Obituary

There are some people in town who think Hughie didn't do it.

I'm going to make the real killer crack.

What a pathetic way to go.

Not one thing in your pocket but a betting slip.

Alma Birch, my mother, owns this newspaper,

which means soon, bone cancer, I'll own this newspaper.

Done... for...

Not done for, Dunford. 'For over three decades,

Agnes was the heart behind this paper's obituaries.'

'Agnes is survived by her brother, Michael Dunford.'

Tell your mother to drop the embezzlement charges against me,

without them I'm on release.

Albert threatened Denis's ma,

he's gonna hurt her if Denis doesn't give me up. Fine!

I'll write the story and he'll come after me.

I'll lure him here and then we'll...

Kill him.

I'll sort this place out.

This whole thing stinks.

I don't know what it is but something is off here.

Guess what, Mrs Birch came good.

Good to have you back.

Good to be back.

How was your little break?

A little too long for my liking.

Says the actress to the bishop.

You wanted to see me?

No more sneaky smokes in the building.

Use this instead.

What's next? No dirty jokes?

Actually, there has been a complaint. Let me guess,

that old dragon from behind the death desk?

She's probably watching smut.

Considering her fading eyesight, that'd be pointless.

Just finishing this email.

May I?

"Ta Time with Hannah Eustace!"

Welcome back, folks. Today I have the pleasure

of speaking with Agnes Dunford.

Now Agnes, the obituary my listeners are most excited about is...

My own. Have you written it yet?

My successor will write it.

Then the person who follows them will write theirs, and so on,

until the end of the world, or we stop printing papers.

What if the work were to dry up?

You know, my listeners suggested that you might start killing people.

What a grim thought.

'Ah, come on, Clive, tell us a real joke.'

What's the difference between a genealogist and a gynaecologist?

The genealogist looks up the family tree,

the gynaecologist looks up the family...

.. bush!

Christ's sake, Clive!

The dirty jokes! What did I tell ya!

She's dead, you fools.

Hey, Hughie!

What do you want?

Argh! You're a murderer.

And you're lucky that's chocolate.

Fuck's sake.

Talk about embarrassing for you.

You said the killer wouldn't kill again.

That Albert skipped town, there was nothing to worry about...

and that it was okay for her to go home alone.

Elvira can take care of herself. 'It's like I've told this story'

a million times. One more time won't hurt. Mm?

Albert threatened my mother's life.

He would've killed all of us. Elvira saved us.

Thank God for Elvira.

She phoned me.

I had a look for her car, but I couldn't find it.

That usual? That I couldn't find a car?

That someone's car was stolen and they called you?

Well, considering the pig's ear you make of everything,

hardly expect them to call you.

Let's go over it again.

Sure, I took the photos. Yeah.

I hid out at Ruby's place. Which was my idea.

Elvira had no choice but to act because you lot botched it so badly.

Look around, this town's breathing a sigh of relief.

As you should be.

Argh!

I was beginning to think you'd never call.

Denis and Oisín match up with everything you've said.

"It's over, you've got your man."

Great. "But I still need help shaping his motive for Ruby's murder."

That would be confidential information.

So would me mentioning your connection to Albert in my article.

What connection? "He fed you info about other dealers."

10 arrests made last year, all non-nationals.

"Impressive, Rose." Fine.

Here goes.

Albert's laptop,

the guy was a regular poster on a forum called Celtic Cross,

knock off Nazi website for overweight Irish men.

When he wasn't ranting about foreigners on his turf,

he spent his time attacking the mainstream media,

mentioned The Chronicle a lot.

Print that and in the minds of your readers this is case closed.

So, Albert and me, our little meetings...

I am the keeper of all that is hidden.

My paper, Rose, will reflect the outstanding work you've done.

Have a good day.

Poor cow thinks she's in the clear.

And you know what happens to people who think

they're in the clear, Mick? They fuck things up.

Whoever you are, I've found you the perfect fall guy.

So quit while you're ahead.

And move on.

He wants to keep me out of harm's way.

Ever since Albert he's been saying the same thing over and over.

I should've been here.

Do you hear me?

I should've been here.

What, so you could help me kill him?

You don't want that in your head. Try me.

There's more blood than you think.

Piercing the skin, that's easy.

Muscle on the other hand-- I meant...

.. how did it feel?

To take a life?

Everything became a frenzy,

like... time was fast-forwarding.

And after he was dead, I closed my eyes

and opened them and I'd be on the other side of the room.

Were you scared?

I felt...

.. in trouble.

Do you feel guilty?

It was him or me.

Do you feel okay now? Yes.

Because you're here.

There's something else.

Something only you can know.

During the whole ordeal, there was a moment...

I can't pinpoint it but...

What was it? What was it?! I felt like...

Like...

God!

Exactly.

'Elvira! Elvira...'

Hey! I got a heads up from someone at the supermarket.

Someone said Hughie collapsed, they thought it was a heart attack.

And? No, he's fine, he's fine.

He probably won't open the door to me but...

I should visit him.

Hughie needs to go.

Saying goodbye to your editor is a traumatic experience.

For all his flaws, our editor was the guiding force

behind the Chronicle, known for his sharp intellect

and keen eye. But what truly set him apart

was his ability to nurture talent.

This is a cutthroat business. He made us see

that everyone must fight for their place at the table.

Especially me.

Before finishing up here, I thought I'd get to make

some grand editorial gesture,

like in the movies, you know?

And what in tarnation does that have to do

with you, you might ask.

Well,

Rose's quote puts you over the top.

Legal is content.

Your article tying Albert to the murder goes to print

this Thursday.

And? And right before it does,

I'll inform the staff that you're the paper's new editor.

Now, if you don't mind, bow your head, please.

Got it made in case I had to stay on a little longer.

Now, one more thing.

Your very generous salary

means that a staff member will have to go.

First order of business Thursday, you'll terminate someone.

Kate will get a great reference.

A toddler covered in chocolate could do a better job than Kate.

However, she gives me the wiggles. So no.

Kate stays.

Who'd you have in mind?

You can't make me do that.

I'm sure you'll see Emerson gets a great reference.

I refuse! Think of the alternative.

If I don't give you this job, I'll give it to him.

Ask yourself, can you risk that he won't fire you?

Now... avanti.

For all her flaws our editor was the guiding force

behind The Chronicle, known for her sharp intellect

and keen eye.

Spin! Fuck it!

But what truly set her apart was her ability to nurture talent.

This is a cutthroat business, she made us see

that everyone must fight for their place at the table.

Especially me.

How you feeling?

Tip top. Keeping busy?

Well, if you must know, I just finished reading a book

about serial killers. Oh!

Did you learn any tricks?

The book is from the perspective of their wives.

Those poor women.

Living under the same roof, sharing the same bed as a murderer,