(bright music) (birds chirping) (gentle music) (dog barking nearby) (gentle music) - I've got two fine fish here.

(dog barking) (Wee Jock barking) - Ach, Hamish, man.

Thought for a minute there I had myself a poacher.

(dog barks) Fancied I saw lights.

- Hush, now, Wee Jock.

(dog whimpers) Have you somebody with you in the van, here?

Lady friend, maybe?

- No, no, no, Mr. Clunie.

It's only Wee Jock.

(Wee Jock barking) - Aye, that'll be it.

- Come on, Macbeth.

- [Hamish] Lights, you say?

- Probably my imagination.

The poachers have got me knocked fair stupid.

- Ah, they're a scourge and no mistake, eh, Mr. Clunie?

(dog barking) - Angus, come here, you big idiot!

By the by, did I mention that Miss Alexandra is coming up for a holiday?

(Angus barking) (Wee Jock barks) - Oh, come on, Macbeth!

(arcade machine beeping) - Come on!

Go, go, go.

- You simmer down - I'm fine.

I'm fine.

- Hey, Barney?

- Aye?

(arcade machine chiming) Agnes.

Any luck?

- Oh, it's hardly a matter of luck, Barney, it's a matter of pure skill.

(laughs) Here.

I've got a couple of really nice ones outside.

£30 secures the pair of them.

- Done.

Here.

It's on the house.

- Hey, shorty, shut that racket up.

- I'm not making the racket.

The machine is.

- You're pressing the buttons.

I said cut it out!

- Hey, we'll have no rowing in here.

(arcade machine chiming) - Look, you big idiot, the loudest things in here right now are that jumper and that stupid shirt you're wearing.

So why don't you just piss off?

Find yourself a sympathetic tailor and get yourself straightened out.

- [Agnes] Barney!

- Ah!

(girl screams) - Can you not see he's only a bairn?

- Let go or you'll feel it next.

(Barney grunts) - Right, Barney, you run across and get Macbeth over here.

I'll keep Mr. Robb occupied in the meantime.

- Wait!

There's no need to involve the police in this.

(bangs mug) Another time, McIver!

- Aye.

- And you just watch your mouth, boy!

Just watch!

- Get up, come.

- I was just about to smack him there, TV John.

You should've let me take him.

- Put something cold on the boy's eye, Agnes.

- Come on, Jimmy.

- I'll go and get you that wee message.

- Ah, two wee messages.

(bright music) (boot slams) (car door slams) (motor revving) (car roaring away) - [Hamish] So who started it?

- Big Geordie Robb.

And finished it.

(chuckles) Young Soutar'll have some face on him, I can tell you.

You can look now.

Yon Robb's even worse than his father was and that's saying something.

- I'll talk to him in the morning.

- Oh, you can't.

He was heading off to Inverness on a week's golfing holiday, according to Barney.

- Well, I'll talk to him when he gets back, then.

- How's the book?

- It's all right, actually.

She's coming up.

- Oh?

Really?

(bright music) - Rory.

- [Rory] Hamish.

(bright music) - My God!

That much?

- Aye.

- But, er, what about this EEC business?

- EEC?

Behave yourself, boy.

Now, listen, we are entrepreneurs, Lachie Junior.

What care we for the EEC?

(chuckles) - [Hamish] Barney.

- [Barney] Hamish.

(both laughing) - [Hamish] Hi, Agnes.

- Hello, Hamish.

- Jock, sit.

- [Barney] The usual, Hamish?

- Aye.

(Wee Jock barks) - Fancy some solids with your beer?

I've a very nice salmon patty on the go.

- Oh, well, maybe just a wee nibble, Barney.

(gentle music) What's going on over there, I wonder.

- The wheels of commerce never stop turning, Hamish.

(bright music) - Good morning, Alice.

Ciamar a tha thu?

- I'm fine.

- Well, as you can see, the firm of McCrae and Son are raring to go.

- You know what's required, Lachlan, so I'll let you get on with it.

- Hey, Alice, I was wondering, erm, is there any chance that Big Geordie might give us a hand, do you think?

- Well, my son's not back from the golf, Lachlan, but, er, Whisky Bob's there if you want him.

- Aye, aye, Whisky Bob'll do fine.

You're dealing with a can-do company in McCrae and Son, you know, Alice.

Drive on, Lachie Junior.

(door slams) No Big Geordie Robb.

Better and better.

Onwards and upwards, son.

(lorry rumbling) (gentle music) - Ooh!

- Let me get young Dr. Brown in to see you.

- No!

He'll know.

As soon as he sees, he'll know.

I heard a lorry.

- It's the McCraes.

(she winces) - (whispers) Dad.

Hey.

There's a light on.

We can't do it with a light on.

- Right.

This...

This requires a bit more nerve, all right?

You all right?

- Right.

- Stockings.

- Stockings.

- No!

Stockings, women's stockings.

Tights for God's sake!

- I am not going into a shop and asking for women's tights.

What would people think?

What sick images would flash through their brains?

- Give me them here.

You take that one.

Is there holes in them?

- Yeah, at the front.

- Give me the jemmy.

Give me the jemmy!

- Okay, okay.

- Back off.

Shh, shh.

(jacuzzi whirring) (knocking at door) - [Woman] Rory, is everything all right in there?

- Everything's just fine, dear one.

I'll be with you in a jiff.

(object clattering) - [Lachie] Shh!

- [Lachlan] Lachie!

- [Lachie] What?

- [Lachlan] We've cracked it, boy.

(tub draining) - There you are, now.

I wasn't too long, was I?

- No.

You smell awful nice, Rory.

- That'll be my Chanel.

It's called Pour Homme.

And now, Esme, some mood music.

(lively fiddle music blasting) (Lachie shouts) - [Lachlan] Shh, shut up!

Shut up!

(Lachie shouting) Shut up!

Oh, it's only bloody music!

Rory Campbell's got this place wired up like a bloody hypermarket.

Right, take that.

(Lachie grunts) Off you go.

Go on, go on.

(lively fiddle music blasting) (Wee Jock panting) - Hamish Macbeth.

Calling Hamish Macbeth.

This is TV John McIver calling Hamish Macbeth, over.

- [Hamish] Aye, I know who it is, John.

What do you want?

- [TV John] Could you go and see the man at the Lochdubh General Stores, over?

- [Hamish] See Rory about what?

- So help me, Hamish, this'll have you baffled.

I mean, a burglary's one thing, but this makes no sense at all.

- You know, this must have made some kinda noise when it was forced, Rory.

You sure you heard nothing?

- Oh, I sleep like a bairn.

And I had an earful of fiddle music before I turned in.

That's a state-of-the-art sound system up there.

You'll hear nothing above that.

- Touch anything?

- Nothing.

And that's the funny thing.

Neither did whoever robbed me, except for half a hundredweight of table salt.

- And that's it?

Nothing else?

- Nothing.

And as you can see for yourself, there's whiskey and all sorts back here, it's-- - Baffling.

- Baffling.

- Aye.

- I mean, what would anybody want with that amount of salt?

- Baffling.

Well, I suppose I should check for dabs.

- Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

I've got a business to run.

I need access to my stock.

I only called you in to make it formal.

For the insurance, you understand.

- Yeah, but there's the damage to the back door, Rory.

- Aye, well, I'll just batter a couple of nails in there and, er, I'll maybe hit the insurance for a couple of extras.

Erm, couple of crates of whiskey, say, and maybe some fags.

I'll see enough to cover the damage.

- Aye.

Well, I'll keep me ears open, anyway.

Crime's a crime and all that, Rory.

- Er, well, you please yourself, Hamish.

Now, I'll see you out, shall I?

- Uh-huh.

(car rumbling) - Won't be a moment, darling.

Just want to see if they've got a Jeremy Fisher or whatever it's called.

(gentle music) - It's Alexandra Maclean, Hamish.

- Aye.

I can see that.

(gentle music) (gulls cawing) - Hello, Hamish.

- Alexandra.

Heard you were coming home.

- Only for a few days.

- 'Course.

Nice car.

- Isn't it, though?

Belongs to my publisher.

He's come up with me.

- Has he?

That's nice.

Morning, sir.

Lovely car.

- Thank you.

Would you, er, like to toot the horn or something?

(Alexandra laughs) - Where are my manners?

I haven't introduced you two.

Peter Peterson, this is Hamish Macbeth.

- (scoffs) Hamish Macbeth?

- That's right, sir.

- What a super name.

- Look, we'd better get going.

Have to pick up a few odds and ends.

- [Hamish] Of course.

You have a nice day, now, sir.

- Hamish Macbeth!

I don't believe it.

I thought you were winding me up.

It's too good to be true.

Hamish Macbeth!

(laughs) (truck rumbling) (truck horn honking) - Thanks, Ian!

(truck rumbling away) - Hamish, man.

- Doc.

- Mm, mm, mm!

- Yeah, belongs to a Mr. Peterson.

Friend of Miss Maclean's.

He also thinks I've got a funny name.

- Oh, dear.

- It's only St. Bruno, Hamish.

- Aye.

(headlight shatters) - I could do with a lift out to the Fish and Game Company, Hamish.

I've a house call to make.

- Who's sick?

- Lucy Robb.

She fell off a forklift last night.

- Yeah, well, I've been meaning to have a word with Big Geordie anyway.

(gentle music) - 'Morning, Whisky Bob!

- You say this happened last night, Lucy?

- That's right.

Look, I don't want a fuss, just some painkillers until the worst of it passes.

- (scoffs) Passes.

I think you've a couple of cracked ribs there, Lucy.

I want you to have an x-ray, just to be on the safe side.

And a couple of days in the infirmary with proper medical attention.

- (scoffs) Look, Doctor, I don't think that's really necessary.

- But I think it is, Lucy.

Is your husband about?

- I'd appreciate it if you can tell me when your son does come back, Alice.

- I will.

But you know Big Geordie Robb, Hamish.

He's probably shacked up with some tart somewhere when we need him here.

I'm all but useless with my leg.

Lucy can barely move.

And Whisky Bob, well, he's a good man when he's sober, Hamish, but that's a rarer sight than Halley's Comet.

- (chuckles) Aye.

- Listen, Alice, would you mind if I stepped across and had a word with the McCraes?

- Not at all.

You get on with it.

- Thanks.

- Half a hundredweight of salt?

And nothing else was touched?

- You must be baffled, Hamish boy.

Baffled.

- He'll not be baffled for long if I know Hamish Macbeth.

He'll have the pair of the rascals banged up before you can say peas.

- The pair of them?

Now, what makes you think there was two, Lachie?

- Well, you know, is it no wonder that I'm proud of that boy, eh?

Now, that's nimble thinking, that.

To deduce that it must have taken more than one man to shift all that salt, why, that is quick thinking.

- Yeah, there could've been three, Lachlan.

Maybe even four.

- Now, I think you're just nitpicking there, Hamish, you know.

I mean, he just made an observation.

You don't expect him to solve the whole case, do you?

- Ah, you're probably right.

- Aye.

- If you two hear anything, you'll let me know, though, right?

- Yeah, no problem, Hamish.

- Straightaway, Hamish.

(playful music) - That's, er... That's right dandy footwear you're wearing there, Lachlan.

- Do you like them?

Yes, er, Big Geordie Robb, he got himself a new pair, so his wife, Lucy, tossed these over to yours truly, you know.

Yes, it's good quality leather, that, yep.

(playful music) (dramatic music) (car doors slam) - How was your patient?

- She was telling lies.

(motor revving) (water splashing) - How is it?

- Salty.

Right, start dumping them in.

Mind your fingers, though.

(water splashing) - So, how long is she home for, then?

Alexandra.

- It's just a holiday, Doc.

- Ah.

Yowza!

Have you read her book?

I mean, it's not gonna make it a millionaire or anything.

Too full of big ideas and big words for that.

But it's good.

Always excepting, of course, that you credit the short story with being a valid literary form.

And then there's the whole post-structuralist debate about the value of literature per se.

What is the function of the writer?

What is the function of the text?

Are the two interrelated or, in fact, do they stand separately?

Divorced, as it were.

Or, indeed to take it further... (romantic music) - Macbeth.

Macbeth?

Hamish!

- Oh, what, what is it?

God, John.

What time is it?

- It's just after six.

Have you had anything to eat?

- No.

- Elbows.

Well?

- Lovely.

- Oh, it's just a wee crab consomme I boiled up at home.

- God, I'm thirsty.

- Aye, so I see.

Young Doc Brown's been here, I take it.

- Aye.

Anybody call round while I was sleeping?

- No.

No calls.

(dog barking nearby) (car door slams) (dog barking nearby) - So I'm saying, "Look, Julian, we can cooperate on this."

Thank you, dear.

"Or we can be rivals."

(laughs) And-- - Constable Macbeth, sir.

- Ah, thank you, Malkie.

Hamish, er, some hospitality, please.

- No, no, no, I'm fine, thanks.

Er...

I'm afraid there's been a burglary at the general store, Major.

A half hundredweight of salt was taken.

- Salt?

Well, well, well, well.

Who would've thought that, eh?

- Yes, sir.

So, I'm just, well, you know, warning everyone just in case the thieves try to, you know, pass on the goods.

I'd appreciate it if you'd warn your kitchen staff.

- So, Constable, you're hot on the trail of a salt seller.

- [Alexandra] Peter.

- No, your friend is just favoring us with some metropolitan wit, Alex.

Wasn't that witty, Hamish?

- Effervescent, Major.

Did you get my ticket, Mr. Peterson?

- [Peter] Oh, er, yes.

I've had the repair done.

- I told Peter the car was probably damaged by some envious adolescent.

- Well, envious and persistent, it would seem.

- What do you mean?

- Well, he's went and smashed the other light.

Happened to notice it on the way in.

Evening, Major.

(door thuds shut) (vehicles rumbling) - Here, take it.

- I can't believe it!

How much have we made?

- Plenty.

And we'll make plenty more when we get over to Cnothan.

There's a whole untapped market over there, boy.

Right.

Take us over the Devil's Humph.

We'll save half an hour then.

- The Devil's Humph?

Nobody drives over there.

You can barely get three sheep walking abreast on that road.

- Look, I want time for my pint at the conclusion of business.

You know me, boy.

(truck rumbling) (lively music) - Talk about the wages of fear.

This is murder!

- Don't talk rubbish, man.

Hey, stop the car!

- What is it?

- Just stop the car!

- What, what is it?

(door slams) That's Big Geordie Robb's car.

- Aye, I know.

- Well, where's Big Geordie?

- Reverse back to Lochdubh, Lachie.

And get Hamish.

Just do it, boy!

(tense music) (wind howling) - [Hamish] 'Morning, sir.

- Who are you?

- I'm Macbeth, sir, local man.

- You don't sound local.

- Oh, well, my folks moved to Glasgow when I was very young.

Joined the forces and eventually moved back here.

- Could nae resist the call of the wild, eh?

Detective Inspector Bruce and this is DS Sandra McDonald.

- What do we know, Constable?

- Well, the car belonged to Mr. George Robb.

Er, he left home on a golfing trip about a week ago, stopped off at a Lochdubh Hotel and that was the last time he was seen.

- And nobody reported him missing?

- No, well, er, Big Geordie, Mr. Robb, he was the waver type, you know.

Frequently disappeared.

- A married man?

- Aye.

- And when he disappeared, it was with women?

Maybe other people's women?

- Absolutely, sir.

- Well, so he had enemies, then?

- Well, he was nae a popular man, no.

I mean, of course, it could be that, you know, he injured his self here and wandered off.

I really don't have the resources to mount a proper search.

- [Bruce] No, no, no, you did the right thing calling us, Constable.

- [Sandra] Signs of blood in the back, sir.

- Oh, maybe I should say, sir, that Mr. Robb and his family own the Lochdubh Fish and Game Company.

See, this car was often used to carry carcasses.

You know, meat.

- Meaning it could be days before we establish if it was human blood in there.

So...

I don't know if I'm dealing with foul play or a missing person.

Well, we better assume he's missing and start looking for him.

The usual appeals in the media with a description and photograph.

Oh, aye, you'd better put in a request for more men.

- I've arranged for you to meet a few of the locals in the Lochdubh Hotel, sir.

Some of the ones that last seen Mr. Robb.

- That was very efficient of you, Constable.

- Oh, thank you.

See, I also noticed that the car clock is stopped at 2:20.

Now, assuming it was working prior to the crash, then we know the exact time of whatever happened.

- Very efficient.

(wind howling) (crowd chattering) - Listen here, now.

Now, the big boys from Inverness are coming.

Hamish says no taking the piss and no dumb country yokel acts.

(all clamoring) (vehicles rumbling) (Bruce sniffs) - What's that smell?

It's like boiled fish or something.

- I expect that's the staple diet around here, sir.

(tense music) (Hamish sniffs) - [Bruce] So, er, what's your name?

- Er, TV John McIver, sir.

- TV, what's that for?

Thomas Victor or something?

- No, TV's short for television, sir.

I was the first man in Lochdubh to have a set, you see.

A wee 14 inch Pye, it was.

So naturally enough, the name stuck.

- Aye, I remember when you managed to get your aerial up, John.

(all assenting) Oh, aye, it just seems like yesterday, boy.

Aye, aye.

My, tempus fairly fugits, eh?

(crowd assenting) (glass tapping on bar) - [TV John] That's Whisky Bob.

- Ah, well, there's nae mystery about that name, is there?

- Whiskey, Whisky?

- Whiskey.

- Whiskey for Whisky.

- Here.

Stick one of these in it.

- Well, then, TV John, what can you tell me about Mr. Robb?

- Well, it's just as Barney said.

Big Geordie gave young Jimmy there a smack and then he left the hotel.

Then when I went out to the car park to get a wee message, I saw Big Geordie doing something at his car.

- Doing what?

- Well, he seemed to be looking for something and he was angry at not finding it.

Then he drove off.

Well, that was it.

- And you're sure about Robb's clothes?

A blue woolen diamond jumper and a lemon shirt.

- Positive.

I mean, who else but a golfer would dress like that?

(all laughing) - It must be serious.

- Everybody's agreed that Robb left for Inverness at 9:30.

Though it couldn't have taken five hours to drive to the crash site, could it, eh?

- Half hour at most, sir.

(cattle lowing nearby) Must have left here, then went somewhere else first.

(cattle lowing) Maybe take a shortcut over the Humph to make up for lost time.

- Aye.

But where?

- [Hamish] She's, er, pretty young for a DS, Miss McDonald.

- Young?

That's as old as the hills, son.

It's just oozing with ambition.

Now, mark my words, that's no long for Inverness.

No, sir, it'll be the bright lights of Perth and Dundee for Ms. Sandra McDonald.

So, er, what are you up to, then?

- Investigating a burglary, sir.

- Aye, well, on you go.

We'll complete this search here.

Though, er, you could check out the young lad's alibi.

Er, Jimmy Soutar, is it?

- Mm-hmm.

- Just in case Mr. Robb turns up dead, eh?

- Hamish, man.

I tried to call you earlier.

Look at this.

It's the strangest thing.

It was shoved through my letterbox.

Read it.

And have a look at the P.S.

(gulls cawing) (vehicle rumbling) (glass shattering - twice) (dogs barking) (vehicle rumbling) - Dad!

(dogs barking) Dad!

(vehicle rumbling) (dogs barking) - It's not a bad afternoon, now, Hamish.

- Not a bad afternoon, my arse.

You're nicked, the pair of ya.

- What are you talking about, boy?

(paper rustling) - "Here is the cash for the salt we took.

"We're sorry we were inconvenient to you, "but we'd a wee cash flow problem.

"P.S."

- P.S.?

- "If you need a new back door, "see Dan McDonald over at Cnothan.

"He'll do you a big thick door for £52.50 plus VAT."

Now, Dan McDonald made one door at that price in the last three years and guess what?

- Uh-huh?

- That's right.

He made it for you two.

- [Lachie] Uh-huh.

- Lachlan McCrae Junior, I'm arresting you under Section Two-- - Hamish!

Hamish, er... (stammering) Why don't we talk about this, huh?

- Well, you can give me the full story and the judge might, and I say might, just look favorably on that.

- Certainly.

Certainly, aye.

We'll cough the lot, boy.

Come on.

- (snaps fingers) You.

Come here.

(dogs barking nearby) - Lobsters.

See, we had to change their water, you see, so we had to have the salt.

- Take it these are stolen as well?

- Yes.

- No.

Well, no, no, not exactly, no.

We were asked to dump them by the Fish and Game Company.

- Whisky Bob gave them the wrong feed.

Something about EEC regulations.

- Yeah, they look perfectly all right to me, so, er, we set up shop, you know.

Saw a little niche in the market.

- Who bought them?

- Oh, just about everybody in Lochdubh, Cnothan... - (scoffs) You might have poisoned the whole region.

- [Lachlan] No, we've been eating them ourselves, Hamish-- - Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, what about longterm effects?

Have you thought about that?

I mean, in six months time we could have... Women with whiskers.

Men with breasts.

- Breasts?

- Breasts!

- You never said we'd grow breasts.

I'm still a young man.

- Aye, well, if it happens you might not mind asking for tights.

So, er, what's our next move, Hamish?

- Say nothing just now.

We could have a mass panic on our hands here.

Maybe even a lynch mob.

I'll, er...

I'll be sending these to Inverness for analysis.

(birds chirping) (Peter gasps) (birds chirping) (thrilling music on TV) (Wee Jock growls) - Well, well, Mr. Peterson.

Thought you'd never get here.

- Outside.

Or do you intend hiding behind that uniform?

- What uniform?

- Look, I don't know who you are or what this is all about, but you're making a mistake, sir.

- A mistake?

(scoffs) He's making the mistake.

I was a boxing blue at university.

- A boxing blue?

Well, my, my!

Tremble, tremble.

- Out!

(punch lands) - Mr. McIver, how are you, if I may ask?

- Of course you may.

I'm perfectly fine, Major.

And your good self?

- Oh, you know.

Isn't that my house guest?

He's not dead, is he?

- No, no.

He was bobbing when he should have been weaving.

Is there somewhere I could park him?

- Oh you can put him there if you like.

- Aye.

- What happened?

It was Macbeth.

It was Macbeth, wasn't it?

(bag rustling) - Hello.

- I thought you might like to know how Peter is.

Had Dr. Brown take a look at him and there's no lasting damage.

- [Hamish] He started it.

- Have you any idea what you sound like?

Like a bloody nine year old in the school playground.

You provoked him.

(Hamish scoffs) You've been provoking him-- - I provoked him?

Now, wait a minute, here.

He came for me.

What about him parading up and down the street as if he owned you?

- Don't talk about me as if I were some prize to be fought for!

And don't... God, what did I ever see in you?

Bloody neanderthal!

- Aye, well, maybe that was it, eh?

Just a bit of rough to tell your pals about between the soup and the main course, is that what it was?

- Can't believe I heard that!

How could you say that?

- Well, how no?

What am I supposed to think?

One minute we're perfectly happy and the next minute you're off.

- I have to earn a living.

I explained-- - That's crap!

I make a living.

I could, I could support you.

Till you, just till you make your mark.

- And if I never make my mark?

- Alex, this is a good place.

Good people.

What more could you want?

You don't want the city, don't tell me you want the city.

Those places just grind you down, just chew you up and spit you out.

- But if we were together.

We could-- - Look, Alex, Alex.

You're not listening to me, I...

I cannae go back to that.

I'm happy here.

I could never leave.

What would I be?

Look, you're just, you're just angry at me for what I did to your pal.

But you tell me you don't care for me and I swear to God I will never bother you ever again.

Can you tell me that?

Can you tell me that?

What?

- I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

(objects thud) - Did I miss something off the list?

- No, no, erm...

I was just wondering why there was no shoes.

No, er, golf shoes.

- Do you think that's what he was killed for?

His shoes?

Look, Bruce has got us combing the hills for a missing person.

It's a complete waste of time.

There's a killer out there and I'd like to catch him.

You could make the job so much easier.

- Oh, really?

- Sure.

With your local knowledge.

I think we should work together on this, Hamish.

(Hamish chuckles) - Oh, do you, Sandra?

Well, I must say I'm, er, I'm flattered.

And I'm sure there's a lot you can teach me.

(door clicks open) - Hamish.

(paper rustles) (Wee Jock barks) (TV John sniffs) Man, that's cheap scent.

Who was she?

- McDonald.

- Hmm.

And what was wrong with your bed?

- Did nae have the heart to disturb Wee Jock.

What's that?

- I don't know, it was in the machine when I came in.

(paper rustling) Now, why would a Detective Sergeant lie down with a Police Constable, I wonder.

Eh?

Hamish?

- I thought I might need somewhere to dump the credit if my guess was proved right.

If I go round starting to solve murders, the powers that be might think I've outgrown Lochdubh.

That Bruce is gonna have me on the next train back to Glasgow.

- Murders?

What are you talking about?

(Hamish exhales) - I want you to find McDonald, John.

Make sure she sees that, okay?

- Mm-hmm.

(gentle music) - Alice.

- Hello, Hamish.

- I was wondering if I might have a look in Geordie's wardrobe.

(gentle music) Why do you suppose he never took them, Alice?

I mean, he's not likely to have forgotten his new shoes, is he?

- It was Lucy packed for him.

She always packed for him.

She must have forgot.

- Lucy.

Aye, well, that explains it.

It was just nagging at me, you know.

- Aye.

(dramatic music) (Wee Jock barks) (gentle music) (Wee Jock barks) - Ah, Jock.

How can people not be like wee dogs, eh?

Simple.

Uncomplicated.

(gentle music) (vehicles rumbling) - What's wrong?

What's going on, here?

- I'm detaining you under Section Two of the Criminal Justice Act of Scotland of 1980, because I suspect you of committing or having committed an offense punishable by imprisonment, namely murder.

- We'll be speaking to Alice as well, Bob.

- No, no.

I'm the man you're looking for.

I killed Geordie Robb.

He came back that night and started on Lucy.

I could nae stand by and watch that.

I killed him.

- Hamish.

Alice has something to say.

- I killed my son, not Bob.

- Alice.

- He forgot his golf shoes and came back for them.

He was in a right black mood and, as usual, took it out on Lucy.

Just as his father had done with me.

He said Lucy should have checked his bag before he left.

(suspenseful music) I thought he would surely kill her this time.

(suspenseful music) - Oh, Alice!

Alice, come on.

(suspenseful music) - I told you!

(suspenseful music) (Big Geordie grunts) - But when he fell, he hit the forklift.

I asked Bob to get rid of the car, but that's all he did.

Bob and Lucy are innocent.

I'm the one.

I gave that boy life and I took it away.

He was such a big lump of a man.

(tense music) How did you find out, Hamish?

- Well, the McCraes did nae dump the lobsters, Alice.

They've been selling them all over the district.

You see, I thought they might have been poisoned, so I took a couple for analysis and they found...

They found bits of blue and lemon wool in the guts.

- That's what Robb was wearing the night he disappeared.

I saw the fax when it came through, sir, and made the connection.

- Do you mean people have been eating Big Geordie?

- Seems like it.

- It's a wonder they did nae choke.

(car doors banging shut) - Well done, McDonald.

This'll be your ticket out of Inverness.

- Thank you, sir.

Well.

What can I say?

(vehicles revving) - What d'you think'll happen to her?

- Oh probation, most probably.

If it was up to me, I'd let her go right now.

Goodbye, Constable.

- Oh, well, you never know.

You may be back this way someday.

(vehicles rumbling) (dramatic music) (car horn honking) (car rumbling) - What's all this?

- Oh, they're buying laxatives.

That Rory Campbell's making a fortune.

- Laxatives?

- [TV John] Aye.

- For what?

- Well, to get rid of the lobsters.

And Big Geordie.

(Hamish laughs) - Serves 'em right.

(laughs) - Hamish?

- Aye.

- Do you remember that crab consomme I gave you?

- Aye.

(playful music) (bright music)