♪♪ Bring it back to me Oh, please ♪
♪ It's making me feel so weak ♪
♪ Feeling like a puppet controlled by some strings ♪
♪ And everywhere I go is the wrong place to be ♪
♪ Bring it back to me Oh, please ♪
♪ It's making me feel so weak ♪
Fuck's sake.
Hi there.
Charlie here.
I can't come to the phone right now, so...
Where the fuck are you, Charlie?
Here I am, fat as a cow, having to make my own way home.
I'm gonna kill you when I see you.
Nightmare?
Jesus!
Jason, what's the craic?
It's Saturday morning.
No rest for the wicked.
Gotta find her.
If I find this... this working girl,
O'Connor will think the sun shines out of my arse again.
Then I'll get a raise.
And then we'll catch up.
Shall I make you breakfast before you leave?
No, I'll get something later.
I'm meeting Fiona at the Glencara.
We're a good team.
You and Fiona?
Me and you, Shell.
You holding down the home front and me catching the bad guys...
or gals.
What is it with you lately?
You're always out of sorts.
And me the one under all the pressure.
Sympathy stress, I guess.
Caitlin's game is at 12:00.
So, I figured we'd just do a Saturday-night chipper.
I won't make it to the shop.
Still strange to think you were there
at the same time as our dead fella.
At the shop?
Unless some place else I'm unaware of.
I'll call you later, yeah?
Wish me luck!
Mag... Maggie!
Further along on the M11,
it's slow approaching junction 5 Bray North.
And it's moving pretty well into Kilmacanogue.
Wicklow's weather, mostly dry with sunny spells today.
Chance of scattered showers on the coast by this evening.
- It's 7:00. - This is Seapoint FM.
I'm your weekend host, Rose Dempsey.
Our top story is still the mystery murder
at the Glencara hotel, in which a man...
♪♪ There's nowhere to go ♪
♪ Sting like a bee ♪
♪ When I'm tangled in a mess of things ♪
♪ And all the trouble that living brings ♪
♪ Won't go down on my knees ♪
♪ And let it ride over me ♪
Niall, Cait, Derek, breakfast!
Jesus, Niall! Don't sneak up on me.
- Can I wee in the garden? - What? No!
Caitlin locked herself in the loo.
- So use ours. - Dad doesn't like us to.
Dad isn't home. Go on!
♪ Yeah, I was born with a wishing heart ♪
♪ No matter what life brings ♪♪
Caitlin, you getting dressed?
Cait?
You OK?
- Don't come in! - I'll be down in a minute.
Niall, breakfast!
Derek!
I'm meeting Luke over at Westside.
What, you won't come watch your sister's match?
It's all right.
Dad said I didn't have to.
Remember what we talked about.
How could I forget, Mom?
- I'm serious. - Yeah, you're always serious.
I'll have an apple.
What did you talk about?
Nothing.
So, all the bits are in here?
What bits?
Beak, feathers...
Niall, fix this.
It's simple, Cait.
Eggs are just eggs,
unless they're fertilized by sperm.
What's sperm again?
- Splooge. - Derek!
Later, losers.
Don't be late.
We're doing the chipper tonight!
Cait, eat something.
You need the energy for your match.
We'll get this nasty port out soon, love.
Until the next infection.
Cait, can you eat something please?
Mmm... there!
I need you both dressed and ready by 11:00.
Nymeria!
Atta girl.
At least someone appreciates my cooking.
- Dad doesn't like us to feed... - Dad isn't home.
Martin, what did the ballistics tell us
about the weapon used?
Not to be an a-hole, detective sergeant, but...
Here we go.
Ballistics is the study of the motion of a projectile.
What bollocks are you on about, Martin?
Firearms identification does not directly involve ballistics.
Well, let me ask you another way, Martin.
What kind of fucking gun was used?
.35 caliber with no matches on our system.
You might have led with that.
- I just want... - What about the bible?
No prints, latent or otherwise.
The good book is as clean outside as in.
Right.
Well, let's get everything we don't know
over to our colleagues in England.
Baxy, you stick on the CCTV.
O'Neill and Gee, you go back to the surrounding neighborhood.
Keep pounding on doors.
OK, let's go!
This case isn't gonna solve itself.
Hello?
Mrs. Whelan?
Mrs. Philip Whelan?
- Not in donkey's. - So, I'm not interested.
Ma'am, I'm detective inspector Yeates,
Northumbria Police.
Detective?
Special Crimes?
Come in.
What was he doing in Ireland?
I don't have details.
It only just happened.
Is there a new Mrs. Whelan to talk to?
No, unless he did it in secret.
We've been divorced 9 years.
Other next of kin?
Our daughters.
Daughters?
Wendy and Laurie, 16 and 14.
Did they have contact with him?
They haven't seen him in a couple of years.
Phil was a shite dad.
My new husband, Jack, is the girls' real dad.
Did you have a good divorce?
Is that like a good cancer?
Did you kill your ex, Mrs. Overton?
Go all the way to Ireland to kill Phil?
No, I'd have done it right here.
Other next of kin?
Siblings or parents?
Phil was orphaned young.
Spent time in foster care.
Never wanted to talk about his past.
Did he have a flat or a house somewhere?
This is the address he had in his passport.
He used to talk about London some.
I think he lived in Luton once.
You'll need to speak with the embassy in Dublin
to make arrangements.
The body, it'll need to be shipped back.
Ex says he used to spend some time in London.
Go ahead and send Whelan's prints to HOB.
It's a single injection like Narcan,
but this shot would unclog the arteries of stroke victims.
A blood thinner?
No, uh, this would dissolve the clot.
So, you're pitching an emergency injection
of drain cleaner, Ames?
Well, I'm not a chemist, but...
But you've unclogged drain pipes?
DCI Critchett.
DI Yeates, Northumbria.
Switchboard said you were the one who'd want to know,
it being a cold case.
Know what, DI?
Who Whelan is... was.
- Sorry, Whelan? - Aye.
Should be on your FINDS alert.
We ran his prints through the national database.
They matched.
Fuck me sideways.
Figure of speech, James.
Get me up to speed, DI Yeates.
Let's go.
Why aren't you dressed?
I'm not going.
My stomach hurts!
It's like a stitch.
You have to run through it.
Exercise will do you good.
It'll release endorphins.
What are endorphins?
Uh...
Happy hormones.
What if I leak?
I'm gonna bleed all over my uniform.
My shorts are white!
Ah!
Cait...
Look, we'll put an extra pair of cycling shorts underneath.
I'll get you painkillers for the cramps.
And you'll be grand.
Look, I know this feels like a big deal.
And it is. I don't mean to undermine that.
But nothing changes.
You keep going onwards.
I don't want to have a baby.
What? No.
Look, sex and all that stuff can wait.
Sex is gross!
We... Uh, kind of.
Look, we'll... we'll put your kit on here at home.
No one will know.
You'll be fine!
OK?
Come here.
Where were you?
Hiya, Mags.
Oh, enjoying a tin, are you?
- Look... - I don't need to look.
I can see.
Have a beer.
I want a bump.
- OK. OK. - Whatever you want, Mags.
- Don't "Mags" me. - Why didn't you pick me up?
I heard that bird again.
The narc bird?
Chirp, chirp, chirp.
Trained to smell drugs, they are.
Thems the drugs eating your brain, Charlie.
I left the flat to come get you.
And then, "Chirp, chirp, chirp," he was following me.
And by the time I gave him the slip,
it wa... it was late, so...
So you left me alone like this to make my own way?
You look very cute like that, fuckable.
Then what are you waiting for?
Do me.
OK.
I want to meet Freddie face-to-face.
Oh, he's a psycho.
I'm not afraid of narc birds
or Freddie fucking Vee.
But I am tired of taking all the risk
while he gets rich.
And if you won't do it, I will!
That's my magpie!
Fuck you, Charlie.
Love your fire!
You'll be grand.
No one's gonna know.
What if...
It won't.
Just play your normal self.
You'll be fine.
Knock them dead, kiddo!
I think he wants something.
Hmm?
That's Emma Wilson's dad.
Oh, hi!
We have to stop meeting like this.
You keep talking shite, we will.
Emma says there'll be some sort of rumble,
girls with bats?
Uh, hurls.
And you're about three quarters of an hour early.
Ah! You staying?
Uh, no. But we'll be back.
Slán.
Ah...
How do you know him?
Uh, we baked cupcakes for the fundraiser.
What are you laughing at?
Dads never bake cupcakes.
They're Yanks.
Can you picture your dad in an apron?
Well, it's herself...
Bloody Mary.
That's brilliant.
Yeah!
And if the Garda comes...
we can just eat the evidence!
Doireann's on the pill.
How do you know?
She told me.
How'd she say it?
She said, uh: "Come to mine Sat night.
"Parents are gone to a christening in Donegal.
I'm on the pill."
Jesus.
Take this.
Johnny?
But she says she's on the pill.
So she says.
Or maybe she wants a baby.
She's 16.
Subconsciously, you know,
like, her ovaries are running things.
Like our bollocks are controlling us.
Ha! You're mad.
Besides, the pill is only 99% effective.
You know what 99% means, don't you?
It means I'll take my chances!
One baby for every hundred shags.
We have, what, 5 million Irish?
Couple million shagging at any given time?
That's hundreds of "I'm on the pill" babies.
Wear the Johnny.
It's Doireann.
"See you later."
Don't tell me I threw your back out.
Saturday night, what's it gonna be?
Homemade pizza?
- Chipper. - Mmm!
You're giving her the night off.
She doesn't work for me.
Doesn't she?
Are we gonna solve this?
This? Us?
The case!
The fucked if I know.
How many thousands of drivers do we prosecute
while most gun murders go unsolved?
Jesus, Fi.
This one is gonna get solved.
Far as we know,
your man doesn't know anyone local.
Except a curva.
Well, then, let's go find our curva.
Let's.
How are you?
We're looking for the manager.
Tha-that's me.
Uh, well, I'm the assistant manager.
But I wasn't here when that guy got killed.
Where's the other fella from yesterday and the day before?
Sean McNair.
Sean McNair, he called in sick.
Normal like, I don't work Saturdays.
What's your name?
Sean. Uh, we're not related.
Right.
Do you know her?
Um...
Here's the thing, Sean,
we know that she's a sex worker
and we just want to find her.
You'd have to ask Sean.
The other Sean?
He offered certain guests, uh... luxury duvets.
Would you be needing any luxury duvets?
Knock, knock.
Keep going with your acapella.
Just one.
Who's there?
Alec.
Alec who?
Alec-tricity.
Ah, Niall!
That is terrible.
So terrible, I'm gonna go.
Back in a sec.
I just need to speak to Maya out front.
Keep going!
Mrs. Mohan?
I was just wondering if you had any luck
on the vibrating vests?
The airway clearance vest?
Yeah, ah, since he saw it on YouTube, it's...
That girl in America.
Well, those devices are very dear,
15,000 euro or more.
And not recommended treatment in Ireland.
So, my son's quality of life is not worth 15,000 euro?
What is it worth, 10,000, 5,000?
I don't make HSE rules.
You'd be buying it yourself.
15,000 euro?
Oh, sure, I'll just put that on my shopping list.
Aelish? Is, uh, Niall done?
Couple of minutes.
Did the Gardai talk to you
about the murder at the Glencara?
Uh...
They were going door to door looking for witnesses.
What are you doing here, Mrs. Mohan?
Uh, no.
Um, did you see anything?
No. Well, I mean, you...
but nothing suspicious.
Did you?
No.
I suppose you'd tell your husband
if you saw something.
Of course.
Scary, though.
What's the world coming to?
I don't know, Aelish.
Uh...
Did you, um, did you tell them you saw me?
You?
Oh God!
I suppose I should have.
- Ah, no, you're grand. - You're grand.
I'll tell Jason that, uh,
I was in the area and that we spoke
and neither one of us saw a thing.
Thanks a million!
Oh, no worries!
Well, Whelan's been all over CCTV.
Nothing from the car park?
Sixteen workable angles from the inside,
but outside, shite.
More interested in crisp-knickers than car jackers.
Other Sean lives 30 minutes east of here, near Arklow.
Grand.
Let's go pay a visit to the other Sean.
Imagine coming out here and not even paying a visit
to Dalkey Castle or the Sugarloaf.
- Pretty boring visit if you... - Holy shite!
Pause this one.
Who is that...
in front of Whelan?
Her.
Isn't that your missus?
Go on, Cait!
Come on, Cait!
Jesus. Is that woman everywhere I am?
You made it back in time for the mayhem.
How is this sport not banned?
"Cross between hockey and murder."
Ken Bruen.
When my wife said we were moving to Ireland,
I devoured the Jack Taylor books.
Well, I think it looks like fun.
It is!
It's good for the head, good for the heart.
That's our Cait, there.
Pass to me! Here.
Niall, why don't you take Emma closer to the action?
Go on.
Your, um, wife's not here?
Nope. Work.
No rest for the wicked.
So, you do know my wife?
Mom! It's Dad!
You made it!
Fiona.
Mrs. Mohan.
Where's Cait?
Uh, there.
How's she doing?
It's early, Jase.
She's mostly just jogging around
hoping and praying the sliotar doesn't find her.
When she's on the pitch, she's gotta be on the pitch.
She's a bit out of sorts.
Female trouble.
Congratulations.
What?
She got her period yesterday.
Oh, why didn't you tell me?
Well, I...
Get in, Cait! Come on!
Get in the fight!
CCTV from your Supermarket came in.
My Supermarket?
I wish it was, the amount I spend there.
Well, the funny thing is,
the CCTV shows our victim, Mr. Whelan, following you.
Following me?
Well, not following,
so much as he was near you a couple of times.
But maybe, you might have noticed him talking to someone?
Are you here for work or for your daughter?
Well, two birds, Shell.
We were on our way.
We were passing on the way to Arklow.
You didn't recognize him in the photo we had.
I didn't.
But when you didn't see him in the supermarket,
he had a beard.
Our sketch man added a beard.
Would you like to take a look?
I never seen him before in my life.
You didn't notice him standing right beside you
at the butcher's counter?
- No, that was yours, Cait! - Get in there!
There's another bit.
Looks like he's waiting for you to leave.
Hey, Shelly, I think your daughter's team scored.
Oh!
Look, I wish I could help.
But I'd like to watch the match.
Bloody Mary!
Get off me! Get off me!
Come on, girls!
We better roll, Jay.
You can't stay for the half-time whistle, Jason?
Can't.
We've got this thing in Arklow.
I'll see you, Cait!
Yeah, later, yeah?
Your husband's not staying?
Uh, he's working... a case.
He's a cop?
Mmm!
Everything OK?
Yes, grand.
You want to come to dinner tomorrow night?
And your husband, the kids, dog or cat if you have one.
I'll throw burgers on the barbecue.
Uh, t-tomorrow, um...
actually, we're going to a barbecue
at Jason's brother's house.
There'll be a bonfire.
You should come.
B-bring Emma and...
- Lighter fluid. - Your wife.
- You bitch! - Oh!
Who's bloody now?
Aargh! Bitch!
Fight, fight, fight!
Caitlin Teresa MaryAnn Mohan, what on Earth got into you?
Sinéad.
- She called me... - She called you what?
Bloody Mary.
Well, she's just jealous, love.
She's just a bitch!
Well, that's as may be.
But you can't just go attacking people.
Come on.
What's her name, other Sean?
Look, a... a... a fella wants company,
I... I... I call a number.
That's all I know.
We have her slipping you 20 euro.
That makes you a pimp, maybe even a sex trafficker.
What? No!
I... I... I... I think herself, um...
Mariama, I think her name was.
"Duvets." Cute.
- Can I go now? - Nope.
But what about what...
Well, we gotta find your Mariama first.
B-but what about my mom?
We'll let herself know
that you're staying the night with us.
There.
It's not the Glencara, but we'll find you a nice kip.
What you're telling me
is a man who's been presumed dead for nearly 2 decades
is now confirmed dead?
Murdered.
It's an open case in Ireland, sir.
It's a bleeding cold case from a dark time.
No one cares.
Can you even murder a dead man?
Charlie Lynch and his accomplices were...
Killed a murdering drug dealer.
I know the case.
1999 was a lifetime ago.
Frankly, Lynch and his lot did London a favor.
I'd like to interview his brother,
see if they were in touch.
Are you out of your fucking mind?
There's an election on.
Unless, maybe you think
Rory Lynch had his brother murdered.
"I got rid of my own tosser brother.
Think what I can do for Luton."
We still haven't found Margaret Gallagher.
This is the only known photograph
taken some time before Alfred Vance was killed.
As far as we know, she's out there too.
Or she was chopped up
and stuffed into a barrel 20 years ago.
Their victim, Alfred Vance, was my CI.
I put him in that situation.
His death is on me.
If the press asks about it...
Freddie Vance was a low-life drug dealer.
His death is on him.
Let it go, Crichett.
I'm not hungry.
Caitlin, you have to eat some...
We have to stop meeting like this.
Go on, eat in front of the telly.
Seriously?
Go, before I change my mind.
Serviette.
Hello?
Did you know your brother was alive?
You there, Rory?
I'm here.
Do you know who you're talking to?
Judging by your accent,
I can guess you're a relative of Fred Vance.
He'd be my younger brother.
So, did you know about your brother?
Until a month ago,
I assumed you and your lot had done Charlie years ago,
like you did Doyle.
I had fuck all to do with this.
So, who did then?
- Don't know. - Don't fucking care.
Then why are you calling me?
Your brother leads to my brother.
Neither you nor I need the press to dig up the past.
My brother and I have lived different lives.
Explain that to the voters.
If you didn't do this...
if you didn't know he was living as Philip Whelan,
then how do you know Charlie was killed?
I have ears.
Your brother's dead.
My brother's dead.
Let's leave the past where it is.
That didn't take long.
I assume you're calling about Philip Whelan.
I won't ask how you knew he was your brother.
And I won't ask how a politician from Belfast
found out before me.
I had no idea my brother was alive.
And you had no idea what he was doing in Ireland.
It's not a question.
If you do know, keep it to yourself.
I'll handle this end.
You just get yourself elected.
Esmé?
It's Gwen Crichett from the London Police Force.
We met a couple of years ago
when you did that piece on the Tower Bridge stabbings.
I'm working a cold case from the 1990s.
What if it involved Rory Lynch's brother?
I'm unable to comment.
But Rory Lynch might know.
Cheers.
Fucking stepmom.
I swear she has Spidey-sense or something.
Didn't know you were a virgin.
I'm not.
Your lady-o-the-palm don't count.
You should probably go.
Maggie.
Ah, come on, babe.
Fuck you, Charlie.
I'm tired of taking all of the risk
for none of the profit.
I'll talk to Freddie.
Yeah, right.
Open the door.
Let me come in!
Why am I the only one with balls in this relationship?
What's got you all riled up, Mags?
We've got a good thing going.
OK, look, it's Saturday night.
Let me nip around to the chipper.
That always cheers you up.
Back in 5!
How did it feel?
What's wrong, love?
What's it like...
feeling a baby in you?
Oh, it's, um...
weird...
wonderful...
scary.
I don't want one.
Ah, Cait!
No.
Look, I know people say, "You're a woman now,"
when you get your period,
but you're still just a little girl.
My little girl.
You're way too young to be worrying about this stuff.
How old were you?
Um...
Well, I... I was with your father, so...
You've had a long day.
Why don't we talk about this tomorrow?
I'll answer all your questions then.
Go on, go to bed, love.
Ah, bollocks!
Did you not eat something out?
I forgot to.
Were you sleeping?
Big day.
Here.
Thanks.
Ah...
OK, so, spill it.
(Groaning
Well, our Cait got red carded.
Raging hormones and mean girls,
not a good combo.
Jesus.
- So, it's starting. - Mmm!
I handled it.
But you may have to have the talk with your son.
The talk?
Mmm!
- Sex? - Mmm!
How old is Niall?
Derek.
Oh, between what I've already told him and the Internet,
I'm sure he knows the basics.
Well, he fancies a girl.
Unless you want to be a granddad soon,
I suggest you have the talk.
Yeah, it's... it's late.
Well, not now, you idiot.
Besides, he's staying at Luke's.
That's if he's not lying.
He didn't ask.
He texted me,
and then he switched off his phone.
I'm not letting him treat me like that.
Well, like what?
Like a teenager?
He's being a complete dickhead to me again.
Well, you're not his mom, so...
Mmm!
Maybe he should go and live with Grainne then.
She still acts like a teenager.
They'd get along grand.
I didn't mean it to come out like that.
Derek's just being Derek.
And then there's Niall.
- What about him? - You know the breathing vest,
he wants the one he saw on the girl?
HSE won't cover it.
Maybe he doesn't need it.
Maybe it would help.
How much does it cost?
15,000 euro.
We could sell the car.
No.
I'll get it.
How?
Where? When?
Soon.
That's why I need to solve this case.
So, you know Philip Whelan?
- Hmm? - Our dead fella.
Get this...
he wasn't Philip Whelan.
Uh, what do you mean?
Who was he?
So, it will be in the news tomorrow.
His actual name was Lynch.
And he's been missing in the UK for 20 years, presumed dead.
Oh...
What was he doing here?
That is the million-euro question.
God, chips don't microwave for shite!
What happened in Arklow?
Did you make an arrest?
Mmm!
Tomorrow, touch wood.
Yeah, can't wait to see O'Connor's face.
He never believed in me.
Mmm!
And then he'll have to make me detective inspector.
And with the salary increase,
maybe we can get Niall's fancy vest.
Mmm! Mmm!
All right.
Why don't you go on up to bed?
Ah!
Ha! A red card, huh?
Mmm!
Category 3, one-game suspension.
Now, what did our Cait do?
She dragged her teammate around the pitch
by her ponytail.
- Her teammate? - Mm-hmm!
Red carded against her own teammate?
Fair play to her.
I shouldn't laugh,
but what that girl said to our Cait...
You'd have done the same.
I'm gonna shower and hit the hay.
- Ah, Jesus! - What?
Kevin's barbecue thing is tomorrow.
I completely forgot.
I remembered.
Hmm.
You're dead.
I'll give you a head start.
But I'll hunt you,
catch you and flay you open like a sow!
You conniving minge!
That's a good girl.