Previously on Obituary...
There are some people in town who think Hughie didn't do it.
A woman died. The right man is awaiting trial.
Ruby's death is a big titted hitch for this paper.
We are in the eye of the hurricane.
My car?
Is my car mixed up in Ruby's murder?
Slippery of you that, the way you played it.
I guess she's smarter than I thought.
- _ - For a fee,
Tom Quigley allows local lonely bachelors
to use his milking machines to...
- To...? - Yeah, exactly.
Bathroom's over there. Pull the door behind you.
This is like a Filofax of awful people.
The worst of the worst.
Crime correspondent?
The real killer is out there, and I know who they are.
Oisín's attacker didn't kill Ruby.
They leave bodies behind, not people.
They're proud of what they do.
Will you get up!
Sister Redmond.
They've kept the details sparse, Elvira.
So I'd like to hear your side of events.
You were in Home Ec, making an apple tart.
The same apple tart that I made at the start of the term,
which another student, who I won't name...
Mona Rosengrave.
said tasted like something I refuse to say out loud.
So anyway, then Miss Enright's glass eye popped out.
- Again! - It rolled across the class
and stopped at my bag.
When she arrived at my desk I got flustered
and without thinking I said...
Would you mind throwing your eye over this for me?
That's when the laughter started.
They were laughing at Miss Enright?
They were laughing at me,
they've been laughing for the last year.
It's been led by Mona.
And laughing you decided to do something about.
Exactly.
I shoved my tart in Mona's face.
- And then what happened? - Mona said something,
something bad.
Well, tell me what she said.
- The exact words? - To a T.
You shoved your tart in Mona's face, she laughed and said...?
Change the recipe all you like,
it still tastes like Sister Redmond's cunt!
I guess I'm not going back to Home Economics.
How about I spend the time in the library instead?
As an aspiring writer that would hardly be punishment.
No, you'll be joining the only other class at that time.
- Electronics. - What?
And do poorly, I'll be moving you to pass English,
where from what I hear, Mona Rosengrave is thriving.
Electronics it is.
I'll top the class.
You never know...
it may even help with my writing.
Took a while...
but it turns out it did.
Mona, Mona, Mona...
This will be my masterpiece.
- _ - Now to choose.
_
It must be the right one.
_
? Mona, Mona's margherita! ?
? Margherita for Mona! ?
? Mona, Mona's margherita. ?
? Mona, Mona's margherita-ta. ?
My spring rolls!
Fuck!
Okay, okay! I hear ya! Now, shut the fuck up!
Fuck that. I'm getting a pizza.
Fuckin' hell!
What the...
For fucks sake!
Her face, so bloated.
And that wig? It's like it's made of pubes.
Seriously, shoot me if I ever get cancer.
Her waist is what?!
Every cloud, I guess.
Okay, hun. The telly is giving me the horn here.
Yeah, I'm gonna have an early night.
Come to Mona!
It's called a 'Hocus Poke.'
Paul Daniels would turn in his grave.
Older model, recalled a few years back.
Due to overuse the wires in the cord become exposed.
We're talking fireworks!
Can you imagine the face on Elvira Clancy?
Do you think she's mixed up in this too?
No!
She'll have to do up the obituary.
I can see the headline now.
Yeah!
"Mona Dies Moaning."
www.subtitulamos.tv
_
More of Clancy's handiwork.
_
This has to end.
_
- Any tips there, Lily? - Yeah.
Tie your laces.
My understanding is that you have breast cancer,
which means... a choice must be made.
Which is a shame,
considering what great tits I have.
No smoking, Lily.
Whatever happened to the customer is always right?
From what I can see, you're at a crossroads.
Surgery and radium buys me a few years,
meaning constant sickness and a total lifestyle change.
Or I can choose to live out my remaining time
on my terms, enjoying the life I have left.
Six months.
Tops.
The thing is...
I don't know what to do.
So I'm here to ask, what would you do?
I've never been faced with that choice.
Have you opened up to your family?
If you're asking if I've told my son..
The answer is...
nearly.
I was a terrible mother.
I was a teenager.
More of a mad big sister than a parent.
If I told him I was dying,
he'd probably think it was a joke.
But you are...
dying.
Think about what you and your son could do with those extra years.
Call him now.
If you can't decide,
maybe he can.
Hey, Mam.
You know I don't like when you call me that.
Sorry... Lily.
Wouldn't want to cramp your style.
Funny, I was just thinking of that time in school
that I told everybody that my dad was Michael Barrymore.
- Oh, yeah? - Remember that?
You convinced me that that was true.
Hughie, listen...
- I'm dying. - Yeah, right.
- Pull the other one. - It's in my breast.
Stage 4.
There must be something you can do.
There has to be another way.
The only possible way I can get you out
would be compassionate leave or something.
- Yeah. - Right.
Right.
- Alright. - Fine.
I heard a mortician needs a strong stomach and a good therapist.
I heard a newspaper man needs a good thesaurus and a thick skin.
Please don't let my job put you off, Mr Eustace.
I dabble with the dead daily, Mr Stafford.
Nothing puts me off.
You here to enquire about Miss Rosengrave?
I never had the pleasure of meeting her but by all accounts,
it was a fitting end.
I'm actually here about a body that came in a couple of weeks ago,
a James Doe?
Kilraven's mystery man.
Yeah, I heard he had a couple of tattoos,
a chicken and a dog, one on each foot.
- Rose Mulcahy told you that, yes? - Can't say.
Well, as with many other matters, Rose and I disagree.
The chicken, yes,
but a dog, no.
To my eyes, it's far more likely a pig.
Sure the skin was extremely lax,
and the tattoo extremely faded
but I know what I saw.
And, in my opinion,
my opinion trumps all others.
And you told this to Rose?
Who told me I spend too long with the dead.
Like you...
I live for stories,
and bodies,
they tell a thousand of them.
Always with an unhappy ending.
Endings people choose to ignore, but shouldn't.
What do you mean?
Take our chicken wing man.
- Jody Freeman, choked. - Indeed, however,
his left armpit, the hair,
it was superficially charred.
Singed, it was singed, Mr Stafford.
- So? - He choked
and yet he was burned.
What story does that tell us?
I also told this to Rose.
Who no doubt told you to stick to what you're good at.
Being a glorified butcher working in the world's most boring abattoir.
Classic Rose.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Mona has a funeral to attend.
I doubt you'd want her to be late.
No.
Look at you,
another dead patient.
They're saying the most cruel things about her.
Well, people around here are hardly known for their sympathy.
Just this morning I heard a crowd of old crones saying
that Mona was a narcissist and a bully.
They said she used those traits as a cover up for her self-loathing
and that she'd never change.
They're pretty much the words she used to describe Mona in her file.
I take it you knew her too?
In a professional manner.
Must be awful to lose a patient.
Losing one is awful,
losing two in two weeks, it's just...
Clumsy.
The father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen.
You remind me of her.
A narcissist and a bully?
Someone using a crutch.
Would that crutch be murder?
Still not sleeping, are you?
Throwing yourself into your job, it didn't work did it?
A stopped clock is right twice a day.
You know I've read that severely sleep deprived people
experience hallucinations.
Jesus, when does that shit start?
For someone so fragile, seeing things that aren't real
- is the last thing you need. - Fragile?
I can help, Elvira.
You know I think I'll give therapy a miss.
It sounds dangerous.
Dangerous?
The way your patients are dropping off,
God knows who'll be next.
Breaking news this morning, as reported in the Kilraven Chronicle.
- Local dairy farmer Tom Quigley - _
has found himself in the middle of quite a scandal.
Health and safety officials are advising customers
- not to drink the milk... - Spoons down, now!
For fear of... contamination.
More details to come on this.
No doubt the Chronicle will be milking this one for all it's worth.
So, stay away from that milk, folks.
In other...
_
- Too easy. - _
_
Someone came up with the idea that jogging helps with sleep.
I'd love to see that someone waterboarded
with a Lucozade Sport.
Tis the woman of the house.
Emerson and I here were debating the...
merits
of journalistic integrity, isn't that right?
And Tom here
is eager to know the source of a recent story about him.
Not on my watch.
Journalists never reveal their sources.
Well, that's because journalists rarely have guns
pointed at their head.
Which, if you ask me,
is a bit of a boo boo.
Woah, woah, woah, woah!
And why would that be?
Big old shotgun, spread of the pellets...
Honestly you'd be better off pointing it at my stomach.
Let me show ya.
Are you well in the head?
I've been for a jog, shoot me or leave.
I need a shower.
- Control your woman, Emerson. - Even if I could...
I wouldn't.
As I thought, a coward.
End of week,
I want to know who grassed me up.
And when you find them, you can tell them,
I want my cattle prod back.
Oops.
- It was stolen? - Yeah!
By the squealer.
So returning, it's the least they can do.
My God, that was...
- Insanely stupid? - Utterly amazing, I mean...
incredibly stupid thing to do, but you were incredible.
I can't believe I showed him the real me.
Who was that person?
And he likes her.
Whoever she was, she's glad it's over.
Well not quite.
Are you phoning the Guards?
Well, yeah, it's that or give Tom what he wants.
Tom's full of it, ignore him, he'll go away.
Hey, you're sweating right through.
We should do something about that.
Like?
Shower?
_
It's your son.
- Hello? - Hey, Mam.
Sorry, Lily.
Don't dawdle boy, what is it?
- I've got some bad news. - You're in jail for murder.
How bad can it be?
My trial has been postponed till next year.
- I won't make it that long. - I know.
I fought so hard...
I changed so many things
to see you walk out of jail and now...
- nothing! - Three years ago,
you asked me to make a decision for ye.
- To fight or die. - Well, that time I chose fight.
But this time...
I need you to choose die.
No more pain.
No more medicine.
Just peace.
Are you crying?!
You wish.
Nurse Bernadine will sort everything out.
It'll be like...
a hospice-best of meds.
Utterly painless.
I want a proper last meal.
She'll arrange everything.
I wanted to give you something, before I go.
Like what?
I want to tell everyone you're innocent.
A mother pleading her son's case,
that still has to count for something, right?
A bit hard to do from your hospital bed.
I'm not dead yet, son.
What'd you have in mind?
You know I can't tell you that.
Why?
Because it's like you always say.
Then you wouldn't buy the paper.
What can I do for you?
Jody Freeman's singed armpit.
A man that size, what did that?
It could be anything.
Come on Walter,
not like you to hold out.
Fine, I'm thinking...
- Taser. - Yeah, I'm thinking bigger.
- Like a big taser? - Like a cattle prod.
Maybe.
Of course it depends...
Yeah? On what?
On who's got the cattle prod.
That's what I'm hoping to find out.
Alright, good luck.
- Popeye said you wanted to see me. - Popeye?
Your principal with the... the thing, yeah.
I guessed that you could crack more than cars and I was right.
Popeye just told me you're the school computer whizz.
Someone messed with me online
and I decided it wouldn't happen again.
You're a gamer, eh?
Up all night playing online with the boys?
You know what I do?
You work at that shitty paper no one reads.
Exactly.
So listen, if I give you an IP address
can you tell me who sent me an email?
It's anonymous.
Which means this needs to be a no questions asked type deal,
- alright? I'll pay you. - Sorry,
- it can't be done. - Yes it can be done,
- I googled it. - And the internet lies
to stupid people all the time.
A man in your job should know that.
Alright then,
- stay in school or whatever. - Hang on!
I could write some code
to run a reverse DNS lookup
and monitor the traffic running through the same modem
that used your IP address.
Now, if I get a hit,
which would be a long shot,
I can cross-reference it with local public forums.
Scrape from the boards that mention Kilraven,
even your newspaper.
Not that I'm admitting I've done this before.
No, of course not.
Name your price.
I need you to locate someone who doesn't wanna be found.
That's what you do, right?
And one more thing,
this is a "no questions asked" type deal too.
- They asked for me? - You're gonna love this one.
Hello, Lily.
Any luck?
Does it matter?
I'm working.
And I'm dying, so drink.
We've met a few times.
Remind me.
The last time was the Chronicle Christmas party.
You popped in, saw Hughie dressed as Santa, laughed,
and left with the photocopy repair man I had my eye on.
You calling me a tramp, Elvira?
I never judge people in my job.
I had Hughie at 14.
Turfed out of home.
I didn't give the boy love, but I did give him life!
When you're writing up your thing make sure you say that.
And make sure you spell Hughie right.
He did always give out about my typos.
Why don't we start with your childhood?
Shouldn't the dying choose the agenda?
Name your poison.
In my obituary,
state...
that I know my son is innocent!
I'm afraid that will have to be countered in the text.
Then you'd be lying.
Hughie did not kill that woman.
The killer,
she's still out there.
She?
Hughie wouldn't tell me her name.
Probably thought I'd go after her
and that she might kill me.
But he did tell you it was a woman?
- No. - So how do you know it's a woman?
Because I asked if it was a man and he said, "No!"
So I assumed it was a woman. You can't tell these days!
Him, her...
Which I'm all for by the way.
I mean the gays!
They've always loved me.
What else did he tell you about her?
This talking is making me tired.
Why don't I just ask yes, no questions?
Is the killer from Kilraven?
Yes.
- Is she over 30? - No.
Over 25?
Yes.
Has she killed others?
- Yes. - From town?
Big time.
Brown hair...
Mousey personality...
Both parents dead.
Is that why she kills, Lily?
Because her parents are dead?
No, she does it to get...
paid.
Some...
work thing.
What else did he say?
- There was one other thing. - Yes.
- Funny... - What was it?
He said...
"She can't spell...
for shit!"
Nurse?!
You really nailed her.
The pain.
The sacrifice.
I mean I never met Lily
but it's like I can smell her little brown cigarettes
wafting off the page.
I've been coughing them up ever since.
- You're getting double for this. - I am?
Of course I can't pay up until it's finished.
Are you talking about a polish?
I'm talking about input from her next of kin.
Her next of kin is Hughie.
Who, thankfully, I've developed a dialogue with.
What?
I offered to line him up a new solicitor.
In exchange for...?
An exclusive, tell-all interview.
- He's giving me his answer tomorrow. - In jail?
In person, day pass.
Mother's funeral, getting cremated out in the country.
And you want me to come with you to meet Hughie?
- It was his idea. - I see.
Some one-on-one time.
No, he wants to give his two cents towards his mother's obit.
Hey, E-bomb,
- you look f... - Tired.
- I know. - Relax there, Mourn Hub.
If you want some sleepy bye-bye help I've got everything you need right here.
It's ether. Knock yourself out.
Literally. Only do be careful, it's kind of been known to kill people.
Just like Hughie Burns is kind of known to kill people.
Vivienne, we can't grant him any more column inches in this paper
to plead his case.
- So you're saying no, yeah? - Yes.
Okie cokey, pig in a pokey.
Before you leave will you drop this note on Emerson's desk?
- I can tell him if it's urgent. - Cool!
- Okay, the message is, are you ready? - Yeah.
Get your arse to that cremation.
Vivienne, I don't want to sound ungrateful,
but I've had a long week!
The kind that makes you do and say things you might regret.
Fine.
Just with you both gunning for the editor's job,
getting Hughie on record in any capacity is a feather in...
In whatever feathers are put in.
Wow!
You dudes actually didn't tell each other.
- You're... - Pitting one against the other.
Man, I can't believe he didn't spill.
Before I came here you two were like a pack of lions
scattered in the wind.
Lions hunt in prides, not packs.
Not the ones I own.
Look, it's how I was raised, yeah?
To be a killer.
Now I want to make you both killers,
driving each other on
with the best one running my paper.
If it's not ruined by then.
Excuse me?
I'm talking about you publishing crap
that's unverified and poorly sourced.
- Watch your tone, bud! - Vivienne,
we've printed more retractions than papers.
- If you... - I'm just giving you a taste
of what it will look like when I'm editor.
So you're going?
If Emerson never hears about this conversation.
Smart girl.
You have the upper hand now, Elvira.
Make sure you shoot your shot.
What the fuck?
Either you're writing to yourself, Emerson...
or your missus is.
Remember, you have the upper hand.
Hughie embezzled money from the Chronicle.
Not to mention, the man's on trial for murder.
He's not credible and he never will be.
There's a dog in the backseat.
Strange, he usually loves people.
Then again, you are a strange person.
- What's his name? - He doesn't have one.
He told me he didn't want one and I respect his decision.
- But why would... - Heads up!
When I'm behind the wheel I'm a 10 to 2 type gal, yeah?
So no music, no talking, zip.
Hey, hello doggie!
God, I love dogs.
So did Hitler.
Albert McGovern's address.
Now, he's hiding out with some pretty shady characters, so...
Do you want to talk about it?
No questions asked, good man.
Now, who sent me my anonymous email?
He did.
- CP, eh? - _
Makes sense.
He was a customer of yours? At the milking parlour.
Imagine that, at his age.
New man since he got the hip done.
Look Tom, I'm gonna level with you here.
I told you the truth because I feel guilty,
- so I hope this evens the score. - Jesus Christ, man,
you'd trip over your own dick to get what you want,
and you wanted me to confirm it was CP!
And now that I have,
you'll do a job on him
like you did the rest of us.
Front page of your paper.
But he can keep it.
- Keep what? - Me cattle prod.
Something tells me he has more use for it than I do.
Look, no, if she's complaining don't worry about it.
Well, no, just give her more.
Listen, you nameless fuck, I'm waiting on an important call.
One bark while I'm on it
and I'll rip out your spleen with my teeth.
Bite me.
Relax, like your weird therapist said,
sleep-deprived people hallucinate.
And you, Elvira Clancy, are severely sleep deprived.
So this is all in my head?
It's not like you don't talk to yourself all the time anyway.
So when are you gonna do it?
Please be quiet.
Now would be a good time, now would be perfect.
- For what? - Vivienne deserves it!
She played an awful trick on you and your boyfriend.
A trick that threatens to drive you apart
and just when things were going so well,
I mean you do love him, don't you?
Yes.
Yes, I do.
Then kill her!
Look around you, no one will see.
Push her in front of a truck.
You and I will be the only witnesses
and considering I'm a dog, I won't make much of a witness.
Deep down in your subconscious,
you already know you'll have to do it,
you've known for some time.
So what's in this for you?
You've met the woman, haven't you?
Please, it would be fun.
And you know what they say, right?
It doesn't count as a crime if you had fun.
Kill her, kill her!
Kill her...
Kill her,
kill her...
Kill her, kill her!
Kill her!
Well?
Told Emerson what you told me to say.
Now it's time for your part of the deal.
Deal? You came to me, this is blackmail.
Yeah, look who's talking.
You threatened to kill my mother because of what I know.
You, you have my word. As long as I'm alive,
nothing bad will happen to you or your mother.
I haven't been sleeping since you made that threat.
You'll both be fine.
Now are we square?
Denis, are we square?
I've gotta go.
So, how are my two favourite pets getting along?
Alright, come on, we've got a barbecue to get to.
Fuckin' car, man!
Hello?
I tracked down the big lad who put you in hospital.
Guess what?
Albert's a rat.
As in a, a rat, rat.
As in talking to the law?
The fella who threatened to cut off my cock?
- I thought it was your fingers. - Whatever!
- That means we can't touch him. - Maybe.
Maybe it means this guy is full of surprises.
We should find out what else he's up to.
Alright, Sherlock.
See what you can get.
Go on ahead. He wants to see you alone first.
There's nothing I can say to make this hurt any less.
I can only speak from experience.
When Dad died I thought I could handle it.
But grief doesn't play by any rules.
It's going to hit you, Hughie,
hard.
And it won't give you any warning.
One minute you'll feel safe
and then out of nowhere, it smacks you in the face.
But here's the thing no one tells you about grief.
It makes you stronger than you can ever imagine.
See,
I have a life that I want.
A life laid out before me
and because of my grief I have a strength
which means nothing, and no one...
will get in my way.
Do you understand me, Hughie?!
Loud and clear.
I won't lie.
My mental health has taken a battering in jail,
so much so that the death of my mother is merely a blip.
The only thing that gets me through my day
is the dream of inflicting what I went through,
on the person who set me up.
Do you understand me, Elvira?
- Let's talk about your mother. - Let's not.
Then why am I here?
Because I have a little surprise for ye.
I'm getting out of jail sooner than you think.
And when that happens, Elvira,
I'm going to make the real killer crack.
See, I've worked out their MO
and I know they can't help themselves.
They'll get caught in the act covered in blood,
begging to confess and I'll be there.
All I need is to get out of jail.
And what are you gonna do?
Make a run for it when the guard's not looking?
Wait and see.
- Hello, Vivienne. - Sorry to interrupt your pow-wow.
- Word was you wanted to see me? - How's the job going?
- Not as easy as it looks. - I don't know how you did it.
So, my proposal?
A new team of solicitors in exchange for a tell-all interview.
What's your answer?
My answer is a great big fuckin' no.
You dragged me all the way here for a no?
I have a counter proposal for ye.
Sorry, no, I don't do conjugal visits.
Look, unless it's an exclusive all the gory what-nots,
- I'm not interested. - Oh, it's an exclusive.
- Then I'm interested. - But this is what I want.
You get me out on bail.
It's impossible.
You're not using your imagination, Viv.
All you have to do
is tell your mother to drop the embezzlement charges
brought by the paper against me.
No.
They're the reason that I was put back inside in the first place!
Without them, I'm on release.
- Tell him where to go, Vivienne! - Take a beat.
But don't take too long.
I get offers every day.
By the way...
enjoy the show.
What show?
Lily requested that her favourite song
accompany her off this mortal coil.
Tune.
Well, you're fucked.
You can say that again.
? Tonight, there's gonna be a jailbreak ?
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