Merritt?
Hello?
Merritt Lingard, is that you?
Did you just--
Hello?
Hey!
I'm talking to you!
I'm an officer of the court. Do you know what that means?
It means that…
every police officer in the country is gonna be looking for me right now.
Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?
Where's my brother?
Is my brother here?
Have you got my brother?
I swear to God, if you fucking touch him--
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la
100% it gets under my skin. 100%.
But more than that, you know what? It just… It confuses me.
"Tatty-byes." What the fuck?
It's just goodbye, Carl.
It's not. No, no, no. "Tatties" are potatoes.
What do potatoes have to do with saying bye?
Potatoes are a fucking foodstuff.
What the fuck do Cheerios have to do with saying goodbye?
Cheerios are a breakfast cereal.
You're being facetious. Yay.
No, I'm just trying to find a plumber. Do you have any recommendations?
Not my area of expertise.
Mine either, hence the need to look up an actual expert.
You hate Scotland so much. Why'd you ever move here?
I married into it.
Well, now you can leave, finally. Give us our fucking independence.
How is it you're supposed to be helping me, huh?
If your dishwasher breaks, you call in a plumber.
In this scenario, Carl, I'm your plumber.
Half of my life is spent with gross incompetence,
and the other half with an ill-tempered, jizzed-up teenager.
He's not even mine. He's not even mine.
I somehow won him in the great coconut shy of divorce,
along with silverware, which needs an awful lot less polishing.
-I didn't know you had a son. -Stepson.
You share custody?
Oh, no, no. Lucky me. I get Jasper all to myself.
He's not with his mother?
Victoria travels a lot with work.
She thought it'd be better for Jasper to have a…
…strong male figure in his life at this, as she puts it…
…crucial juncture in his development.
Wow.
I have to say, Carl, I'm surprised.
-At? -The reason you haven't left.
That's a massive commitment you signed on for.
Don't worry. I fought her on it.
There he is.
The time came to take him to his grandmother's house. I was like…
Mm…
And I couldn't… I… I couldn't leave him. Couldn't do it.
-Because you care about him. -No.
Because I fucking hate that old bitch.
How old's Jasper?
Seventeen.
"Fuck you. Tuck me in."
Excuse me?
Teenagers.
They need to hate you, so they can leave when the time comes,
but they don't want to go, so they drive everybody nuts.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure Jasper's not that conflicted.
You've got a lot going on in your life, Carl.
Yeah, yeah, you could say that, Rachel. Yeah, yeah.
It's no wonder you went doolally on live TV.
But… that's our time for today.
Wow.
-I feel like we made a real breakthrough. -Uh-huh.
Tatty-bye, Carl.
Cheerio, Rachel.
We need to revisit the scene, do another walkthrough.
There must be something we've missed.
And while you're at it, have another chat with the neighbors.
They must remember something.
You can't be here.
-How long's it been? 4 months? -I can't discuss the case.
It's professional courtesy, even if only one of us is a professional.
And only one of us is actually courteous.
Touché.
I'm gonna have Moira move the team to somewhere you can't find us.
Oh, good luck in this fucking Nazi castle. I tell you what, why don't we trade?
You take our primo spot in the changing dungeon,
and we come up here into the light.
Keep it up, and, uh, one might get the idea
you're trying to sabotage the investigation.
I'm actually trying to help you.
It's just you are too fucking insecure to accept it.
Why not just, uh, tell me what you think instead of being your usual chesty prick?
Shooter was waiting inside when we got there.
You told D.C. Wilson and D.C. Clark that the shooter had been waiting outside.
-I told them someone was waiting outside. -You used the word "shooter."
We would have heard or seen someone come inside.
Not if they came in through the back.
Especially if they came in through the back.
There were bins piled up in front of it.
Why would anyone do that?
Because most of the people in those flats use that space as another room.
Inside, there was a chair in front of the door.
Anyone coming in would have to move the bins,
open the door, and move the chair.
All of which, what? Without us hearing them?
The chair was moved, and the bins were knocked over.
Neither was the case when I arrived.
I clocked the bins, the chair. Why? It's the job.
Now, the dead man had been in there for a while.
The daughter hadn't heard from him for a few days, yeah?
So… someone sat there in the house overnight,
waiting for… what?
I don't know.
I'm pointing out that someone went out, not in, the back door.
Also, CCTV shows a guy in McDonald's
roughly around 25 minutes before the shooting starts, yeah?
He left, then came back before you arrived.
-Why? -According to you, he got thirsty.
Cup was over there, where the Ford was parked,
indicating that he ate his chips and drank his McFlurry over there.
Depending on how fast he did his eating,
that's 10 minutes before he went into the flat.
He could have got back in time to reenter the flat before you arrived.
It's a short drive.
It better be a very short drive.
The CCTV puts a guy in a hoodie dressed in black
in McDonald's just after 10:15.
He's in there for 12 minutes, which takes us to 10:30.
P.C. Anderson's bodycam puts the shooting exactly eight minutes later.
So that's eight minutes to drive back to Leith Park,
eat, drink, beat us to the flat, get into the flat, and then shoot us.
In fact, less than eight minutes, because P.C. Anderson arrived before.
Then you negate your argument
that the shooter was already inside before you arrived.
Your witness…
said she saw someone get into the Ford
immediately after the shooting and drive away.
Former witness, but yes.
Towards which direction did she say the car drove away?
Towards the football pitch.
And on which side of the car did she say the person got in?
She didn't.
Maybe go back and ask her, yeah?
Bloody hell.
There were two of them.
Oh, aye?
Hardy.
I, uh…
brought you a…
For fuck's sake, stop your greeting. You're making me feel worse.
Thank you.
So what's going on? How's Carl treating you?
-He barely notices me. -Doubt that.
Gives Akram all the good stuff.
-Gives me all the shite work. -Such as?
I'm on my way out to Mhòr to look at William Lingard's attack,
but I think he just wants to keep me away from the investigation.
He brought you on. Why would he want to?
-I blackmailed him into bringing me on. -No one can blackmail Carl.
-Why not? -He doesn't give a shit.
Trust me on this.
If he didn't want you, you wouldn't be there.
So what's your plan for Mhòr?
I'm, uh, taking the ferry.
Not how you're getting there. What the fuck you gonna do?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, um… I, uh…
thought I'd, uh, first speak to the constable, get his perspective.
His perspective means fuck all. Only your perspective matters.
-What's my perspective? -Exactly.
Go see the constable, but only to tell him you're on the job.
And if he can help with a map. Something you don't need.
Make him feel like he matters. That way, he leaves you alone.
Okay, um… And then I can go and visit the crime scene?
16 years past? Waste of time.
-Not even to get a feel? -A feel?
All you're gonna feel is, "Okay, so this is where it happened."
So…
They had somebody right for it, didn't they?
He died trying to get away. Henry something.
Harry Jennings.
-Harry Jennings. Start there. -With the dead guy?
With the dead guy. With his family, his friends, his fucking goldfish.
Look for connections.
This was 20 years ago. It's probably nothing to do with Harry.
Probably not, but every spoke leads back to the hub,
so pick one and make it your own.
-Carl tell you that? -Nero Wolfe.
Whoever the fuck that is.
What spoke are you gonna follow?
-What happened after the disappearance. -We don't know what happened.
We don't know what happened to Merritt, but she existed.
She caused ripples with people, institutions, things,
and these ripples, in turn, caused patterns in her life.
It can be useful to see if these patterns change
after one ceases to exist.
Hmm. Nero Wolfe again?
That one was Carl.
That would assume it was somebody in her life that took her.
It's a fucking guess, aye.
But that's what we start with, isn't it? Guesses. We just call them theories.
Mm.
So…
There the guy is, sitting in the pub, stark naked,
pint in front of him, just waiting on me to arrest him.
God, you must have so many great stories.
Too many, yeah.
Go on.
That's the Royal Regiment of Scotland's 4th Battalion.
-The Highlanders. -You know military history?
I know the Highlanders descended
from the Seaforths, the Camerons, and the Gordons.
Aye, well, there they all are. Look.
-Can I? -Aye, course.
God, they're beautiful. Where'd you get them?
I made them.
-No, you did not. -Aye, I did.
Well, they are beautiful.
Oh, wow.
How does an arsehole like you have for a boss
recruit someone as lovely as you, eh?
I'm not so lovely.
I've a dark soul.
-I bet. -Mm.
-Multiple personalities. -Even better.
I could use more than one of you.
Unlike the nitwits I've got here.
That's Colin, my eldest.
Nothing more moving than the love between father and son.
If you say so.
Uh, so there's eight of you on the force over here?
Aye, two of them are part-time though.
-Don't suppose there's much crime? -The odd pub fight. Public intoxication.
It's an island after all. You rob the bank, where are you gonna go?
So, say, someone breaking into a house to steal this or that
and beating someone to a pulp, that would be unusual.
Very.
Not to mention the suspect getting killed making his escape.
Talking about the Lingards?
Well, actually, I'm more interested in the suspect, Harry Jennings,
the boy who almost beat William Lingard to death.
I know who you mean.
The other robberies that month.
-There was no violence involved. -None.
Did you consider Harry wasn't involved?
Of course I did, but there was no one home during the other burglaries.
And… as soon as he was of age,
I was pulling that lad off boys in the pub at least once a week.
He had what I would call a foul temper.
Harry was easy to piss off?
The lad was born pissed off. He came out of his mother pre-enraged.
So it was just bad luck, then, that William was home.
Aye, and that's all it was. Very bad luck.
Merritt left right after that?
She got on the heli to hospital with her brother and didn't come back.
She came back one time. For the funeral.
Aye, yeah, for once you're right. She did come back for the funeral.
W-w-wait.
For the funeral of the boy who almost beat her brother to death?
Harry and Merritt were close.
If they were so close, why would he rob her house?
'Cause the family were desperate. Clive Jennings's business had gone bust.
-Can I talk to Clive? -If you're clairvoyant.
He died, what, six years ago?
-And the mum, Ailsa? -You do your homework, don't you?
You sure you don't wanna come and work for me? You could train Colin up.
Marry him, set him straight.
Aw, no. He's too handsome. I'd be distracted.
Aye, Ailsa's still with us, but she's not a very social person.
Can knock on her door, see what happens.
-Colin will show you the way. -I can find it.
All the same,
Colin will take you.
-You really ate his lunch. -Wasn't that hard.
Your mates that came over last time,
they give you the heads-up on the old toy soldiers?
I have no idea what you're talking about. I just love men in uniform.
Oh!
Really think I'm handsome, do you?
Uh, yeah.
Yeah, you're like a young, gay Ralph Fiennes.
Oh.
Caught the "straighten him out" line. That's good.
Again, it wasn't hard.
One of these days, I'm gonna leave.
Can't say I blame you.
You may have noticed that talk of the Lingards and the Jennings is
a sore subject for the constable.
-You call your dad "the constable"? -I sure as fuck don't call him "Da."
Have you seen the crime scene photos? Of the break-in?
Uh, yeah, yeah. I've looked at them. Why? What about them?
After your boss requested the case files,
the constable went and dug them out the archives…
…and stayed all night reading them.
Carl has a brilliant way of motivating people.
This was more than motivated. I mean, he was upset.
So I had a wee look at the files myself.
Little devil.
And?
I'd never read them, 'cause I was just a kid then,
but, man, it was… it was brutal.
Like… the crime scene photos made me sick to my stomach.
Harry pretty much caved in William's skull.
Mm. Gave him brain damage.
Ugh, so there was this tech photo of the room that they found William in,
but someone…
…had, uh, circled something that was lying on the floor with a black marker.
Circled what?
A necklace.
Any idea why it was circled?
No.
And you think your dad circled it?
Well, I…
couldn't possibly say.
Could you, um…
could you scan the photo?
Ah. Yeah, I could.
Might make the constable look bad.
Or maybe that's the idea.
Um… Exactly what kind of hazardous waste are we talking about?
Oh, um…
Asbestos?
Uranium, maybe? I've never really thought about it.
-Nothing to worry about. -Yeah.
This place used to be full of men, 24-7.
What was Jennings' business?
You name it, Clive Jennings fixed it.
Or painted it or scrapped it.
That's the old Jennings abode over there.
How did it burn down?
Well, like the constable likes to say,
it all started when a bolt of lightning struck the insurance policy.
Mrs. Jennings?
It's Colin Cunningham.
Uh…
I'm coming in.
Hello?
Ailsa?
-It's Colin. -That explains the dead birds.
Ailsa?
-She's probably at church. -It's Tuesday.
Yeah, I know. She has, like, a part-time job there as a bookkeeper.
And you're just remembering this now?
Your dad's right. You are a nitwit.
Oh.
Rather cutting.
You know, it's not that far from here, if you wanna drive over.
Can't miss the ferry.
In a way, I'm relieved.
What was I supposed to ask her?
What was it like losing your son?
No offense, but… what a place to grow up.
No wonder Merritt ran away.
Everything… dies here.
Well…
It's not that easy to get away.
-Merritt did. -She thought she did.
In the end, she died in the same water as Harry.
-Paradise on earth. -Mm.
But when you've gotta go, you've gotta go, so he finds this dune.
Squats down, does his dirty business.
We know it's him. Ruined the place.
Then this wee dog crawls in the house, a spaniel.
He blamed it on the spaniel.
We're like, "There's no way that comes out a spaniel."
The thing was bigger than the spaniel.
Evening, Carl.
Evening, Victoria.
So, love, what happened to my snow globe collection?
Burgled by someone with no taste.
He threw them all in the bin.
But don't worry, I managed to shield your lovely prints from his evil clutches.
Thank you, Martin.
The place looks just as I left it, Carl.
Mm-hmm. Like a mausoleum.
Mm.
I haven't got long. I'm back out on the Frankfurt flight.
-You let yourself in. It's your meeting. -I let her in.
-And you know the way out. -Charming as always.
Bye, babe.
-You look rough. -I nearly died.
What? This morning?
Hmm.
How's what's-his-name in duty free?
-He's a fucking pilot. -He's a fucking dick.
Mm.
Okay. Jasper left. He's staying with your mum.
I assume she phoned, hence this lovely surprise.
Yeah, she phoned me. What happened?
You played him that fucking voicemail.
No, that's not the reason he left.
He and I made a deal. Things were better.
You made a deal? He needs a father, not a fucking car salesman.
Then you poke your nose in and balls it up like you want to sabotage things.
-Fucking amazes me. -Why would I?
Why play him the voicemail?
-I want him to know it wasn't his fault. -What wasn't?
The way you are with him. With everyone, really.
I want him to know it's not about him. It's about you.
What? He idolizes you, and you push him away.
Idolizes me? He barely grunts at me.
Oh, he's 17. He's not exactly gonna recite poetry, is he?
When you were rushed into hospital, he was there.
He never left until you were out of surgery, out of…
danger.
How do you know that?
Mum told me.
Never said anything to me.
Did you ever ask him?
Did you think how scared he must have been?
It wasn't exactly a picnic for me either.
Did you ever explain that to him?
It's not the easiest thing to drop in a conversation, Vic.
I'm not saying it's easy, Carl. He's angry, but you're his stepdad.
Maybe he's angry because his mother fucked off to parts unknown.
-We're having another conversation. -Oh, I beg to differ.
He needs you. When you shut him out, it feels like punishment.
I don't shut him out, fuck's sake.
Shall I play that voicemail for you? "Oh, I think maybe I'm better off alone."
-That's not about him! -That's my point.
Jasper needs to know that the problem is
what goes on inside that head of yours, not him.
I need to go.
-Want me to go and pick him up? -Nah, leave him.
Mum will be driving him mad. He'll be home soon.
But you need to think about what he's coming home to.
Uh-huh.
Oh, sorry.
Not at all.
I was waiting for you.
To hear about Mhòr.
It was interesting.
How so?
-Where did you get this? -The Lingard robbery and assault file.
My pal Colin sent it.
Colin?
Cunningham's deputy and son. In that order.
Also my future gay husband.
It's listed as "Diamond pendant on platinum chain belonging to Lila Lingard."
Listed where?
On the insurance claim.
But it wasn't stolen.
Not then, it wasn't.
Merritt came back for it.
When?
On the day of Harry Jennings' funeral.
Oh, fuck you, you sick f…
sick fuck.
Is this what you want? Eh, you want me like this?
Here you are, prick! Here you are!
Hello?
Continue.
Jasper?
Oh, what, oh, what, oh, what the…
Every time I try stay lowkey They be on to me and I don't know why
What did I do to deserve this shit? I'm a humble guy
Jesus fuck.
You scared the shit out of me.
I thought you hated the kids' music.
I do. I loathe it. So I decided to study it.
See what kids are drawn to, like any archaeologist.
You're getting a doctorate in philosophy. Or have you changed your mind again?
A philosopher is an archaeologist of the mind, don't you think?
I honestly don't give a fuck. What is all this?
I thought you and I could have a nice dinner and a talk.
-You know how much I love talking to you. -You need to talk to somebody.
Made your favorite. Liver.
Who told you my favorite was liver?
Jasper.
He was fucking with you.
It's quite funny.
Dare I ask what it is that you wanna talk about?
Leith Park.
What the fuck for?
Because, as my favorite philosopher likes to say,
healing yourself is connected with healing others.
-Yoko Ono. -Yoko? Not John. Yoko?
"A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality."
He was the twee to her sincere.
My therapist thinks I can heal myself by talking about Leith Park with her.
You see a therapist? Voluntarily?
Fuck no, it's department mandated.
Thank God. The world remains as I know it.
Think I can heal myself talking with you? Good luck, friendo.
Not with me. Not even with your therapist.
With Jasper.
-Were you listening? -It was hard not to.
It's actually easy. Just mind your own fucking business.
Look.
Victoria's not wrong.
Okay.
The bullet went in here, and it came out here.
You can see that.
Give me fucking strength.
The bullet…
went in here,
and it came out here
after, after…
it went through Hardy's spine.
-Oh. -Yeah.
"Oh."
Hardy slowed it down, which no doubt saved my life.
He, meanwhile, is paralyzed from the waist down.
One good arm, one with half mobility.
And as we all know, P.C. Anderson wasn't quite that fucking lucky.
Victoria said he was scared when he saw me in hospital.
How's he gonna feel when he hears all that?
How's he gonna feel when I tell him even if we were armed,
it would've come out the same?
You know why that is, Martin? I'll tell you.
No matter how many fucking platitudes you find on the internet,
the world is a seriously dangerous place where no one is safe
from one bad surprise ruining their fucking life.
You know why that is, Martin?
Because the most dangerous fucking creatures on this planet are us.
Now I'm gonna take a shower,
I'm gonna come back, we're gonna sit down,
and we're gonna eat that…
…fucking liver.
Preferably in silence.
I can assume William didn't see his father on the ferry or at home.
Why assume that?
We can assume William could recognize his own fucking father.
Even after 12 years?
All right, Rose. Come on. Share with us your theory.
Share with the class why Jamie is involved with his daughter's disappearance.
-I can't wait. -I don't know why, Carl.
I just know that according to William, he saw someone wearing a cap,
both on the ferry and at the house, with the name of Jamie's boat on it.
No, he saw someone wearing a cap with the image of a fucking bird,
but you, amateur ornithologist,
have decided it's the same bird as Jamie's boat.
Have I got that right?
-You're doing that thing. -What thing?
You disagree just to be disagreeable.
I'm disagreeing with you
because you haven't thought it through to make me agree.
Well…
What about the necklace, huh?
The mother's. The one Jamie said Merritt took.
-What about it? -Maybe Jamie was trying to get it back.
Let me get this straight.
He was stalking his daughter,
then he kidnapped and/or killed her to get the necklace back, is that right?
Okay. That's ridiculous.
-Yeah. -Fuck.
-Akram, what are those? -Came from the Crown Office.
-Gone through 'em all? -Most of them.
Anything good?
The woman seemed to have no life. There's nothing in her diaries.
Phone records.
All to and from home, and to and from the office.
It's like she went straight home every night.
No dinner with the highers-up. No drinks at the pub with colleagues.
"I miss you already."
"Look forward to the next time. Same room?"
"I believe that bed brings good luck."
Signed, "S."
So she didn't always go straight home.
Who the fuck is "S"?
There's the florist, but no date.
Meaning she could have got this anytime before she disappeared.
I doubt they still have a record.
-Maybe someone remembers the card? -From when?
Again, who knows when she got this?
She saved the card for some reason.
"Same room."
-A hotel. -But which one?
This lot came from her office, yeah? Who packed it up?
Her PA, um…
Sabrine Perera.
Sabrine.
Was this a loo or something?
Shower quarters.
Ah, of course.
Merritt had a reputation for being aggressive.
That's one way to put it.
How would you put it?
She provoked people. Went straight at them. Tested them.
Merritt didn't care what people thought.
Long as they thought she was good at her job.
-And did they think that? -They had to because she was.
Stephen Burns said that she didn't fit in.
Neither of us did.
I think that's why she took me with her. So she'd have an ally.
Against the rugby boys from the posh schools?
We used to joke about them. Good teeth and bad attitudes.
-It was us against them. -I know the feeling.
They try to intimidate you.
Make you feel like a wee cog in their big boys' machine.
What?
Are you finished?
-Sorry. -So…
Merritt was strong? A survivor?
Survivor? Are you kidding?
She absolutely thrived on that stuff.
So she could… survive, say, in, um…
difficult situations?
You think she could be alive?
It's possible.
Nah, it's been four years.
I don't think she'd just up and abandon her brother or me like that.
If she was alive, I would just… know.
Because you were that close?
-We just always had a connection. -Oh, yeah?
-That was never gonna happen. -Why not?
Because we weren't batting for the same team.
Speaking of, do you remember this?
No.
You packed it up with the rest of her office stuff.
If you say so.
Any idea who "S" might be?
You think that's me?
I think it's someone whose name begins with "S."
The word "someone" starts with "S."
Could be fucking anybody.
-Call the fucking florist. Ask them. -Uh, we did. They're out of business.
Could it be someone from work?
Christ, I hope not.
Is this all you've got?
So this is just what it looks like. A publicity stunt and a waste of time.
-We want to find her. -So did the last guy. Look how far he got.
The last guy fucked up.
Mm.
Least he wasn't working out of a loo in the arse end of the station
with what looks to me like a pair of temporaries from a PA pool.
No wonder you were so liked.
Tell me why you're gonna do any better.
'Cause I'm doing it.
Shit.
You actually sound like her.
If Merritt was seeing someone, I woulda known.
All those alpha males. None of them ever tried their luck?
Of course they tried. They all fancied her.
They were probably running a sweepstake. But she wasn't interested.
When she talked about them, it was like they were beneath her.
She wasn't friendly with any?
I don't know.
Maybe Liam.
They worked the Finch case together, and that was more cordial than friendly.
-Liam Taylor? -Aye.
He was a good prosecutor. And happily married.
So he wasn't always panting after her like the others.
-Why'd you say "good"? -That was how Merritt rated him.
-She ever express any interest in him? -I asked her about him once.
She said she saw Liam more as a challenge.
She knew he was happily married. She'd never go there.
So if Merritt had a fella, it was someone outside the office.
-What are you doing? You're not a tourist. -It's good luck.
Not for the dog. He's had his nose replaced twice. Come on.
Ladies and gentlemen,
I'll keep this short, being a man of few words.
Yeah, right.
All right, all right.
Um…
You should be proud.
I know how hard you've worked and how little recognition you'll get.
But I would like to say thank you and well done,
and it feels fucking good to win.
-It's the wee one's birthday. -Mm.
Bright and early.
Carl fucking Morck.
Liam Taylor, in the flesh.
Liam Taylor, I am Akram.
-I heard you were dead. -Only on the inside.
We were talking about you.
Can you hang around for a bit? After I speak to your boss.
It's Kelly's birthday. We're having a family dinner.
Okay. Do you still do that weird polar bear routine?
Every morning. Keeps me young.
Until your fucking heart explodes.
-I'm glad you're still alive. -I'll find you.
You celebrating?
Three convictions in a money laundering case.
Not gonna go down well at the golf club.
Who has time for golf?
-I don't think we've met. -I am Akram.
He holds my umbrella.
Is there something I can do for you,
aside from listening to your tired routines about the weather?
"I miss you already."
Excuse me?
"I can't wait for next time." "Same room, same bed."
Blah, blah, blah.
Sorry, you've lost me.
It was a note attached to some flowers that were sent to Merritt.
Sent from who?
An admirer with the initial "S."
Ah, I see.
Any idea who that might be, Stephen?
None.
To be clear, Merritt and I never discussed her personal life.
You were her supervisor, her mentor.
All the more reason. No idea what she got up to outside the office.
What about inside the office? People have relationships all the time.
And I'd still expect them to behave professionally.
If people did what we expected of them, you and I would be out of a job.
Oh.
That wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Anything else? Or would you like to risk another question?
Not today.
Very nice meeting you,
Lord Advocate.
Oh, fuck off.
-Cup of tea? -You should be sleeping.
-And wait for the water to boil this time. -Whatever.
-Maybe you can find me a wee biscuit? -Go to sleep!
Well done, Merritt.
Water looks delightful.
Got a shriveled knob just watching you.
You should try it. Great way to wake yourself up.
Assuming one wants to wake up, yeah.
I remember you in those early morning case conferences.
Real ray of sunshine.
Speaking of cold and cases…
Aye, okay.
You and Merritt Lingard worked the Graham Finch case.
We did.
How'd you find her?
Ambitious. Annoying.
She was very focused. Not much of a team player.
-Didn't think much of her colleagues? -She did not.
But I never had a problem with her.
Her former PA said Merritt thought of you as a challenge.
-Challenge? -Yeah, you know, a…
A test, a… prize to be won.
Flattered, I guess.
Everyone tells me Merritt loved a challenge.
She passed all the tests, won all the prizes.
I'm wondering, if she thought of you as a challenge,
did she act on it?
And as she usually got what she wanted, if she did act on it…
-I'm asking did-- -Did I fuck Merritt?
-Or vice versa, yeah. -Fuck sake, Carl.
Change my mind, Liam.
Tell me nothing happened. Tell me you didn't go there.
-I don't know what to say. -You say it didn't happen.
It didn't happen.
-Fucking hell, Liam. -Carl…
Does Martha know?
Course not.
How did it start?
Like you said, Merritt got me in her sights.
Then we went for a drink after work.
We both got a bit pissed.
She kissed me, and one thing led to another.
-Lasted a month. -Took you a month to come to your senses.
It was Merritt. She ended it.
Why?
She just did it. No warning, no explanation, no big fight.
Just, "Thanks. I'll see you around."
I kept my distance after that.
You're married. She never brought people back.
-Where did you meet up? -Hotel.
-Which? -Prince's Garden.
Ever send her flowers?
She'd have hated that.
Do you remember any dates?
-No, but… she always paid. -Oh, looking out for you.
-There'll most likely be a record. -It was a while ago.
Over a year before she disappeared.
None of this has to do with your investigation.
The only way Martha finds out is if you tell her.
Doesn't have to go in a file?
So you messed around. She dumped you. You felt played.
-Then waited a year to kill her? -I don't know if anyone killed her.
You have to be thinking it. An investigation presumes a crime.
The real crime…
are those fucking Speedos.
Don't worry. I won't put you in the file.
Sh… She used a different name.
She checked in as Lila Graham.
-Are you sure? -She had a credit card in that name.
I remember 'cause I made some gag about prosecutors commit fraud.
I bet she laughed her arse off.
She just said, "Now you're safe. You have something on me."
D.C.I Morck, this is Marcus, the assistant manager of the hotel.
How do you do, Marcus?
Detective…
…as I've said to your associates, I can't help you.
-Sorry you came out here, but I'm afraid-- -Shut up, Marcus.
How long do you keep your guest records for?
-Five years, but again-- -Shut up, Marcus.
We're investigating the disappearance of a woman
who may have stayed here before she went missing.
We know for certain that she stayed here a year or so before that.
So that's four years,
two Olympics, one World Cup, and four prime ministers ago.
-If you please. -You need a warrant.
It's just confirmation. It's not 50 kilos of cocaine.
Be that as it may, I'm not allowed to release personal information.
That data is all protected by law now.
Data Protection Act, 2018.
Thank you, Akram. Helpful.
As I told your associates, I could lose my job.
You could lose your job if I tell your higher-ups
that you're procuring prostitutes for your guests.
I do no such thing.
And you've got a fucking maid who deals oxy off her cleaning trolley.
-That is absolutely not true. -I know. It's shit, innit?
-This is harassment. -Call the police.
Same room six times in the two months before she disappeared.
All this time they could've been tracking financial history for Lila Graham.
We're doing that now.
What type of person uses the name of her dead mother?
What is an "authorized guest"?
Someone authorized to sign for room service, bar tab, whatever.
-Why would she do that? -'Cause she was never here.
-She's on the computer. -It's Lila Graham on the computer.
It's Liam Taylor's signature on evidence that puts Merritt in the room.
Fucking paranoid bitch.
I'm looking at last time she was here, and that is not Liam Taylor's name.
Who the fuck is Sam Haig?
Well, today's the day, Merritt.
You've had enough time to think. Now's your chance to answer the question.
Why are you here?
Like they say, the truth will set you free,
but, oh, if you don't answer right,
we'll give you another month to think about it and try again.
You okay?
First guess.
Make it a good one.
Sam Haig?
What did you do to Sam?
I'd love to take you to Benny Beg one day.
That's a great wee crag to get you started climbing.
Who said I wanted to learn how to climb?
-You're dressed. -Yeah, I have to go.
-Everything okay? -Yeah. Something's come up.
Well, I'll only forgive you if you tell me when I can see you again.
-I'll be gone for a while. -Where?
Mhòr, for a bit.
-Mhòr. What is on Mhòr? -It's an island.
Yeah, I know that. But what's on Mhòr for you?
My father.
Mm.
-So how long you be gone? -Who knows?
Wow. "Who knows" is code for forever.
Please. I'm not going home to live with my father.
I need to see him. And then, uh--
And then what?
-I'll ring when I get back. -Which is when?
I don't know. When I get back.
-You're a right font of information. -Can't we just fuck without sharing?
Is that what we're doing now?
Just fucking?
What did you think this was?
I have to go.
But you can stay. Order some room service. Make a day of it.
Hey, Merritt.
Fuck you.
What did you do to Sam?
I used him.
That's all?
I was unkind.
Is this about Sam?
No.
But Sam Haig is dead because of you.
Sam's dead?
Every time you give a wrong answer,
you're gonna make things just a bit more uncomfortable.
So from now on, you might want to really think
before you speak.
The hyperbaric chamber will begin to heat up
as pressure increases.
At five atmospheres, or 50 meters depth,
the temperature inside the chamber will be around 32 Celsius,
or 90 degrees Fahrenheit.
The rule of thumb is the deeper, the hotter.
Oxygen will become denser, and it will become tougher to breathe.
A person may start to experience hyperoxia,
or high levels of CO2 in their breathing.
These symptoms include trembling, sweating, confusion,
headaches, and blurred vision.