That shack's stealing all our business.
No wonder people prefer Scott's shack.
He understands the value of my catch.
Good fish, proper fish, Welsh fish.
I know.
I'd happily go back to fish and chips, but...
I hope everything was to your satisfaction.
No, the food was flavourless.
The gap between the idea and execution
is exactly what you'd expect from an adult wearing Crocs.
These are pro kitchen wear.
Standard issue in the Roux brothers' kitchen.
Anyway, my food was designed for people with a palate.
This is why we're dead, Joe!
We need to go back to old-fashioned pub grub.
Would you tell Leonardo da Vinci,
"Don't bother doing the Mona Lisa... just stick to crayons"?
Yeah. If he was crap at painting, yeah.
I am re-educating people's taste,
not pandering to the TikTokers.
We'll outlast our flash in the pan out there.
Technically, I was right.
- Too soon? - Too soon.
*CREDITS*
I was going to do us a barbecue tonight.
Gone right off the idea now.
Oh, takes more than this to put me off a burger.
Right. Cause of death... probably smoke inhalation.
And some areas of the body are burned,
but the site's so dirty, we won't know more till he's on a slab.
So when the fire started,
why didn't he just leave?
Two scampi and chips, please, love.
That wasn't appropriate.
What have we got?
Victim was Scott Winstanley, seafood chef.
Opened the shack here about six months ago.
Bit of a star on social media.
I knew I recognised this place.
It keeps popping up on my Instagram.
You're on Insta?
Yeah. I'll follow you if you like.
Or not. Boundaries, yeah.
Any idea how it started?
Fire investigation team are on their way.
Fire was discovered by local fisherman Gareth Merwin
just after 2am.
Got Chaudhry interviewing the locals.
What's wrong with you?
Seagulls, ma'am.
I hate them. Got attacked in Tenby last year.
Took my churros right out of my hand!
Oh, watch out, there's one behind you.
Not funny, ma'am.
I've asked around about Winstanley.
Apparently, he grew up in Cornwall in a place called Porthcurno.
A bit of a surfer type,
but then fell into drug addiction
before teaching himself to cook.
There we are, then.
Ex-junkie... relapses, leaves a hob on.
Nice and easy, Mallowan.
Good job, too, because you've got that big Zoom after.
Right. Wait, what?
The health and safety thing.
- Sandra put it in your diary. - Who's Sandra?
Right. Don't worry, sir! On it.
See if you can dig up any CCTV,
and keep taking statements from the locals.
I'm off to consult our consultant.
John Chapel? How is he?
Er... It's complicated.
I'm sure we can resolve this, Vonny.
You told me you wouldn't be in.
Yeah. I needed to see you.
I'm not sleeping properly.
Alan's off his food.
We both are.
You see, he can always intuit my... my inner pain.
Oh, John, love.
It's over.
_
Oh, hiya, love!
Just bringing John's stuff back.
Sad jazz.
_
Yeah, well, I am turning your room into a home gym.
_
Well, it's not as if you're going to be moving back in, is it?
Imagine that!
Detective Inspector, still living with her mother!
OK, Mam!
Sorry.
_
Right. Ta-ra!
Ta-ra.
An intimate connection.
A union of two souls...
reduced to the contents
of a distressed Ikea bag.
Good to see you're over the break-up, then.
"Sensual massage oil."
Have you come to kick me while I'm down, have you?
No. I've come to cheer you up.
Someone's dead.
Oh, lucky for them.
Least they don't have to feel any more.
Oh, don't be all emosh, John Chapel. I need your help.
Hipster food chef opens trendy seafood shack
in old fishing village.
Last night, the place burns down with him inside.
What, so you thought you'd come and use me?
Is that a trait in all the Mallowan women, is it,
or is there just a sign on my forehead
that says, "Loser, please abuse"?
Joe and Karen, half-brother and sister
that run the local pub, they're dodge.
Neither of them heard the fire last night,
even though it was on their doorstep.
Also, it was put out by local fisherman Gareth Merwin,
who was just hanging around at 2am.
Got to admit, it's interesting, Chapel.
No.
I have to be here for Alan.
He's already been abandoned once.
He's feeling it all again through this.
He's completely distraught!
Yeah, yeah, he's in a terrible state.
Well, maybe all this moping about has made you lose your edge, anyway.
Oh, please, spare me the amateur reverse psychology.
All right, then, I'll be off.
Oh, leave the file.
Yeah!
Yeah, I agree.
Yeah.
Looking at lunch?
No. Just on the socials for
Scott Winstanley's food shack.
No hint as to why he'd relapse.
So far, all I found is that
his food was crap that day.
"Sorry the scran wasn't #bangtastic today.
"Going to find a new supplier with super fresh vibes."
Obviously sad he's gone, but if someone has to die...
What's with the box, sir?
Old case reviews you need to sign off.
Turns out DI Coffey had them in his boot for six months.
Typical.
Great to have a fresh pair of hands to sort these out.
Yeah, these might have to wait.
I was going to head down to Abertonnau
and do a bit of digging into the locals.
Why?
I just don't think he relapsed, sir.
There was no drugs found at the scene.
His feed is all health and clean living.
Should I tell you what my chief super used to say to me?
"You don't clean the windows
"if you're going to knock the house down."
Ma'am. Thought you'd want to hear this.
I've looked into the food shack.
Local council received a string of complaints
from the owners of the Ship pub and guest-house,
trying to get it shut down.
Maybe Karen and Joe just wanted him out of the way enough
they burnt it down.
We don't even know it was arson.
No, we do. Just heard back from the fire investigation team.
There was evidence of an accelerant.
Oh! Good hunch, Mallowan.
Look at you, Detective Inspector.
- Smashing it. - That's me!
- Ma'am. - Oh, sorry!
No, sorry. I'm listening.
It's not right, man. A seaside pub not selling fish.
Kitchen's Joe's domain.
Shame.
Yeah. See you later, Gareth.
DI Mallowan. Mid Wales Police.
The smell?
Yeah, he spends his day gutting fish.
You have to sort of, er, breathe through your mouth
- when you speak to Gareth. - Right.
Erm, can I have a word with you and your brother?
God, it is like the smell is still in my eyes.
I'll grab him in just one second.
Let me just bring this coffee over to our new guest.
Is that an extra-hot latte macchiato?
Yeah, I had to Google it.
You'll never guess who we've got staying.
Ha, I... think I might.
Erm, you go and get your brother,
and I'll take that over.
OK. If you're sure.
One extra-hot poncy-ccino.
Well, I thought you weren't interested in the case.
I'm not.
Just wanted to be near the sea.
I find it a source of great solace in times of despair.
What happened to "Alan needs me"?
He scratched me.
Rather viciously, in fact.
Must be something in the air telling people to reject John Chapel.
Can I nick a...?
What even is that?
Blackberry-infused duck liver
with a pomme smear.
Yeah, I know, inedible. Yeah.
So, have you come to torpedo my solitude,
or are you following up on a new lead?
Bit of both. The pub tried to have the food shack
shut down with the council.
I told you, I am not here to investigate.
I've come to commune with the sea.
Very fortunate, actually.
The best sea view room has recently become available.
It's got a love...
Very interesting, Chapel.
Possibly.
Brilliant. Great chat.
- I called the council. - You what?
I had to try something. He was running us out of business.
Your bad cooking is what's running us out of business.
People will come round.
What part of fine dining don't you understand?
Did you know Raymond Blanc here blew 300 quid on a thermometer?
It's a smart probe!
It messages my watch when the meat is done.
Oh, great. Now your watch can tell you no-one's ordering.
Well, at least I got ideas.
I don't spend my days behind the bar knocking back Cabernet Sauvignon,
reading Jilly Cooper rubbish.
You bad-mouth Jilly Cooper and I'll knock you on your arse.
I think we're getting off topic here, guys.
Look, a celebrity guest my food's attracted here.
Sorry to interject. I hate to be rude.
Erm, there was somebody supposed to be in my room,
who moved.
- Er, is it Tina? - Yeah.
Mardy-arsed eco warrior.
Yeah. She asked to move to Room 3.
Don't know why. Your room's much nicer.
Damn it. My probe's overheating.
Sounds painful.
- Hey. - Hiya, Karen. Two more, please.
What was all that?
That was me unlocking a fresh lead in this case.
The room I'm in is easily the best in the guest-house.
Uninterrupted sea view.
The only one with a bath.
And yet Tina insisted on moving
to the box-room around the corner.
- Why? - Going by your face, you already know.
So do you just want to get to the point?
Room 3 directly overlooks Scott's shack.
The perfect place to observe him...
if you have an unhealthy interest.
We should talk to her.
If anyone saw anything on the night, it's most likely to be her.
Remarkable, isn't it?
Even when I'm not trying to investigate,
I cannot help but unlock the mystery in this case.
That's a big old smug smile for someone
who's APPARENTLY heartbroken.
- You're loving this. - No.
Merely trying my stoic best
to distract the heart from its inner turmoil.
Yeah.
Where can I find this Tina?
She usually hangs around Pendry Bay.
Well, she would do when she wasn't following Scott around like a puppy.
Right, well, there she is.
- A beautiful place. - Yeah.
Yeah, my dad used to bring me here when I was a kid.
I don't want to blow my cover at the pub, all right?
So I'll get her talking,
and you come over once I've warmed her up, right?
Yeah.
Ah, majestic view!
Oh, you look like that actor.
The Caesar guy.
No offence.
No offence?
Erm, I was just saying...
majestic view!
The ocean.
How much she knows. The depth...
Are you going to keep talking?
It's incredibly annoying.
So, erm, your accent's not from around here.
Erm, where are you from?
Not that it's any of your business, but Kent.
I'm here studying the seals. I'm an ecologist.
Don't they have seals in Kent?
Yeah, of course they do.
But Abertonnau is special. It's a new breeding colony.
OK. Bye.
Oh, excuse me, Tina?
DI Mallowan, Mid Wales Police.
- No, thank you. - No, what?
No, I'm the police. You have to speak to me.
It's... It's kind of a thing.
Ugh, fine! What?
I'm looking into the death of Scott Winstanley.
We now know someone deliberately set fire to his food truck.
I would have thought that was obvious.
Er... you were seen following Scott around,
taking a keen interest in him.
And? It's really none of your business.
Really is.
Police.
I feel like I'm at the till and something's not scanning.
Fine. I took an interest in Scott because he talked
a lot about sustainability.
Now, can we just get to the point?
You want to know whether I torched his shack. I didn't.
- Well, how do I know that...? - Don't interrupt me.
I'm an ecologist.
The idea that I would commit arson?
It's like, think of the emissions.
Now, if I were investigating it,
and I would be doing a better job than this,
I'd be looking into Gareth Merwin.
The local fisherman? Why?
Scott got rid of Gareth as his supplier the day he died.
Wake up. It's a bit fishy.
Was that supposed to be a joke?
Oh, I don't do jokes.
Now, thank you for your time. That'll be all.
- Rude. - Yeah.
She reminds me of Scylla.
Black?
No, the man-eating sea monster! Cilla Black?!
You'd expect the police to have some passing knowledge
of Greek mythology, honestly.
It's annoying. Tina's right.
I should have spotted that about the supplier.
Do you buy her story?
Well, she's definitely lying about something.
She ain't from Kent.
How do you know that?
Oh, well, her rhotic Rs. No, West Country.
Far south-west, I'd say.
I know the accent intimately.
I was a series regular in the original Poldark.
Yes. My first job, actually.
I made a bit of a splash
with my young and roguish Tristan Penvenen.
Yes. Anyway, same plan as before, right?
I'll get him talking, warm him up and...
Warm him up like you did Tina?
Well, this should be different.
I mean, he'll talk to me one to one,
as a fellow man of the sea.
Exactly how are you a man of the sea?
I own a boat!
A narrow boat!
That you keep parked in Staines-on-Thames.
The correct nautical term, you landlubber, is moored, OK?
Anyway, water is water.
If the wind kicks up...
Anyway, we haven't got time for this. All right?
Ah, what a beauty, eh?
Cor!
Wooden chafing pieces all the way around the hull.
What does she draw, if I may ask?
About 4ft, 4ft 6?
You're that John Chapel, aren't you?
You know your boats, mate.
Well, what can I say?
Fellow man of the sea, you know.
May I?
Come on.
Well, thank you very much.
Cor!
Blimey, she's seen some action, this one, hasn't she?
She been in the family 50 years, every bit of her,
even the kit and tools go back generations.
Ahoy, me hearties!
Sorry, I don't know why I did that.
DI Janie Mallowan, Trebach CID.
May I come aboard?
Woman on a working boat's bad luck.
Yeah. Murder investigation trumps fisherman juju.
John Chapel.
You're a fisherman now!
I'd read that you'd fallen on hard times.
I suppose you're here about Scott.
You discovered the fire last night?
What were you doing up so late?
Same reason I'm always up at that hour.
Same as my father and his father before that.
Weak bladder?
It's when we fish.
No a nine-to-five job, you know, this life on the sea.
Scott sacked you as his supplier yesterday.
Why was that?
He wasn't happy with the cod I sold him.
Cod's not the best this time of year
and I can't go out deep sea like the bigger boats.
It's not worth the fuel.
Not what it used to be, this business, you know.
All right, Captain Birdseye.
You must have been angry.
A big customer and all that.
Well, I'm a Merwin.
I'll survive. I'll have to.
Seems people care more about seals than they do fishermen.
Oh, yeah, well, they are cuter,
- in all fairness. - Yeah.
R-Right. Well, I-I better get going.
- It's, uh, nice to chat to you... - No, we don't have to do that.
It's happening. Yeah, you...
OK. Ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta.
Charles Caesar does not like being blind.
Same again, please.
Top this off.
Do you think we could get that switched off?
It's a bit embarrassing, my face up there.
You know, it's not really my finest work.
I think it's bloody good!
So are you.
I think you look handsome.
That's the first time I've seen you crack a smile.
Oh, maybe I've been feeling a bit sorry for myself recently, yeah.
Affairs of the heart, you know?
Yeah, I know what you mean.
Oh. Your husband?
Oh, yeah.
Sorry for your loss.
The tan line on your ring finger...
you've recently taken your wedding band off,
and you keep the photo up there, so it's not divorce.
He's not dead.
He's in Malta.
He's coming home next month.
I've just cleaned the urinals.
Any food orders?
Nope. No-one is gagging for a fennel souffle.
- Mr Chapel? - Er, no.
I'm on a juice cleanse, sorry.
Why do you let him do it?
Well, Dad, he left it to us 50/50.
Well, his 50, no offence, is dying on its arse.
Thing with Joe is, if you try and make him do something,
he just doubles down.
So you've just got to let him cock it up
and learn the lesson.
Well, can't you overrule his menu?
He'll come round soon.
We're not completely in the red yet, so...
Do you still want me to turn that off?
Er, please, yeah.
- Mind you, it is a good one. - Yeah.
Leave it on if you like.
- Couple more minutes. - All right.
Baxter!
Janie, are you on your way to mine?
Not yet.
Good. Don't. I've pulled.
Pulled? I thought you had jiujitsu.
Yeah, it got spicy.
You're OK to stay at your mam's, aren't you?
Er... yeah.
Yeah.
Cheers, mate.
Cheers.
Three generations of my family in that photo.
There used to be ten boats out of Abertonnau. Ten!
And every one came home with a hull full of fish.
Hence the depleted fish stocks.
At least now the local ecosystem
can find some kind of equilibrium.
What about my ecosystem?
I can barely afford to put food on the table.
The bit I don't get, Gareth,
is you're the last fisherman in the village,
yet Scott still dropped you as his supplier.
It seems a bit rash.
Well, you know, that's the world these days, you know.
Everything's disposable.
You know, if I was a dolphin,
there'd be some do-gooders raising money.
But I'm not.
I'm Gareth Merwin.
The last of my kind.
- You fish yourself, John? - Phone for you, John.
Oh, excuse me.
Oh, it's fine...
Not really!
I was just saving you from Gareth.
I can't stand his endless fishing talk.
He does seem to have a one-track mind, yeah.
That's why I like having you around. Someone interesting.
Add a bit of sparkle to the place.
What about the charming Tina?
Is she not sparkle?
No, she's a weird one. She's been here for a whole week,
and she hasn't let me clean her room.
Maybe she's, uh, less weird 'round her seals?
The seals!
Of course, Chapel, yeah.
Are you OK?
Oh, yeah, a bit...
Yeah, I think I might head up.
Oh, that's a shame. I...
Well, I thought you might join me for a nightcap.
See where the evening takes us.
Better not, no. No.
Early start and all that...
But thanks.
Another time.
Night.
Smashing it.
She did not come on to you!
It gave me a bit of a jolt too.
Is it so surprising, though?
In romance novels,
bored, charismatic stranger, drifts into port...
Is that you, is it?
Dangerous liaisons.
I've experienced it before, you know.
People hypnotised by celebrity.
You, dangerous?
You're hiding here because your cat scratched you.
Anyway, I thought you were supposed to be heartbroken.
One barmaid chats you up and you're like a kid at Christmas.
I am heartbroken.
Very much so.
Sorry I'm not sobbing constantly
and flagellating myself around the clock.
Tina has to be our prime suspect.
Why? Because you think she's putting on an accent?
No. She lied to us about more than just where she's from.
I spotted something last night.
This photograph here was taken in Abertonnau 30 years ago.
What am I looking at here?
Apart from this man's amazing mullet.
Oh, no, the sign here, look.
"Beware... seals breeding."
There's been a colony here for years, yet Tina said it was new.
And why is she really here? Hmm?
She won't let anybody in her room,
not even to clean it. Nothing.
So what's she hiding up there?
Well, I can't get a search warrant based on
a seal photo and a hunch from Poldark,
so nothing doing.
Did you manage to dig up anything else?
Yes, there was something. Karen.
The barmaid that definitely fancies you.
No, no.
Her nails are a bit shonky.
She's well turned out.
Appearances are important to her.
Yet she takes terrible care of them.
Why, Chapel?
Because you've gone mad, Chapel?
No. The person we should be focusing on is Gareth.
Rubbish. If he bumped off everybody who stopped buying his fish,
he'd have killed half the village by now.
Chaudhry!
Morning, ma'am. You didn't sleep here last night, did you?
Sleep there?
Don't be mad, Chaudhry!
You big... mad head.
Why are you calling?
We've had a witness come forward in the Abertonnau case.
Said they saw Scott Winstanley
in a massive argument the day he was killed.
Who with?
You told him to "leave town or I'll make you leave".
I had enough... he was killing the business.
My husband's coming home soon,
and I didn't want us to be homeless.
But Scott wouldn't leave.
So you killed him.
No.
I did what I always do when I have a big row with someone.
I had a large glass of red,
and I bitched about him on Facebook.
OK.
Well, we're not done here.
I mean, we are done, but we are not done-done.
..sake!
Bye, John.
Bye.
You see that, did you?
"Bye, John."
She was just saying bye.
Are you incapable of reading nuance?
That was more than just a bye.
I've got to go.
That's Baxter with the PM report.
You stay here and try to avoid Karen having full-blown sex with you.
Gareth!
Oh, were you out in that last night? I saw the forecast.
Strong winds, rough seas,
rain later, north-east Lundy.
Ah, it's all in a night's work, innit?
Indeed. Calm seas do not a good sailor make,
I know from experience.
You've been caught out at sea in a storm, have you, John?
Well, a force 6, 7, gusting to 8,
just outside Windsor.
Tried to battle through, but had to take shelter
in a nearby Cote Brasserie. You know?
All right.
You were right about Scott. He didn't relapse.
There were no drink or drugs in his system.
So how come he couldn't escape the fire?
Now, I can answer that.
Hard to see at the scene what with the state it was in,
but he'd had a heavy blow to the back of the head.
Enough to kill him?
No. Cause of death is smoke inhalation.
He was alive when the fire started.
But out cold?
Anything on what he was hit with?
Something big and heavy.
Oh, one other interesting thing.
Forensics turned up a footprint from the shack.
Looks like a Croc.
Can't this wait? It's lunch, we're really busy.
If you're going to lie, make it believable.
Got a new order for you.
Your footprint was found at the Deca-Pod.
What are you doing here?
Just come to see where the culinary magic happens.
Don't worry about him.
Were you in the Deca-Pod the day Scott was killed?
All right, fine. I went to see him, but I wanted out.
I went to make Scott an offer to take over the kitchen here.
He said no.
Sounds like your meat's ready.
What happened to "people will come round"?
Well, they clearly haven't.
I went to see Scott because people knew him, you know?
People liked him.
Because he was...
He was just better than me.
You said you slept through the fire the night Scott died.
Only I'm looking at your heart rate monitor here.
Says at 2am, your heart rate went from 58 to 84.
You were awake.
OK. I woke up.
I saw the fire.
But, look, I didn't know there was someone inside.
You were just happy to watch it burn, were you?
I figured if his business was gone,
he'd be more likely to accept my offer.
I was so desperate to make this work, I...
He died because of me.
Oh, Joe.
Ego's a terrible thing, mate.
Do you want to know something that I've learned in my game?
If you have a resistant audience...
just give them what they want.
Karen, er, you might want to talk to him.
He's, er, he's in a bit of a state.
I think he's probably ready to change the menu about now.
Oh, great!
About the menu.
Not him being in a state, obviously.
Thanks, John.
Right. You stay here. Cover me.
Cover you? You're not The Rock!
- What are you doing? - Searching Tina's room.
Seeing what she's really up to in there.
Wait, what?!
No, we haven't got a warrant! I can't be a part of this.
Suit yourself.
What's going on?
Fastidiously tidy.
Sign of an ordered mind.
Except... one of the pictures has been taken down
and she hung something else up.
This isn't an art gallery!
- Hurry up! - Think, Chapel, think.
Aha!
I said, "Aha!"
- _ - Aha.
You're a scientist, Tina, you work in theories.
We'd like to put a theory to you.
Well, be quick.
_
We've looked into your background.
You're not from Kent.
You're from Porthcurno in Cornwall.
15 years ago, your brother Danny
drowned while swimming off a beach there.
Your parents blamed the lifeguard.
Said he was high while on duty.
The lifeguard was Scott Torrance.
He might have changed his name,
but that is Scott Winstanley.
Yeah.
You came here to get revenge
on the man you held responsible for your brother's death.
Well, obviously.
It's not that obvious, actually, it took a lot of police work, so...
Yes, I came here to find him and kill him.
- Yeah. - Don't interrupt me.
- What... - I found Scott, spoke to him,
but he'd turned his life around.
Punished himself for his mistakes.
So you just left him alone?
Yeah.
Scientifically speaking, what else could I do?
I came here to fix a problem.
The problem no longer existed, so I left it.
And you used seal-watching as a cover.
What a waste of a question.
Have you even prepared for this?
Yes?
The question you should be asking me is,
can I prove that I spoke to Scott about this?
And the answer is yes. I recorded our conversations.
Yeah, I was going to ask that, actually, so...
No, the real question to me is,
why are you so badly prepared?
No comment.
I'll tell you why.
You're stretched thin.
You're struggling.
And it's bleeding into your work, babe.
Shut up!
If you and Scott had made up,
then why were you still in Abertonnau?
I really like the community.
I feel like everyone here has really warmed to me.
Mm, don't think they have.
The whole village just makes me feel chilled.
Now, if that's everything, interview terminated...
I do the "interview terminated at", lady!
Interview terminated at 2:48.
_
I prefer the Star of India, but, my mate, he's very persuasive
and I think he's probably got... Oh, Mallowan.
Glad I caught you. How's the case going?
Very, very, very good.
And that box of case reviews?
- All in hand, sir. - Course it is. Amazing.
I'll be working for you one day.
I won't, because I'm retiring as soon as I can.
- But you know what I mean. - Yeah, sir...
Say, if someone hypothetically was
struggling with the increased workload,
what would your advice be?
I always tackle the working day like...
Well, like, I eat a curry.
Kick off with the poppadoms, of course...
and then you alternate...
rice, main, naan, main.
Rice, main, naan,
bit of chutney, main.
Before you know it, you're finishing off the poppadoms,
ordering another Cobra.
- Make sense? - Perfect sense.
You wouldn't be on your way for a curry, would you, sir?
Ah, good work, Detective.
Ooh, I got something else for you.
There's a van on Port Aaron harbour.
No tax, no MOT.
Untaxed cars? Why are you giving me that, sir? Why? Why?
Because it belongs to Gareth Merwin,
the fisherman from Abertonnau.
Yeah, just feels a bit odd, his van parked
five miles away from where he lives.
Right, yes. Got you.
Thank you, sir. Yes, I will investigate that.
- Very interesting. - Oh! Don't do that.
Sorry! But you invited me here.
Now, this van poses quite a number of questions.
Look at the tyres.
There's a fresh coat of tyre shine on them.
The whole of the outside of this vehicle is immaculate.
Gareth has recently had this van cleaned.
To get rid of the evidence from the murder.
What, you think he drove up to Scott's shack,
chucked a Molotov cocktail at it and sped off?
I think there's going to be another murder
if a certain national treasure doesn't get to the point.
Gareth wanted this van cleaned
because it bears the family name, Merwin & Son's.
A source of great pride.
It's what the outside world sees. But...
have a look on the inside.
What?
It's just like the inside of my car.
Exactly.
A mess... no order, no care. A horror show.
Never giving you a lift again.
How does this help us with the case?
This is a man who cares deeply about outward appearances.
Which would explain...
the parking ticket on the windscreen. Look.
Swansea fish market?
This case is like the sea itself...
seemingly calm on the surface,
but a plethora of secrets beneath.
Dark depths, hidden troughs, and...
Presumably you're here to unveil who killed Scott
because you've been working with the police,
which was glaringly obvious. So can we just wrap it up?
You are really rude.
But she has got a point, so...
Sorry, you are absolutely right.
I have been assisting the police in their investigations.
So allow me to be more direct, if I may, Inspector.
Someone here was having an affair with Scott Winstanley.
Weren't you, Karen?
Course not!
I didn't like him. I wanted him gone.
Granted, you did argue with Scott and ask him to leave town.
You told us it was about the food shack ruining your takings.
- Yeah. - No, no, no, no, no.
You wanted the kitchen and Joe's terrible,
- ill-conceived nouvelle cuisine to fail. - Hey!
- Actually, fair enough. - You said it yourself.
He needed to fail for you to get your way.
So why ask Scott to leave?
Because you couldn't have your old flame in town
with your husband about to come home.
You are a romantic soul, Karen.
That's what drew you to Scott,
a mysterious newcomer.
It's what made you proposition me.
I didn't proposition you.
As if!
- I told you. - I was surprised myself.
But believe me, I'm pretty sure you did.
But romance met pragmatism when you realised your husband
was about to come home,
and Scott had no intention of leaving.
You had to make him leave.
If he didn't have the shack, he didn't have a reason to stay.
So you set it on fire.
This is just guesswork.
'Fraid not.
The accelerant used on the fire was lighter fluid.
Not only effective at starting fires...
it's also pretty handy at removing nail varnish.
Karen... you didn't?
I did.
You crept out of the pub at night...
doused the Deca-Pod with lighter fluid...
and whoosh!
I didn't know he was in there.
No. No, you didn't.
Only one person did.
The person who'd previously tried to kill Scott.
That's needlessly theatrical...
One more word out of you, Greta Turdberg,
and I will have you arrested for obstruction!
So who else tried to kill Scott?
The fish supplier that he'd just sacked.
Now, you hang on a minute.
It's not easy making a living as a fisherman nowadays.
Especially when you can't catch fish!
As a man of the sea myself,
I could tell that the nets on your boat are completely shot.
How'd you catch a fish without a net?
He didn't.
We found a car-park ticket for Swansea fish market in your van.
Oh, so a fisherman goes to a fish market.
Why is this news?
Because you weren't selling fish. You were buying it.
You put it on your boat,
steamed round here as if it had just been pulled from the sea.
But Scott found out.
Bad batch that day? Who knows?
That's why he apologised to his customers.
That's why he sacked you.
You waited for him to close up,
and then you paid him a visit.
You told him to reconsider, and he said no.
Your reputation stood to be ruined,
along with your only source of income.
You can't prove anything.
I saw you struggling to find the right spanner
when we boarded your boat.
Had one of your tools gone missing?
DNA matches Scott's.
We got a warrant to search your house.
It was hidden, but not well enough.
Like all the tools on your boat,
it went back generations,
Merwin fisherman to Merwin fisherman.
You couldn't throw it away.
I didn't kill him, though.
You even said yourself.
It was Karen.
If Karen hadn't burnt the shack, he'd have been fine.
If you hadn't attacked him, he'd have been fine.
It's a tragedy of misunderstanding.
It's a proper balls-up.
Fast as you can, please. I just saw a seagull.
Two perps! I didn't see that coming.
I tell you what, Mallowan...
a lot of people can't hack the extra paperwork
when they step up to DI. But you, you're smashing it.
- I appreciate that, sir. - Where's the other one?
Choppy waters ahead, Gareth.
Hope you sail through, mate.
Thank you.
I know now's not really the time,
but I loved you in Poldark.
Thank you.
What a mess.
Dead because of a fling with a barmaid
and a bloke obsessed with some old fishermen.
It was more than that to Gareth.
He'd built up this fiction and put himself at the centre.
Sort of like you with Mam.
What's that supposed to mean?
Come off it. All this moping...
I'm sorry, I don't buy you and Mam as some great romance.
You're completely incompatible.
Then why am I heartbroken?
Are you? You seemed a lot less fussed about it
the more we got into the case.
And you couldn't wipe the smile off your face when you thought
Karen was trying to jump your bones.
Oh, distractions may have
temporarily blunted grief's claws, granted.
Rubbish. You loved solving the case
just like you loved being "heartbroken",
for the same reason.
And what, Mrs Freud, is that?
You're a drama queen.
- What? - Not in a bad way!
It's just who you are.
It's why you're an actor.
You're not going to like this,
but I'm just going to say it anyway.
When you were really heartbroken...
you shut the world out.
It was too painful.
You barely spoke about Ellen.
That was real.
But with Mam, you hardly shut up about her.
Do you realise how insulting that is?
I'm such a self-pitying narcissist that I've projected
a mere fling into a serious relationship
to satisfy some absence of creative outlet?
Yeah.
- Drama queen. - Right.
I'm not sure I'm quite ready to take life advice
from somebody who was clearly sleeping in their office.
Oh. How did you know?
Oh, come on... the same clothes as yesterday,
faint whiff of Febreze.
All right, I'm not having a go.
No, I just thought, if you're really desperate, then,
well, maybe you could have my spare room for a while.
I don't know.
Aw, really?
John Chapel, that's very sweet of you!
But I'm fine. I found a flat.
Baxter's been pretty unsubtly sending me Rightmove links,
and one of them's all right.
I went to see it this morning.
Oh, thank God for that.
Thank you very much.
No, I meant thank God you found somewhere.
I was actually worried.
Oh, worried about me sharing your roof?
I wouldn't stay at yours even if I did need somewhere.
Good. State of your car,
I'd probably have to hire a round-the-clock cleaner.
Oh, they'd probably leave the minute they heard your grief jazz.
I can appreciate good music.
I just draw the line at a glockenspiel.
Glockenspiel?! There's no glockenspiel...
There's...
*CREDITS*