01x02 - Sour Grapes

[bunniefuu]

Howdy, neighbor. How's the vines?

Good... I think.

No help from me.

Oaks, blackberries... grasses, hint of citrus, toasted coconut...

Ah, should be a long finish.

You can tell all that from a sniff?

Didn't know you were a...

A wine snob?

And it's not a sniff. Better to say "the nose."

Learned from the best.

Ned James... grumpiest bastard you'll ever meet, but also the best winemaker you'll ever meet.

I used to work for him.

Hey, Ned.

Jared.

Ned James, Detective Mike Shepherd.

He just bought Gary McLeod's place.

Coppersfield. Yeah, nice to meet you, Ned.

Fancy yourself as a winemaker, do you?

I like a good Merlot.

Any idiot can grow Merlot.

Another city bloke growing grapes, eh?

Just what this town needs.

You're lucky. You caught him on a good day.

Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please.

It is with pleasure that I introduce to you Paul Winterson, head judge for this year's Brokenwood Wine Awards.

Paul.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Well, folks, another great vintage, particularly the whites.

Some knockouts, some disappointments, but one clear winner.

The gold medal goes to...

Bright Valley's Reserve Chardonnay.

Yes!

You beauty!

He didn't say my name.

Yeah, well, things don't always go as you expect.

Mine was the best.

I know.

It always is the best.

I know.

Bloody joke! Brokenwood annual sham show.

Whoo-hoo.

What do you think? Good decision?

I always thought Bright Valley wines were kind of average.

Looking forward to trying it.

Maybe Amanda James has dominated for too long.

Good excuse to keep sampling.

The deceased is a Paul Winterson, a wine judge, ironically.

Oh, him.

You know him?

Saw him at the awards yesterday.

Made some people very happy.

No doubt shattered some dreams, too.

Hey, Paul.

Looking a little on the pink side.

Embarrassed by all the fuss, huh?

He was found dead in this big wine-vat thing here.

It's called a, uh... an open fermenter.

Holds 2,000 liters of raw wine.

Party in a tub.

How did he get here?

Car outside is rented under his name.

He was found at 6:30 a.m. by the winery manager when he opened up.

This is Chris Chambers. He found the body and called it in.

I've taken a statement.

Mr. Chambers, this is Detectives Mike Shepherd and Kristin Sims.

Chris.

Hell of a way to start the day.

Yeah.

The place was locked up, as per usual?

Yeah.

Any other way he could have got in other than through the side door?

No. Security's pretty tight.

His face... It was...

Distressing. We know.

We'll have someone talk to you about that.

You're the winemaker, Chris?

Operations manager.

Amanda James is the winemaker.

Amanda.

This is Detective Mike Shepherd and, uh, Kristin...

Sims. Thanks, Chris.

It's such a waste.

Uh, death is like that, I'm afraid.

Oh. Yes.

No, I meant the wine. It will all have to go.

Well, yes. Yes, it would.

But you never know. Uh, Merlot, is it?

Pinot Noir.

Pinot Noir with a hint of dead wine judge.

Could make for an interesting vintage.

Too soon?

That was a joke, wasn't it?

A poor-taste one.

Oh, no. I get it. That's funny.

Amanda, last night, you were...

Here.

With Paul.

So, uh, Paul Winterson was here with you last night.

Why was that?

I invited him here.

Because...

I didn't win.

Not even a bronze. What the hell?

Amanda, better luck next year.

Well?

Let's just say... your wine wasn't up to its usual standard.

But it was. It always is.

Wasn't. You had a bad year. Accept it.

Let it go, eh?

"Let it go." What does that even mean?

To let go, to... move on?

Oh. Well, I did. I went to Paul's motel.

You got it wrong.

Amanda, please.

What's going on?

Your wine was spoiled.

Erin, tell her.

It's true, Amanda. It was blatantly off.

Salty, putrid.

I didn't want to say it in front of everyone else.

Putrid?! Impossible.

You know my facilities are state-of-the-art.

I want you to come now, and I want you to see for yourself.

So, they came for an inspection.

What time was this?

8:42 p.m.

The pneumatic membrane presses.

50,000-liter a*t*matic fermenters with temperature control as well as the open fermenters for the reds.

This is the same vintage as I entered into competition.

Pick a bottle, any one you like.

The Chardonnays are, of course, all close fermented.

It's all tested.

Nothing goes into the bottle that isn't perfect.

Wow.

Okay. This is... very good.

It is.

So you admit you made a mistake.

Amanda, the only mistake was that you got unlucky.

You delivered a bad bottle. End of story.

So, they tasted the wine, and then...

They left.

In their car?

Yes.

Which is parked outside.

Yes.

Which would suggest that they came back.

Did they?

I don't know.

What did you do after they left?

I went to bed. Alone.

Couldn't sleep because Paul said that my wine was "putrid, salty," and I-I couldn't think of how that could have happened.

And I won't sleep again tonight till I figure it out.

Coupled with the fact that someone just d*ed in your winery.

Yes.

It's a shame, isn't it?

There's something you should see.

This records the security footage.

Not very well, obviously.

Oh.

I take it you didn't know.

Uh, Amanda, no. Please, don't touch it.

Um, I can fix it. I have a soldering iron.

Don't. You don't need to.

I'll take it. Thanks.

Oh, but it's broken.

I'm sure it'll still be of some use as it is.

To us, at least.

Okay. Mm.

Spicy notes.

Boysenberry, grapefruit.

And a hint of carpet.

She doesn't seem very cut up about someone dying on her premises.

Shock will do that to you.

I've seen plenty of shock. That's not shock.

That's a complete lack of empathy, like she doesn't understand what just happened.

That doesn't mean she did it.

Mm, would take the concept of sore loser to a whole new level.

Speaking of which, you get onto a list of all the other losers.

I'll take a look at the town hall.

See if I can get onto any more of that putrid wine.

You just want to try the winning stuff.

Well, nothing wrong with knowing what all the fuss is about.

Ah.

What?

The remainder wines go on sale for charity today.

It's a bit of a highlight on the Brokenwood calendar.

Oh.

Right, then. Time to be a killjoy.

We're not open yet.

Oh.

Thanks.

For charity.

But I need it.

The rules are the rules.

Hi. Uh, Detective Mike Shepherd.

Oh, hello.

And the only person taking anything anywhere is me.

This is all potentially part of a criminal investigation.

This is about Paul, isn't it?

Mm.

Yeah, terrible.

And I can't guarantee it will all be returned intact.

Of course. Whatever you need.

Well, I need a bottle.

All in good time.

How long will that be?

Well, it's hard to say.

When do you think you'll find out who did it?

Uh, Mr. Winterson's death is at an early stage of investigation.

Not who k*lled Paul, who tampered with my wine.

Going somewhere?

Detective Shepherd.

Um, just a couple of questions, if that's okay.

Of course. The, um, constable said you...

I'm sorry.

I'll get you a cup of tea, shall I?

Um, milk?

No.

Good choice. I always find these things a little tricky.

So, did you judge with Paul often?

Yes, uh, there were several shows a year.

We seem to get invited back.

Now, it's my understanding you went to Amanda James' winery last night for a re-taste.

It's not like we had any choice.

Amanda, it's getting late. It's been a long day.

You must come. You must come now, okay?

Now!

All right.

All right.

But things went well.

Why would you think that?

Well, Amanda James seemed to think you were all in agreement that her wine was very good and that it was just a case of bad luck.

But Amanda wouldn't accept it.

So, you admit you made a mistake?

Amanda, the only mistake was that you got unlucky.

You delivered a bad bottle. End of story.

Yeah, unlucky that you were the judge.

Oh, Christ, Amanda. You've won five years straight.

A little humility wouldn't go astray.

Jesus. What are you doing?

That's all they're worth now.

Thanks for nothing, Paul.

So, you could say Amanda was... feisty?

Temperamental, obsessive, weird.

They all work, too.

So, then did you...

What?

Leave?

We said good night.

I heard him talk on the phone, but I couldn't hear what he was saying.

Later, I heard the phone ring.

It woke me up.

The door opened and closed.

I heard him drive away.

The motel phone or a cellphone, do you think?

The landline.

His cellphone has some stupid ring on it.

I'm always telling him to change it.

Um, I-I should head back to the city now.

Oh, do you have work to get back to?

Um, no, but...

Lucky you.

Oh, then you won't mind staying on a bit.

I have to move motels. I'm finding this very difficult.

Of course. Um, we'll get someone to help with that.

Oh, can you think of any reason why Paul may have wanted to go back to Amanda's winery?

No.

Let's talk about the art of losing.

Chris Chambers, do you reckon?

Amanda's manager?

Bound to feel aggrieved on some level.

Found the body.

Dominic Nichol.

Premium loser.

Local winemaker, has been on struggle street for a long time.

Well, I like his wine, though.

It's always on special at the local.

Just saying.

You like it because it's good or because it's cheap?

Fair point.

Ned James isn't up here.

Amanda's father? He wasn't a competitor, was he?

He was at the awards, making his discontent known.

Okay.

Anything more on Winterson?

Uh, lives in Queenstown, respected wine critic for more than 20 years, two kids, happily married.

How do you know that?

That he's married?

Happily.

Well, he's not divorced.

Okay. He's married. But...

Anything else?

Uh, motel phone records.

Paul phoned Julian right at 10:05 p.m.

At 10:17 p.m., someone phoned Paul.

Their records don't show an incoming number.

And again, a couple of hours later.

Detective Merlot.

You here to arrest me?

Should I be?

Why else would a detective crawl up my driveway?

Something I need to know, Ned.

About wine making? Plenty, I'm sure.

What about Paul Winterson's death?

Can't help you there.

Why are you here?

I was going to see Julian Bright.

Didn't realize you lived so close.

We all live where the soil's right.

Wouldn't choose to be his neighbor.

You don't get on?

He's a plonker.

Dominic Nichol?

Failure.

Amanda James?

You leave my daughter out of it.

Paul was found dead in one of her vats.

He was a lush.

Probably slipped while dipping his snout for a guzzle like a pig in a trough.

Where were you last night, Ned?

I was here, and I live alone.

What are you gonna do about it?

I'll see you around, Ned.

What is it with you cops and Merlot?

Your predecessor, Gary McLeod...

He planted Merlot in spud country.

Spud country being...

Wrong soil.

Put it this way...

What do potatoes and Merlot grapes have in common?

Nothing.

Hello?

Anyone around?

Yeah. G'day.

G'day.

Mike Shepherd. Brokenwood CIB.

Uh, Rob. Sorry. Uh, Rob Visnic.

Apologies. I'm feeling a little...

Tied one on, did you?

Yeah. I did.

Well, you're a winning vintner. Congrats.

Thanks.

Big night, I bet.

Yeah, been awake with a head like a b*mb site.

Now I hear about Paul Winterson.

Hell's bells.

So, how well did you know Paul?

Uh, only through the awards, really.

He's a good guy.

Loved my wine... finally.

And now...

What did you do to your hand?

Uh, cut it. Broken bottle.

Milk?

Uh, no. Black's good.

So it was a big night.

No, I cut it this morning.

Was off my game. Broken glass.

Occupational hazard, I guess.

Yeah, you could say that.

Actually, I was hoping to speak to Julian Bright.

Is he around?

In a manner of speaking.

And thanks for all your calls, e-mails, and texts.

And as we sign off, remember...

Bright Valley Wine's gold medal.

That's right. Can I say that again? I think I can.

Gold-medal Chardonnay is in a store near you.

Look for the new gold sticker. Try it.

I promise it's good. Gold-medal good.

Humbly yours, I'm Julian Bright.

Talk to you tomorrow.

Julian's a... weekend wine grower.

Heads to Brokenwood after his shift every Friday at noon, back Sunday to be fresh for his show Monday morning.

You bought Gary McLeod's place. Coppersfield.

For my sins, yes, I did.

10 acres of Merlot. How's that going?

Ned James thinks I've got the wrong grapes for the soil.

Ned James is a has-been. Take no notice.

Although, yeah, if the Merlot doesn't work out, then, uh, potatoes could be a go.

So, last night, you were with...

Uh... I had a celebratory glass with Julian... well, two, actually, and then he took off.

Approximately...

8:00. He always heads back at 8:00 for the show.

Um, and then I partied with some of the locals and a couple of our workers.

Do you think there were any hard feelings over the decision?

No more than usual.

I mean, no one likes to lose, right? But it's only wine.

But Dom looked a bit down on it.

Yeah, Dom's been up against it for years.

Sorry, mate.

It was good, but, uh...

Better luck next year, eh?

I've heard that platitude five years in a row, Paul.

There won't be a "next year."

Uh, thanks. Hope the hand gets better.

Ta.

Yeah.

Hey, what do you think swayed the judges this year?

Hard to say.

I don't change a lot.

Our Chardonnay's bold, it's forthright, it's designed to cut through.

Although, we changed the color of the Stelvins.

Stelvins?

Screw caps. Went for a bright red. Maybe that was it.

But the... the judges don't get to see the bottles, do they?

It's a blind tasting.

Otherwise there'd be a risk of favoritism, right?

True. That's a good point.

So must have just been a great Chardonnay.

I'm sure it was.

A red wine in its rawest form, drained from his lungs.

'Cause of death... drowning.

In Pinot Noir.

I guess, if you're a wine critic, there are worse ways to go.

What about the gash to his head?

Small lacerations containing fragments of broken glass.

The deceased was struck with a bottle.

Unlikely to have k*lled him?

Stunned, maybe knock him out.

So he was alive when he was submerged.

Probably. His reflexes would have made him try to breathe.

All he got was lungfuls of wine.

Can you give a time of death, yet?

Mm, between 10:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m.

Can't be more specific.

Mike Shepherd.

Mike, Paul Winterson's phone records show a call to his cellphone that he answered.

It was made from the Amanda James winery at 1:58 a.m.

Got it. Ta.

Here's a question.

How does a man answer his phone while he's being drowned?

I didn't phone Paul at 1:58 a.m.

Yet you said yourself, "I couldn't sleep.

I was racking my brains."

I didn't phone Paul.

Well, who has access to this phone?

Mm, Chris does.

Well, Chris says he was at home with his wife and kids.

Do you know that the Wine Award Society don't even think that tampering could have occurred?

They believe their systems are foolproof.

Can you believe that, Mr. Detective Shepherd?

Ms. James, a homicide has occurred on your premises.

The security cameras were disabled.

There's no sign of a forced entry.

Yes?

Is there something you're not telling us?

Have you spoken to Dominic Nichol?

We are aware of Mr. Nichol. Why should we talk to him?

He doesn't like me.

That's him.

Dominic Nichol!

Mr. Nichol!

I need you to stop running.

We're the police.

I'm not falling for that one.

Mr. Nichol, I'm Detective Senior Sergeant Shepherd!

And that is Detective Sims.

Played like a true halfback there, Sims.

You really are cops. Right. That's a relief.

Thought you were someone else.

And who would that be?

Oh, had a couple of high-interest loans come due.

They're pretty keen on repayments.

Which you don't have.

I thought you were those guys, with the suit and all.

Well, you can relax.

We're just with the Criminal Investigation branch.

Last night, I went home and drowned my sorrows with my wife.

Another lost opportunity to save this place from the receivers.

Tough times.

Wine making's been in my family for generations.

And I get to be the chump that breaks tradition.

What did you think of the decision, about Bright Valley getting gold?

I'm happy for Rob Visnic.

You rate him?

Yeah. One of the best vintners around.

Although it'll be Julian Bright that basks in all the glory.

Takes the kudos, right?

Privilege of being the owner, isn't it?

Yeah, but he knows stuff all about wine making.

I mean, he might know how to operate a screw-cap machine at best.

That's the way it seems to be these days.

Wine making's become a hobby of the rich and famous.

What do you think of Amanda James?

Damn good winemaker.

Best in the region, hands down.

She still didn't win.

Won't k*ll her, will it?

You don't have any personal issues?

With Amanda? No.

She thinks you don't like her.

Well, no denying she's a bit strange.

No. Actually, I quite like her.

Well, there was a... altercation not so long ago, but that was just business.

What, uh, sort of altercation?

When I realized my label wasn't cutting through anymore, I approached her to see if she'd buy my grapes for her vintage.

And her response?

She called my grapes "hemorrhoids on a vine."

No deal, I take it.

I was pissed off, sure, but... hey, it's not her fault my business is tanking.

"Hemorrhoids on a vine."

I think I actually spewed in my mouth a little bit.

And do I ever want to eat grapes again? No.

And what is that woman's problem?

And don't say shock. Shock doesn't cut it.

Rude, dangerous, psycho.

Or it's... that she's a woman.

Excuse me?

Well, it's a male-dominated industry.

I'm sure she's had to step on a few hairy toes to get to the top.

Does that extend to k*lling a wine critic?

I'll pick you up in the morning.

We need to be in the city by noon.

If we left a little bit earlier, I could get some shoe shopping in... being a woman and all.

That was a joke.

Really? 'Cause four marriages have taught me never to joke about shoe shopping.

Four? I thought it was three.

Going to need pruning.

And as it happens, I haven't got much on.

Just a bit of this and that.

That'd be great.

What is it about these things that would make someone want to k*ll someone else over them?

Well, money.

It's always about money, isn't it?

Greed.

Or lust. I reckon lust has got a lot to do with it.

And jealousy.

Money, greed, lust, and jealousy.

Right.

That's narrowed it down a bit.

Smile, you're on "Candid Camera."

What?

"Candid Camera."

You know, that TV show in the '70s where...

I was born in 1989.

Right.

And there's still time to take a few more calls before we go.

I'm still interested to hear what you think about this g*ng problem.

I mean, are we simply being too easy on these lowlifes, these scumbags that prey on society?

Call us now. 0800 Talk Radio.

And we sign off on a sad note today, for as we've heard through the wires, I, um... we have suffered the loss of a friend.

Paul Winterson, wine critic, judge, and industry...

He's just winding up. He'll be out in a moment.

Dead through some tragic turn of events.

Winning that wine award... I've never seen him so happy.

Now this.

He's absolutely gutted.

My heart goes out to his family, the family of a man who made me a winner on Sunday and all of us losers today, for the world has lost a great man with the passing of Paul Winterson.

Humbly yours, I'm Julian Bright.

Pick your day on up. Talk to you tomorrow.

Mike Shepherd.

Oh. And Detective Sims.

Pleased to meet you. Uh, come on through.

Thank you.

Nice wrap-up.

That'll be all.

Well, I still can't believe it.

I mean, Paul was a great guy... smart, just so damn decent, you know?

And he made you a winner.

Yeah. No complaints there.

But, uh, hell, I'd happily trade that to have a glass of wine with the guy.

Is it standard practice to be social with judges?

Oh, it's a small industry, Mike.

You know, you can't pretend not to know everybody.

And because of this, you know, everybody knows me.

So inevitably, it's social.

As long as it's after the judging.

What are you implying? That there's room for collusion?

Amanda James thinks so.

Really?

Well, she would, wouldn't she? I mean, she lost.

Can you tell us your movements on the night Paul d*ed?

Oh, sure. Easy.

Um, after the announcement, I had a celebratory glass with my vintner, Rob Visnic.

Couldn't really party.

Well, okay. We had three.

But no way was I over the limit.

I left Brokenwood about 8:00 p.m.

I always do on a Sunday.

You know, got to be fresh for the show Monday morning.

When was the last time you spoke with Paul?

Oh, he called me, actually.

Yeah.

I was on my way home into the city, and he phoned to, uh, congratulate me again.

He didn't have to do that. It was... It was nice of him.

And that's just the kind of guy he was, you know?

Sorry.

Let me know if there's anything I can do to help.

I mean, I can reach a lot of people if you want to call out for witnesses or anything.

That could come in handy. Here we go.

Hell, I thought the police had gone a bit more high-tech.

Well, I like the way it rides.

It even has a cassette player.

Really? Maybe I should put one in my ride.

Wow. How long does it take you to get to Brokenwood in that?

Oh, legally? Two and a half hours, door to door.

You?

These days, the... the Holden Kingswood...

It's more about the... the journey.

Not necessarily about getting to the destination.

Oh, we got here all right.

But will we get home?

You reckon I should take Julian's for a spin?

Maybe get a taste for something newer.

No. No one drives this puppy except me.

I worked hard to get to the top, and she's my guilty pleasure.

Happy to take you for a spin, though.

Another time.

I'll be in Brokenwood all weekend.

Sing out if you want anything.

Mike Shepherd.

Yes.

Yes.

It's okay. Take your time.

I can be with you in... three hours from now.

Okay.

Erin Formby.

Apparently, she's got a confession to make.

Hello, Erin.

Detective. Um, thanks for meeting me.

You find another motel okay?

Yes. Yes, one of your staff...

Good. But you prefer to talk here?

Well, it's just...

Shall I make this easier?

What?

You loved Paul.

I mean, you really loved him.

Is that what you wanted to tell me?

How did you...

Separate motel rooms.

Um, keeping up appearances for his marriage.

But not too separate.

Adjacent with connecting doors.

That's why you were so keen to leave.

You knew Paul's wife would be flying in from Queenstown.

I'm better off away from all of that.

Paul's wife has already arrived.

Oh.

I'm on my way to meet her now.

Do you... Are you obliged to...

No, I'm not.

What did you really want to tell me, Erin?

We argued.

So, when you said, "We said good night," what you meant was, "We had a row, he stormed off.

That was the last time I ever saw him."

What did you fight about?

I wanted more than being some convenience he went around tour with.

You wanted him to leave his wife?

We talked about it.

And what did he say?

Nothing.

That was the frustrating thing.

He was so... distracted.

By...

I don't know.

It was infuriating.

He said he was too tired to talk, that we'd talk about it in the morning, which was never gonna happen.

He went next door.

Did you often sleep alone when you were on tour?

Never.

We found this, uh, beside his bed.

Do those numbers mean anything to you?

No.

Slow day at the office?

Research.

An article on Amanda James.

She seems so uptight, yet she'll get her kit off to promote her brand.

She's a contradiction.

If it was Erin Formby and Paul Winterson naked in a bathtub of Pinot Noir, it would make more sense.

Oh, why?

Oh. That was her confession.

But I felt she was after a relationship counselor more than a detective.

Oh, well, with your track record, I'm sure you gave her sound advice.

Anything else?

They had a fight.

Oh, a tiff. That's what lovers do.

And he was distracted.

By what?

She didn't know.

Probably by the fight. Men do that to avoid conflict.

They affect a sense of distraction to avoid the issue.

Man-child 101.

Mike.

What? Sorry. I was, um...

Oh. Ha ha.

So, Mrs. Winterson?

Uh, she's in victim's court.

I'll bring her through to your office.

Sure.

Ah.

You're not going to...

Tell her about Erin? No.

Perhaps I should... lead the questions on this.

Good idea. I'm so distracted, who knows what I might say?

I was at the hospital with my daughter.

She had an asthma att*ck and needed a nebulizer.

For some reason, it often happened while bloody Paul was away.

Maybe it's...

Your husband traveled a lot.

He was a popular judge, very popular, very amiable about the big and small events, even school fundraisers, for God's sake.

He loved to be, um, fêted as a man of great authority.

So he was happy to travel all over the country.

Did he ever mention a falling-out with anyone, perhaps disgruntled contestants or...

No.

No sense that he was trying to avoid anyone?

No.

No suspicious correspondence?

Do you mean did I check his e-mails?

We're looking for anything that might suggest some motive for wanting Paul to...

Die?

Megan... does this mean anything to you?

It's Paul's. I recognize the handwriting.

The numbers?

Probably dreaming up some grand scheme.

He was an ambitious man?

Yes.

But...

He could never find the right opportunity to expand on his successes.

Did Paul have life insurance?

What?

No. No, he didn't.

Just a large wine collection, which I guess I'll try and sell now.

Take a minute, Megan.

We'll just go and get you some more water.

Okay.

Thanks.

How many detectives does it take to change a light bulb?

What? I haven't heard that one.

Mm. Just one.

But it obviously takes two to fill a glass of water.

You're overriding my line of questioning.

She wants you to be more direct.

Well, you don't know that.

Call it man's intuition.

Please. She just lost her husband.

She wants answers.

Well, I can't just go bulldozing through her personal life.

Thank you.

Megan...

Of course I checked his e-mails.

Sorry?

What you said before. You were implying that Paul had affairs.

Is that it?

Well, um...

Of course he did. I'm not stupid.

Oh, no, I never meant to...

We had an understanding.

I accepted that it happened, but I didn't want to know about the sordid details.

But of course I knew.

I mean, you would actually want to know, wouldn't you, Ms. Sims?

Well, I hope to never be in...

Be in that situation. No.

Don't we all?

I knew about them.

All of them.

Silly little Erin, always tagging along.

And the others.

That crazy Amanda, for one.

Amanda James?

Job driving you to drink, Senior?

Going on a date.

Amanda.

Amanda, hello?

Oh. Yes. Hello.

I've, uh, brought you a bottle from the judging case.

As far as evidence goes, I figured one wouldn't hurt.

Oh, good. Goody good.

Actually, I have a few questions.

Oh, uh, later, please.

I have to break down the molecular structure to find out what went wrong.

You sound like a scientist.

Well, I am.

Well, I thought wine making was more an art form.

You sound like my father.

Wine making, Mr. Detective Shepherd, is all about process.

How well you control and manipulate that process determines how well it drinks.

Really, the only art's on the label.

Would you like to sample this, help me analyze what went wrong?

Sure. I'm no scientist, but I know what I like.

Firstly, great wine should look as good as it tastes.

That sounds more arty than scientific.

Where possible, I put all my wines in clear glass so that the drinker can appreciate the color and the clarity.

Shouldn't reds be in darker glass?

Doesn't sunlight break down...

There's no scientific basis for that.

Viscosity is important... How well does it cling to the glass?

And the nose. From the aroma, we can tell...

Oh, dear.

That's...

Oh, God.

Whoa, yeah. I can say that's pretty... rank.

How could it be that bad?

Oh, you solve that.

In the meantime, Paul Winterson...

Is dead.

Yes, I know.

But you and Paul... There was more to your relationship than wine judging, am I correct?

I don't know what you mean.

You and Paul were lovers.

Oh, dear.

That's just... I mean, what has that got to do with the wine?

Uh, when did your relationship with Paul end?

It wasn't a relationship.

But you did...

I don't like sex.

But you were lovers at some point.

Oh, um... well...

This is not a trick question, Amanda. Yes or no?

Why?

Well, it's background.

I don't want to have sex with you.

Me?

Is that what you're asking me?

No. Definitely not.

T-That was not on my list of questions.

Sex is not helpful.

Right. Uh...

It makes everything... unclear, cloudy.

It makes the cloudy wine, and we don't like cloudy wine.

A lot of people don't get Amanda. She's... different.

Different or difficult?

Yeah, that, too.

But you get that with genius, don't you?

You'd call her a genius?

Well, how else do you win medal after medal at anything?

Look, Asperger's.

Asperger's syndrome?

Yeah, I reckon it's the "X" factor in why she's so good at making wine.

Her mother explained it to me before she passed away.

I had just started working here.

I was finding Amanda very... challenging.

She's so good at making wine, but the rest of her life is... chaotic.

Think of this place as a restaurant.

If she's a temperamental chef, I'm the maître d' keeping the punters happy.

Behind every great woman, there's a man picking up the pieces?

Yeah... literally in my case.

A witness told me she was pretty fired up here the night Paul was k*lled.

Yeah, Amanda had lined up a big contract.

It was foolishly based on her winning that gold.

The whole deal was off once there was no fancy sticker to put on the bottle.

Why would she jump the g*n like that?

Look, Amanda thinks differently. She thinks clinically.

She decided that she would win again because she just knew that her wine was brilliant.

But it wasn't.

Yeah, well, that's the funny thing.

Trust me. It wasn't worth a sip, let alone a medal.

I-I can't explain it.

As I recall, you were at home that night with your wife?

Yeah. Hiding. Don't matter.

From?

Look, Amanda can get pretty determined.

She just doesn't appreciate that at 1:30 in the morning, most people are asleep.

She was calling you at 1:30?

Endlessly.

Do you remember if it was from her mobile or a landline?

Uh... Mobile.

Yeah, the mobile I.D. thing kept flashing up.

I didn't answer it.

Even maître d's need a night off.

Oh.

Thanks.

Kristin. Ho... Hold on. I'll just turn that down.

So, were Amanda and Paul having an affair?

Hard to say. She doesn't like sex.

How do you know that?

Oh, she told me.

Do women often tell you that?

Hey, and, uh, find out what you can about Asperger's syndrome.

Sure. Because...

Because I was wrong about shock.

Hey, uh, got to go.

I told you to leave my daughter alone, you hear me?

Or I'll damn well k*ll you!

Asperger's? Bugger that. That's just doctor mumbo-jumbo.

Chris Chambers seems to think it's the case.

What's he know?

What Amanda's mother told him.

You want to have a go at her now? My wife's dead.

I don't want to "have a go" at anyone, Ned.

I'm trying to figure out who m*rder*d Paul Winterson.

With you charging around threatening to k*ll people, you're asking for a spot on my suspects' list.

You think Amanda did it?

She's good at science, not disabled.

Just because she's socially a bit awkward doesn't mean she's going around knocking off the likes of Winterson, not that I would have blamed her if she did.

If you want to find out who k*lled Paul, follow me.

No label.

I know what's in it.

Those I give it to know what's in it.

Liquid heaven. Don't need a label.

And a cork.

Screw caps are convenient.

Corks are part of the artistic process.

I taught Amanda to make wine... excellent wine.

She took that gift and applied science to it like every other bastard in the modern business.

Now she makes immaculate wine, award-winning, neat and tidy, supermarket swill.

It's wine with no feeling.

So, you're competitors now.

No. I'm out of the game.

Can't stand the industry. Only make wine for myself.

I've got nothing to prove.

But you were at the awards.

Yeah, I just go to remind myself what I hate about that scene.

"Hate" is a strong word.

À la tienne.

À la votre.

Whoa.

Okay.

That, my friend, is a Chardonnay.

Well, that's...

Can you feel it?

Certainly feel something.

That's art, not science.

So, Amanda should have won?

Of course.

She still makes better wine than all the wannabes in this district by a country mile.

So, you hate the industry, you didn't like Paul Winterson, and you thought the decision was a sham.

Am I at the top of your list?

Convince me otherwise.

Winterson took advantage of my daughter once, confused the hell out of her.

It was a shameless thing to do.

That was Winterson... shameless bugger, all scruples, always wanting a slice of the action.

Meaning...

He was a failed winemaker.

What do they say? "If you can't do it, teach"?

Couldn't make wine to save himself, so he became a judge.

So... you didn't k*ll him?

Guy was an idiot. Can't say I'm sorry he's dead.

I'll take that as a no.

Take it any way you like.

Who did k*ll Paul?

Isn't that for you to figure out?

You said I'd find out.

I said, "If you want to find out."

To find out who k*lled the wine judge, you need to understand wine.

Consider yourself educated.

The rest is up to you.

Thanks.

That is truly remarkable.

And, Shepherd?

Welcome to Brokenwood.

G'day.

This is a bit cheeky, perhaps not even, uh, police business.

More a challenge from Ned James.

Ned?

Yeah.

So, I was passing, and I was wondering whether I could grab a bottle of that award-winning vintage of yours.

Don't you have the rest of the judging remainder case?

Yeah, I shouldn't really drink the evidence.

Not a good look.

Evidence of what?

Well, the fact that I've got a lot to learn about the art of wine making.

Uh, same vintage.

It's on the house.

Oh, please. I can't be seen to take gifts or bribes.

It's...

Not a good look.

Mm.

How's the hand?

Getting there.

Ned James hated Winterson, you know?

Oh, I know.

Thanks.

Oh, I, uh, put that Asperger's research on your desk.

Her father would say that's doctor mumbo-jumbo, that Amanda's only problem is her reliance on science, messes with the mojo of her wine, he reckons.

Mike, she has motive.

She lost and she's a jilted lover.

She doesn't like sex.

Maybe she's pleased that he didn't want to take it further.

Opportunity. She rang Paul from the winery at 1:58 a.m.

Someone did.

Well, Chris was at home. No one else had access.

Paul was found dead on her premises.

What more do you need, Mike?

I need a wine. You?

It's, uh... It's award-winning.

Am I on or off duty?

Both, for when are we not?

Cheers.

Hmm.

Hint of gooseberries.

Grapefruit, dried figs...

Lapsang souchong.

You have no idea, do you?

Busted. It doesn't really set the world on fire.

Ned James didn't do it.

And you know this because...

I asked him.

Oh. So, that's our new technique, is it?

We ask a suspect, they say, "No," we say, "Oh, jolly good," and cross them off the list.

He didn't flatly deny it.

I mean, all the guilty ones do that.

What if the sex wasn't consensual?

Well, there's no r*pe complaint made.

Well, Amanda was aggrieved from losing, humiliated.

So what if, in her mind, Paul r*ped her?

What if, in her rage, as documented by the Asperger's research...

Which I haven't read yet.

Something snapped and she went for revenge?

On a simplistic level, why would Amanda k*ll someone and, in the process, trash her most precious thing, the thing that is her world... her next vintage?

It... It doesn't make sense.

Okay, well, let's move on to Dominic Nichols.

Oh!

God! I'm such an idiot.

It's okay. There's, um, plenty more where that came from.

Such a klutz.

One of the 10 remaining bottles from the judging case.

Are you sure that's okay?

Chairman of the wine awards said, "Take what you need."

That's, uh... Sorry about that.

I was rubbish at vino, as you can probably gather.

Stop. Don't drink that.

What?

Put the mug down.

Um, why am I here?

We need your expertise.

You know I can be an expert in most places.

Does it have to be here?

Well, the thing we need to you to expert on can't be moved.

This place...

I feel like I've done something wrong even if I haven't.

Jared.

Detective Sims.

We're drinking wine. I think you can call me Kristin.

Kristin, then.

You said you wanted to try it. Now's your chance.

Two glasses poured from two separate bottles which, by label and Rob Visnic's own admission, come from exactly the same vintage... this year's Bright Valley Reserve Chardonnay.

Try them.

Mmm.

They're not even remotely similar.

Well, one's from the judging case; the other from stock at the winery.

Both supposedly the gold-medal wine, but they're...

Radically different.

Any ideas?

Blending for judges?

What's that?

Well, taking your base wine and... turbocharging it, if you like, revving it up for the judges so it cuts through.

It's the kind of thing Ned James used to rant on about.

"Bloody cheats," he would say. "The wine should be the wine."

So it happens?

Well, it's dodgy, but, yeah, it happens.

Happy customer back for more?

Is it, uh, possible you blended for the judges?

Well, that's a hell of an accusation.

That's not a denial.

Why would I do that?

To win, I presume.

Yeah, sure, okay, but I didn't.

Look, it used to happen, but nowadays, people declare it.

They put a coda to the vintage.

"Black Label Reserve" or "B-Block" or something that denotes a special blend.

Julian didn't want that.

What did he want?

A wine that, if it won, would be available to his listeners, his fans, right?

He wanted them to be able to go to the supermarket and buy his gold-medal wine.

That's a guaranteed market right there.

His listeners will be able to snap up our 3,000 dozen three times over.

3,000 dozen?

It's the quantity of our vintage.

So there's no point blending something to win if you can't then meet the supply.

So, I did that. And we won, fair and square.

Would you take a taste?

Um, it's from the remainder case.

It's locked up at the station.

Yeah, sure.

Oh, not for me. I'm interested in what you think.

You know your wine well, right?

Of course.

I admit... Being a wine novice, it's all getting a bit out of my league.

You taste with your eyes closed, and you listen to the middle of your tongue.

And...

That's interesting.

There's something in there.

I can't quite put my finger on it.

I'll need to make some comparisons.

Okay. Get back to me.

Yeah, hi. It's me.

Yeah, look, something's gone horrible wrong.

Sarge, uh, there's an issue in public.

Amanda James wants to see you. She's... pretty worked up.

Oh.

Hey, there's this crazy lady...

Mr. Detective Shepherd, you have to arrest Rob Visnic.

And why's that?

He contaminated my wine.

Arrest him. Now. You must.

Would you like to come through to my office? Chris?

Yes.

Detective Sims.

Take a seat, Amanda.

Rob Visnic put urine in my wine.

You think this because...

Uric acid, or urea, is present in my wine, as is chloride and creatinine, I mean, not to mention magnesium and calcium.

How else could these elements get there?

So, you're saying he...

He urinated in my wine. Yes.

Is that actually possible?

No. No, it's not.

Well, I'm telling you. He must have.

How do you know it's Rob's... urine?

He doesn't like me.

Amanda, you don't know that.

I do.

Amanda, Rob thinks you're great.

He wanted to win.

And he did.

Yes, by pissing in my wine!

Uh, Chris, could you talk us through the process of selecting wine for judging?

Sure.

It's a special moment.

We randomly select bottles and put them in a case.

All the bottles are the same, so any bottle will do.

The idea is that what we make is what gets judged.

Amanda drove the cases down to the town hall herself and handed them over.

They're under very strict security from then on.

Is that what happened, Amanda?

Yes.

So, you're saying that somewhere in between the wine being opened and it being poured into the tasting glasses, um, all under scrutiny and security, Rob somehow managed to get urine into the glasses?

How... How else could you explain it?

And into the sealed wine bottles, as well?

If you're gonna sling mud, Amanda, some of it's gonna stick.

You better have proof.

Well I-I mean, I do.

I mean, I have it all recorded, a-all the elements are down.

They're there. I mean, you can see it for yourself.

I mean...

Amanda. Amanda. Let's go, eh?

We'll talk about it in the car on the way.

Come on.

Unbelievable.

Thanks for your time.

Senior, uh... while you were talking with the crazy lady, a...

Uh, keep it to Ms. James, Breen.

While you were talking with her, some bloke left you a present.

He said, "Drink it..."

"...alongside a bottle of Bright Valley Chardonnay from the judging case."

Who left this?

Didn't say.

All he said was, "Keep your eyes closed."

You want us to check it for sarin gas, polonium, or anything?

I'm good.

She likes to point the finger.

Guilty people do that.

Sims. Get your coat.

We've got more drinking to do.

Need a hand with...

I thought you only liked the cheap stuff, Breen.

When it's me and two detectives at a cop shop, I find it hard to relax.

But this...

This feels like a party.

Shall we?

Gooseberries.

And spicy nuts.

Mm. Okay.

Um, maybe more grapefruit or blackberry in this one.

Vanilla notes, straw, hay.

Better?

Oh, I like the middle-of-the-tongue thing.

It's hard to pick the differences.

I am so confused.

Or you could just stop trying so hard and maybe... state the obvious.

Which is...

The two wines are identical.

Rob.

Figured it out yet?

There's a general consensus that the two wines are, in fact, the same.

Well done.

Care to explain.

Well, I care about wine making more than anything.

It's all I do. It's all I know.

It's all that mattered.

But in the end, what really matters is that we didn't win.

But you did win.

Did we?

That's weird.

Problem?

Uh, slight technical issue.

I'll call you back in five, okay?

Who called it in?

We don't know.

How can we not know?

Can we get a preliminary pronto?

I can start as soon as you're ready.

Breen, go with the body.

On it.

I'll be there soon.

Can we find out, please?

Is it true? Is that Rob?

Mm.

Oh, God.

I was talking to my producer when I got the call.

I booked it up the highway as fast as I could.

I can't believe this.

What the hell is going on, Shepherd?

Way too early to say.

Too early?

There's a bloody serial k*ller on the loose.

We don't know it wasn't an accident.

An accident? Please.

Rob Visnic was a damn fine winemaker, one of the best.

People of his experience do not just trip and fall into vat!

Mike...

The call came through from Amanda James.

Amanda found him?

Still think it was an accident, Detective?

Okay, bring her in.

I'll meet you at the station.

Not doing a runner today?

Nowhere to run to.

You're aware of what's happened at Bright Valley?

Should I be?

Rob Visnic's been found dead.

Oh, hell.

In an open fermenter.

You been here all day?

What are you asking?

If you've been here all day.

Yeah.

Well, keep an eye out.

Anything suspicious.

Oh, I saw Amanda James racing up and down the road.

Yeah, we know she went up there.

Julian didn't waste any time, did he?

What?

Well, he'll need a new vintner.

He's obviously called Amanda up again.

Couldn't even wait till Rob was in the ground.

So, Julian asked Amanda to work for him?

When was this?

Recently.

No, Amanda told him to go and take a running jump in her own peculiar way.

And Rob stuck it to him, anyway, by winning gold.

Amanda, sorry. I got held up chatting to a winemaker.

Who?

Uh, Dominic Nichol.

He likes you, by the way. He thinks you're brilliant, despite what you said about his grapes.

Oh, yes. Well, it's true, you know?

They do look like hemorrhoids on a...

Ah, it's okay. We already have that... image on record.

Uh, no need for that just yet, Detective Sims.

We're just here for a chat. Is that okay, Amanda?

Carry on.

Um...

Amanda, you called the police when you found Rob Visnic dead, but you wouldn't leave your name.

Why was that?

I was... shocked.

I-I thought you might think it was me.

That k*lled Rob?

But there was no one else there.

I walked in, and the place was empty.

What were you doing at Bright Valley wines this afternoon?

I went to talk to Rob.

And did you?

How could I? He was... dead.

What did you want to talk to him about?

Why he did what he did to my wine.

He cheated me out of a gold medal.

And you were angry about this.

Yes.

Did Julian Bright approach you to make his wine?

Who told you that?

Dominic Nichol.

I didn't want to. I said, "No."

You didn't mention this before.

Well, why is that important?

He knows absolutely nothing about wine.

He's not relevant.

Tell us about his visit.

Um...

Oh, he, uh... He came twice.

The first time, I said, "No."

And then he came again on the Saturday morning, the day before the awards.

What do you want?

Oh, to talk business.

I told you I'm not interested.

No harm in talking.

He came in anyway.

Did you ever leave him alone?

No, I...

Oh, um... briefly.

I thought he might be spying, so I hid some papers in the lab.

No, Julian.

What's that prove?

Nothing yet.

She could be making it up.

When you said, "Bring her in," I thought we were finally treating her as a suspect.

I know.

Well, if we're not, we can't hold her.

And we don't want to.

It's all got to go. A whole vat of premium Merlot.

Rob would hate that.

Probably hates the fact that he's dead more.

Yeah, of course that.

Wine was his life.

Actually, that's the curious thing.

You said Rob was a damn fine winemaker.

He was brilliant.

But not that brilliant.

What do you mean?

Well, didn't you try to replace him with Amanda James?

It was a passing conversation. Once.

And she said...

"No."

And that's fine. Business is business.

Look, Rob was looking at moving on.

And obviously I had to plan ahead and find a replacement.

Well, he certainly moved on.

Hey, can we not speak ill of the dead quite so soon?

And given what's happened, I'm glad she turned me down.

I mean, she's clearly a menace.

Tell me she's still down at the station.

I've just spoken to her.

Good.

Look, it's, um... it's 8:00.

I've got to head back for the show tomorrow.

Uh, what were you talking to your producer about?

What?

You said you were talking to your producer, uh... when the call came about Rob.

Oh. Uh, ratings.

Yeah, ratings come out tomorrow.

How's that important?

Obviously it's not.

Well, great.

Glad you're focusing on the big stuff, Detective.

Can I go?

Yeah. Drive carefully.

Breen.

Senior.

Sorry. Uh, things snowballed a bit.

What have we got?

You talk about snow? You know nothing about snow.

Come to Russia, you learn about snow.

Right. Uh, so...

He drowned. Same as the last man.

Another waste of good Pinot Noir.

Merlot, I believe.

Eh, red wine is red wine.

Snow, on the other hand...

There are many different kinds of snow, maybe 100.

Bruising and welts across his upper back.

No broken bones.

Blunt instrument, most likely.

Any other wounds?

No.

You said Pinot.

You said Merlot.

Pinot, Merlot... Let's call the whole thing off.

Uh, it's kind of a song.

Ah, it doesn't matter.

Um, can you test this for similarities to the raw one in the Winterson case?

Now?

Right now.

It's late. I'm a doctor, not a scientist.

Where will I find a lab that's open in Brokenwood?

I could take it into the ESR in the city.

No. That won't be necessary.

Amanda.

Mr. Detective Shepherd.

I have a science experiment I need done.

Why?

I can't tell you.

These both contain raw wine.

I need to know what varietal they are.

Hmm. Why?

Let's just say I'm curious about wine.

No, why are they marked "P" and "R?"

They should be marked "A" and "B."

Well, they're not.

They should be. Are there 15 other samples?

15?

"A," "B," "C," "D," "E," "F,"...

Uh, no.

"G," "H," "I," "J,"

"K," "L," "M," "N," "O."

Uh, no.

J-Just these two.

Will you help me?

Clear.

Toll checks. Okay.

Going south...

There. Ends up here.

Ow!

Yeah, Senior. We found them.

What are you doing?

Waiting for the phone to ring.

Have you been to bed?

No, I don't think I have.

How do you know the phone's going to ring?

I just do.

This makes sense?

To you, obviously. Not to other humans.

Yeah, but only if the phone rings.

Coffee?

Uh...

Amanda?

Both samples, "P" and "R," are of the Merlot varietal.

You know this because...

The anthocyanin composition of red-grape varietals is well-documented.

Acetate derivatives account for 22% in Merlot, and usually the relationship between the coumarins and the acetates...

Okay, okay. I'm convinced. Thank you, Amanda.

If I wasn't on the phone, I would kiss you.

Mnh. I-I-I wouldn't like that.

I know. I'm sorry.

Uh, goodbye, Mr. Detective Shepherd.

Thank you, Amanda.

Amanda's testing something for you.

The raw wine found in Paul Winterson and Rob Visnic...

Wait.

You got a chief suspect to conduct scientific tests on exhibit material?

Well, not all of it. And there was no one else available.

She didn't know where the samples came from, and I never said she was a suspect.

But...

Both samples are Merlot.

Red wine. Yes.

Not Pinot Noir. Paul was found in a vat of Pinot Noir.

Well, but...

That's not where he d*ed.

Winterson drowned in the same vat as Visnic.

Senior, I found it.

Stand over the technician until he finds it.

And e-mail me a copy pronto.

I need it in three hours. Every second counts, Breen.

Better hope it's there.

I'm sure it will be.

If it's not...

Then someone's gonna look like a prize idiot.

Great.

Not you. Me.

I'm off.

Text me the moment you get a response.

Will do.

Did you file the application?

Sent.

G'day. It's Shepherd.

The application for the warrant makes for interesting reading.

Yeah, can I have it in two and a half?

We'll get Sims to pick it up.

If what you think is true, this is gonna blow up big.

I know.

How sure are you?

Well, two dead bodies and a truckload of evidence.

Uh-huh. But only circumstantial.

Not if I get that warrant.

And that's my show for today.

The rest of the day belongs to you.

I'm Julian Bright.

I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Ah...

You heard. Top of the ratings again.

Saw Sarah on the way in. Congratulations.

Blood, sweat, and talent, buddy.

But, of course, it's a team effort.

That Sarah's really something, now, isn't she?

Nice wine.

Wouldn't celebrate with anything else.

Is there somewhere more appropriate we can talk?

Uh, sure. Meeting room. I'll grab some glasses.

Sorry I'm late.

Do you know Detective Sims?

Yes. I'll... get another glass.

I'm fine.

Right.

I, uh, bought two bottles.

I-I didn't know which one you'd want.

They're both the same.

Identical, in fact. Yet they're quite different.

But, then again, you already know that.

Sorry, what's going on here?

Oh, we're here to let you confess to the murders of Paul Winterson and Rob Visnic.

What, are you insane?

Now, we can keep it simple where you go, "Yeah, you're right. I did it."

Or I can explain it to you and give you the opportunity to remember and then go, "Yeah, you're right. I did it."

This is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard.

Do you want to call a lawyer?

I don't need a lawyer. I have nothing to hide.

If I had a dollar for every time I head that.

But I do want to record this conversation, because if I'm going to be slandered, I'd like to have a record of it.

That all right with you, Detectives?

By all means.

But I'll warn you, I will play it on the national airwaves if I so choose.

Because if you're gonna tell some cock-and-bull story about me and impugn my reputation, I will have no hesitation to making you look like the fools you are.

Now, do you want to reconsider?

How would you feel about being on the radio?

I always wanted to read the news.

Oh, you're gonna be the news, girlie.

We'll see, shall we?

You sure you don't want to reconsider?

No. I'm good.

I'm Julian Bright talking with Detectives Mike Shepherd and, um...

Kristin Sims.

It's the 5th of May, and they're here to tell a story.

Once upon a time, there were two detectives looking in all the wrong places.

Over to you two clowns.

The end.

There once was a man called Julian Bright who wanted to win a gold medal at the Brokenwood Wine Awards so badly that he approached Amanda James to be his winemaker.

Amanda. Hi.

What do you want?

No harm in talking.

These meetings gave him the chance to learn the access codes...

No harm in talking some more.

And gave him the opportunity to disable the security cameras.

The night before the awards, he let himself in and stole two cases of wine, the judging case and another of the same vintage.

Back at his winery, he decanted the first dozen of the wine into Bright Valley bottles... then spoiled the second dozen by blending it with urine...

Oh... and then rebottling it.

Then he used his screw-cap machine to reapply the Stelvins, which were now both, coincidentally, red, a recent change made by Bright Valley to make the ruse work.

Uh, we found these in your outside bin.

24 of them, all seemingly sliced with a box cutter.

Tricky things to get off, aren't they?

Oh! Piss!

Mike Shepherd.

Snap.

Yes, they're both red.

But the wadding on the underside of Amanda's Stelvin is silver.

Julian's is off-white.

Subtle... but definitely different.

Julian snuck back into the Amanda James Winery to return the now-spoiled submission case.

Amanda James unwittingly took rancid wine to be judged.

The gold medal goes to...

Bright Valley's Reserve Chardonnay.

Yes!

And in this way, Julian Bright won his coveted gold medal by using Amanda James' wine.

Pretty good.

At this stage, a bit of nasty but harmless industrial espionage.

Hmm.

If you're done...

But Paul Winterson copped a lucky, or should I say unlucky, break.

In that moment, he figured it out.

Wow. Okay. That's...

So later, he rang Julian.

Julian Bright.

So, I'm pretty sure I know what you did, Julian.

He wanted to talk about a deal.

He reckoned he deserved a significant slice of the action.

Um, look, I'm gonna have to pull over.

I'll... I'll, um, call you back in a minute, mate, all right?

50/50 of the profits on the vintage to keep his mouth shut... around $180,000, by his calculations... or he'd blow the game.

Not a good look for a fine, upstanding, well-principled radio host on the national airwaves.

So, Julian invited Paul to his winery to talk... details.

The tollway records.

Passing through south at 10:05 and then back again north at 10:17.

On the two-hour trip back to Brokenwood, Julian had time to think about how angry he was.

"Winterson, that little upstart."

I mean, Julian was angry at being blackmailed.

I won gold for this, and you want a piece of it?!

Ah, but you didn't win, Julian.

Wrong, Winterson! Who do you think you are?!

What have you ever done with your life?!

Oh, I know my wine.

How dare you accuse me?!

At that point, Julian could have gone to the police.

Blackmail is a criminal offense.

But no.

I know my wine.

You know nothing, mate!

Calm down.

You know nothing!

Julian whacked Paul with a bottle, a green bottle, as evidenced by the dark-green shards taken from Paul's head wound.

Important, because Amanda James prefers clear bottles.

When she does go colored, she uses amber or medium-green.

At this point, Julian was so consumed with rage that he wanted to really teach that coward a lesson.

Stay down.

Aah! Ohh!

You don't know when to stay down, do you?!

Aaah!

Stay down!

And so it was that Paul Winterson was drowned in the vat of fermenting Merlot.

This is a sample of what we found in Paul's lungs.

Merlot, not Pinot Noir.

At this point, Julian would have taken a deep breath.

Oh, sh*t.

I mean, how the hell does he get out of this?

But then...

He had access to Amanda's winery.

She turned you down.

So why not make it look like she did it?

Having already disabled the security cameras, it was perfect cover.

He was Amanda's problem now.

She was a sore loser.

Paul was there that night. Paul had told you that.

The finger of blame was easily gonna point to her.

To implicate her further, you called Paul's cellphone.

Yeah, nice work on that, by the way. That slowed us down.

But there was wine in the car boot from Paul's drenched clothes.

So you took care of that.

Pretty good.

You had everyone looking the wrong way.

But, like a dead body, the truth just doesn't stay down, and soon Rob Visnic cracked onto what you'd done.

He called you straight after your radio show at, um, 12:03 p.m.

Interesting, because I walked out of his office at 12:02, having given him reason to doubt his wine.

Yeah, hi. It's me.

He was appalled.

He threatened to go to the Wine Growers' Association to shame you, to clear his name as much as anything.

And I'm telling you it's not my wine.

You see, you couldn't abide Rob's threats.

So you hightailed it up to your winery mid-week to deal with him.

The wine that was found in Rob's lungs is the same wine that was in Paul's.

Merlot. That was the kicker.

But thinking ahead, you didn't want to use the toll road.

You wouldn't want to be clocked going through.

You took the coastal highway. There's no toll there.

But there is a speed camera.

And as I remember...

Julian Bright doesn't drive slowly.

Wow.

Will you look that? Technology.

Hmm.

A speed-camera picture of your car signaling a speeding fine you haven't even received yet.

Hmm.

Don't worry. You have 28 days to pay.

That means nothing. Anybody could have been driving.

Uh, except, as I remember...

No, no one drives this puppy except me.

This is absolutely ridiculous.

I-I mean, it's all just circumstantial.

I mean, it'll never stand up in court.

Well, juries do convict on the "death by a thousand cuts" principle.

Yeah.

If you're done, I'd like to go home and rejoin the real world.

Not quite. Uh, you will have hidden it somewhere.

Hid what?!

I'm guessing on your phone.

People put heaps of things there these days.

You would have meant to delete it, but you probably didn't.

Um, shall I check?

Check for what?

You're not looking through this. This is my private phone.

Which is why we bought this. A warrant to search and seize.

Ah.

There it is. The note tab.

562265.

Random numbers.

So, what? That happens to be Amanda's security code.

I mean, it's just pure coincidence.

How would you know that's her code?

I never said it was.

No, y-you did when... um, before... when you asked about... It is.

But how would you know that unless you'd used it?

But do you know the real beauty of these phones?

They have an internal tracking device.

Something to do with GPS, a smart-computer thing.

Once into a lab, an IT guy can get these things to reveal their movements.

Every time a phone goes to a location, it charts its position... um, thousands upon thousands of tiny blue dots denoting time and place over the phone's life.

This phone will remember every time it visited Brokenwood or your winery or Amanda's winery to dump Paul's body or to k*ll Rob Visnic.

I didn't have my phone with me that time.

Uh, what time was this, Julian?

Oh, sorry. I'm still catching up.

I'm just a girlie, you see.

What just happened there?

You confessed.

Told you you world.

It's my bloody phone!

Give me my phone!

Give me back my...

You're gonna hate this, but, uh... all that stuff about the phone?

I kind of made it up.

Julian Bright, you are under arrest for the murders of Paul Winterson and Rob Visnic.

You have the right to remain silent.

You do not have to make a statement.

Anything you say will be recorded...

Thanks for helping with that.

And may be given in evidence in court.

Hey.

Next year, you can go for Botrytis.

Sounds like a disease.

Yeah, it is.

I knew that.

In the meantime, you look like you need a wine.

Hell, no. I feel like a beer.

What do you reckon, eh?