
to push it through council.

So, Pete decided
to become the council?

In my opinion.

I'll file that report.

Wake up, Mr Elf!

Wake up!

Mum!

Thank you. Thanks.

Dr Carlton says the gash
in Jared's thigh

missed the femoral artery
by millimetres.

Severe concussion, blood loss.

So, it's a waiting game?

Mike, he was found
with this in his hand

and his car located nearby.
It wreaks of it.

He drove in that state?

Even more worrying is this.

It was found in his pocket.

It has to be what caused
the cut to his thigh.

Take a look at the handle.

Could this have caused
the cut to the throat?

Yes, but so too a box cutter,
a scalpel, many things.

But this would fit the profile?

Mike, I will know more
as soon as you let me get started.

(SIGHS)
Breen, remain with Gina.

I need to see Jed Charmers.

Five minutes.
I'm waiting for my associate.

Background on Maureen Moffatt,
lived alone for a long time,

always a strong advocate for Evan
and his mayoralty aspirations,

worked like a Trojan
but liked to party.

She had a penchant for fancy dress.

So, Santa costume makes sense?

Does it?

♪ Every time I think of you,
you get a little smaller... ♪

Recognise this?

I wondered where that got to.

You knew it was missing?
Misplaced.

But since you have it, it must've
been stolen in the break-in.

You said nothing was taken.
Didn't notice.

You didn't notice
a missing cut-throat razor?

No. They live in the steriliser
and it's called a straight razor.

How many do you have?
Five.

It was a busy day. It wasn't until
this morning when I was setting up,

I saw there were only four.

So, is that the murder weapon?

Why would you assume that?

You're a detective holding
a potentially lethal weapon

in a specimen bag,
investigating a suspicious death.

The cause of which
hasn't been released to the public.

Oh, it's a small town.
You hear things.

From who?

Mrs Marlowe popped in with her
inside knowledge, or speculation.

This is not exactly
her sort of haunt.

On the contrary.
She's my best word of mouth.

Soon your elven chin will be
as smooth as a baby's bottom.

Now, I need you to stay very still.

He was pretty nervous.
All first-timers are.

When was this?

The day before the Santa parade.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Mike.

Jared was at Jed's
the night before the parade.

So, he had opportunity
to take the razor.

But then, so did whoever broke in.

If they're not one in the same.

Mm.

Any developments at your end?

Evan Whitestone's Santa sack
was full of boxes,

big, small, tiny,
but all of them empty.

It's a good thing no kids
were actually expecting presents.

It was all a ruse.

Any luck with crazy Pete's
property venture?

Uh, yeah.
I've arranged to meet him later.

OK.

# I went out to Calgary
hoping to make it big...

# ..Open doors and open doors

# Oh, I saw and I hurt myself
and nearly lost it all

# Yeah, I left you
to your own device... #

(MOBILE RINGING)

Breen.

You should get down here.

My initial belief was correct.

He was killed by a razor sharp slice
to the carotid artery.

That would have occurred
within two minutes.

And now, Maureen Moffatt.

Head wound.

Likely from the edge of the chimney.
But that didn't kill her?

No. It may have stunned her long
enough to die from smoke inhalation.

Intoxication.
Two and a half times

what would be considered sober
for her body weight.

Engagement?
From that finger, yes.

But wait, there's more.

Neither stomach contents
suggests consumption of a meat pie.

And...
Time of death for both,

12-18 hours before discovery
of Evan Whitestone.

Which means...

That Evan was dead
before he went to the parade?

When we find the person
on the float, we find the killer.

Or at the very least an accomplice.

OK. Thanks, Eddie.

What?

That was Eddie Young
from Monsoon Pies.

Hm. Best in town.
That wasn't one of his.

The pastry is generic.
No flake. Poor crust.

And?
And, it was a steak and cheese.

And?

And, he believes
they are the king of pies.

So, find out who bought
that flavour on Saturday morning.

On the bright side,
we can eliminate Crazy Pete

and Victoria Speigleman though.

Why?
Well, firstly, Speigleman

would never touch a meat pie,
and secondly, we can corroborate

both of them as being present
when Evan, or whoever was pretending

to be Evan, dismounted the float.
Well, that's the perfect alibi.

I'm a vegan. I leave a meat pie
at the scene of a crime

and get someone else
to be on the float.

Place yourself where you can be seen.

It doesn't mean that they didn't
organise it or even do it.

This was the work of two people?
Yeah. Why not?

Hayley. It's Mike Shepherd.

Yeah, I've got a couple
of more questions.

Of course, that would require
Victoria Speigleman to have

a friend, which is hard to imagine.

Well, for whatever reason,
whoever was on that float,

it wasn't Evan Whitestone.

Of course,
it could have been the real Santa.

Focus on any Santa Claus lookalikes,
wannabes, fantasists.

Right. OK. How, exactly?

Initiative, Breen.

# Far as the eye can see tonight

♪ The coast is clear... ♪

If Evan was killed
the night before the parade,

why was he wearing a Santa suit?

The bigger question being, why was
Maureen Moffatt wearing a Santa suit

and trying to climb
down the chimney?

♪ ..and that's alright by me... ♪

Hayley, thanks for seeing us.
It's a busy time, we know.

I presume you have some news?

We've learnt that your father was
killed the night before the parade.

But he was at the parade.

Well, someone was. An imposter.

What?
Which means that your father

was wearing his Santa suit
the night before the parade.

Does that seem odd?
Yeah. Of course.

But then, Evan loved being
Father Christmas, I suppose.

What about Maureen Moffatt?

Was there anything more there
than purely professional?

Not that I was aware of.
Why would you say that?

Well, it's the matching
Santa suit thing.

We're just trying to understand
what was going on.

Well, I know Maureen had
a reputation for dress-ups.

I mean, any chance
to turn a function

into fancy dress, she'd do it.

But Evan hated it.

Despite his Santa costume
for the parade?

Well, that was different. That was
for the kids, for his community.

Thanks, Hayley.
We'll keep you abreast

of any further developments.

So, Evan and Maureen
were nothing more than colleagues.

Who liked to dress up after hours.

Excuse me.

Oh, buckle's off now.

Kia ora, Tina.
Kia ora. Detectives Shepherd, Sims.

Little progress I hear.

Well, that's what happens when
you make a good Christian boy

dress up as an elf.

Neither Detective Sims
nor I wanted...

Show me in the scriptures
where Santa Claus is mentioned, hmm?

Never. That's where.
Santa isn't mentioned in the Bible

because he is the Devil's
instrument designed to make

people buy things
with money that they don't have!

I couldn't agree more.
You see.

Here is a woman who understands.

Hi, Tina. I'm so sorry to hear
about your nephew's predicament.

I... You know the detectives?

DSS Shepherd and Detective Sims.

Victoria Speigleman.
But I'm sure you know that.

One of your comrades came by.

DC Breen.
You were at the parade, weren't you?

As I mentioned to DC Breen, yes.

And, uh, the night before?

Where were you?

At home.
Was anyone with you?

Some of us don't have
the resources of other people.

We need to rely
on the cut through of our policies.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I came here to support

a whanau under duress, not suffer
further unnecessary interrogation!

We'll leave you to it then.

And, to a campaign on the back
of very vulnerable people.

Do all mayoral candidates
have to be gross opportunists?

Politics is a ruthless business.

Tell that to Evan Whitestone
and Maureen Moffatt.

I am a drunk woman in lingerie

climbing on top of a roof
dressed as Santa.

Why would you do that?

What? Wear lingerie?
Climb up here.

And dressed as Santa.
To fulfil a fantasy?

Yours or someone else's?
Evan's, we presume.

There's no known attachment
between them. Plus, she was engaged.

But to whom?
Don't know.

Maybe she was cheating
on the fiance with Evan.

One of the guys at work?

Well, Hayley was away,
Evan had the place to himself.

Maureen turns up to see Evan.

It's a pre-parade campaign debrief.

They drink champagne
to celebrate progress.

They light a fire
to make things Christmas cosy.

But the room fills up with smoke.
I forgot about Santa in the flue!

(LAUGHS)
I'll go do it.

Maureen climbs the ladder.

She gets a face full of smoke.
(COUGHING)

She coughs, splutters, passes out,
collapses into the flue, and dies.

And, whilst dying, manages to upend
herself into the chimney?

True.
Plus, her reflexes

would make her recoil.
So, someone held her down?

We have to accept
that someone else was on the roof.

Most likely the same person
that killed Evan?

The jealous fiance?

Possibly.
But the question is, who is that?

(MOBILE RINGING)

Breen.

Uh-huh.

Right. Thanks.

The lab have found traces of Evan's
blood on the straight razor.

That links Jared directly.

So it seems.

After you.

I hope you have an update
on the break-in.

Nothing as yet.

This is Detective Sims.
Hello.

As you can see,
my hands are rather full.

Well, we don't want to hold you up.

We're just piecing together
people's movements.

Were you at the parade?

(SIGHS)
Sir, I'll be right with you.

No, I wasn't.

It's not really my thing.

I took the opportunity to keep
the shop closed and headed down

to Brokenwood beach for a surf.

Were there many other surfers
out there?

As it happens, it was just me.

I guess they were all at the parade.
And, the night before, you were...?

Eating.

With?

My campaign manager,
Simon Petrovic.

Where?
Here.

And, this was before the break-in?
Oh, of course.

Can we get Simon's number to verify?
Good luck with that.

He's on a plane.
Which will land at some point.

In Croatia.
It's a 28-hour flight.

Why?
To visit his sick aunt.

I'm not sure
this will work overseas.

It's bad timing with your campaign.

Life happens.

Are you OK?

Yeah. Fine.

Thanks.

I'll put a call into Hughes.
Get Interpol onto this Petrovic guy.

Jed Charmers is a wannabe mayor,
yet he doesn't attend the one event

that would guarantee him a large
audience to mix and mingle with.

Instead, he's in a place
that no-one can verify him being.

Plus, he has a break-in
where nothing was stolen

except for a cut-throat razor
with the victim's blood on it.

Convenient?
(TELEPHONE RINGS)

Do you think it's a set up?

It could be,
by him to deflect suspicion.

It's suspicious, yes.
But motivation?

Yep.
The mayoralty?

Yeah, sure.

Although if he wants it that bad,
why wasn't he at the parade?

Perhaps he was.
Dressed up as Santa?

That wouldn't really work.

No.

What about
his missing mate, Petrovic.

Goodbye. Yep. Thank you.
Yes. Thank you.

Yes. Thank you. Goodbye!

That was Mrs Marlowe. Get this,
she once made a bespoke Santa suit

for Pete London of Mighty Meats.

Well, this is it. Big Vista.
Meetville.

Yeah, I came up with that.

It's a big vision.

So, what's the hold up?
Zoning.

They're changing it
from rural to residential?

Everyone can see
it's a progressive and good idea.

Brokenwood has to grow.

Everyone except Evan Whitestone.

Oh, he had the power of veto.
He used it.

Do you think it was personal?

Short-sighted.

Not anymore.

I'm sure the council
will reconsider.

After the elections
when you are voted in as mayor,

since you have little opposition now.

Brokenwood needs to expand
or get left behind.

The last thing it needs is a new
bloody art gallery or museum.

People can't live in art.

They need houses.

Much the same way
that developers need permits.

Do you think I'd be that obvious?

We have to consider all the angles.

Well, then, consider this.

I had nothing to do
with Evan Whitestone's demise,

or his puppy dog, Maureen Moffatt.

If you want motive,

look a little harder at that crazy
vegan, Victoria Speigleman.

Victoria Speigleman.

Why?
Why?

Are you serious?
I'm a butcher. I deal in meat.

She'll do anything to discredit me.

No. Why would she kill Evan?

You had a Santa suit made for you.

What?
A Santa Claus suit.

Oh, some years ago, yeah,
for a promotional campaign. So what?

Have you, or a colleague,
or a friend worn it lately?

No. Why?
So, you still have the suit?

It'll be somewhere in storage.
I'd like to take a look at it.

Oh, please, detective!
I'm a busy man!

And, likely to become
a lot busier once you're mayor.

So, shall we?

I'm at the Frog and Cheetah.

Ha, long, wet lunch?
No, I wish.

I'm trying to co-opt
likely Santas for a photo shoot.

A photo shoot?
I'll explain later.

Ray Neilson is a bit weary,

but he did mention Jared was seen
drinking with Evan

here the night before the parade.

Right.

Yeah, I served Evan and Jared.
Evan was full of joie de vivre.

I'm not sure why.
Christmas cheer maybe.

As I was saying to Jared,

we must let bygones be bygones.
You'd agree, wouldn't you, Ray?

If I could change the past,
I'd have to change my ways.

Not sure who said that.

Probably me.

Another dirty bastard for the road?

'Dirty bastard'?

His favourite rum cocktail.

He was fond of his rum, old Evan.
Probably a sailor in another life,

or the one he's going to now
if you believe in all that.

Who did he call?

I'm not an eavesdropper.
But Jared would have overheard?

Perhaps. It may have pertained
to what they were discussing.

Which was?
As I say, I'm not an eavesdropper.

How is Jared?

It's a waiting game.

It's bloody terrible.

Was he drinking dirty bastards too?
Another beer, Jared?

No, all good.
I'm driving his worship home.

Big day tomorrow.

Channelling the elf within.

Nah. He's a beer man with a nose
for a good red, as you know.

I do.

Thanks.

Ah, it's purely coincidence.

The uh, suit will be in here.

Along with all the other costumes
we've used over the years

for promotional purposes.

After you.

Uh, you go.
You'll know where best to find it.

Oh, OK.

So, where is it.

I'm sure... Look, it's not here.
But, uh...

Right! Can you explain that?

If the public get wind of this,
it'll jeopardise

my electoral chances.
For the record, you are simply

helping us with our inquiries.

Everybody knows that's a euphemism
for being a bloody suspect.

If this gets out, I will sue.
Are you prepared for that?

This is a witness statement,
Mr London.

We just need to fill in the blanks.

So, you attended the parade...
Yes!

I told you. There were witnesses.

Ask Wally Seymour, even that witch,
Speigleman saw me.

Yeah, but the night before.
You can't account for where you were.

How is it relevant?

Is there someone who could attest
to where you were?

What about your wife?

She's in Sydney
on a bloody yoga retreat.

Anyone else?
You're fishing for an alibi.

For want of a better term.
I don't need one.

And, the sooner you can explain
your movements that night,

the sooner we're going to be
sure of that.

I'm not under arrest, am I?

No, you're not.
So, I don't have to stay here.

All I'm after is an explanation
of your whereabouts

and the whereabouts
of that Santa suit.

I can do that when I return
with my lawyer.

Mr London.
Just the man I wanted to see.

Would you be willing to don
a Santa suit for a photo shoot?

I'll do no bloody such thing!

Shame. It would've helped
eliminate him as a suspect.

Yeah. He gets a little tetchy
over the word 'suspect'.

What photo shoot?
All in good time.

Hey!

I've been thinking.
Perhaps Mike does believe in Santa,

like as an imaginary friend,
you know?

Because he's got no-one else.

He's that alone guy
on Christmas day.

Why else would he volunteer
to be on duty on the 25th?

Yeah, well, at least
I get to go to my parent's place

and have it all laid on.

That strange Antipodean and tradition

of a mighty roast
on a sweltering summer's day.

Yeah, good for you.
It's just me and Roxy this year.

I'll be lucky
to get tofu and lettuce.

End of day two, and we know what?

Uh, Pete London
is obfuscating on his whereabouts

on the night of the murders,
and we are still waiting to hear back

from Jed Charmer's campaign manager,
Simon Petrovic, to verify his story.

We know Jared Murray,
he was the last to see Evan alive.

If he dropped him off.
Which we will only know when Jared

wakes up and answers
a few questions.

Yeah, though we have to be prepared

for the possibility
that he may not wake up.

Oh, well, he's a fighter.
He'll pull through.

In the meantime, I have a photo
shoot set for first thing tomorrow.

Right. What is this?

Mrs Marlowe and her sewing circle
have created a replica suit

to the one of Evan's.

Ray Neilson, Neil Bloom and two
others of similar height and build.

Plus, I'll approach Jed Charmers.

Well, it can't be Jed.
Why not?

Because, you know.
What?

He's Maori. He'd be brown Santa.

We at least know he's not Maori
and he's got blue eyes.

But we're dealing with a guy
who went to extraordinary lengths

to disguise himself.
I mean, who knows how far he went?

You mean like white make-up?

And contact lenses. Why not?
Because it's implausible.

Ugh! Come on! Look!
Here it is.

We're dealing with a tiny fraction
of the human face

to identify our culprit.

By getting them to become Santas,
we could at least eliminate.

And, anyone who doesn't want to
do it, well, what are they hiding?

You wanted initiative.

Right now, all I
want to do is swing by

the hospital and check on Jared.

Followed by a glass of red.

Good luck with that.

'Night.

Try and look kind of jolly.

(LAUGHTER)

Yeah. That's good.
I feel stereotyped.

My jovial attitude
to life leads me to being

in some weird suspect line-up.

That's funny.
I don't think of you as jovial.

Really?

Grumpy, cantankerous and surly
are words that spring to mind.

Here, vote Bloom
for equality and honesty.

Sam, we're ready.
Alright, hold that, mate.

Hold that.

Oh, don't they look lovely?

Smile.

Very good. Smile!

Next.

Say, "Merry Christmas"!

So, as you can see, white wig,
white beard, spectacles, gloves...

It's a little hard to tell...
anything at all, really.

So, all you've proved
is what we already knew,

that it could've been anybody.

You've seen one Santa,
you've seen them all.

Except Pete London
refused to participate,

and Jed Charmers
wouldn't co-operate.

Yeah. That sounded awkward.

Do I look like a traditional Santa?

It's part of an elimination process.

I don't think so.

It doesn't exonerate him.
I mean, two people

could've been involved in this.

Someone on the float,
to provide our other likely suspects,

an alibi, or...
I don't know.

Are we really discounting
this guy because it's unlikely?

It doesn't mean he didn't do it.

And, we still don't know
it wasn't this guy.

Was he actually in Croatia?

And, we can't forget about Jared.

Jed fakes a break-in
to throw us off the scent.

But how did Jared end up
with a straight razor in his pocket?

He nicks it
when he's getting a shave.

Which means the break-in
was legitimate.

But nothing was taken.

Unlikely.
Ta.

137 steak and cheese pies were sold
in Brokenwood on Saturday morning

from five different bakeries, six
dairies and three service stations.

137. Hmm.

We're in the wrong business.

Oh, I need a coffee. Anyone else?

I'll follow up on crazy Pete's
resistance to play Santa.

He may have had a change of heart.

Well, thank you.
And, remember, a vote for me

is a vote for equality and honesty.

Uh-huh!

There you go.

And...too much, do you think?

Well, it gets the message across.

Did you know Maureen Moffatt?

Of course. Tragic business.

I understand she liked to party.

Oh, yes. Maureen was never shy
of a good time.

A bit more than that. She was
a tenacious council employee.

Devoted to her job, and to Evan.

How devoted?
Very.

Hello, there. A vote for me
is a vote for equality and honesty.

Enjoy your breakfast.

They were having an affair?

Why would they do that? It's not
like either were in a relationship.

But Maureen was engaged.

To whom?
You don't know?

If that were true,
I'm sure word would've got out.

She only had eyes for Evan,

but they never declared
themselves as a couple.

Excuse me. Hi, there.

A vote for me is a vote
for equality and honesty, OK?

Thank you.
Why?

Well, Evan could never bring himself
to accept that he'd moved on

from his dead wife.
Are you sure about this?

Yes!

How did you know
if Hayley Whitestone didn't?

Out of respect for Hayley.

Evan was a kind man.

Pompous, but kind.

And, given the grim circumstances
of Patsy's death,

it's hardly surprising.

When Pete gets back,
can you get him to give me a call?

(BANG)
Oh!

I've got this.

Say no to fracking!
Hey!

Has Victoria stopped ranting?

No. But she's in the cell
so, it doesn't matter.

Why was she accusing
Pete London of fracking?

You can wait here until
a duty solicitor arrives.

I have the right to free speech.
Therefore, I've done nothing wrong!

Apart from wilful damage,
disorderly behaviour

and assault of a police officer?

Read this!

Minutes from a closed
council meeting.

Pete London wasn't
after residential consent.

Oh, my god!

Everyone can see
it's a progressive and good idea.

Brokenwood has to grow.

Mining consent.

Evan vetoed it. It went away,
but Victoria believed

he would've been
bought off eventually.

So, she killed him?
Maybe.

But that would've assured
that Pete got elected.

Then he'd be free to run riot.

She is so deluded, she probably
thought she might win.

Any tips on removing motor oil
from a polyester suit?

Setting fire to it?

Thanks so much for popping back in.
How are the arrangements going?

Everyone's been amazing.
Hmm.

Well, the big day is tomorrow.

In the meantime,
I'm sure it takes all your energy

just putting one foot
in front of the other.

It feels like you're wading
through molasses. I know.

You've been there?

I have. Although with your mother
and now your father,

hat is a terrible loss.
Mm.

Look, I won't hold you up.

We're trying to fill in
a few blanks.

Trying to eliminate
several scenarios.

Can you remember what time
you arrived back in Brokenwood?

You mean, when I found Evan?
Yes.

Oh...I rang 111.

Of course.
Um...

At 1:19pm.

As a matter of interest, is it
a long trip down from The Bach?

Uh, about an hour and 45.
Give or take.

So, you would've left Smiths Bay
at around say, 11:30am?

That sounds right. Why?

This may or may not have
anything to do with anything,

but do you think your father

and Maureen Moffatt might have been
anything more than just colleagues?

How do you mean?
Romantically.

No.

Well, let's say it was true.

Can you think of a reason
he might not tell you?

But he would. I... I would be
the first person he would tell.

Oh.

Is there...is there something
I don't know about?

Nothing concrete.

Then, why would you ask that?

Following lines of inquiry.

Most lead over a bridge to nowhere,
but all must be explored.

The man in the station wagon.
Sorry?

When I pulled into town,
I... I had a small accident.

I'm so sorry!

It doesn't look that bad.
When exactly?

I exchanged numbers with him.

He might remember when. Look,
I'll write down my details for you.

I'm really sorry about that.
I have his details here somewhere.

That would be helpful.
(KNOCKING)

Sorry to interrupt. Hi, Hayley.
Hi.

A quick word?
Excuse me.

Jared's woken up.

Uh, some good news at last.

Well, the last thing
I remember is getting

one of those
crazy shaves at Jed's.

Yeah, it was Mrs Marlowe's idea.

That's right.

Yeah. Not my idea
of a good time, you know.

Do you remember how you got
the bump on the head?

No idea.

What about drinking with Evan
Whitestone at the Frog and Cheetah?

No. Sorry.

And, what about necking
a bottle of rum?

Rum?

No. No chance.
I can't stand the stuff.

I blew that pleasure
on my 16th birthday.

Never again, Mike.

I think that'll do for now, please.

Jared, the king of pies?

Yeah. Steak and cheese, all the way.
You know that, Mike.

Rest up.

His symptoms are consistent
with partial amnesia.

How long will it take
for his memory to return?

A day. A week. Year.
Possibly never.

So, recent events
could be permanently eradicated?

Yes.
Well, could that be the concussion

or an alcohol-related blackout?

Well, for a man who supposedly drank
a bottle of rum,

his blood alcohol
is surprisingly low.

Negligible, in fact. It's probably
the reason he didn't die out there.

So, he wasn't drunk.

Hmm.

Senior.

# Well, put down a notch,
you know, I'm South Island bound

# Heading onto the six,
going home to my little town

# Tired of all these choking sticks
and ugly roads

# Wanna find a place in my islands,
go to a place where nobody knows

# Well, maybe I'll write a poem,
maybe history or two

# It's hard to leave
someone I once knew

# Well, it's alright tonight

# I'm headin' home

# Well, it's alright tonight

# I'm headin' home

# Keep those glasses coming,
it's just the afternoon

# When the evening twists

# I'll be loving out there
howling at the moon. #

(KNOCKING)

Uh, Evan Whitestone's phone records,

and the tech boys managed
to hack into his voicemail.

There's a recording of Hayley.
She was leaving a message

when she discovered his body.

It's rather chilling.
Thanks.

Mike... did you keep mentioning
that many people believe in Santa.

They do.
I assume you mean people

of about age eight or younger?

Or have a mental age of eight.

Which is not you.

Right now, I'm not so sure.

My sister, her son,
Aaron is Down Syndrome.

Right. Sorry.
Don't be.

He's probably the most positive,
happiest fella you could ever meet.

When he talks about Santa Claus,
well, you realise that Santa is,

of course without a doubt,
100% real.

Why would we want to do
anything to spoil that?

What are you doing for Christmas?

Uh, mum and dad are flying back
from a holiday in the UK in time

to shove a roast in the oven. You?
Working.

Right. Well, good night.
'Night.

(VOICEMAIL BEEPS)

HAYLEY: "Dad, hi. It's me.

"I've just got back
from the beach. Where are you?

"Maybe you didn't take your car.
Anyway, um, look forward

"to catching up.
Hope the parade went well.

"Dad... Dad, are you asleep?

"Dad.... "
(GASPS)

"Oh! Dad! Somebody!"

(FAINT BEEPING)

(OMINOUS MUSIC PLAYS)

(INDISTINCT RADIO CHATTER)

Someone tried to finish Jared off,

but the machines that go 'beep'
started going crazy,

and two nurses
scared the assailant off.

Security?

He made it out
before they could apprehend him.

Description.

Should we be surprised? Or not?

It's only a matter
of seconds later when...

If I had to place a bet,
I'd say that that physicality

most resembles Pete London.

So, his suit had gone missing?

That's his story.

Mm. Rewind.

Interesting.
We know two things.

One, that Jared has been stabilised.
And, two, whoever is on this CCTV

footage is not the real Santa,
just a man in his suit.

Hmm.

Thanks again for coming in.
No worries.

Who was that?

Steven Lipton.

He and Hayley had a nose-to-tail
on her way back into town.

Where's Breen?
He's on an errand.

So, that places Hayley back in town
just after the parade.

Hm. No luck there then.
I'm not sure luck has got

anything to do with it. Apart from
bad luck for Evan and Maureen.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Kristin Sims.

Detective Sims.
This is Dennis Buchanan.

My client, Pete London and I have
something we would like to show you.

Thank you for coming by.

I believe you were interested
in the whereabouts of this.

Indeed.
Well, here it is.

I swear I have no idea
how it got there.

Someone's been playing
silly buggers.

Most likely, Jed Charmers.
Or Victoria Speigleman.

Peter, that is the concern
of the police.

Yours is simply to help them
wherever possible

with their inquiries.
Which you have done.

It'll be bloody Charmers.
We have no proof of that.

We do, however, have proof
of Peter's whereabouts

the night of Evan's death.

My client was in the city
attending a gentleman's club.

There will be receipts to prove it,
and no doubt security footage

should you wish to delve further.
The name of the venue?

Stallions. He stayed over
at a hotel. He may, or may not

have had company and arrived back
in time for the parade

and will sign an affidavit
if required.

But the point is, my client
wasn't in Brokenwood that night.

And, the nature of his activities
are private, and in no way illegal,

and therefore not something
the public ever need to know about.

Like fracking.

Thank you for your candour.

I hope it doesn't have to go
any further,

like the idea of oil exploration
in Meetville.

For the record,
that's a terrible name.

Oh, god! Look, we've got happy
hour coming up. Can't this wait?

This won't take a moment.
Why?

You wanna dress me up
as Humpty Dumpty now?

Your lot still trying to figure out
if he fell, or was pushed?

Evan Whitestone.
You said he was in a lively mood.

Lively is another word
for quite pissed, but yes.

But happy.
"Joie de vivre", you said.

Yes.
About what?

I don't know.
He was raving, to be fair.

When punters get the rave on,
I tend to switch off.

It's part of the skillset
of hospitality. Nod, smile and think

about something else entirely
while the punter waffles on.

It's time to come out
of the closet.

Tomorrow. The town can know,
and you know what, Ray?

That's OK.

Maybe he was gonna announce
that he was gay.

That would've taken the wind
out of Neil Bloom's sails.

Is that it?

Well, Jared was being vulgar
of course.

(MOUTHS)

Vulgar?
You know.

The old sign for a bit of the old...
(WHISTLES)

Of course. The old...

Then, Jared offered him a ride.

So, Santa.

Since Hayley is away,
do you want me to be your

chauffeur in the morning?

As long as you have room for two.

(LAUGHTER)

I'll leave you to your happy hour.

(MOBILE RINGING)
Hughes.

This Simon Petrovic fella.
He is in Croatia. Do you know why?

We were told he had a sick aunt.

That may be the case.
She's probably sick with worry

because he's also secreting away
his nephew, Vinnie Petrovic.

Vinnie slipped his home detention
bracelet on Friday night.

It flew out on the red eye.

So, thanks for the heads up.
Happy to help.

How are you getting on
with the Whitestone case?

Small steps.
Shame. Nice bloke.

I met him once at a charity do
with a stepdaughter, Hannah.

Hayley?
Hayley. That's it. A bit of a honey.

Probably shouldn't say that.

Anyway, let me know
if you need anything else.

And, the international boys
owe you one.

Cheers.

Your campaign manager,
Simon Petrovic.

He is in Croatia.
Right, like I said.

With his nephew.

But then I think you
already knew that.

I presume he was with Simon
at your meeting on Friday night?

You can leave that. Call it a day.
Sure.

Look, Simon didn't ask for trouble.
Vinnie came to him.

And, Simon came to you?
He's a good friend.

He's like a brother.

You can't bring him in here, bro!

He was in a jam. I lent him
some money. That is all.

(SIGHS)
I mean, what would you do?

I'd probably take that down.

Crazy Pete
was at a strip club in the city.

He could've saved himself
a lot of pain

if he explained
that at the beginning.

But, his Santa suit
has miraculously reappeared.

Overnight?
Someone put it back there.

Or he did.
Back in his office?

Actually, that makes perfect sense.
It does?

We don't need to
push him any further.

And, Jed Charmers too.
His alibi is complicated, but true.

Senior, all set.

Thanks.

So, Pete London, Jed, Victoria,
Neil Bloom,

all of our suspects
are off the table?

Not all.

Join me when Breen calls.

He's up at Smiths Bay, hopefully
verifying a couple of things.

So, you're focusing
on Evan's daughter?

Step-daughter actually.

You know the funeral
is in less than an hour?

This shouldn't take more
than a couple of minutes.

I just want to talk about
your mother's passing.

Why? I still find
it hard to talk about.

Trust me, I understand.
I know it creates great pain

for those of us left behind.
Your mother?

Someone very close.

Your mother suffered
clinical depression.

One day she decides that the only
way out involved the bathtub

and a razor blade.

It was you who heard
the terrible misfortune...

Do we have to talk about this?

How did Evan handle
the depression she suffered?

He did what he could.

He stayed so busy, he didn't
really have time to deal with it.

(KNOCKING)
Breen's on the phone.

Excuse me.

Talk to me.
It checks out, Mike.

Hayley was definitely here.

There's fresh food
still in the fridge.

Bed is unmade.

There's a laptop on the table.

Some sort of manuscript.

There's only a handful of houses.

It might be hard to find
anyone to verify when she left.

What is the title
of the manuscript?

'Blood Letting'.

Mike, it's only a title page.

We need to be gentle.
It seems she has writer's block.

Look, I need to get to the funeral.
Of course. One more thing,

on the night before the parade,

Evan called you
at um...

Uh...9:03pm.

I can't remember the time,
but he called me. Yes.

To say?

Just to check
when I was coming home.

That's all?
Yes.

He didn't have any other news?

That's all I recall.
Oh, strange.

Because in the seconds
before he called you from the pub,

he was waxing lyrical about
"letting bygones be bygones",

about "coming out of the closet
and in the morning,

"the whole town would know".

Oh, and you did mention

that if Evan had any news
that you'd be the first to know.

Look, I...I don't know
what you're getting at.

Evan was busting with excitement
because, as he told you,

he was on his way to meet Maureen
Moffatt to pop the question.

And, I wanted you to be
the first to know.

Tomorrow, for the first time
in many years, since your mum died,

at the Santa Parade there will be
a Mrs Claus riding on the float.

I'm so happy for you.

But you weren't happy, were you?

Up until then, you were the sole
beneficiary to Evan's will.

But if he gets remarried,
it starts getting shared around.

And, Maureen's only 39.
If she decides to get pregnant...

You're forgetting
that I was at Smiths Bay.

It's only an hour
and three-quarters away.

The night was still young.
Plenty of time to formulate a plan.

A plan that had probably been
brewing for years...

since your mother's demise.

To point the blame
at those with likely motives,

and lethal means.

(EVAN LAUGHS)
Ho! Ho! Ho!

Hayley! We didn't hear you come in.

Well, I couldn't wait
to congratulate you.

('SILENT NIGHT' PLAYS ON THE STEREO)

Expensive.

Is that the Santa suit
that my mother used to wear?

I'll go get another glass.

It is. It's about time it got
used again, don't you think?

We should light a fire.

A fire?
Yeah, make it more Christmassy.

Marvellous!
(LAUGHS)

This is stupid and the funeral
is about to start.

Sit down, Hayley,
or you'll miss the best part.

(COUGHS)

Santa must be coming
down the chimney.

Oh, the bloody dummy!

Oh, Evan, don't be silly.
You're half drunk.

I'll hold the ladder.

Oh, OK.

Oh! Stupid bloody things.

Is it clear?
What?

The flue. Check it's clear.

(GRUNTS AND SCREAMS)

(PANTING)

# Oh, Christmas tree

# Oh, Christmas tree. #

Any luck?

That Santa is well
and truly wedged in there.

Oh, well. Where's Maureen?

She had soot on her face.

More champagne?

I will.

You never really like Evan, did you?

You thought
he was a pompous old bastard.

Him not being your biological
father, you could be dispassionate.

For that moment in time.

(SLICING)

(GURGLING)

To get the job done.

You should write novels, detective.

That is quite a story.

I haven't finished yet.

On that key ring will be a key
to Pete London's office.

You used to work for him.
You still have the key, am I right?

If it is, I wasn't aware of it.
It was a long time ago.

What better place to find
a freshly padded Santa outfit

fit for a parade.

Why didn't you stage
it as a suicide pact?

I didn't stage anything!
Suicide wouldn't ring true.

There were too many witnesses
to Evan's happiness.

Ray Neilson, Jared Morahu.

Better to point the finger
at one or several of Evan's rivals.

It was a good plan.

Except...
(KNOCKING)

Yo! Santa and Mrs Santa!
Your sleigh awaits.

Oh, hi.

I thought you was up north.

Where's um...oh, Evan.
He's asleep.

What? Evan.

Whoa!

(LOUD CLANG)

It must've taken a while
to decide on the plan.

Was leaving the pie
a good or bad idea?

You certainly tied Jared
to the scene,

if you could make it look like
he did it and he was dead, well...

The makings of a perfect crime.
Mm.

That was your second mistake.

Jared hates rum.
And, what was my first?

Committing murder.
Nice try.

You don't accept that you did?

If this was true,
why would I partake in the parade?

Well, initially, you needed time
to get back from the bach.

If Evan was at the parade, no-one
would think anything was amiss.

You're cutting it fine, Evan.

(CHEERING)

But now with Jared in the mix,
that seemed less important.

Having driven Evan's car
to the parade, you dropped it home.

From there, you drove to town
as if just arriving.

Being sure to have a little accident
on the way to put...

I'm so sorry.
..you in time and place.

It doesn't look that bad. Look,
I'll write down my details for you.

I'm so sorry.

Calling Evan as you walked in
thereby leaving evidence

of your own shocked discovery.

Dad, hi it's me.
I've just got back from the beach.

Where are you?

Nice touch.

That was your third mistake.

Why would you say that?

You tried too hard.

In all our dealings with you, you
never once referred to him as Dad.

Only Evan.

Dad.

Dad, are you asleep? Dad!

(GASPS)
Dad! Somebody!

You thought you'd killed Jared,
didn't you?

But then when you heard that...
Sorry to interrupt.

Jared's woken up.

Oh, some good news at last.

It was time to don
the suit again.

(BEEPING AND MUFFLED GROAN)

He should've bled to death.

Hayley Whitestone...

I'm charging you with the murders
of Evan Whitestone

and Maureen Moffatt and the attempted
murder of Jared Morahu.

Love you too. Bye.

My parents' plane has been grounded
at Heathrow due to snow.

They're not going to make it back
in time for Christmas day.

Shame.

(LAUGHS)
Yeah, I'm really jealous.

They get to have a white Christmas.

Oh, I can't promise you snow,
but you're welcome to join me.

Thanks.

When did you zero in
on Hayley Whitestone?

When I looked at her bookshelf.

For a romance writer,
there wasn't one of that genre.

They're all about...
Scandinavian serial killers?

Pretty much.

How did you know that the figure
running down the hospital corridor

in Pete London's Santa suit
wasn't Pete London?

That's not important.

No, it is.
That's how I get better at my job.

I'd rather not say.
Please!

OK. But you're not gonna like it.

Oh, that Santa ran like a girl.

For the record, I never said that.

You did.

# Joy to the world,
the lord is come... #

God, that looks good.

Not a word to Roxy.

Promise?

Merry Christmas.

Whoa!

Merry Christmas.

ALL: Merry Christmas.

# Let heaven and nature sing... #

Oh!
(LAUGHTER)

Someone needs to stop Clearway Law.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.