Oh, sorry, Mr. Frost.
I thought you were long gone.
Oh, Nick.
What?
What did you put this on for?
It's a jumper, Mum.
Keeps you warm.
You should wear a tie in court.
The citizen is always telling you.
Yeah, right, bye.
What?
All right, bro.
Tommy.
God, you scared me.
Your blue-eyed boy's here, Mom.
Where is Nick off to?
Court, I hope.
I wish you'd give him a talking to.
What about?
Getting his act together.
(unintelligible)
He'll grow out of it.
Oh, yeah.
Like your dad in strange ways.
All right, all right there,
morning, morning, morning.
Hey Dazza, you made it.
Wouldn't miss this for the world.
Nice one, nice one.
Renwright's got the horn, has he?
Don't start blowin.
That's my horn.
God's sake, let's go!
(unintelligible)
anytime.
You need any washing?
No, you don't have to do my washing for me.
It's no problem,
I've got to go to the launderette anyway.
Oh, yeah, okay, just what's on the bedroom floor.
And I thought I'd have the blitz on
over the next couple of days.
I mean, it's so much easier to keep a house clean
if it's not dirty.
Yeah, well, anything you say, Kate,
yeah, thanks very much.
Keys.
Car keys?
Jack's not going to screw me up
by being late, I hope.
No, no, no chance sir.
He knows what story you set by these seminars.
I must say, you've provided us
with some first-rate speakers.
It's just that Jack isn't really used
to public speaking.
Yes, that's why I want him.
Right.
(unintelligible) on his way to the first floor.
Now, remember, no rough stuff, right?
If the saboteurs try to get through,
they shall not pass, that's all.
They shall not pass.
Whoa!
Let's turn these scumbags over, shall we?
Listen!
This is a peaceful demonstration.
There could be 200 people here today
making a legal dignified protest.
I'm not having it hijacked
by a bunch of mindless yobs.
Mindless?
I think you better watch your language, Mr. Wingro.
Ready?
Then can I have that back, please?
(unintelligible)
Just remember, you're just a corporal
you're not the captain.
I'm the captain today.
Yes.
Oh, excuse me.
I forgot to mention sir, I filled our CID vacancy.
Oh, thank you, sir.
Sheer nepotism,
but he needs another dollop of Jack Frost.
My nephew.
Hello, D.C. Barnard.
Morning, sir.
Excellent.
Good morning, sir.
Terribly sorry I'm late.
No, no, no, no.
Do you want a coffee?
Oh, coffee, no, thank you sir no, I'm ...
oh, good morning, sir.
No, I'm fine.
Good morning, Guv.
Barnard?
What are you doing here, hey?
So what is it exactly that you want me to ...
Whatever.
All right everyone, take your seats please.
Your very own Jack Frost.
I couldn't wake up this morning.
I was having this dream.
It wasn't a very nice dream.
I tried to wake up, but I couldn't.
I was in this street, extraordinary street,
somewhere in Denton, I don't know where it was.
And I was on a call,
but I couldn't remember the number,
which house.
So each house I came to,
I opened the door.
And when I looked in,
there were terrible things going on,
you know, terrible things.
I wanted to try and do something about it,
but I knew it was the wrong house.
Each house that I came to
was the wrong house.
Eventually I came to the last house on the street,
and I opened the door,
and there was no one there.
It was empty,
except for a,
except this table.
And on the table was a book.
When I opened the book,
there was a photograph
of me as a young man.
I hope it was about me.
It was like a biography, in the works.
And I just stood there, reading it.
I read it right through.
And I kept thinking, I kept thinking
about all those terrible things
that were happening in the other houses,
and I wanted to do something about it.
But I couldn't move.
I had to stand there and read that book.
And I started to cry.
That is a public footpath,
and you have no right to stop us going into it!
That's right!
It's not a public footpath;
it's private property and you're not allowed on it.
It is a public footpath.
Every ordinance survey map I've seen said so.
Right!
This is my employer's land,
but if it was a public footpath,
you'd only be allowed on it to pass or repass,
not to start a demo of breaching the peace.
How can you say what will happen.
Only the police can say
if they think a breach of the peace is likely,
and only the police can stop us!
You're not going down that footpath.
Ruthie?
You and Steven go on point, please.
Come.
Open the gate, Please, thank you.
Make way.
For God's sake.
Whoa!
You bloody fool.
Honestly.
You now just get out the bloody way!
Come on hey, come on!
Hello.
Let's get those trousers dirty, shall we?
No, let go!
Let go!
Get out the way!
Hey!
Do you think it's time you took some leave, Jack?
Sir?
Well, I never tell anyone my dreams.
Not even Mrs. Mullett?
Especially not Mrs. Mullett.
(crowd chanting, "Say no to the hunt")
What do you want me to do with Barnard?
It's not what I want you to do,
Chief Constable wants you to continue his education.
Call from Magistrate's Court.
Nick Walder failed to answer his bail.
Nick Walder never answers his bail.
That is why Nick Walder should never be given bail.
Anyway, tell the custody officer, not me.
Well, I just thought a CID
had an interest in the case.
Sorry, sir.
Jack?
I'm serious about your taking a holiday.
Laying one's self bare in public
is not conducive to good policing.
Aye, sir.
Eccentrics are only tolerated so long
as they come up with the goods.
Bear that in mind.
Yes, I will, sir.
Eccentric?
Hmm.
Well, it's very nice to have you back.
Oh, it's nice to be here.
Oh, maybe we could have a drink tonight.
Yeah, maybe.
It's on your desk.
Thank you, Hazel.
Well, as you can see,
the good news is I'm as disorganized, messy,
and downright disgusting as ever.
And the bad news is
W.P.C. Wallace has got a boyfriend.
So it's just you, me, and this.
Jack?
Yes.
Nick Walder.
Oh, come on off it.
What's your problem.
Give uniform to get the man.
Scrape him up, more like.
No question, Sarge.
I've nicked him often enough.
He doesn't look too good.
External bleeding's stopped,
but he's still unconscious,
and the pulse is very weak.
Is he dead?
Oh, no, Miss, not quite.
He's had a nasty bang on the head, though.
My father says if there's anything he can do,
Iet us know.
Yeah, yeah, all right, quick as you can.
Control to Simms?
Ambulance should be there
five to six minutes, okay, out.
Any chance of you informing the family, Jack?
You're the only copper they don't bite.
Oh, it's not a deathogram, is it?
Not yet.
Oh.
Oh, hello, Tony.
Is your mother here?
I've been to her flat.
No?
Why?
Are you just off out?
Just going for a pint.
Oh, well, I'll walk with you.
Are you all right Sandra?
Hm.
See you later.
Tony, it's about your brother, Nick.
He's been hurt.
Nick?
He's in court.
No, he was over at Denton Lacy this morning.
There was a foxhunt.
He was with a bunch of saboteurs.
He was what?
Anyway, he was found about an hour ago
in Denton Lacy Woods.
We don't know exactly what happened,
but he's got a bad head injury.
He's down at the hospital, at General.
I think someone ought to get down there.
Listen, I've got my car here.
If you'd like me to give you a lift.
No.
Are you sure?
Now, you'll tell your mom?
Hope he's all right.
Andy?
Hold the line.
A lump of silver birch.
Yeah, with blood on it.
Yeah?
Thought you 'ld want to know, sir,
Sims just called from the hospital,
found fragments of tree bark in the lad's skull.
So, definitely GBH?
No sir,
Murder.
He died ten minutes ago.
Thank you.
Sir.
My fault, of course.
Yours?
A police presence could have prevented a confrontation.
There were stewards there.
Yes, I know there were stewards there,
obviously not enough, nor well enough trained.
No.
The buck stops here.
You better go and speak to Ormrod.
Who?
Alex Ormrod, master of the hunt,
head of the chase.
Oh, yes, the County Ormrods.
You're not exactly the ideal person,
but with Jim Allen away,
you're the senior officer available.
That's what etiquette demands.
Just clean your shoes before you go, will you?
Mr. Ormrod, I presume?
They told me at the house I'd find you here.
Yes?
Detective Inspector Frost, Denton CID.
Well, did you catch it?
I'm sorry?
The fox?
Oh, no, no, no.
We called it off
when we heard the young lad had been hurt.
That's extremely decent of you.
We're not all blood junkies, you know.
No, can I offer you a cup of tea?
Oh, right, thank you.
I'll have my daughter.
Ruth?
This is Detective Inspector Frost.
How do you do?
Denton CID.
Come to harass the idle rich, I think.
The accident?
Yes, that's right.
Well, take them off if you're worried about it.
Oh, thank you.
Obviously we're terribly sorry about what happened.
That doesn't make it our fault.
Foxes do a lot of damage,
and fox hunting is a lawful pursuit.
Those who interfere with it by unlawful means
are putting themselves
and what's worse, others, at risk.
I see, so the yobs ought to stay on street corners
beating up policemen.
Well, I'm sorry
I realize that he should have known better,
but this particular yob is dead.
And it wasn't an accident.
He was whacked from behind with a piece of wood.
Well, then, I am very sorry.
Would you please come through?
Ruthie, bring us the tea, would you?
Two lumps for me please,
one for my horse.
Oh, look, I'm sure you're not really a prat,
and we haven't survived for 500 years
and remained sovereign by being prats, either.
All right.
Right.
You've no idea
presumably the identity of the attacker?
No, sir,
though we are continuing with our inquiries.
You'll need a list of names,
members of the hunt?
Supporters of the meet, et cetera.
Ah, there's one of them.
Hello, Steven?
Thought you were gone home.
Had a relapse?
Oh, this is Detective Inspector Frost,
Steven Milmore.
We lend him a horse for the occasional hunt,
God knows why,
he always falls off, the silly bugger.
Oh, please, have a seat.
Thank you.
Not my forte, I'm afraid, horses.
I think they are at their best in paintings.
Actually, you can mock
I could have been killed this morning.
Someone less deserving took your place, I'm afraid.
What?
That saboteur who got hurt, he's dead.
The police think it was murder.
Good God!
Well, don't look at me.
I ran away and hid.
Regarding the people that were at the hunt this morning,
sir, you won't forget your minders, will you?
The hunt stewards?
You're sure?
Got names?
Oh, yeah, I'll sort through these others,
that's if you have time to wait.
Certainly, sir.
I'm without a dinner engagement this evening.
Sorry.
Oh, that's very nice, thank you.
Morning all?
Ah, morning.
How's the little finger, Guv?
Cue up.
See you in the great house yesterday?
Oh.
I don't know what your problem is, George,
there only human beings.
All right, now, listen, I've got a list here
of all the hunters and the hunt followers
known to be at the meet.
Also, initial statements made by Alex Ormrod,
his daughter, Ruth, and their friend,
Steven Milmore.
All of whom never saw nothing, presumably.
I see Farmer John's on the list.
Who?
John Kerns.
Hates saboteurs more than he hates foxes.
Put down for assault last year.
Really, well, we'll pull him for a start.
Barnard, Farmer Kearns.
Beet farm, on the side, Denton Lacy.
Oh, and you might need some backup.
And a rope.
What?
No, no, no, no, of course you won't.
Go on, hurry up!
Chop, chop!
Oh, local inquiries have come up
with an interesting alternative thought.
Mm-hmm?
Mahatma Winrow.
Apparently there was some internecine strife.
Inter what?
Internecine ... internal strife,
amongst the saboteurs.
Oh, yeah.
Peter Mahatma Winrow,
Denton's leading animal rightist?
No, never heard of him.
No, well, you wouldn't.
You eat hamburgers.
The thing is, he'd been dumped
on his non aggressive backside by Nick Walder.
Yeah, all right, so I was angry.
Wouldn't you be?
I mean, I can stomach the anarchists who tag along.
Even the fascists.
They may be warped,
but at least they've got some sense of purpose.
Even if it's got nothing to do with animals.
But ones to whom it's just a laugh.
Recreational violence, yeah?
I mean, it's quite an indictment of the top species.
To have no higher goal
than to be a pain in the ass.
Why'd you let them tag along, then?
Because it's a free country,
unless you happen to be an animal.
On a more practical level.
Have you tried saying no to Dazza Scott?
Dazza Scott's a saboteur?
He gave us the pleasure of his company yesterday.
Oh, do you know him then?
Only by reputation,
and he's certainly lived up to that.
I thought it was Nick Walder
who pushed you over?
Yeah, well, they're two of a kind.
You mean, they're mates, huh?
I suppose so.
But you wouldn't think it the way
they laid into each other all the time.
Really?
What were they fighting about?
Who was going to blow the hunting horn?
Enough said, I think.
Dazza Scott?
According to Winrow?
Well, I suppose it makes sense, animal rights?
No one's a bigger animal than Dazza?
Lift him, we'll have a chat.
Jack!
Yes?
Oh.
So, what do you make of him now?
Well, he's certainly the sort
who could lose his rag if pushed,
but I doubt he could bash
another living creature's brains out.
I sincerely hope not.
He's done his promotion material.
Oh, Barnard, oh, yes, right, no, good lad.
Where is he?
He's out.
I hope you're not using him as a (unintelligible)
Hmm, no, of course not.
Mr. Kearns?
Police, sir.
Your wife said where I could find you.
Could you spare me a few moments?
No.
I couldn't.
Not right now.
Lunchtime?
Well, that's what he said.
Oh, that's all right, whatever's convenient,
we're only conducting a murder inquiry.
What was I supposed to do?
I mean, I couldn't arrest him.
And wasn't it a bit obvious, he's a suspect.
Does that make him innocent then?
No, but what about Dazza Scott?
For what fighting for his horn, oh dear.
Dazza has got form, right,
and so has Nick Walder.
So, I don't know,
maybe it was a business score being settled.
Business score.
There's good opportunity in all that mayhem.
Oh, Dazza Scott's small time.
He's a thug.
Nick Walder wasn't even that.
He was just down for petty theft
and the occasional pub punch-up.
Yes, but Dazza has disappeared, right?
Oh, here we go.
Darren Michael Scott, also known as Dazza,
22 Summerbee House, Melrose Estate.
We've been there, Ernie.
He doesn't live there any more.
We've been to his ex-girlfriend's house.
She hasn't seen him for six months.
Well, it's not my fault, is it?
I'm just the collator.
I don't get change of address cards from criminals.
Well, let's have a few more known associates.
We'll see if he's shacked up somewhere else?
Who's this?
Dazza Scott.
Have you tried Madrid Road?
No, why?
Saw him over at the house there.
When?
Couple of weeks ago.
I was covering 3B.
You see, if I'm not updated by the Beat Officer,
then how can I be expected to...
I don't know if he lives there.
Shh.
Number?
I don't know.
3rd one down from the Church.
There's a tree outside.
... you might get his records up to date.
You tell him.
Thank you, Ernie.
Yep.
A couple two floors up recognized the photo.
He's lived here about a month.
It's the ground floor one window.
All right.
I really must stop doing this,
because I'm going to get into terrible trouble.
All right, come on.
Where are you?
Hey!
He's not in there, sir.
No one on the other side.
He's not here either.
What about that door chain?
There's damaged wood sir.
You what?
There's wood splinters on the floor.
All right, well,
Iet's go and disturb a few neighbors then.
See if anyone saw him leave.
Guv.
Hmm?
We're just like you lot in these situations,
piggy in the middle.
Oh, come on, you're employed by the hunt.
To prevent trespassers
getting onto private property, that's all.
Didn't fulfill your brief very well yesterday,
then, did you?
No, it all went pear-shaped.
Strategy was to keep them out of the woods.
But more turned up than we anticipated
and some of them were a bit gung-ho,
breakage of the hedge, all sorts.
We couldn't cope.
Tell me something.
Did any of your lads join into the punch-up
in the woods?
Yeah, we lost a bit of discipline there.
But a kick in the ghoulies is one thing.
Smashing someone's brains out from behind is another.
You should be looking at the hunt supporters,
not the cream,
the foot soldiers.
Shame really.
I mean, whatever their rights and wrongs,
the hunt's a bit special,
tradition and everything.
But some of the foot followers are evil.
Da da!
The chasing and killing of foxes
has no justification
in terms of so-called pest control.
It is a barbaric, sadistic sport,
it says here.
Listen, when I dig out a fox,
it's my livelihood I'm protecting.
You know how many lambs
I've had killed by foxes last spring, hey?
Do the ignorant townies that wrote that rubbish?
No, and they don't bloody care, that's the point.
The point is, Mr. Kearns,
that last year
you punched a hunt saboteur in the face.
They were trespassing on my land.
They slashed the tires on my Land Rover.
Last year you were convicted of assault,
and yesterday there you were again
in the thick of the action.
Only three minutes later
a hunt saboteur had his head bashed in.
Not by me.
But you admit that you were there?
Of course I was there.
So you just stood there
exercising your restraint until it was all over?
No, I got back in the Land Rover and drove off.
Was there anyone else in this Land Rover
who could verify the fact that you were there?
Yeah.
Who?
The vicar.
I'm sorry, Guv.
I was told never to interrupt an interview.
Well, you just have.
What's up?
There's been another murder.
Dazza Scott?
I don't know.
This way sir.
All right, thank you.
What the hell's in these bags?
I think you'll find it's turkey necks, sir.
Probably dumped by turkey wrestlers.
Has the doctor been yet?
Not yet, sir.
No, I don't blame him.
Well, have you had a look?
Just a quickie.
I'd say a shotgun.
Yeah, it's definitely a shotgun.
Any ID on him?
No, sir.
Hey, Barnard, come on, you come over here.
I don't see why I should be the only one who stinks.
Come on.
Oh, finished then?
No, just got here,
I was waiting for you.
The shotgun wound to the chest
was definitely what killed him.
Dead about, 18 hours.
Oh, and about the shape of the wound,
I'd say it was sawed off.
Did you say sawed off?
Uh-huh, oh, and he was tied up at some point.
Marks on the wrists.
Trevor, take a sheet, will you?
No leads, do you?
No, not yet.
His name's Tom Cody.
Landscape gardener.
Recommended.
(unintelligible).
Cody Landscapes, yeah.
Bishop's Lane,
All right, George,
you and Barnard get over there, will you,
force an entry if you have to.
Next of kin details,
anything else that might be of interest.
Don't spoil the forensic.
So that's two hunt saboteurs dead.
Yep, looks like it.
What do you mean, looks like it?
Surely you must assume the murders are linked?
Could have been more internecine strife.
This man Cody
may or may not have been at the hunt yesterday,
but he was printing a militant newsletter,
and he was known to animal rights intelligence.
Yes, but the killings were so different.
Nick Walder was out sapping,
gets thumped on the back of the head
in the heat of the moment, yes.
But Cody,
he was abducted and blown away with a sawed off.
Why?
That looks more like a contract killing.
Well, why doesn't really concern me at the moment.
Apart from anything else,
we could have a dangerous situation on our hands.
If a hunt sympathizer is to blame,
then all hunt sympathizers are potential targets.
Really?
For reprisals.
A death for a death.
A saboteur backlash.
Backlash, what, here in Denton?
Oh, you think a ragbag of anarchists,
terrorists and oddballs
is going to let the law take its course?
They started the violence yesterday, didn't they?
And if there are murderous reprisals,
then once more, the buck stops here.
I don't want my division littered with the bodies
of the great and the good,
thank you very much, even if they do deserve it.
So?
So, we spell out the dangers of reprisals
to Ormrod and his circle.
Self-preservation might just jog a few memories.
If any of their number
just happen to keep a sawed off in the gun cupboard
for any obscure reason,
then I want to know about.
Sir, I'd better go and clean my shoes again.
No, no, no, send Barnard.
No point in keeping a pedigree dog
and barking yourself, eh?
Well, we're assuming that Cody was shot here
and fell backwards,
or that he was already dead,
brought here and dumped.
Yeah?
Yeah.
So?
So, it's ruddy cold here.
Let's go.
What's that?
Mind, mind, mind, where you put your feet?
What do you reckon these are?
Trainers?
Yeah, looks like it.
Yeah, well, these aren't.
No, not trainers.
Yeah, right.
So that means there's two sets of prints
going towards the tip.
Uh-huh.
Wonder where this comes out.
Well, well, well, what have we got here.
Look, tire tracks.
They look pretty recent, too.
Right, I'll tell you what I want you to do.
Get Socko, take a plaster cast of these tire tracks,
and also of them footprints.
I'm going to check Cody's shoes.
See you later.
Yeah, but hang on,
I'm supposed to be at Ormrod's in Denton Lacy.
That's all right, no worry,
it's only over the hill, the walk will do you good.
Cesar!
Blitz!
In!
I'm so sorry.
That's all right.
No problem.
Oh, Detective Constable Clive Barnard.
I've come to see Mr. Ormrod.
Oh, have we been relegated?
Sorry?
No Inspector Frost.
Oh, no, he's otherwise engaged.
And you've got a suit and nice manners.
How thoughtful.
Do you come in?
Oh, thank you.
You must be Ruth.
That's me.
Daughter of the House of Ormrod.
And you live here with your father, do you?
I'm usually down at Bristol during the week.
I work at Stephen Milmore's gallery down there,
the indispensable slewn, you know.
Well, I'm sure
you make an excellent impression on your clients.
Frankly, I'd rather be a fighter pilot,
but one can't have everything.
Do sit down.
Oh, thank you.
Is your father ...
Not in, I'm afraid.
Can I help?
Oh, well,
you've heard there's been a second death,
apparently another animal rights ...
This is the country, Clive.
Of course, we've heard.
Yeah, well, the thing is,
my superintendent's very concerned
about the safety of hunt members,
in case of reprisals,
so we'd advise you all to be on your guard.
Don't worry.
I always am.
All right.
Well, they look like the right size and pattern.
The cast will confirm it.
So if they are Cody's footprints,
we're looking for anyone who might have seen him
in the lane below the rubbish dump?
Yeah.
Well, we'll get someone to do a house to house
in the area, or other,
a cow-shit to cow-shit.
Barnard?
So the simple answer is no,
I don't know anyone who owns a sawed-off shotgun.
And I doubt very much whether daddy does, either.
I should think it would be regarded
as dreadfully bad form
to blast a pheasant from six feet.
One has to give them a sporting chance.
Oh, yes.
Oh, come on.
D.I., Frost from Control.
Yes, Receiving.
There's been sighting of the car.
What car?
Tire tracks in the lane,
below the rubbish dump.
Oh, right, yes, with you, Arthur.
Witness is a Mrs. Diane Cooper, Bridge Lane,
Waverly Farm, if you want to follow it up.
Yeah.
Got that, cheers, over.
Oh.
Sorry, Clive, am I too early?
No, no, you're fine.
Hey, get off that.
That's my note pad.
What have you got there?
Oh, just some hunting scenes.
Let's see.
Greetings cards.
She's trying to raise money for the hunt.
Oh, I see, helping over the bring and bine, are you?
No.
Forget it, son.
She'll blow you out in bubbles.
Anyway, she prefers older men.
I've seen her holding hands with Milmore.
It's police, Trevor?
Oh, yeah?
They're looking for a car.
Yes, that's right, Mr. Cooper.
Your wife said she saw a white Escort
in the lane yesterday.
I don't suppose that you ...
Top Acres.
I beg your pardon?
There's an Escort there by Top Acres.
It's that field on the top of the hill.
Looks like it's been dumped.
What is it, joy riders?
No, sir, not joy riders.
White Escort, Index No. Fox Trot 297,
Golf name Whiskey.
Reported stolen yesterday afternoon
by Mrs. Pardue of Bleeb Road, Denton.
Well, tough, not going to get it back yet.
Received.
Can you inform Forensic, please?
We're at the top of a hill
about three-quarters of a mile past Waverly Farm?
Yeah, received.
It's all right
we'll know in a bit.
Go on.
Well, doesn't look like much in here.
Mud on the floor, that's all.
Clive?
Yeah.
Come here.
What's that smell?
Some rather cheap after-shave.
Yeah, anything else?
Like what?
I don't know.
But something.
Guv?
Mm-hmm?
Over here.
All right, go on, then, go for it.
Ah-hah.
Look at that.
It's either blood or he's a messy eater, eh?
Saw the next of kin while you were out.
Who?
Cody's parents, down from Nottingham.
They formally identified the body.
Yes, yes.
Decent people.
Didn't have a clue what he was up to,
his animal rights activities.
You don't know that that's why he was killed.
No?
What self-respecting contract killer
is going to throw away a sweatshirt?
And why abduct Cody in the first place?
Why not somebody blast him on his doorstep?
No, I'm sorry, it still looks personal to me.
Hunt-sick terrorism gone mad.
Yeah well, I'll sleep on it sir.
Yeah, do that.
Perhaps the answer will come to you in a dream.
(woman humming)
Hello, Mr. Frost?
Oh, are you still here, Kate?
Just finishing the big blitz.
Hope you haven't thrown anything away?
No, it's all there for you to go through.
There's five (unintelligible) in the bedroom
and a casserole in the oven.
Would you like a cup of tea to be going home with?
Yes, yes, thanks very much.
That'd be ...
Iisten, you shouldn't be cooking for me,
you know.
What about your own family?
Your brother left back to Ireland, didn't he,
and the two boys followed suit?
Oh.
So, I'm on my lonesome,
a bit like you, really.
Have you seen Shirley lately?
Sorry?
Shirley.
Yeah, Shirley Fisher.
She and I were, well, you know.
Oh, Shirley.
No, I haven't seen her.
Nice girl.
Oh, yes, yeah, no, great.
If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be here now.
Perhaps she had it in mind all along, eh?
Hmm?
Well, when she introduced us.
After young Jessie packed up the cleaning.
Oh.
Well, she knows my situation on the one hand,
and on the other there's yours.
Here, rattling around
in this big old God forsaken dump.
What do you mean?
Well, it is, isn't it?
Let's be honest.
Oh?
It's a real downer, this place,
especially with its memories.
Make a lot more sense
if you were to just sell up and,
Iodge somewhere.
Oh, right.
Why don't you have a little think about it?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I will.
And enjoy your meal.
Oh, yes, right, thanks.
Yeah, I will, thank you.
All right, what have we got?
Don't know yet, Sarge.
We were hoping Forensic
would give the yard a proper check over.
and I noticed this patch of earth,
Iooks freshly dug.
All right go on.
I'm sorry I can't speak to you at present.
If you'd like to leave a message after the tone,
I'll get back to you as soon as possible.
Yeah, Shirley, this is Jack.
Jack Frost.
Trying to get hold of you since last night.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I haven't got in touch with you before.
I was just wondering
if you would like to come round tonight for a drink,
please.
You know, anytime, say about 8..00 o'clock.
Yeah, thanks, bye.
Yes?
Morning, Guv.
Can you spare us a minute?
Yes.
Ah.
Buried in Cody's yard.
Well, I hope it isn't Dazza Scott,
jointed and freezer packed.
All three of them, stuffed with antiques.
Guv?
Hmm?
A call from Redding nick.
They picked up Dazza Scott.
Have they?
All right, Dazza, don't prat me about.
I'm investigating the murder of Nick Walder,
and you were seen with him moments before his death.
You were arguing with him,
and you've got form for assault.
I was not arguing with Nick,
and I never killed Nick.
Then why did you up sticks and leave Denton?
Because you don't mess with these people.
What people?
You better ask Captain Cody that.
Cody's dead.
Exactly.
What do you know about that?
Nothing.
Captain Cody.
Is that what you call him,
the activists,
the animal rights people?
That's what he called himself, cocky bastard.
Oh, so he's the top man in Denton, not Winrow.
Winrow, Winrow a nonce.
Winrow's still alive.
Yeah, and so am I, so you can stuff it.
Was Cody at the hunt on Tuesday?
No.
Why not?
Captain Cody liked to be mysterious, you know,
Iike a mastermind.
Sometimes he'd turn up, sometimes he wouldn't.
What about you,
are you a regular?
No, Tuesday was a one-off.
You seem to know an awful lot for a one-off.
Yeah well, Nick talked a lot.
He was a regular?
Yeah, he went a few times, yeah.
I mean, you know Nick, don't you?
I mean, you knew Nick.
Nick was easily led.
By Captain Cody?
By anybody.
And he used to go to those meetings as well,
you know,
discussions.
301 ways to save the woo-woo bird.
These meetings,
were they at Cody's place?
Sometimes.
That's when Nick got the old Captain coat.
Hmm?
The blue captain coat Nick was wearing
when he got done in.
He nicked it off the captain.
What are you trying to tell me?
Are you saying that Nick got killed by mistake
because he was wearing Cody's hat?
No comment.
Who paid you a visit?
What?
Madrid Road, before you fled to Redding.
Nobody.
Your door was forced.
It must have been after I left.
The chain was still in its slot.
You were there, Dazza.
Who was it?
What did they want?
Dazza's gone stumm.
I didn't think he had the imagination to be scared,
but he is.
What's Barnard up to?
Cataloging the antiques, so he can check them
against the stolen register.
He reckons it's all good quality gear.
Yes, that's all very well,
but has it anything to do with the murders?
Right, well,
what's going on here?
These ready for distribution eh?
Yes, Guv.
Right.
Clive.
Did you speak to Alex Ormrod yesterday?
No, just Ruth.
Right.
Right, organize yourself some help,
because, listen to me, everybody,
I want all of the hunting set
to be shown one of these.
Well, what do we say,
did you kill this man?
Yes.
You can try that,
or you could try,
does anyone know this man.
Or was he seen at the hunt,
or immediately before?
Either of those questions would do equally as well.
Now, there was no sign that he was abducted
either from the yard
or from his flat,
so where was he before he got killed?
So you're going with Mr. Mulletts
mad huntsman theory, are you?
No, son, you are.
What?
I'm sticking with aftershave and
something.
Well, at least they didn't wreck it.
Mrs. Pardue,
when the car was stolen,
had you left anything in the boot?
No.
I just left the keys in the ignition.
Why, did they find something in there?
No.
Nothing.
But the Detective Inspector
asked me to mention it, that's all.
He thought he was aware of a distinctive smell.
Oh, cheers, thanks.
Jack?
Yes?
Theft of the white Escort.
May had found us a witness.
Clee Bray, just round the corner, right?
Yeah, I come through there every day,
and I see this guy trying car doors.
What time was this?
4 o'clock, I was on the late shift.
(unintelligible)
So you saw him open a white Escort?
No.
There was a white Escort there,
but he hadn't got to it.
He saw that I suspected
and disappeared down the alleyway.
And you didn't call the police?
Would you have been interested?
I thought I'd done my bit by scaring him off.
Can you describe him?
White.
Chunky build.
Short dark hair.
Mid-20s.
I see.
What was he wearing?
Jeans and a jacket.
What sort of jacket?
I don't know.
Brown leather.
After shave and leather.
It transpires that Cody was in fact
the local ringleader.
You make it sound illegal.
Well, anyway, we're trying to piece together
his movements in the hours before he was killed.
For example, it's possible
he may have done a wrecky
of the ground the hunt was starting to cover.
No, I've only ever seen one to my knowledge,
and that was months ago.
What, of the hunt?
No, Bristol actually,
Steven Milmore's gallery.
What, as a customer?
I should hardly think so,
not at the prices Steven charges.
No, he was in the workshop discussing modern art.
I have no idea.
Planting a firebomb, more likely.
Steven is a hunt sympathizer.
If so, it never went off, more is the pity.
Look, you'll have to excuse me.
I don't want to be rude,
but I've got to get to work.
I'm supposed to be going to Ireland.
Oh, holiday?
Horse sales.
Ruthie wants something even more turbo-charged,
God bless her.
Mr. Cooper?
Sorry to trouble you again, sir.
I've got a bit more information
on the white Escort.
I wondered if you could just check it out for me.
Yeah?
Well, when you came across the car,
did you touch it?
No.
Why?
Oh, it's just that whoever stole the car,
we believe had a leather jacket.
I just wondered if you'd found it?
The jacket?
We found his sweatshirt near the car.
Well, we believe it was his sweatshirt,
because it was covered in blood.
My theory ...
I have told you this is a murder investigation;
haven't I, sir?
Yeah, you told me.
Yeah.
Well, my theory is
the reason why his sweatshirt
was covered in blood is because
he took his jacket off before the murder
and put it in the boot of the car.
What did you have in that sack yesterday
when you came home?
Do you know what I think, Mr. Cooper?
I think yesterday when you
were you coming home in your tractor,
you came across this dumped car unlocked,
and you had into a scavenge.
Am I right?
Thank you.
No, I'm afraid we have nothing by him at the moment.
But he does commissions, you know.
Well, it depends what you call reasonable, isn't it?
Well, when you consider what you're getting.
Yes, okay, then.
Okay, then, you ponder.
Bye, now.
Mr. Milmore?
Yes?
No indispensable sloane today?
I'm sorry?
Ruth.
Oh, no, no.
She's out visiting a possible vendor at the moment.
And then straight back to Denton.
Are you a friend?
No, no, unfortunately not, no.
I'm Detective Constable Clive Barnard,
Denton Police.
Did you want to speak to Ruthie?
No, sir.
Do you mind if,
it's just I already made a statement
about that hunting incident.
Yes I,
I know that, sir.
I'm sorry to be a nuisance, sir,
but do you know this man?
No, no, I don't.
You're quite sure?
His name's Cody.
Yes, I'm quite sure, thank you.
Why, should I?
Well, he was killed on Tuesday evening.
Oh.
Oh, the body in the Binliner.
Dreadful.
Well, I'm afraid I was up here in Bristol.
So, once again, not guilty.
Sorry.
Look, you can't just be here one day
and gone the next.
We've got to say a proper goodbye.
You'll feel better if we do it properly.
We both will.
Look,
Iook, we can afford it, right?
To make it nice for him and for you?
Mom, you can have a new coat.
You need it.
He was always telling you that.
Mom, take it,
please, please.
Mom, please, take it.
I'll go.
Hello Pam.
Is Tony about, please?
Oh, Tony, I'm sorry to,
but it's about your leather jacket.
A few days ago
when I saw you outside your flat,
you had a nice leather jacket.
Could I see it?
His jacket.
My Nick's had his brains beaten out,
and you're hassling us over a jacket?
What for?
He didn't thieve it.
Tony doesn't thieve.
Can you show me the jacket, Tony?
No.
Why not?
Is it at home is it?
I don't got it no more.
You sold it, haven't you?
You sold that jacket?
That's where this is coming from.
You sold it so that I could buy a coat
for Nick's funeral?
Pam, please?
Look, I think this would be much easier
if we went down to the station, son.
Come on, you put your boots on and we'll go.
And on the way we'll call into your house
and see if there are any others ...
No.
You're not taking him away from me as well.
Mum.
He's not going down no bloody station.
I've got to interview him.
Why?
What's he supposed to have done, eh?
Come on, tell me.
What's he done?
Tony, you're not under arrest.
You don't need to say anything further.
But anything you do say,
I have to caution you,
will be used in evidence.
Evidence?
What's he done?
Tony, where were you
between the hours of 4..00 and 6:00 on Tuesday?
He was here with me.
Were you, Tony?
Did you sell that jacket,
or did you leave it somewhere?
Did you leave it in the boot of a car?
What car?
What's he on about?
He sold the jacket.
He sold the jacket so that I could have a coat
for Nick's funeral.
Just, just shut up.
Just shut up, please.
Just shut up.
Just shut up!
Please, please.
Alex?
Greetings.
The prints you wanted.
I'm sorry, am I holding you up?
You're off shortly, aren't you?
Oh, no, no, no.
I'm in no hurry.
Please, do come in.
Did Barnard find you?
Who?
Denton, CID.
Oh, him, yes.
Why, was he here as well?
Yes, with a photograph.
I pointed him in your direction.
What?
The photograph.
Cody, I told him I'd seen him at your gallery.
Hmm, that's rather awkward.
I wish you'd phoned me.
Why?
Because I blanked him.
You denied knowing Cody?
Yes.
What on earth for?
didn't Barnard tell you the man's dead?
Exactly, which is why it seemed simpler
to deny all knowledge.
Well, the fact that I once bought a couple of dogs
from Cody and sold them at an obscene profit
is of no relevance to the police inquiry,
so why muddy the waters?
Besides, frankly I could do without the publicity.
Times are bad at the moment, Alex.
The only Customs with any money
are the hunting set,
If I'm seen doing business with a chap
who turns out to be a saboteurian chief
is not going to have them chewing at the door, is it?
My God, it's as bad as being revealed
as a closet vegetarian.
Two men have been killed, Stephen,
and you've told the police a pointless lie.
That's bloody stupid and they're not.
If you really don't want a hassle,
you better get on to them and sort it out now.
There's more to it, Tony, isn't there,
eh?
More than the avenging brother.
How did you know where to find Cody
so you could kill him?
Did you get that from Dazza,
hey?
Did you get it from him?
Did you stick a shotgun up his nose?
They don't mess about, these people.
And they don't mess with the Walders, do they?
There again,
how would Dazza Scott
know Cody's movements, hmm?
The other thing, of course, is the shotgun.
That shotgun.
I told you about Nick around what, midday?
Five hours later, Cody's been shot.
Where did you get a sawed off
in that short space of time,
unless it was your gun?
Was it your gun,
eh?
Is that what you do for a living?
Let's face it,
you haven't done very much
since you left the Army.
And where'd you get that wad of money?
Are you an armed robber?
No.
What would your mom think about that, eh?
Killing for relatives is one thing.
It wasn't my gun.
Then where did you get it?
Friend.
A friend lends you a sawed-off shotgun?
So you can go and blow away a total stranger?
I don't believe it.
You already had the gun.
Why did you have the gun?
Your mom's upstairs.
She's waiting to see you.
The longer we stay in here,
trying to get blood out of a stone,
the longer she's got to wait.
Hasn't she suffered enough already?
Eh?
Haven't you suffered enough?
You cared for Nick,
obviously you did.
You cared for him a lot.
You can't blame yourself
as well as Cody and the murderer.
I mean, let's face it, you weren't even there,
and even if you were,
you couldn't have done anything.
You weren't there, were you, Tony?
Were you?
At the hunt?
Are you a sapper as well?
Oh, dear.
Don't tell me we've got one of life's terrible ironies.
You were there,
you were at the hunt,
but you weren't sapping,
you were a minder.
You were a steward.
We've got a list of names,
but they don't always match up,
so of course you could have been there.
You were on security.
It broke down.
The saps got in, it was mayhem,
and all of a sudden out of the blue
you saw your brother.
You were there to stop the agro,
and Nick gets smashed because you coped out.
That's right.
I coped out.
Well, if that's the way that it was, Tony,
the best thing that you can do for yourself
and for your mom
is to help us find the killer.
You found him.
Dazza Scott.
No, you prat!
Me.
I killed Nick.
Yes.
No, I must admit.
Yeah, I appreciate that,
and I appreciate your phoning.
The thing is, though, Mr. Milmore,
is because you had personal contact with Cody,
you may well have information
that could help us,
even if you don't realize it.
So I would be very grateful if I ...
well, that's okay.
Oh, they keep office hours.
Yeah, well, we can meet for a drink, even.
It doesn't have to be formal at this stage.
Well, how about that nice little pub out your way.
Yeah, yeah, sure, anytime you like.
All right, yeah, I'll see you this evening.
There, that didn't hurt, did it?
Hi.
You still here, Daddy?
Something wrong?
Just sorting out Stephen as usual.
I leave him in your capable hands.
Your father's got me phoning the police.
The police?
Why?
What's he been up to?
God knows.
Ruthie, give Daddy a kiss.
Goodbye.
Safe trip.
Did you get paid to kill Tom Cody?
For the tape, please.
Yes.
Who by?
How would I know that?
I don't shake hands with the guy
who does the dirty work for them.
They don't know me
I don't know them.
How'd you get the job then?
Down the gym.
There's a guy out there decollating for.
Asked me if I was interested
in a proposition.
Put me in touch with an agent.
Simple as that.
Their first choice had to pull out.
They wanted the job done quick,
I was a late sub.
Ever done a shooting before?
Yeah.
Knee capping.
This was me first full stop.
We need the money.
A lot of people need the money.
They don't all become contract killers.
Yeah, yeah.
I never had a big thing about death.
It's all around, isn't it?
Innocent people, good people,
get killed everyday.
So you just work yourself into a frame of mind
that this guy's a waste of space;
he won't be mi ...
If a shotgun came to the job,
why didn't you finish Cody straightaway?
I don't know.
I watched him for a couple of days.
I knew the background,
that sapping and everything.
And word was
this meet was going to be a bit special.
Big presence,
Loads of aggravation.
Ideal.
I never knew.
I had no idea Nick was into all that.
No idea.
But I was sure that Cody would be there.
And everything fell just perfect for me.
For just a split second,
he was right there,
with his back to me.
Blue cap.
Hunting horn.
Big jacket.
And I hit him.
One swing.
And as he went down,
I knew that was it.
You could feel it,
dead center.
And then I legged it.
Next thing,
you're at the door
telling me Nick's been hurt.
And for a second I think, Nick and Cody?
Then I begin to realize it,
except I can't realize because
I'm telling myself it's not possible.
Just not possible.
Till I get to the hospital,
they tell me Nick's dead.
They tell me he's dead, and then,
after I finish being sick,
I lift the car,
and go looking for Cody with a gun.
I'm like dead
inside myself now,
very calm,
Iike I'm watching myself do everything.
And I take off me jacket,
and I put it in the boot of the car.
I remember being pleased with myself
for thinking of that,
so it wouldn't get spoiled.
And then I went looking for him.
I couldn't find him,
not anywhere.
And then I end up at Dazza's,
because I know he's involved.
And Cody's there,
actually there
in the bathroom.
I let Dazza cut and run,
but not Cody.
I should have done him straightaway,
but I couldn't.
Not indoors,
I don't know why.
So I take him out to the sticks.
And then I remember this rubbish dump I'd seen
when I was out running.
It was a right place for him.
And that's where you shot him?
Yeah.
Only I was much too close,
and I got
wet.
And then everything switched back on inside,
and then I just panicked,
dumped the car,
chucked the sweatshirt,
and ran.
Nowhere, in the dark.
And next morning I took back the gun
picked up me
payback.
$5,000 quid.
Not much of a price for a brother, is it?
Guv?
Yeah.
These antiques,
the ones we've managed to identify so far,
are definitely nicked.
Oh, yeah?
Yeah.
But more interesting than that,
the Antique Squad,
you know, Scotland Yard,
they've come back
to some three particular items so far.
George the 3rd coffee pot,
the Dresden clock,
and these 18th Century snuff buckets.
And according to them,
the houses that these bits came out of
were also done for fine art,
really fine art, mostly paintings,
at the same time, during the same burglaries.
Not local, however, sorry works are in Devon.
And what do you want, your own TV show?
But it gives us a possible motive
for Cody's murder, surely.
Look, say Cody's an art thieve, right,
stealing paintings to order.
And every time he went burglaring,
he helps himself on the side.
Apart from cheating his employers,
he can compromise the whole operation
once the small stuff seeps onto the market.
Has Cody got form for our theft?
No, but that only means he's never been caught.
There's something else.
Lies are being told about him.
Who by?
Stephen Milmore, who happens to own an art gallery.
Well, don't stand there pouncing about.
Go pick him up.
We can't.
He's away for the afternoon.
I've arranged to meet him this evening.
What, for drinkipoos?
Softly, softly, that's all.
I mean, is it wise to go charging in?
I always go charging in, due to my lowly birth.
I'm good at it.
But with no real evidence?
Then find some, Clive.
Turn his house over?
In search of stolen Rembrandt's?
There won't be any.
If Milmore's organizing theft already,
his client's are almost certainly overseas.
Each painting will be out of the country
within 24 hours of being lifted.
Then turn his account's over instead.
Make sure everything's going through the books.
Well yes, we can do that,
but not at the drop of a hat.
All we've got on Milmore is
that he lied about knowing Cody.
What about it, turn Ormrod over as well?
Ormrod?
Yes, Ormrod.
Just because his great grandmother
fought at the Battle of Atingcore
does not mean that he doesn't tell Balkies.
Look, don't you think
you're being just a bit overwrought?
Yes, now you come to mention it,
I think I am.
I just told a mother
that her son has committed fratricide.
God.
I'm sorry, Guv.
I appreciate how you must feel.
Do you?
Do you really?
But as much as you appreciate
18th Century snuff bottles.
I'm sorry, but I don't consider
what's happened to that family
is in the same category.
Well, stuff you them, sir.
And if this is something special I'm here to learn,
you can stuff that as well.
Well, what are you expect to learn from me?
I haven't got any tricks to teach you.
No, you've amused yourself all week
by giving me all the crap jobs.
Then you're going to tell me it's a mystery,
it comes from in here.
Well, you're not the only copper with a soul.
And you're not the only copper
who understands people.
You don't have to suffer for the world,
because when you do you're judgment
goes right out of the window.
I mean, the best thing you can do is go home.
Do you want some backup?
Sorry?
Scott's arms?
Oh, no, no.
No.
Even I should be able to handle Milmore.
(knock on door)
Shirley?
Well, you haven't forgotten my name.
That's something.
Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Come in.
No, perhaps not, Jack, some other time then.
Yes, no, please, please.
It's just that you never confirmed.
I did, I left a message.
Oh, sorry, it's my fault.
Oh, it's great to see you.
Denton Control from D.C. Barnard, receiving, over?
Receiving.
Yeah, I'm just calling in.
Milmore didn't show,
so I'm now walking to his house.
Oh, no, hang on, this might be him now.
Out.
Hi, sorry I'm late.
Watch out!
Ah!
So basically, you panicked and phoned me
to get a woman back into your life,
between you and Kate.
No, no, no, no, no.
It wasn't panic.
Kate was just ...
she was just a catalyst,
that's all.
Catalyst, my elbow.
What?
I don't know why you don't just go with it, anyway.
It sounds like a pretty good offer to me.
What, Kate?
Well, what makes you think
you're such a wonderful catch?
Scruffy, middle-aged copper who only comes home
when he feels like it.
Kate would be ideal.
She'd keep you organized, fed, warm at night,
and when you weren't there she'd be happy
to watch the TV and make jumper's for you.
I don't think I'm ready for that.
What are you ready for?
(knock on door)
Yes.
Sorry, sir.
Is your phone off the hook?
We've been trying to contact you.
Stephen Milmore's dead.
Barnard's been hurt.
Barnard?
You ought to be in casualty.
That's all right.
I'll see the doctor when he gets here.
Here, let me see.
(unintelligible)
It was dark, or navy blue.
I'm not sure,
I can't remember.
It's alright, it's okay.
It's not okay, it's a murder weapon.
It's all right.
I think it had a roof rack,
yeah, a roof rack.
I'll get you a cup of tea.
And wire hubcaps.
What?
There we go again, Guv.
It's a killer, isn't it?
Look after Barnard and give him that.
I told you to take some back up.
the Governor said to give you that.
George?
Good evening, Mr. Ormrod.
The front gates were locked,
so I had to use the tradesman's entrance.
Dear, oh, dear, that's a bummer, isn't it?
You wouldn't have thought that the human body
could make such a mess?
You missed a bit here.
I'm afraid Daddy isn't here.
You stop doing that, Miss.
You're destroying the evidence.
The way to deal with dogs and horses
is to show you're not afraid of them.
Is that the same with policemen?
I said, stop that!
So, where is Daddy?
In Ireland, as he told you.
He never tells lies.
Ah!
All right, so Daddy doesn't tell lies then.
He leaves it to you
(unintelligible)
you're the tough one,
you're the contracts department.
You're the one that gets rid of
opportunity employees
and blabbermouth partners as well.
You should have left it
to other people do your dirty work,
because if there's one sort of pond life I dislike,
it's the ornamental kind.
All right?
Cesar!
Blitz!
Come on out.
Woof, woof.
It's all clear, Guv.
We fed them a couple of PCs.
I'm not scared of dogs.
It's women that frighten me.
Sir?
Straight through, sir.
In there, sir.
Has she been cautioned?
Oh, yes, sir.
Don't, whatever you do, blame Stephen Milmore,
even posthumously.
Don't give him any credit, either.
All he did was lose his nerve,
and price the paintings and wrap them, of course.
Which he only did in the vain hope
that I'd sleep with him.
So you'd visit the country houses
and suss them out?
Always on invitation.
Gave some points of the social round.
And one had to cultivate
potential buyers abroad, of course.
That was quite fun.
But what I really wanted to do
was drive the getaway car.
But Dazza Scott was surprisingly efficient.
Depressingly over-sexed, as well, though.
Like a puppy in constant search of a leg.
So I sacked him.
Well, there are limits, even for a bit of rough.
And Cody?
Oh, yes, I was proud of Tom.
A burglar,
with anti-establishment tendencies.
Who better to steal from the rich?
But naturally,
it was too romantic to be true.
Not only was he ripping us off,
he was using the proceeds
to fund his animal rights activities.
Well, that was biting the hand that fed.
So you had him put down?
Yes.
Miss Ormrod,
did you embark on your criminal activities
because of some kind of financial difficulty?
Good God, no.
That is boringly prudent.
Then why?
Oh, I'm sure my barrister will find
some plausible dark corner in my youth,
but really, one just has to keep building
higher and higher fences
to see how high one can jump.
Oh.
Hi.
Ruthie!
Daddy's home.
Where are you, you little scoundrel.
Ruthie!
The deed is done.
What a beautiful horse.
Now, let's see how much buckle you really have.
Ruthie!
You sure you don't want a lift the rest of the way?
No, really, I could do with the walk.
Yeah, right.
I was out of order yesterday.
Forget it.
I'll just tell your Uncle,
the Chief Constable.
I'm sorry.
Oh, that's all right.
I'll tell you one little trick, though.
Out of order is no good to anyone.
Out of step is much better.
That way you tread on the bits
the other people miss.
Come on, off you go.
Good luck.
Don't get excited.
I spilled some sugar.
And Kate?
Been and gone.
Forever.
What?
You're off the hook.
Really.
Oh.
All right.
Right.
Is tea in the pot?
I expect so, if you look.
I've got to go.
I'm late.
I'll call you tonight.
Right.
Bye.