Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1974 Page #3

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Have we met before, son?

No.

No, I don't think so.

Good.

You do your digging,

and I'll do mine.

Now f*** off.

[Knocking at door]

Sir.

F***ing plods.

Breaking news...

[Radio static squealing]

[Doorbell rings]

Reporter, are you?

That obvious, is it?

We've seen a few around here.

Ridyards aren't in, love.

Oh, right.

Well, do you know

when they'll be back?

Gone away for a few days.

Can't blame them.

Brings it all back.

And what with them finding that

new one over in Fitzwilliam.

Sorry, what?

Clare Kemplay.

They found her.

Just on the news.

Dumped on a building site.

Eddie.

Aw, thanks for letting me

know, love.

Oh, f*** you, Eddie.

Oh, Jack Whitehead,

the crime reporter of the year.

Fancy you being here.

Oh, glad you could join us,

Scoop.

Boss wants to see you, ASAP.

Early bird and all that.

Is it true you like it

up trap two from Jack?

You're the one

who's f***ed, Scoop.

You couldn't be reached,

so I sent for Jack.

So I'm off the story?

Not at all, not at all, no.

Just sit down a minute, Edward.

Edward, park your ass.

I want a word.

Look, I've got a couple

of other things

I want you to follow up for me,

all right, a favour.

Wha-what? What favour?

I want you to go to Shangri-la.

What?

Shangri-la.

It was a silver wedding present

apparently,

her favourite film.

What are you on about?

Dawson Place.

John Dawson,

the construction magnate.

Right.

Barry's got a theory:

Local corruption.

Barry reckons

that Marjorie Dawson

will corroborate all the stuff

we've dug up on her husband.

Now, look, Marjorie Dawson

is not a well woman.

It is ethically dubious

to bother her.

So I want you to go with Barry

and make sure he doesn't go off

at the deep end.

All right, so what about

Clare Kemplay?

We'll let Jack handle it

for the most part, eh?

You can do the background.

Who found her?

A builder's mate,

a lad from Fitzwilliam.

Now, Edward,

I'm asking you to drop it.

All right.

Good.

So you'll stay away

from Fitzwilliam, then?

[Woman yelling indistinctly]

[Knocking at door]

Hiya. Mrs. Cole?

Edward Dunford.

I'm from the Yorkshire Post.

To see our Leonard, isn't it?

Yeah, that's right.

Just a quick chat.

He's had enough with police.

He don't need

to keep going over it.

Mary, Mary, it's okay.

It's all right.

Hi.

Sorry. I'm Martin Laws.

Pleasure. Edward Dunford.

Sorry about my hands.

I've been working

on the allotment.

Sorry about that. Not a problem.

I'm just here for a quick chat

with Leonard,

if that's all right?

I don't want to bother you.

Put the comic away, Leonard.

All right, Leonard?

I'm Edward Dunford.

I'm a journalist

for the Yorkshire Post.

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