The Mallorca Files (2019) s01e08 Episode Script

Death in the Morning

? Down on the sea ? And you think that you got ? A shot at me ? Better set me free ? You've gotta set me free ? I surrender ? Surrender.
? You could have gotten me a coffee.
I'm not your secretary, Max.
I didn't say you were.
Good.
And stop asking me to pick up your dry cleaning.
I asked once.
Twice.
Just because you go right past my dry cleaners on your way home.
Jeez, you're prickly.
See, you wouldn't describe a man as being prickly.
He'd be assertive.
Jeez, you're assertive.
If you organised yourself a bit better in the mornings, you'd have time to get your own coffee.
Have you ever seen a bullfight? God, no.
I saw a couple before the ban.
Man and beast in a battle of their life.
Buenos Dias.
It was Barbaric? raw, visceral, almost poetic.
If you say so.
Wow.
If you're interested, there's a brilliant documentary about the bullfight.
Cuernos de Acero.
"Horns of steel"? Sounds like a porno.
That's why I watched it.
But it turned out it was about bullfighting.
Winter, Blake, come.
Nicholas Mountford, British, 55, a novelist.
I've read him.
Any good? If you like aggressive male heroes dealing with highly strung women which I don't.
Cause of death? Stab wound.
Weapon? Not left at scene.
A place for murder.
Well, Senor Mountford wasn't just a writer.
He was a supporter of the bullfighting ban.
So, is this ironic or deliberate? That's what you're going to find out.
I want this case solved and fast.
If this has to do with a ban, it could be a political time bomb.
This is Cathy Herrero, manager of the bull ring.
Was it you who found the body? No.
I arrived at work to find the police already here.
Victor, our security guard, was the one who called in.
Victor was very shaken.
We all are.
The victim, Nicholas Mountford, what was he doing here? Research for a book he was writing.
He paid to come in early, before we opened.
You're more of a museum these days.
Since the ban, we have to think of other ways to finance this place.
Tomorrow, the town fiesta will be held here to raise money.
I mean, we can't even afford to get the exhibits cleaned.
The magnificent Alejandro Alcantara, known as El Susurrador.
"The Whisperer.
" El Susurrador was the greatest matador this island has ever had.
His death was a tragedy.
Did he die in the ring? He died of a broken heart.
A broken heart? He died on the very same day as the bullfighting ban.
That is tragic.
This way, please.
I let Senor Mountford in this morning, just after seven.
Then I went for my break.
I came back at 7:30, which is which is when I found him.
You went on your break.
Where? To get a coffee at the bar across the road.
Gracias.
You were gone for 30 minutes.
That's a long coffee.
What are you trying to say? Victor, they are just doing their job.
They are here to help.
Can anyone verify you were there? Yes, yes.
That bar is owned by my grandfather.
And when you returned to the bullring, Nicholas Mountford was dead? He was just lying there, blood everywhere.
We couldn't believe it.
Who's "we"? Senora Garcia arrived a minute or two before me.
I heard her screaming.
That's That's when I saw the body.
And where would we find Senora Garcia? I'll speak to the owner of the bar to verify his grandson's alibi and you speak to Senora Garcia.
All right.
But a place like this, we'll be met with a wall of silence.
Palma Police.
I'm looking for the owner.
Is he likely to wake up soon? Doubtful.
My father likes to sleep.
Your father? That would make Victor your son.
And you are? Manu Alzamora.
Mr Alzamora, there's been an incident at the bullring.
Yeah.
The novelist is dead.
Did you know Nicholas Mountford? The whole town knows him and hated him.
Because of his support for the ban? Your son was working at the bullring.
He says he came in to get a coffee this morning.
Then he did.
Can you tell me what time? How about I wake up your father and take him to the station to go through his liquor licence and tax returns? Victor works the night shift.
He usually takes a break about seven.
"Usually"? How about today? Yes.
And you saw him? Yes.
I was here.
Hola.
Victor! Hello, inspector.
Vamos! I'll be in touch.
Mm-hmm.
No, you must call me Roberta.
It was my grandmother's name.
Ah, such a beauty.
If it wasn't for her lazy eye.
So you entered the bullring, and? There was Senor Mountford lying in his own blood.
And security guard Victor Alzamora entered the bullring after you? Si.
Oh, such a sensitive boy.
Oh, always had a cold when he was a baby.
Always crying, crying, crying.
And how long after you found the body did Victor appear? Maybe a minute, maybe less.
But before he came that's when I saw the matador.
You saw a matador in the bullring? Before he disappeared through the north gate.
And you're sure it was a matador? You may think I'm mad, Detective but I tell you this Senor Mountford was killed by a matador.
A matador?! She didn't actually see him kill Mountford but she saw him running away.
Are you sure she's not crazy? I don't think so.
If the killer did dress up as a matador, it's more than likely linked to the bullfighting ban.
At least you got something.
All I got was the whole macho code of silence.
Maybe I'm just better with people.
I'm just saying that maybe I should take the lead talking to Mountford's wife.
Why? Because her husband's just died.
And? And these things require a light touch.
I know! I've spoken to bereaved relatives before, Max.
Yeah, I've seen you.
Wow.
Not too shabby.
This was Nicky's favourite room.
He'd hide away for hours in here.
How long were you married? Almost three years.
I can't believe he's gone.
Is there anyone you can think of who might have had a vendetta against your husband? Take your pick.
The whole town, basically.
What, because of his support for the ban? Nicky hated any sort of animal cruelty.
He called the people of the town "barbarians from a rural backwater".
They found him arrogant.
But they didn't know him the way I did.
He was a pussycat.
We've been told that Nicholas was at that bullring researching for his new book.
He didn't talk to me much about his writing.
If we look at his notes, it might help us build a picture of his movements.
Thank you.
We'll leave you in peace now, Mrs Mountford.
If anything else occurs give me a call.
There was one more thing.
I don't know if you'd call it a vendetta but there was someone who owed Nicky money.
He runs a cattle ranch not far from here.
What's his name? Manu Alzamora.
My friend from the bar.
The security guard's father.
OK.
Thanks.
Send me the photo.
That was Federico.
He found a fragment of a blade lodged in Mountford's stab wound.
So wherever that murder weapon is, it's damaged.
There's something else.
The wound was deep.
It's very deep.
It pierced the shoulder blades all the way to the heart.
What? That's how the bull's killed.
The matador drives his sword through the shoulder blades into the heart.
Max! Maybe Roberta is right.
Someone did dress up as a matador to kill Mountford like a bull.
Oh! What? Well, Alzamora's ranch isn't far.
It's just beyond those trees.
We can walk from here.
I'm not walking across those fields in these.
Have you any idea how expensive these were? Well, if you insist on buying custom-made shoes These are size 14 feet.
Shopping is a nightmare.
Oh! What? Wow.
Whatever you do, do not run.
Just back away.
Slowly.
What the hell, Max?! A tree! What are we going to do? Don't call for help.
We'll never live it down.
I'm not calling for help, I'm Googling what to do when you're faced with a bull.
It says here: Number one - never, ever run from a bull.
Oh! Number two - try punching the ball in its face.
No way.
Number three - bulls have a very strong sense of smell.
That's actually quite interesting.
We just wait until the bull's bored.
Don't worry, we're safe up here.
What the? Ah! Whoa! Whoa! Max, are you all right? No.
I had to scare off the bull somehow.
Your aim was a little off, Mr Alzamora.
My eyesight is not as good as it was.
How much money do you owe Nicholas Mountford? That's my business.
It's our business now.
A few years ago, the owner of this land became sick and sold it to Senor Mountford.
The day after he bought it Mountford raised the rent on my ranch.
There was only one reason for this - to drive me out of business.
I bred the bulls for the bullring.
But he needn't have bothered.
The ban came in a few months later, so I had to put most of my bulls down.
Didn't stop Mountford from increasing the rent, though, just out of spite.
How much rent did you owe him? About 6,000.
What that man has done to me and my family And before you ask me - no, I did not kill him.
You and Victor were toreros.
And Nicholas Mountford was killed like a bull.
Now, that's enough.
I have work to do, so if you don't have a warrant, I want you and your girlfriend to get out of my house.
You'd better start showing some respect, Mr Alzamora.
Detective Blake is not my girlfriend.
In fact, I don't even know if she's in a relationship.
The point is I don't care because we're professional partners, end of story.
Bah.
Victor? Hola.
Why don't we just dial down the testosterone and let's start again? Am I under arrest? Legally, you don't have to answer anything.
Wow.
In that case Did you ever argue with Nicholas Mountford about money or indeed anything else? No comment.
Can you think of anyone who would like to harm him? No comment.
Do you know how he ended up with a broken jaw? Hmm.
So he didn't actually say it was him who broke Mountford's jaw? No.
But there was a hell of a smug look on his face.
Let's see if there were any arrests related to our novelist.
We'll have Alzamora picked up for it.
We'll get on it first thing.
It's getting late.
We need to head back to Palma.
Yeah, about that About what? That was Ines on the phone.
When I told about her about the whole matador thing You're not going to like this.
Ines wants us round the clock on this.
We just stay here and only return to Palma when the case is solved.
I don't care what Ines says.
I'm not staying here for more than one night.
I have a life! Really? I have a dog.
A stray dog you don't even like.
I don't even have a toothbrush! Torero.
Or the flamenco dancer? What?! There's a gift shop in the lobby.
It was all they had.
Torero.
Adios.
Cosy, isn't it? I'm not sharing a bathroom with What is it that?! It's called a coleta.
It's a matador's ponytail.
When the matador retires, he cuts it off.
It's actually very poignant.
I just don't get this fascination with the bullfight.
It's the stuff of myths and legends.
It's the stuff of nonsense.
Like sort of the What's his name? Dying of a broken out the same day as the bullfighting ban.
It's a coincidence because there is no such thing as a broken heart.
I'm just saying that, for many, the bullfight is an artform.
It's the ultimate dance for life or death.
No, don't try make it sound romantic, Max.
It isn't.
It's just plain cruel.
Depends on which view you take.
Well, I take the bull's view as it's speared through the back of its neck, severing its spinal cord.
Whisperer or not, that poor animal dies in excruciating agony.
You have to respect other people's culture, Miranda.
Well, throwing yourself off a balcony after 20 pints is my country's culture, and I don't see you respecting that.
A rose for the senorita, senor? No.
No, thank you.
Yeah, por favor.
Una rosa? No.
No.
Yeah.
Una rosa, Una rosa, por favor.
No! No gracias, senora.
Anything in Mountford's notebook? Nothing as yet.
Only his musings over the cruelty of the bullfight.
But I'm ploughing through.
Paso Doble! It's the Paso Doble.
It's the dance of the bullfight.
Is that the one where they stamp? It's called the apel, and the paso doble is so much more than that.
Come on.
No.
Absolutely not.
Don't be boring.
Absolutely not.
Come on.
No.
No.
Come on.
OK.
To the back.
One, two, three It's the dance of the corridas.
It's drama.
It's bravery.
And it's passion.
Oh! Max! Ahh.
Ooh.
I'm sorry.
Answer your phone, Max.
Max! Yeah? Your phone's ringing.
OK.
Chill.
Argh! Oh.
Max! Nicholas Mountford's latest book wasn't just about the bullfight.
It was based on a real torero.
I'll ring you back.
"Any reputation this tragic hero once had," "I will destroy my account of him.
" Says he's writing about the torero who broke his jaw and we've got a pretty good idea who that was.
That was HQ.
There was an arrest for an assault on Nicholas Mountford.
A Senor Alzamora.
Knew it! But not Manu.
His son, Victor.
Victor? The last person to see our novelist alive.
If Mountford was basing his main character on Victor, what do you suppose the "tragic hero" refers to? Victor's fall from a mighty picador to a lowly security guard? Here it is.
Speak of the devil.
Why don't we follow him? See what he's up to.
Or question him and save time.
Sometimes it's better to watch and wait.
We don't want to rush in like a bull in a china shop.
Nor do we want to waste time watching him do his weekly shopping.
Didn't you hear my joke? It was more of a pun than a joke and it wasn't very funny.
OK.
There's only one thing for it.
Heads - follow, tails - question.
God, I hate losing! Where are you going, Victor? We should pick up the pace.
We're losing Yeah, I'm trying.
Someone trod on my foot last night and it's swollen up like a balloon.
Still? Yes, still.
I said we should just pull him in! Come on.
Can you see him? There! Look up! Move.
Other side! Call in the number plate.
Hola.
Max Winter.
Yes, it is my car.
So you lent it to Victor? Did you or didn't you, Mrs Garcia? No, call me Roberta, por favor.
It was her grandmother's name.
Has Victor stolen your car and you don't want to get him into trouble? No, Victor is a good boy.
Did you or did you not lend Victor your car? He doesn't have much money, so I let him borrow it.
That is all I'm allowed to tell you.
"Allowed"? I wasn't supposed to say that.
Somebody told you to keep quiet? No.
OK.
We can either do this here or you can come along with us to Palma.
Then Manu will think I'm telling you everything So Manu Alzamora has told you to keep your mouth shut? He said I was the town gossip.
Hmm.
All we want to know is where Victor is.
Where does he go when he borrows your car? It is none of my business.
Victor is a big boy.
If he wants to mess around with that woman I wasn't supposed to say that either.
What woman? Victor? Listen, I was teaching Leanne to ride.
That's how we met.
And then you started an affair? No, it's not just an affair.
I love her.
She loves me.
She's my angel.
How dare you come here and accuse me of killing my own husband? And as for Victor, he wouldn't hurt a fly.
He was a picador and your husband was killed like a bull, Mrs Mountford.
I was not a good picador.
I only did it because my father made me.
Look, I come from a long line of toreros.
Something my father loves to remind me of.
And I hated the death, the blood.
It made me drink.
It brought shame into my family.
But meeting Leanne changed that.
She gave me strength.
He was with me.
Bless him.
When Nicholas turned up at the bullring, Victor took the opportunity to come and see me.
Said he needed one kiss and then he would return to work.
Hmm.
Such a beautiful man.
Unlike your husband? He was a macho bully, just like Victor's father.
I'm glad my husband's dead, Detective, but I didn't kill him and neither did Victor.
You weren't with your father at his bar when Mountford died, were you? Yet you broke Mountford's jaw.
I took the glory so my father would be proud of me.
Finally, his weak son shows some strength.
But it wasn't me.
It was the day of the ban.
There were demonstrations outside the bullring.
On one side, the toreros.
On the other, the animal rights protesters.
Senor Mountford was among them.
I didn't want to go, but my father insisted.
Then the two sides got into a fight, and in the chaos, someone broke Senor Mountford's jaw.
Then why didn't the person who did it take the glory? Well, because he died - later that night.
Of a broken heart.
El Susurrador.
The Whisperer.
So if Mountford was basing his protagonist on El Susurrador, the question is, would that be a motive to kill him? I don't know.
But I do know that no-one dies of a broken heart.
And we know how the killer was wearing a matador suit.
Blood on the cuff.
And I bet whoever wore this suit is the killer of Nicholas Mountford.
Hold that.
The fragment Federico found would fit perfectly.
Then it looks like we found our murder weapon, too.
Ms Herrero.
We need you to shut down the fiesta.
What? Why? We found blood on El Susurrador's suit.
And his sword was damaged.
We think it's connected to Nicholas Mountford's murder.
Maybe the sword was damaged when the exhibit was cleaned.
We have your security guarding the display and forensics are on the way from Palma.
Meantime, we need your help getting all the visitors out.
Of course, I'll get my staff on to it right away.
Mr Herrero, I thought you said you couldn't afford the exhibits to be cleaned.
You must have misheard me.
They are cleaned every year, and no doubt that's how the sword was chipped.
I said the sword was damaged.
I never said it was chipped.
I'm OK.
I'm OK.
Stop her! El Susurrador was your father, wasn't he? Bullfighting was his life.
When he heard that the ban was coming, he was devastated and fell into a deep depression.
He was already on painkillers from years of being a matador, but soon he was taking more and more.
The day of the ban, he got into a fight at the protest.
Where he broke Mountford's jaw.
He came home so upset that the ban had finally happened that night, he got drunk and took an overdose.
And if the truth of his suicide got out, he would have brought great shame to his name and to your family.
So you created the story of his broken heart.
My father was a legend in life.
He deserved to be a legend in death.
But Nicholas Mountford found out - through digging around, doing research for the book he was writing about father.
He came to see me.
He asked if he could spend time here for research.
So you agreed and planned your revenge? I wanted to make sure that book never saw the light of the day.
It was like he'd seen a ghost.
Terrified that my father had come back to beat him once more.
He liked the bulls so much.
So he died like one.
The papers will enjoy this story, but at least the motive was personal, not political so a national outcry averted.
You did well.
It will be good to get home.
That's the first time you've called Palma home.
See you both first thing in the office.
Hi.
I wanted to say goodbye and give you a present to remember your time here.
Oh, you shouldn't have.
I thought he looks a little like you.
Handsome and brave as he takes on the bull, just like you did when you saved Detective Blake.
"Saved"? Oh! He told me all about being chased by that bull.
How he scared it off to protect you.
Oh, macho.
Lovely.
Oh, it's good to be home.
There's that word H again! It's my apartment, Max.
What else can I call it? Isn't that the song? That we danced to.
We should probably talk about what happened.
Not everything needs be talked through and analysed, Max.
Some things are better left.
You're right.
I'm just saying that I didn't expect that to happen, did you? And this is you leaving it, is it? No! I didn't expect it either but let's just move on, OK? Agreed.
And just to be clear, we're talking about me stamping on your foot, right? Yeah, of course.
What else would we be talking about? See you tomorrow.
You will.
? We got time on our side ? It's never too late ? If you want me now ? It's gonna have to wait?