Grace

I believe, and all the evidence supports that belief,

that Suresh Hossein murdered Raymond Cohen

and destroyed his body in order to conceal his crime.

Detective Superintendent Grace,

do you know anything about a shoe connected with this case?

A brown, crocodile-skin, slip-on loafer with a gold chain? Size ten?

I do. On March the 9th of last year,

did you take this shoe to a so-called 'medium'

by the name of Harold Frame,

a man best described as a dabbler in the dark arts?

Three years ago,

Mr Frame gave me sufficient information

to put a name to a murder suspect.

It led directly to his arrest and subsequent conviction.

That is a fact. Three years ago?

So it would be fair to say that you are a man of the occult?

A believer in the supernatural, Detective Superintendent?

When I entered the witness box,

the first thing I was asked to do

was to take the Holy Bible in my hand

and swear by Almighty God.

In a court that accepts

a witness taking an oath to a supernatural being,

it would be strange if I and everybody else in this room

did not believe in the supernatural.

A medium? After the last time? Why? What were you thinking?

We knew Hossein had Cohen murdered, but we didn't have a body.

We still don't. Your voodoo man came up empty.

He came up with a pig farm.

Come on. It's obvious what happened to Cohen.

That shoe had been through forensics.

Signed out and signed back in again.

They cannot lay

an exhibits contamination charge against me.

They don't need to! You let them discredit you!

Ghosts? Psychics?

That's not police business, it's show business

and you brought it into a court of law.

People make allowances for you, Roy.

I have made allowances for you more than once.

I suppose this is probably not the best time

to ask about a return to proper work.

You have proper work. Paperwork.

Just so's we're clear,

the Chief is thinking of removing you

from operational duty altogether.

You know what, if I'm that much of a liability,

why doesn't he just get rid of me now?

Because it's poor optics.

His words, not mine.

Promise by Illyus & Barrientos.

Marky-Mark! How's Jersey? All good?

Erm, it's a bit of grit in life's lube, mate.

Sorry, mate. I'm caught at Jersey airport. Fogbound.

Some best man you are. I get back, I'll call Robbo

and I'll come and meet you at whatever boozer you've got to.

All right? Yeah.

Don't you worry, Mikey-boy.

We are gonna make this a night to remember.

Come on, Michael. Come on, Michael, let's go.

'Control room.'

This is Detective Superintendent Grace.

I'm stuck in traffic on Fircroft Road south of Crow borough.

Can you give me any information? 'Major accident, sir.

'Road's going to be blocked for a while,

'so you'd be best using another route.' OK, thanks.

'You might have to wait a while for removal yet, Phil.

'Brigade's still cutting the last one out of the wreck.

'Looks to be a stag do out on the lash.'

Looks a bloody mess, Dad!

Don't cuss, Davey.

'Cheers, mate, let me know when you're done.'

Wait here. All right? Stay in the truck.

Francine? Roy. I'm so sorry.

There was a traffic accident. I, erm...

Too much? For a first

whatever we're calling this. Sorry, I'm a bit out of practice.

Davey!

Davey-boy!

What did I say about waiting in the truck?

Me time. That's very important to me.

Ayia Napa, 2009.

That was my awakening. My... epiphany.

Watching the sun come up on the beach, I said to myself,

"There's got to be more to life than Blockbusters, Hastings."

God. Listen to me going on about myself.

Coffee and liqueurs and you've hardly said a word.

No, it's, erm... It's been fascinating...

Flatterer. So, go on.

What about you?

How long have you been with the Police?

25 years, more or less.

I've got to say, and I hope you won't take this the wrong way,

you don't look like your profile.

No... It's an old photo.

A colleague signed me up for the site.

It was their idea of a joke.

So, how come you're back on the market? Divorced?

No. Really?

I'm on number three.

I find it hard to believe you've never been married.

Best to be honest.

Always. No. Erm, we're, separated.

Call Robbo.

'I'm sorry, Mark,

'it's not been possible to connect you at this time.

'You have 14 unread messages and seven missed calls.'

'Mark? If you're there, pick up.

'Please, call me as soon as you get this.

'Christ. Mark, please, I'm going out of my mind.

'If you get this, I'm at Lewes Victoria A&E.

'Please, get here.'

Thank God! Is he with you? Is Michael with you, Mark?

No. Why? I just got in from Jersey.

Ash? What's going on? There's been an accident

I don't know what happened, but

Pete, Robbo and Luke are dead. WOMAN MOANS.

They're operating on Josh now. So, where's Michael?

That's what I'm saying. No-one knows where he is!

Detective Sergeant Branson.

Can I get your autograph?

It's not for me, it's for the kids.

Bush telegraph said you'd been in to see Alison Vosper.

So how did that go?

How's Ari? She sends her love.

Sammy? Remi? A year older, a foot cheekier.

Yeah, they both miss their Uncle Roy.

You didn't have to disappear on me, man.

You know what this place is like. Guilt by association.

Maybe, but... Hey, look, I'm in big boy's pants, now.

I mean, I get to choose my own friends and everything.

You don't need to look out for me.

Gosh.

Talk about out of sight, out of mind.

Surely, half the perps for these will be dead and gone by now.

Yeah, but it's not just about the collar, though, is it?

They all mean something to somebody. Fathers. Sons. Mothers. Daughters.

Wives.

The not knowing. Always.

So what's this free brunch going to cost me, then?

Well, bloke went out on his stag last night,

never came home.

That's not even 24 hours.

He's probably just coming to,

bollock-naked on the Fort William sleeper.

What are his mates saying? Not much.

Three of them are room temperature down the mortuary

and the fourth one's on life support.

It's unlikely he's going to make it. It's an RTA.

Their transit got totalled on Fircroft Road.

- And the groom wasn't with them? - Look

I know it's early days, but... I dunno,

something about it feels off.

Go on, then. Who is he?

Michael Neward. He's a local boy made good.

Property developer. Real serious player.

Pelicano South Properties.

Pelicano South.

Warehouse development on Shoreham Harbour.

About seven years ago.

32 flats. All sold off-plan.

He's worth a few bob, then?

Look, I know it's a live inquiry

and, well, these days, you're more at home with the dead,

but, erm

I could do with a bit of the old Grace magic.

That's if you can spare it.

Well, it would get you out your office for a couple of hours.

Come on. For old times'?

So, think you know most of the team. You remember Bella and Nick.

Roy. How you doing?

I'm good thanks. We miss you.

Aww. I bet you say that to all the Detective Superintendents.

And this is the new girl in school, DC Boutwood.

Emma Jane. EJ. Sir.

Roy. So where are we?

Anything off mobiles as to their plans last night?

So driver's phone's a write-off.

I've passed it to John Rye in Digital Forensics,

but he's not hopeful. Rest of the victims,

it's just arrangements for the rendezvous.

Which was where? The Hispaniola. On the Front.

Six o'clock kick-off.

Now, I spoke to the bar-staff, they were there about 45 minutes,

before pushing off. Pub crawl, then.

What was the last signal we have for him?

A mast on the A22.

All five pins remained together from 6:30 till shortly before 9:00.

There's a pub at each of these clusters.

Then at 8:45, Neward's phone winks out.

Nothing since.

Switched it off? Or in an area of no signal.

So we're talking a radius of five miles,

probably 15 miles north of Brighton.

Resources? You're looking at it.

I presume you've got a search warrant for Neward's place?

It's all right for some.

You don't think he's had a touch of the seconds? Would you?

Well, if he's not done a runner, where is he?

I'll pass this on to Digital Forensics.