♪♪
-Do we have £1.3 million?
Thank you.
Bid stands at £1.3 million with you, madam.
Do I hear any more for this beautiful 18th-century
Zhaoqing dragon design vase, rarely brought to market?
£1.35 million with you, sir.
£1.35 million.
[Attendees murmuring]
£1.4 million?
Thank you. Currently at £1.4 million.
Sir, do I have £1.45 million?
£1.45 million with you, sir.
Do I hear £1.5 million?
£1.5 million.
We are now at £1.5 million with you, madam.
Back with you, sir.
£1.55 million.
Madam?
£1.6 million.
Do I hear £1.65 million?
[Attendees murmuring]
£1.65 million?
No?
In the room with you at £1.6 million.
Going once,
going twice.
-£2 million.
[Attendees gasp, murmur]
♪♪
-With the lady at the back for £2 million.
Any advance?
♪♪
At £2 million.
All done?
Going once, going twice.
Sold.
Congratulations, madam.
-Thank you. [Chuckles]
♪♪
-We now move on to lot number 17,
a reproduction marble sarcophagus
with Indo-Chinese touches.
Who will start the bidding for me?
[Indistinct conversations]
-Harry. -Hello, Mum.
-This is a surprise.
-It's been a while.
Going to have me escorted off the premises?
-You're always welcome. I never wanted us to --
Look, perhaps we can have a drink together later.
-Bit late for that, isn't it?
-Always in trouble, Harry?
-More your department, isn't it?
-[Chuckles]
It all went smoothly, so...
cheers.
-Keep your voice down.
-You ignorant woman.
That is China's heritage.
And you treat it like some sort of trinket.
You will regret this.
-That's enough, madam. -Don't touch me.
-[Chuckling] What's a fuss!
Now, I wonder.
Is there any more champagne?
♪♪
-Here's to your wonderful vase.
-Cheers. -Cheers.
-Good morning, Lady Margaret. -Good morning.
-Would you like to follow me? -Right.
So exciting.
♪♪
[Elevator dings]
♪♪
[Touchpad whirs, beeps]
[Touchpad whirs]
-Sorry.
[Touchpad whirs, beeps]
[Mechanical whirring]
[Electricity crackles]
This is it. Lot 16.
-Can I take a look? [Power drill whirs]
♪♪
[Chuckles] Well...
Where is it?
♪♪
-Oh, yes. Uh, hello.
I was wondering if you could help me.
I'm trying to track down my father.
His name is Ron Palmer.
He's white.
Uh, he's early 70s.
He's very chatty.
Would have been admitted in the last four days or so.
-I'll have a look for you. Can you hold?
-Yes, I-I'll hold.
-Hello? -Hi.
-Mr. Palmer? -Yes.
-Sorry. Can't find anyone of that name.
-Okay.
-Thanks for your help. -No problem.
[Doorbell rings]
-Mick Palmer? -Yes. Can I help?
-I'm looking for someone to find a painting for me.
It's a work by Walter Sickert.
It's been stolen.
-Well, I'm sorry to hear that,
but I don't work freelance, and I don't appreciate
people just turning up on my doorstep, either.
-It's been stolen by a man named Ron Palmer.
It's your father, I believe.
Let's talk inside.
[Children shouting indistinctly]
♪♪
Nice place.
♪♪
-You're taking a bit of a risk, aren't you?
-We have your father.
He's all tucked up, safe and sound.
-What? -For now.
You know exactly what your dad does.
-He's not part of my life anymore.
-I'm not sure that's how some of your colleagues see it.
Those rumors you tipped Ron off
before he disappeared 15 years ago.
Wouldn't take much to end your career.
And I'm sure you don't want that,
what with your dad looking so...frail.
♪♪
This is the work.
Once it's returned, we'll talk about getting your dad back.
Find it. Call me.
♪♪
I'll be in touch. Clock's ticking.
-Have we met before?
-The sooner, the better.
I'll see myself out.
♪♪
[Door opens and closes]
[Radio beeps] [Police radio chatter]
[Radio beeps]
-What time do you call this then?
-Something came up. Sorry.
-So, this is a new one for me --
pottery theft. -Yeah, yeah.
Come on, we're late.
-Someone got out of the wrong side of bed this morning.
♪♪
-This is Greg Kemp, head of security.
-I want all the CCTV from last night until this morning
and details of the vase.
-Yes, of course.
Well, Kemp, is there a catalog?
-Yeah.
-I want all these crates opened and searched.
Let's find out if there's anything else missing.
-It's lot 16.
-18th-century Zhaoqing vase.
The dragon design.
It's beautiful.
Could you take us through last night?
-Yeah, so, everything gets packed and taken down.
We opened it up this morning, and the crate was empty.
Alarm still on. No sign of entry.
-And the vase was definitely in the crate
when it entered the vault? -100%.
Me and Olivia oversee the whole process.
-And there's no way in or out except the main entrance?
-None.
-Who has access to the locks?
-Just Kemp and myself.
Fingerprint recognition.
-So, a £2 million vase
in a sealed vault
with no way in or out has just
disappeared into thin air? [Cellphone vibrating]
-Olivia, Drew Carswood is here.
-Well, I'd better speak to him.
Excuse me.
-Who's Drew Carswood?
-He's the dealer selling the vase.
♪♪
-I was half-expecting Dracula.
♪♪
-Could do without this.
-Just keep your mouth shut for once.
You can do that, can't you?
-Mr. Carswood?
DI Palmer, Heritage Crime, DC Malik.
We'd like to talk to you about last night.
-I'm sure there's a perfectly simple explanation.
-Yeah, well, there'd better be.
I'm out 2 million quid.
-Uh, when we've accounted for everything,
can the other buyers collect?
-Once forensics are finished up, go ahead.
-Was there anything unusual about the auction?
-Nothing. A successful evening.
-What about Harry, then?
-Who's that? -Drew, don't be ridiculous.
Harry's my son.
-Yeah, and what was he even doing there, eh?
You wanna have a word with him.
-Uh, well, there was the incident with the Chinese lady.
-A disappointed bidder.
A small altercation with Lady Margaret.
-I had to show her out.
She was making all sorts of threats.
-Got a name for us?
-Qian. Xie Qian.
She's a cultural attaché at the Chinese embassy.
♪♪
You want to know why someone would steal a piece of pottery?
Emperor Zhaoqing oversaw the end
of one of the most bloodthirsty periods in Chinese history,
and yet they created this.
If you're lucky enough to see it in person,
it's like the glaze is still liquid.
-Very eloquent.
You appreciate China's heritage.
Well, what we have left after being picked clean by the West.
-Miss Qian, thank you for seeing us.
-Happy to help.
-Yesterday evening, you attended an auction at Mountford's,
where you put in a number of bids for this vase.
-That is my job.
That vase belongs to China.
-Mountford's told us you were angry to miss out.
You threatened the winning bidder.
-Ridiculous woman.
She pushed the vase beyond my budget
simply to satisfy her own monstrous ego.
-The vase was stolen last night.
-How is that possible?
-Would you mind telling us where you were last night
after the auction?
-I was here. -Can anyone confirm that?
-Let me remind you, I am a Chinese government official
and I have full diplomatic immunity.
♪♪
-Auction catalogs from Mountford's.
-I'll stick with the CCTV, thanks.
[Cellphone vibrating]
Another cheese sandwich? -Yeah.
-Don't you ever fancy a change?
-Uh, you heard from Olivia's son, Harry, yet?
-Not answering his phone.
-Get an address. Let's track him down.
[Cellphone dings]
-Vase turn up on eBay?
-It's Rosa. She's back in London.
Would have to be this week.
-She's giving you another chance?
Dinner part two.
Hey, you can make her a cheese sandwich.
Just make sure you keep your dad away this time, right?
-You got anything yet?
-The vase is definitely inside the vault.
I've tracked it getting boxed up and taken all the way in.
But there is something odd.
♪♪
I've gone back a bit earlier.
This is the camera outside the goods lift.
This guy enters the lift,
and then 30 seconds later,
the lift arrives in the basement,
and he's gone.
-Keeps his face hidden. He knows where the cameras are.
Someone could hide in that. -I did check it, boss.
-I know. I saw.
Find out where and when it was delivered.
-Hello. Shazia Malik.
I need a delivery address and contact details for lot 17.
This is it.
-Try the button.
♪♪
-It was delivered about 30 minutes ago.
See? Empty.
[Pounding on sarcophagus]
-It's hollow.
Come on.
[Both grunting]
♪♪
-Harry Mountford. -Yep.
-No, that's great. You've been very helpful.
Okay. Thank you.
[Camera shutter clicks]
Any sign of the vase? -No.
No sign of a wallet or phone, either.
You?
-Company who bought the sarcophagus
was registered to this address, one director Harry Mountford.
-Hmm. That figures. -There's more.
Company selling the sarcophagus also registered here,
sole director...
-Harry Mountford.
-He sold the sarcophagus to himself.
-He hid inside it,
knowing it was going into the vault overnight.
So, once he was inside, all he had to do
was get the vase and wait.
I'm guessing he climbed back inside just before they came
and opened up in the morning.
[Camera shutter clicking]
One for the way in, one for the way out.
-But something went wrong, and he...
-Asphyxiation.
And if the vase isn't here...
-Harry had accomplices.
-And they took the vase, but not the body.
-Brutal.
-And there's this.
♪♪
-Puncture marks.
-He was holding on to something when he died.
He was clasping it.
And it was taken by the person or the people
that took away the vase.
-Delivery driver said he was left instructions
to carry the sarcophagus inside.
Doors were unlocked.
-The sarcophagus left Mountford's at midday.
We got here at 1:30.
It's a tight window for an alibi.
-I'll talk to everyone again.
-Alright.
Can you stay with these guys till they're done?
-Sure. -Nice one.
I'll leave you to it.
Call me if you need me, yeah?
-Mm.
♪♪
-Comfy sofa.
-Stop messing us around, Ron.
The Sickert -- we want it back.
-Everybody wants something, sweetheart.
World peace,
Chelsea back in the Champions League.
-You were well paid for that copy.
It's still in the private collection.
No one's any the wiser.
Except us. We know what you did.
You kept the original, gave us a second copy.
-What sort of a snake do you think I am?
-Six months ago, my father had it valued.
Fake.
Can you imagine how happy he was?
-Mm. You're saying this fake Sickert
was so good it fooled Frank and the original owner
and you?
Whoever did it must be incredible.
-That's okay.
We can loosen you up a little bit.
Plus, we've already got someone else on the case.
-Good luck to him.
-Policeman. Name of Mick Palmer.
Ring a bell?
♪♪
-Hi. You've got through to
Detective Inspector Mick Palmer.
I'm not here at the moment.
Please leave your message after the tone.
-Hey, boss, it's me. I'm outside Mountford's.
Where are you?
We're supposed to be interviewing
Olivia Mountford.
[Sighs]
♪♪
-Hello, Janey. Long time no see.
-Been a while, love. What's new?
Not still in the fuzz, I hope?
-Yeah. I'm still a copper.
You gonna let me in?
-[Stammers, sighs]
But I don't understand.
Why was he hiding inside the sarcophagus?
-I really am so sorry.
Can't answer that.
Do need to ask some questions.
Just procedure. Is that alright?
So, Harry used to work here.
Why did he leave the business?
-[Sighs heavily]
I mean -- I mean, it was a mess.
[Sniffles]
And Harry was a...
You know, easily led.
He met someone who persuaded him
the future was in online auctions,
got him to sink money -- my money --
into some stupid app.
And we lost thousands,
hundreds of thousands
that I spent my life building this place up.
I just couldn't trust him.
-Wait.
You fired him?
-I had no choice.
-What did he do after you let him go?
-[Chuckles] He basically set up in Evelyn's.
[Sniffles]
Oh, it's a restaurant on the Strand.
That's where he'd meet his clients.
And he always had a scheme.
Next one was always the big one.
-Can I ask where you were yesterday
between midday and 2:00?
-In my office. You can ask my secretary.
-It's been quite the reunion.
First Ron, now you. -Dad was here?
-Yeah, as usual, he only wanted one thing.
-Money. -Sex.
-Oh.
-I can't believe you made him sleep in his lock-up.
-Well, you could have let him stay here.
-You're joking. Three years was enough.
Anyway, you're family.
-It's complicated. -No, it ain't.
Just need to get over yourselves.
-Still doing the Jackson Pollocks, I see.
-Private commission.
Uh -- Signed by me.
All above board.
[Chuckles] The Yanks go mad for them.
One Pollock a week and a Mondrian
when the council tax is due.
-[Laughs]
-Do you want a go?
Ohh! [Laughs]
What's all this about, then?
-Did dad give you a painting to look after a few years ago?
A Sickert? -Ah.
He was good at them.
Genius, really.
-I think this might have been the real thing.
-[Laughs]
How would he get one of these?
Actually, no, don't answer that.
[Both chuckles]
Well, no, he never gave it to me.
-Can you think of anyone else he might have left it with?
Phil? -No.
Silver Phil's out of the game.
Half-dead Steve's in Thailand. Don't ask.
Not many of the old gang still around.
I said as much to...
that posh bird.
-Who's that? -Oh, just some dolly
come looking for Ron.
Man in demand.
-[Chuckles]
40s? Smart?
Piercing green eyes?
Charming but deadly?
-[Laughs] Maybe. I don't remember.
♪♪
-You know who she is, don't you?
-[Sighs] Alright.
Yeah, I do.
She's Frank Claes's daughter.
♪♪
-Shit.
I thought I recognized her.
[Jackhammer rattling]
[Sighs] -Boss.
Where have you been? -Something came up.
-That's what you said yesterday.
-Alright, don't go on about it.
Spoke to Olivia Mountford.
Two years ago, she fired Harry from the business.
Some strange family dynamics there.
But her alibi's solid.
-What about the others?
-I'm just about to speak to Greg Kemp.
Are you coming?
Or have you got somewhere else to be?
♪♪
[Door closes]
Can you confirm where you were
between midday and 2:00 yesterday?
-Yeah. Bamford Security Solutions in Kennington.
They installed our system.
-What, asking for a refund. -[Chuckling] Yeah.
-How long have you worked here?
-Uh, just over six months.
-And where were you before that?
-Canada. Same sort of thing.
-What brought you back here?
-Ah, you know, time for a change.
-Is it Parkinson's?
-[Sighs]
Motor neuron.
-How long have you known?
-It was under control for a while, but...
Well, it's not gonna go away.
I don't know how long I can keep going.
I'd be grateful if you didn't tell Olivia.
-Yeah.
-I really need this job.
-I feel sorry for Kemp.
Olivia wouldn't sack him, would she?
-She sacked her own son. [Cellphone dings]
-The post-mortem forensic report.
So, the sarcophagus contained two oxygen canisters,
one small one marked "in," large one marked "out."
The only thing is, the canister he was using to get out
contained pure carbon dioxide.
-So, whoever gave him that canister
knew that he'd be dead instantly.
-Yeah.
Time of death, between 7:00 and 8:00 in the morning,
just before the vault was opened up.
-Anything about those marks on his hand?
-Traces of zinc alloy.
That help?
[Cellphone ringing]
-Yeah? DI Palmer.
Yes, uh, Frank Claes?
Yeah. That figures.
Alright. Yeah. Thanks.
-What's that?
-A loose end.
So, Harry sneaks backstage at the auction
and uses the sarcophagus to hide in the vault.
He then gets out, gets the vase,
and before the vault reopens in the morning,
he gets back in again.
-But the tank's sabotaged, and he suffocates.
-He was already dead when we searched the vault,
clutching onto something that made those marks.
-I've been going through Mountford's financial records.
A couple of years back, they appointed a new director --
our friend Drew Carswood.
-Two years ago? You know when, exactly?
-July.
-The same time that Olivia Mountford fired Harry?
-Exactly.
Carswood invested half a million pounds in the business.
-Did Olivia mention that? -No.
Six months later, Carswood resigned,
but the cash still stayed with Mountford.
-So, what happened two years ago
to make Drew Carswood
write off half a million quid?
Two years ago.
[Siren wailing in distance]
Hang on a minute.
♪♪
Mountford's auction catalog.
Two years ago, July.
♪♪
There you go.
-It's the same vase.
-Exactly.
Mountford's have sold it twice.
So, two years ago, Mountford's is going bust,
Carswood bails them out,
and then a few weeks later,
Mountford's auction off the vase at a knock-down price,
saying it's a reproduction.
-[Scoffs]
So, who bought it?
♪♪
-So, definitely the Gothic Windsor armchair.
Excuse me. -Of course.
-Inspector.
Have you got good news about the vase?
-Can you tell us how you came by it?
-Yeah. I picked it up a few years back in Saint Petersburg.
It's a Russian client. Needed to raise some money fast.
Well, it's best not to ask, eh? -[Chuckles]
-Yeah, I was sad to let it go, really,
but, uh, I wouldn't be much of a dealer
if I didn't sell anything, would I?
-[Laughs] -Mm.
This Russian client -- got a name?
-No. In this game, you've got to protect your sources.
-Especially if you're trying to pull a fast one.
-For example, if you just secured
a genuine 18th-century vase from an auction house
for a fraction of its value?
It appears you paid 20 grand for a £2-million vase.
-So what? I got lucky.
The auction house thought it was a repro.
I thought it was, too.
-So, no Russian client.
-Sounds good, though, doesn't it?
[Both scoff]
-You are aware we're the police, right?
-Yeah.
-The catalog describes it as "a 20th century copy
with surface damage and discoloration."
I mean, they've done everything they can
to put people off, haven't they?
I know a sleeper when I see one. -I've done nothing illegal.
-Well, I hope not, Mr. Carswood,
because this is now a murder inquiry.
-What are you talking about?
-Harry Mountford's body was found yesterday afternoon,
and we believe he's responsible for the theft of the vase.
And he wasn't acting alone.
♪♪
The auction house deliberately misrepresent a lot.
In this case, labeling a vase as a reproduction.
That gets knocked down to Carswood,
and then they get a kickback.
-Half a million pounds investment?
Everyone's just in it for themselves, aren't they?
-Carswood's as bent as a £9 note.
He's quids in. [Cellphone vibrating]
-Unlike the original owner, who misses out on £2 million.
-Yeah.
We need to find out who that was.
You alright to get into that?
-Sure.
You want a lift, boss? -No. I'm good.
See you tomorrow? -Okay.
♪♪
-Hi. -Morning.
-Anything for me?
-Obviously.
Annabelle Tremaine, original owner of the vase.
She sold it to raise funds.
Guess who did the valuation.
-Harry Mountford pulling a fast one.
-Mm.
She died from hypothermia last year.
Neighbors found her.
"Family and friends of Annabelle Tremaine
are invited to a funeral service at St. John's Church, Brixton.
A committal will be held immediately afterwards
in the church graveyard."
-Was there any family?
-One nephew lives abroad.
One other thing -- I went to Evelyn's last night,
Harry Mountford's regular spot.
He had a booking last Friday,
a long, boozy lunch.
-With whom?
How well did you know Harry?
-Harry Mountford from the auction house?
Not at all.
-Yeah, well, last Friday...
-Okay. We did talk.
I had a proposition for him.
-What kind of proposition?
-I needed that vase.
I wanted him to pressure his mother
to see if there was a way of securing it.
-A quick hammer? Really?
Uh, it's a classic auction house trick.
They rush through the sale, bringing the hammer down fast,
so the sale goes to the right person.
Was Harry interested? -He laughed.
Said his mother would never listen to him.
-I would have thought you'd have the funds
to secure the vase, even at £2 million.
Unless, of course,
you had spent it all elsewhere.
Lovely earrings, by the way.
♪♪
I reckon Qian's been siphoning cash off for years.
-And we can't touch her.
-Missing out on that vase is gonna be a red flag.
They're gonna want answers in Beijing.
[Cellphone vibrating] -Yeah.
-Shit. -Boss, what's going on?
Whose phone is that?
♪♪
-It's my dad.
-Oh. What's he done now?
-Someone's taken him.
-He what?
Who?
-Frank Claes. Nasty piece of work.
My dad ripped him off years ago.
He took a painting off him by Walter Sickert.
They want me to find it or...
-Or?
-I don't know.
They've kidnapped him, and there was blood at his lock-up.
-You can't do a deal with them.
-You think I don't know that?
[Geese honking]
It's not your problem.
I don't want you to get involved.
-I'm already involved. I'm your partner.
Aren't I?
-Yeah. I do appreciate that, but...
♪♪
The key ring.
-What key ring? -Kemp's.
It's a maple leaf.
-He did live in Canada for years.
-Have you got the post-mortem report?
-Mm-hmm.
-Get the picture of the hand.
Those marks caused by three big spikes.
-That's what Harry was clutching when he died.
-Which is how he got backstage.
-Yeah. -Call Kemp.
[Line ringing] -Hmm.
-DC Malik. How can I help?
-Mr. Kemp, we'd like to speak to you as a matter of urgency.
-I guess you found out then.
[Bells chiming]
-Are you at work, Mr. Kemp?
[Line disconnects]
-Did you hear that?
The church bells in the background?
-Yeah. Uh, could be anywhere.
-Or St. John's Church in Brixton.
Didn't you say Tremaine's nephew lived abroad?
-Okay. Thanks for your help.
[Car doors closing]
So, Kemp asked his mate at the security company
to give him that alibi.
They haven't seen him in weeks.
♪♪
-We assumed someone wanted the vase
because of what it was worth.
Should have paid more attention to the original owner.
You're Greg Tremaine, Annabelle's nephew.
-Harry ripped her off.
He knew what that vase was worth.
But to him, she was just some stupid old lady
he could screw over.
She died in a freezing-cold flat with nothing.
-Why didn't you go to the police?
-And say what?
I had no proof.
-So you took matters into your own hands.
Got a job in security.
-Faked some references.
Olivia didn't follow them up.
-How'd you get Harry on board?
-He didn't take much persuading.
Blamed his mother for firing him
when it was him that bankrupted the company.
Nothing was ever his fault.
-So you offered him revenge.
-Gave him your keys so he could sneak backstage.
-He knew the position of the cameras.
And once he was in the lift, he climbed inside the sarcophagus.
♪♪
He simply pulled the lid back on top of himself and waited.
You supplied him with what he thought
was two oxygen cylinders.
♪♪
So when the porters wheeled the sarcophagus
from the lift into the vault,
they had no idea Harry was tucked up in there.
All he had to do was get hold of the vase,
wait until morning,
climb back inside the sarcophagus,
ready to be delivered to his own lock-up,
where you'd arranged to meet him.
But you never intended for him to come out alive, did you?
♪♪
You left him sealed up like some two-bit pharaoh.
♪♪
-Believe me, he's no loss.
-In the seconds before he died,
he was holding your key ring,
squeezing it so hard it made his palm bleed.
-Harry cheated my aunt.
Now he's dead, and Mountford's is finished.
I just wanted to put it right before I ran out of time.
-All we need now is the vase.
-Can't help you there.
-Greg Kemp, I'm arresting you on suspicion of murder.
You do not have to say anything,
but it may harm your defense if you do not mention
when questioned something which you later rely on in court.
Anything you do say may be given in evidence.
♪♪
-Bingo.
♪♪
[Engine starts]
Right. We need to concentrate on getting my dad back.
Where the hell did he hide that painting?
-Your dad's been gone for 15 years, right?
So it has to be somewhere safe,
somewhere that wouldn't change.
A bit like you.
-Thanks.
-Your house.
It's the only place your dad knows would never change.
-Yeah.
-Don't suppose you, um, kept any of my paintings?
-Like this one. -My mum, painted by my dad.
-Nothing like an original.
-I know where it is. Malik, put your foot down.
♪♪
I always thought this frame was wrong.
♪♪
[Exhales heavily]
♪♪
[Sighs]
♪♪
That's why he wanted it back.
All that stuff about Mum...
he was just playing me, as usual.
♪♪
-I'm so glad you've seen sense.
May I?
-Where's my dad?
[Car door opens]
♪♪
[Car door closes]
-The painting?
♪♪
Where was it?
-It was in my house, behind another painting.
-Really?
How awkward.
Well...
♪♪
We make a good team.
Maybe we should work together again sometime.
I mean, that's twice now you've covered for your dad.
Handling stolen goods.
♪♪
-Give my regards to Frank.
♪♪
[Engine starts]
♪♪
-Shame.
-"Shame"?
Is that all?
-That painting was my pension.
-Was it? I didn't know.
I was too busy flushing my career down the toilet.
-I wouldn't have given it up.
Still, your call.
Who's this then?
-My partner.
-I heard a lot about you.
-All good, I hope?
-All okay?
-Hardly. This so-called son of mine
just gave away my -- -Stop it!
Of course I didn't give it away.
An original Walter Sickert?
-What? [Chuckles]
You stiffed them with a copy again?
Who did it?
Was it Janey? -Where are they?
-Heading east.
I'm guessing to one of the ports.
Harwich or Lowestoft.
-Call it in.
Give them the info for the tracker.
-You put it in the frame? You devious little f--
You've really stitched them up.
-You still don't get it, do you?
-Come on, son. Crack a smile.
It's all gone perfect.
We should be celebrating!
♪♪
-Ronald Palmer...
♪♪
...I'm arresting you for possession of stolen goods.
-What are you talking about?
-You do not have to say anything,
but it may harm your defense if you do not mention
when questioned something which you later rely on in court.
Anything you do say may be given in evidence.
[Handcuffs click]
-You got to be joking, Mick.
Come on.
I'm your dad.
♪♪
-Come on.
♪♪
[Clock ticking]
[Up-tempo piano music plays]
♪♪
[Doorbell rings]
[Music stops]
[Clock ticking]
[Dog barking]
Hi. -Hi.
So, is your dad in?
-[Chuckles] No, he's -- he's gone now.
I'll tell you about it later. Come in.
-Flowers. -[Chuckles] Yeah.
-Don't suppose you happen to have a vase or...?
-Oh, a funny story about that, actually.
Um, let me see what I can find.
-Actually...
...forget the vase.
♪♪
[Cellphone vibrates]
♪♪