Hang on. I need a van. A van we can get a wheelie bin in upright
and I need it now. She says she wants a van now, right now.
Wheelie bin in.
I think she's planning on moving the body before the vultures descend.
I will indeed. Thank you. Ta-ta... Yeah, OK. Speak later, bye.
Kid in a bin, eh?
I love this job, I love this job. Do you know why?
I'm the one that gets to nail the bastard that did this to the wall by his fucking testicles.
Heather! Good morning. DCI Murray, MIT.
Can you put me through to Mr Rutterford, please?
Mitch.
Is it bad news? Hello, Mr Nash.
Have you found him? We've come to see Dawn.
Dawn! It's Mitch and another one. DC Bailey.
What are you doing here, Mr Nash?
I'm a friend of the family. Oh.
Have you found him? Where's your mum, Dawn?
She's...
Do you want to sit down for me?
Do you want to give Cheryl a call for me, Michael?
Do you want me to sit in with you, Dawn?
Can you give Cheryl a shout for me?
Cheryl!
Dawn... You've found him!
Haven't you? Have they found him?
Do you want to go in with Dawn, Mrs Williams?
Why don't you go make some tea? She needs me with her.
No, she's got her mother in there with her.
This is stupid, the way I'm being treated. I want to help her.
This isn't about you, Michael.
So if you really care about Dawn, go and put the kettle on.
We think it is Dylan.
Mickey!
Mickey! Mickey! Mickey!
Mickey!
Andy, Dirty Dave's rung him asking when you're available
to brief the review team. Any time this morning.
Ohh.
Are you gonna give me an answer or are you gonna make like an ostrich?
Yeah, that last one.
Tell him to tell him I'll be back in the office at half past
and if he doesn't mind allowing me to kill two birds with one stone,
he can join us for the briefing, all right?
Did you get that?
Hello? Guess what? I'm fine!
I'm fine! I'm absolutely fucking brilliant!
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Hey, Rachel, thanks for making me go.
It's not a problem.
Erm, Rachel? What?
I love you.
I love you too. See ya.
Talk me through Michael Nash's alibi.
Nash dropped Dylan and Louise off at the end of their road
at approximately 8:20pm.
Our last sighting of Dylan walking along Netherfield Road is at 8:45pm.
At 8:47, Nash is four miles away buying sweet-and-sour pork
from a Chinese takeaway in Openshaw near to where he lives.
We've got the till roll. The fellow remembers him.
He's a regular. They had a conversation about wind turbines
and solar panels. Then, he says, he went home.
His wife and kids weren't there that night,
they were visiting relatives in Sheffield
but we know that he phoned her at 11pm
or, at least, that a phone call was made from his house.
Whether he actually did go home before he made that phone call at 11pm, we don't know.
We found nothing to suggest otherwise but I'm not convinced.
Obviously, the onus is on us to prove he was elsewhere
not him to prove he was at home.
Do you know, I'd really like to know where those takeaway cartons are.
If they're in his rubbish then we know he went straight home
but if they're not then where are they?
Have you suspended his refuse collections?
I can do. What time's the post-mortem?
Some time today, hopefully. There's logistical issues.
You couldn't event trying to get a paediatric pathologist
and our Home Office pathologist in the same city at the same time.
It will be interesting to know what's in the lad's stomach, eh? Absolutely, it will.
What about Ryan Varney? He's a better suspect.
He lied to us about where he was, he filmed the lad on a mobile phone,
he gave him money. His new alibi, which we're still looking at,
puts him in a house less than 200 yards away
from where Dylan's body turned up this morning.
He's got a previous conviction for an underage sex offence.
The other thing to say about Nash, of course,
is that he's been messing about behind his wife's back.
With Dylan's mother, is the point.
How long for? Six months.
How did he meet her? Online. Online dating.
Have you found his... online profile thing?
No, I didn't realise you wanted me to. Yes, please.
Ma'am, is it all right if me and Kev get off? Yes, go!
- Good luck! - Good luck!
Go for it, you can do it. Sergeant's exam.
Well, break a leg. Good luck, Kev.
Has anyone got a car, registration Sierra-Lima-Zero-Eight-Romeo-Zebra Charlie?
Red CLS?
Yeah, it's mine. Why?
Somebody's towing it away apparently.
Shit. Oh, shit.
Slob arse.
That's an interesting choice to spend money on
for a personalised number plate, isn't it, Ma'am?
And I'm the best man in your life ever
that you've ever had anything to do with ever.
You are definitely up there with the best of them, Sean,
at this present moment in time.
So, what I was thinking was we need to stop messing about, you and me,
and just get married.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.
No, we are... you and me, destined to be together.
Why? Why do we always end up in bed together, eh?
Even when we haven't seen each other for years.
I mean, this has been going on, on-and-off, since we were, what?
14? It's meant to be.
It's just so obvious.
I'm surprised I'm having to spell it out.
I'm suprised we've not thought of it sooner.
I am never going to meet anyone more fantastic than you.
You are never going to meet anyone more fantastic than me.
Just think of the fantastic kids we'll be having.
You can't fight fate. What do you want for your tea?
You see, a fellow like Sean... and I can see he can be amusing
in a limited sort of way... he's just got no ambition.
You need a fellow... Neither have you. I do.
No, you don't. You're a chancer. You float along the line of least resistance.