Sister Boniface Mysteries

Ay-up, my peoples. We're live.

And we're in your ears all night long

with the grooviest new tunes,

the bossest beats,

and the far-out 45s.

This is Billy King,

here as ever with my wing man, Mr. Patt Garrett.

And trust me when I say

tonight is gonna be a gas!

I see we also have a gorgeous guest joining us here.

In the three years we've been broadcasting,

this girl has showered us with letters, requests,

and more meat-filled pies than any human should eat.

And now I see her, listeners,

this is one fiery-haired foxy lady.

Coming to you live from a tip-top secret location,

we're everyone's favourite pirate station.

This is Radio Catherine.

And you, Mr. Pirate, are about to walk your own bleeding plank.

Can you hear this?

You mind if we get this over with, Mr. Greybone?

It's really not a police matter.

And being blunt, there's a pint with my name on it

waiting at The Spitfire.

This can't be right.

They were here! I was sure this time!

"Radio Catherine woz here.

Catch us next time."

That was Queenmakers with "Out of Sight."

One for all those poor GPO boys who are still trying to find us.

Good luck, fellas. We admire your spirit.

Speaking of which,

I can see old Patt's having a tipple.

You want some coffee with that whisky, mate?

Doctor's orders, people.

Whenever I hear an annoying voice in my ear.

It's a nasty condition, that.

I think they call it granddad-itus.

Nice come-back.

Okay. Don't touch your dials. Nothing's wrong.

It's just Aerial Static with their new single.

Enjoy.

Mr. Garrett.

I just want to say I'm a really big fan.

You walking off the Light Program

when they wouldn't let you choose records,

it was amazing.

Thanks, baby.

Well, you know,

if only integrity paid a little bit better.

Oi, Arnie?

These headphones are buzzing.

Sort it out.

So, Peggy.

What do you think of our humble abode?

I can't believe I'm here. I listen every night.

Well, you should stick around, wait for me to come off air.

I'll show you how everything works.

I'll push the buttons, you can twiddle the knobs.

Thanks, but Dad doesn't really like me being out late, so...

Mr. Greybone, I will not waste police resources.

Horses? Why would we need them?

Resources. Police resources.

He's hard of hearing.

Ideal for a GPO engineer tracing radio broadcasts.

What exactly have they done wrong?

Well, um, technically, Radio Catherine are in breach

of the Wireless Telegraphy Act of 1949.

Though many people argue that the act's

no longer fit for purpose.

You won't be laughing when I get

my proper direction finding gear.

Until then...

you hear owt, you contact me here.

I'll take care of it, even if nobody else does!

You know Peggy writes to that station twice weekly.

She'd never forgive you.

And this is the Control Room, where Arnie works his magic.

Our technical guru,

and the true pirate of the station.

Ahoy, there!

Sorry 'cause of the pirate thing.

Arnie, these headphones are still buzzing.

Stop boring Peggy and fix them.

Y-Yeah. S-Sorry, Bill. Leave it with me.

We're all a little bit tense here.

Lately, we've had to move the studio more

to avoid getting caught.

And we can't afford proper mobile equipment.

Will Radio Catherine be all right?

Between you and me, we're signing a deal later

that's gonna take care of everything.

To a promising future... together.

Are we missing someone?

Arnie's showing out our guest.

Well, this boy from Mwanza never thought

he'd own part of a radio station.

And I'm sorry about all the secrecy,

but I promise, once this has gone through,

I have big ideas to solve all our problems.

I'll drink to that.

Cheers! - Cheers!

I have to say, you two make one hell of a husband-and-wife team.

And getting this fellow on board, game changer.

Am I wrong?

Well...

I can't stay. Got a thing.

And you...

...you have a late show to do.

Ay-up. It's that time again.

You, me, and some groovy tunes to round off the day.

It's "Bedtime With Billy." Let's go!

My compadres have all gone to bed.

So let's see-in that witching hour together, all on our own.

I think I may have a visitor.

You enjoy this track, my peoples,

while I reach out and make contact.

Speak on the flip-side.

Yes, miss. Take a seat.

Cathy. What's happened?

It's -- It-- It's Billy.

I saw the colour on him. I just knew.

Compass.

Not exactly the time for orienteering, Sister?

Who saw him last?

Um, me, I think.

I said goodnight to him about 10:00.

He always does the late show on his own.

Does he always take those when he does it?

Uppers. When he's tired, yeah.

Well, no obvious signs of a forced entry.

No signs of a struggle.

Likely amphetamine-induced heart attack.

I'm afraid Colin the Compass has something to say about that.

Does he? - Yes, he does. Observe.

Spark burns to the fingertips of the right hand

to the left lateral anterior forearm.

acute impact bruise to the left cheek.

And last, but certainly not least,

his watch has stopped. - Huh?

I'll let Colin do the talking. Look at this.

This watch is highly magnetised.

The result of a large charge passing through it.

So he was... - Electrocuted, yes.

The spark burns likely to be

entry and exit points of the charge.

Though I fail to see how -- - What? No.

See, I designed everything

so accidents like that can't happen.

Which is precisely what I feared.

Foul play. How shocking.

No.

How long were you married?

Um, about three years.

As long as the station's been going.

We ran away from home to start it.

Arnie came with us.

Yeah, we all went to the same school.

And you, Patt?

I'm just the delicious cherry on the cake, baby.

They talked me into joining a few months back

when they were serious about expanding.

But Billy was a bit rude towards you, wasn't he?

Listen, I've got nothing to hide.

I didn't like him.

Big fish, small pond.

He leeched off my profile and then did everything he could

to protect his meagre, little limelight.

It's textbook.

Not a problem for you anymore, though.

There was a note in Billy's pocket.

The Spitfire. 12:00 p.m.

Mean anything?

I don't know. - Thank you, Harry.

The landlord said that Billy King was here

yesterday, midday.

And he was with an older gentleman.

Red face, moustache, and very grumpy.

Now, that sounds remarkably familiar.

Yeah.

What do you know, the handwriting matches.

Now, hang on. It's not what you think.

What is it, then?

It's, um...

It's, um...

I wanted my colleagues to think I'd cracked it meself.

Your colleagues?

You think I don't know what they say behind my back?

Pathetic old git. Can't hear. Can't do his job.

Can't even keep hold of his own wife and kid.