Original subtitles

Only me back home,

Mr. Sanderson!

Mr. Sanderson, are you in there?

Are you in there?

Mr. Sanderson?

(gasps)

Dear God!

WOMAN: I can't open the door!

(Spanish guitar playing)

(knocking)

(knocking)

Olé!

- I'm looking for Dottie.

- And you are?

DOTTIE: It's all right,

Mr. Butler. I know who she is.

- What are you doing here?

- I need to see Miss Fisher.

- Miss Fisher? What for?

- None of your business.

Well, it is my business

when you come to my work...

If you must know,

one of my friends is in trouble.

- You can't turn up...

- I need to see her!

- Dot, what is it?

- I'm Dot's sister, Lola.

Since when was

your name Lola?

I'm here because

a dirty rotten cop

has murdered my friend.

You'd better come through

to the parlor, then.

Excuse me.

Is Detective Inspector

Jack Robinson still in?

Ah, what's it regarding?

The Deputy Commissioner

of Police.

Well, was he expecting you?

Well, I doubt it.

Rosie.

Jack, it's Father.

He's in trouble.

He's been out cold since they

brought him into the hospital.

Doctors assure me

he's going to be fine,

apart from a few scratches.

What have they told

you about the woman?

Nothing, except that she was

found in the library with him

and that she'd died

sometime earlier.

Oh, Jack. Please, Jack.

He needs your help.

HUGH: Hang on.

What about Hawthorn, sir?

I thought they were in charge

of the investigation.

Not anymore, Collins.

We're taking over.

Hello, Jack.

Oh, come on. You'd be

disappointed if I didn't show.

Make sure they're headed

to City South morgue.

Yes, sir.

- CROSSLEY: Inspector Robinson.

- Morning, Sergeant.

Who'd have thought

all that do-gooding,

trying to clean this town,

and the Deputy Commissioner

winds up drunk

in the arms of a dead floozy.

It's not looking too good,

is it?

I'll let you know

once I solve the case.

Ah, my photographs

and any relevant notes.

I don't know

who you think you are, Robinson.

I'm the officer who outranks

you, Crossley.

Take it up with Russell Street.

HUGH: Now,

according to these notes,

the Deputy Commissioner

was found in this chair

with two glasses

still on the table.

- Licorice.

- Aniseed.

The Hawthorns have already sent

the glasses off for examination.

I want the decanter tested, too.

Yes, sir.

Now, how do you come to be

at my crime scene?

It's my crime scene, too.

I've been asked to investigate

on behalf of the victim.

How? We haven't established

her identity yet.

Well, I can't help being

one step ahead.

She was known as Lavinia,

formerly Sarah Holloway

of Bundaberg, Queensland.

She was a hostess at

the Imperial Club.

I've been retained

by her colleague, Lola,

who is also a close associate

of Dot's.

- Her sister.

- (Hugh clears his throat)

Excuse me, sir. Your...

The Deputy Commissioner's

daughter has just arrived.

Miss... Miss Phryne Fisher.

Miss Rosie ...

Sanderson will do now, Jack.

Rosie is my wife.

Well, ah, former... former wife.

I'm so glad to finally meet you,

Miss Fisher.

So, the Deputy Commissioner

is your former father-in-law?

- That's right.

- Oh. Hmm.

Who else had access

to your father's port?

Only Mrs. Blunt,

but she's part of the family.

JACK: I'm afraid I'll still need

to question her.

ROSIE: I'll go and find her.

Do you think your father-in-law

was enjoying

the privileges of his position

a little too carnally?

- Well, that's one theory.

- But you have another?

Cleaning up this city's

not for the faint hearted.

Sanderson's made plenty of

enemies

and they're not confined

to the streets.

You're suggesting he was framed?

MRS. BLUNT: No, we've had

no proper house visitors

since Wednesday. That's when

Mr. Sanderson's daughter

dines with him.

There was the baker, of course,

the electrical man

come to check the meter,

and the usual delivery

from the fishmonger.

What time did you leave the

Flinders Street Picture House

last night, Mrs. Blunt?

The film finished

at ten o'clock.

We'll need to see

your admission ticket, then.

Well, if it wasn't for me

telephoning the police

to come and break the door down,

he wouldn't even be with us.

Mrs. Blunt? Why did

the police have to break in?

Surely you have

your own set of keys?

Well, I tried them,

but it was no use.

The door was bolted

from the inside.

PHRYNE: Somebody locked

that door, Jack.

There were only two people

in the room.

JACK: But murdering that girl,

then locking himself

in with her. Makes no sense.

Murder alone makes no sense,

but perhaps

an accidental killing.

A clandestine dalliance

gone wrong.

The cord around the neck, Jack.

La petite mort.

The little death of ecstasy

becomes the real thing.

Not murder, manslaughter.

Then overwhelming remorse,

self-loathing

and a final attempt

to obliterate it all

with a good dose of whatever it

was that smelled of aniseed.

- Suicide?

- But the maid returns.

I've known George Sanderson

close to 15 years.

You can't let your judgment be

clouded by personal involvement.

And when it comes down to it,

Jack,

how well can one man

really know another?

MAN: Inspector, what can

you tell the papers

about your investigation?

It's continuing.

How long will

you protect your own?

Stand back, please. Get back.

Is the Deputy Commissioner

on the way out,

or will this hypocrisy be swept

under the carpet?

The public want answers,

Inspector.

(sighs) Mrs. Blunt said goodbye.

She was off to some nonsense

at the pictures.

I poured myself a night cap,

as I always do.

That's all I can remember,

till I woke up here

and those idiots started

blathering

about a dead woman

lying on my Persian rug.

- The Imperial Club, you said?

- That's right.

JACK: Did you know her?

In passing, perhaps?

No. Jack.

I've worked hard to try and stop

these bludgers and criminals

from living off the earnings

of these unfortunate women.

Do you really think that I would

frequent places like that?

JACK: You ordered a raid there

six months ago,

along with raids

on two other high-end brothels.

A man was shot, wasn't he?

It was an armed raid.

These things happen.

Clearly I have been set up

by someone.

That's what you get

when you ruffle feathers.

Mrs. Blunt said the library door

was locked when she came back.

Obviously someone locked

it when they left.

It was bolted from the inside.

That's impossible.

She had to call for help

to break the door down, George.

So presumably I did it.

After murdering

a women I've never met.

- This doesn't make any sense.

- Father? Is this a bad time?

JACK: No, no, no,

we've just finished.

Uh, Jack,

you remember Sidney Fletcher?

Yes, yes, of course.

You're Rosie's cousin.

George's godson.

No, we're not related by blood.

Stroke of luck, as it turns out.

So how's the patient been?

JACK: Rosie mentioned

you were the last person

to see George yesterday.

How did he seem?

Well, uh, we attempted

a round of golf,

but now that I think about it,

he wasn't himself at all.

Triple bogeyed the ninth hole.

I assume

that's not a good thing.

No, no, it's not.

Lady detective.

I've no doubt you're a lady.

As to the second part of

your claim...

You remain to be convinced.

That's the way I like it.

A colleague of Lavinia's

has asked me to investigate

her murder.

Lola.

It's no secret who killed

Lavinia.

She was found dead

in his house.

Madam Lyon, did

the Deputy Commissioner

ever visit Lavinia at your club?

He may be a hypocrite,

Miss Fisher,

but I'm sure he's not stupid.

This is the man who calls my

establishment morally corrupt.

Who declares war

on our clubs.

But I'm quite prepared

to believe

he indulges his dark desires

in secret.

He wouldn't be the first.

Do you think he had a private

arrangement with Lavinia?

My girls understand

the exclusive nature

of the club is their protection.

- So you don't know?

- They know better than to talk.

Not to the police.

Not even to me.

All the more reason

to let me investigate.

I'm very discreet.

I'm sorry.

I want to see justice done

for that poor girl

as much as anyone,

but not at the expense

of my business.

Or the rest of my staff.

Thank you for the tea, my dear.

Let me find Lavinia's killer.

What do you with the information

is your affair.

Doesn't she deserve that?

Perhaps your girls would feel

more comfortable

confiding in one of their own,

if you'd consider taking me on.

That depends, Miss Fisher.

How good is your fan dance?

Tell Carlos

we need him back immediately!

(women shouting)

Get back! Get back! Get back!

I want the results

on that decanter of port

as soon as they're ready.

(phone rings)

Should be some time today, sir.

City South Police.

Ah, ah, yes, sir.

Of course, sir.

Sir, it's Chief

Commissioner Hall.

Detective Inspector

Jack Robinson here.

Yes, Commissioner.

No, he's still in the hospital,

sir.

Yes, I...

No, I intend to, sir.

Yes, I'll bear that in mind,

sir. Good day.

He wants to know

why I haven't arrested

his Deputy Commissioner.

Phew! I don't think

he's the only one, sir.

According to my colleague

at the Melbourne,

Sanderson was treated

for minor lacerations

and an opiate overdose.

What kind of opiate?

Thank you. Laudanum.

Sydenham's Laudanum,

to be precise.

Enough to flatten an elephant.

DOT: Are you sure you want these

fans as big as you said, Miss?

You won't be able to see

the rest of your costume.

Oh, it's fine, Dot. I want

people to focus on the feathers.

I'll head down to the Imperial

Club to familiarize myself.

Have Cec and Bert deliver them

when you've finished.

Of course, Miss.

You said the victim was

bleeding.

Doesn't that contradict

the idea of an assignation?

She had a bloodied nose.

That could be due

to strangulation.

The block in venous drainage

causes capillary hemorrhage.

And the increase in blood

pressure

can bring on a bloody nose

as well.

So my more amorous theory

could still be right.

(approaching rhythmic feet)

Ah, Carlos.

(sighs)

Have you ever fan danced before,

Miss Fisher?

No, but I've seen it done.

How hard can it be?

Besides, you have

a full three hours to turn me

into a fully fledged showgirl,

perhaps with a Spanish accent?

Or maybe we could make it two

and have an hour to recover.

Members?

Ah, must have left it at home.

This do?

(jazz music playing)

You two know

how to clear a room.

Though I do love

a man in uniform.

All those buttons to undo.

I'm Lola.

How can I help you, gentlemen?

Ah, Madam Lyon, I assume.

I'm Detective Inspector

Jack Robinson.

Police officers tend to put our

guests off their drinks.

It's murder I'm interested in,

Madam, not vice.

Take a statement

from the doorman.

- Yes, sir.

- This way.

I need to ask some questions

about the death

of Miss Sarah Holloway.

Lavinia.

No one saw anything.

We were very busy last night.

- That's right.

- We were busy.

I have a very complicated

relationship

with the police, Inspector.

- I'm sure you do.

- And I learnt long ago

the only way to protect

my business

and keep my girls safe

is to trust no one.

Except

you didn't keep Lavinia safe.

I can't help you, Inspector.

But if you don't lock up

the right person soon,

you may come to regret it.

Why don't you let us take those

up for you, Dottie?

- We'd be happy to.

- No, thank you.

I need to see if Miss Fisher's

happy with them.

- Think she'll be right?

- Let's give her five minutes.

So did you see the victim

leave the building that night?

Not that I recall.

But you are on the

door all night?

All night. That's me job.

Miss Williams, what...

What are you doing here?

- What are they?

- I'm delivering some fans.

- For one of the dancers?

- Upstairs.

Miss? No. Um...

Uh, please don't, Miss. Don't...

(clears throat) Excuse me.

What about the victim's

customers?

Any regulars? Anyone unusual?

We get all sorts in here.

Doctors, judges, politicians.

If I was you,

I'd suspect the lot of 'em.

Thank you.

I want a complete list

of the club's employees

from the police file

on the Sanderson raid.

Call each of the women

into the station separately,

including Madam Lyon.

- Yes, sir.

- Did he give you anything?

Not much, sir.

There you go.

The official club register.

Please tell Madam Lyon we'll

return it as soon as possible.

JACK: Let's get that uniform

out of here, Collins.

- Ooh.

- Leaving already?

HUGH: Dottie. Dottie, no, I...

MADAM LYON:

Ladies and gentlemen,

please welcome to the stage,

all the way

from the Follies B'erget,

Miss Lulu Loreeta.

(applause)

(seductive music)

(wolf whistle)

(wolf whistle)

(applause)

DOT: I thought I told you two

to stay in the car. Come on.

HUGH: Dottie, wait. Dottie!

I'm sorry, sir.

It seems Miss Fisher's

performance has upset Dot.

I suspect there's more to it

than that, Collins.

That young lady

who liked your buttons...

I didn't touch her.

I believe

it's Miss Williams's sister.

Dottie!

(Spanish accent)

Gracias, Lena.

- Lulu, isn't it?

- Mm-hmm.

Were you very close

with Lavinia?

We all were.

She'd do anything for anyone.

Nothing I can do about it now,

though.

I just wish she'd stuck

to the rules.

That policeman.

The one they found with her.

Do you think he was a customer?

I don't know for sure,

but she boasted to me

about a private appointment

with the high end of town.

Oh. A dangerous game.

Look, I warned her,

but she wouldn't listen.

At least you tried, huh?

I don't know why she took

the risk.

- I'm set, thanks.

- You have been here how long?

Few months. Beats the docks.

Better view.

Lola tells me you're from Spain.

Seville. Then to Paris, Sydney.

I heard great things

of the Imperial Club, but now,

this poor girl last night,

I'm not so sure.

Shocking.

The policeman,

the one who kill her,

Lola says he made those raids.

I reckon there's probably more

to the story than that.

Well, if there is more trouble

to come, you will warn me, yes?

Those raids weren't about

closing us down.

We were just the excuse.

Those cops were

looking for dirt.

- What dirt is this?

- The club register.

But they never got it.

Not the last time, anyway.

And they won't get much joy

with that one

Madam Lyon gave

those cops tonight, either.

JACK: It's useless.

The city's full of John Smiths.

The doorman implied there was

a second register.

He claims that's what the raid

was all about,

the police trying to get

their hands on it.

That would explain why this

is a waste of time.

You made better headway

than I did.

But I'm fairly convinced fan

feathers wouldn't work for me.

Have you seen this?

"Police Protect Sanderson."

You even get a mention.

Seems everyone wants

Sanderson locked up,

including the Commissioner.

PHRYNE: Now, where's the result

on that decanter?

Was Mac right?

Both the decanter and the glass

were adulterated.

But if he was trying to poison

himself,

surely he'd just put it

into his own glass.

Unless he was trying

to poison Lavinia as well.

Do you know

if she drank the port?

The coroner will let us know

first thing in the morning.

Good. See you at the morgue.

A few feathers missing, but

otherwise, a successful evening.

Miss, am I right in thinking

that show dancing

isn't all on that's on offer

at Madam Lyon's

gentleman's club?

It's all that's on offer

from me.

There's no shame attached

to indulging in

the sensual pleasures of life.

I'm just not that interested

in getting paid for it.

What about Nell? Lola?

Dot, women have supported

themselves this way

since before antiquity.

Not in my family.

How am I going

to explain it to Hugh?

He won't judge you by what

your sister does for a living.

- Wouldn't blame him if he did.

- I would.

Perhaps this is an opportunity

to test Hugh's Christian values.

- Like forgiveness.

- I might have to test my own.

I'm happy to forgive Nell

from afar.

She'll never pay you, Miss.

I know what she's like,

and you've gone to all

this trouble with feathers

and dancing

and being Mexican and...

Spanish, Dot.

But, Dot,

no matter what she does,

she's still your sister.

And sisters are a precious

commodity, believe me.

Sir!

Hey!

You all right?

Rego, Collins, 847 121.

(groans)

Thanks for coming.

For all the birthdays I forgot.

Probably every one.

Thank you.

It looks better

than that moth-eaten thing

you used to take to church.

That Bible is very precious

to me.

Mother gave it to me

when I was five years old.

She didn't give me a Bible

when I was five.

Nell, I know it isn't easy,

but...

I could help you find

some other kind of work.

Why scrub floors when

I can earn double the money

in less than half the time?

What you're doing isn't right.

I'm trying to help you, Nell.

What if I don't need

your help?

What if I don't want

to be saved?

Lavinia was saved,

and look what happened to her.

Why do you always have

to spoil everything?

Because while you're at someone

else's beck and call,

I'm earning enough money

to do whatever I like.

I get to dance and smoke gaspers

and drink champagne

with rich gentlemen.

And some of them even like me

enough to buy me presents.

You're breaking Mother's heart.

Our mother is her

own worst enemy.

Don't you dare talk about her!

You think

that my life is worse than hers?

Six kids, never any break.

Not even enough money to buy

herself a new dress.

I bet Dad would come home

and expect his dues to be paid

whether she felt like it or not.

At least I get paid

for my trouble.

Now you've done it.

What happened to your trousers?

- I fell over.

- Liar.

Hugh said someone tried

to kill you.

Rubbish. They drove around me

after they tried

to knock me out.

It was only a warning.

- From whom?

- I'm making a list.

Not a drop of alcohol

in her system.

There goes my double poisoning

murder suicide theory.

She was certainly dressed

for business,

apart from this crucifix.

You'd think that would put

the punters off.

JACK: They found skin underneath

some of her fingernails,

indicating she put up a fight.

You'd better take a closer look

at the Deputy Commissioner's

lacerations.

And I need another word

with Lola.

Any idea how you got them?

None whatsoever.

George, there was skin found

underneath the victim's nails.

I did not kill that woman, Jack.

It wasn't me.

- I'm sorry, George.

- You just do your job.

George Sanderson,

I'm arresting you

for the murder

of Sarah Holloway.

(furniture scraping)

(lock clicking)

(kissing)

- (gasps)

- Excuse me.

Lucky you weren't Madam Lyon.

She doesn't let us mix

with the male staff.

I thought I locked the door.

You didn't tell who I am,

I hope?

Of course not.

Maurie's a good man, though.

He just talks tough.

- We're about to get engaged.

- Congratulations.

Hardly spoke a word to me

when I first met him.

His brother had

just been killed.

Why were you looking for me,

anyway?

Was Lavinia particularly

devout?

She was wearing a gold cross.

Well, you can blame

our Father Blackburn for that.

Rolls up with his pamphlets,

like all the other wowsers

and do-gooders.

Madam Lyon even threatened

to shoot him.

Clearly you don't share

your sister's fondness

for the church.

Well, I'm sure

it helps some people.

But if you ask me, he wanted to

save more than Lavinia's soul.

Jack, it's me. It seems that

Lavinia only recently found God,

by way of a Catholic priest

called Blackburn.

JACK: I'm looking

for Father Blackburn.

That's me.

Habit I picked up

as chaplain in the Navy.

JACK: I'm here about Lavinia.

When was

the last time you saw her?

BLACKBURN: A number of days ago.

Did she mention anything

to indicate

she might be in danger?

They're all in danger,

Inspector.

Exploited, abused, degraded.

You've been quite vocal

in your opinions, Father.

The Deputy Commissioner

being a particular target.

George Sanderson claims

his raids will help save them.

Tell me how.

How did you try and help

Lavinia?

I helped her

find salvation in God.

She was making changes

in her life.

What kind of changes?

The kind Madam Lyon would not be

happy with.

(jazz music)

Hey, hombre, follow me.

You're right

about Father Blackburn.

He seems to have taken

a very personal interest

in Lavinia before her death.

How personal?

He convinced her

to mend her ways.

- You mean leave?

- Mm-hmm.

Do you think Madam Lyon knew?

She wouldn't have been impressed

to lose Lavinia to the church.

I suspect Madam Lyon's

the kind of woman

who likes to settle a score.

But with a double murder?

(giggling)

- Is taken!

- Sorry.

- That was close.

- It still is.

- Give me a good head start.

- As always.

MRS BLUNT: I'm afraid

it's been through the wash.

But you can see I was there,

Constable.

Like I said, the 8,30 session

of Kid Stakes.

- Ah.

- Have you seen it?

No, but I hear it's very good.

Oh, it had me on the edge

of my seat.

For a while, I was afraid

that Fatty Finn

wasn't going to be able to find

his goat, Hector, in time.

Mind you, I know goat racing is

illegal in Woolloomooloo.

Right, thanks for coming in,

Mrs. Blunt.

And did he...

Actually, no, don't tell me.

- Yes...

- Collins.

Oh, the electrical company

called in again today.

Said they knew nothing

about that other fellow.

- What fellow?

- I told you.

He came to check

the meter two days ago.

Can you give me a description?

(door creaking)

Hugh said something

about an electrical man.

Who Melbourne Electric Supply

Company have no record of.

You think he doctored the port?

Possibly. Then came back here

after it took effect that night,

tried to murder two people

and then disappeared

like Houdini

from a room with a locked window

and a tiny chimney.

Not even a secret bookcase?

This is iron, isn't it?

Rather than brass.

These scratches on the outside.

That could have been the maid,

or the Constable who broke in.

It's very faint,

but it looks

as if something flat

has been dragged across it.

- The lock's been magnetized.

- What?

This bolt on the inside

could have been bolted

from the outside

using a very strong magnet.

In fact, I'm confident enough

to say that it was.

- That's remarkable.

- Thank you.

You should see what I can do

with a garter.

So who was it?

Someone who wanted

Sanderson dead.

Or Lavinia, or both.

Someone

who might have a special mention

in Madam Lyon's second register.

You're free to go, George.

- How?

- You were right.

Someone else locked you

in the library that night.

And you won't rest

till you find out who.

You're a good cop, Jack.

And you were a good son-in-law.

PHRYNE: Psst!

I know Madam Lyon keeps

some kind of record

of her more

confidential patrons.

A secret register.

Have you ever seen it?

Don't you want to know

who killed Lavinia?

She was your friend.

What if someone else dies?

It's not a book of names,

exactly.

What is it?

She gets us to nick things

from the bigwigs.

Business cards, engraved

cufflinks, that sort of thing.

There's even a cop's badge.

I haven't seen it,

but the rumor is that it belongs

to the Chief Commissioner.

- Where does she keep it?

- No.

It's just between us, Lola.

She need never know.

Promise?

Look up there. There's a room.

It connects

to Madam Lyon's office.

But you won't get through

the door.

It's solid metal, with

a lock like a safe.

PHRYNE: Got you.

(hook clanks)

(pants)

MADAM LYON: You're trespassing,

Miss Fisher.

I did not let you into my club

to have you go creeping around

behind my back.

Tell me where that box

is and I won't need to.

What are you after? Looking

to make a profit on the side?

No.

I'm trying to catch a murderer.

And you haven't found them yet.

Quite a way down, isn't it?

This is a position

I much prefer.

That box contains information

I need.

- Hand it over.

- It's not here.

Would you rather I asked

the police to do a search?

It's not here, because

someone stole it from me.

Who?

Lavinia.

She was my favorite.

Hardworking, uncomplaining.

And I was ill,

bedridden with influenza

when the police raided us.

I had to place my trust

in somebody.

I gave Lavinia the combination.

Why didn't you tell me

the box was stolen?

If word gets out

it's floating around,

I'll finish up face down

in the Yarra.

I was hoping you'd lead

me to whoever has it.

When did you discover

the box was gone?

Before or after

Lavinia was murdered?

- Three days before.

- And you didn't accuse her?

No, because I didn't think

it was her.

I didn't want to believe

she'd betray me.

Lena, she want

to help her friend. Speak.

You asked if Lavinia had

any special visitors.

Anyone out of the ordinary,

unexpected,

on the night of the murder.

Well, Father Blackburn was

always expected,

but Burke's not meant to let him

in. He didn't stay long.

Brought his pamphlets about

some charity he keeps flogging.

Actually, he looked

like he'd been on the grog.

- What time?

- Must have been around ten?

Did he speak to Lavinia?

He wanted to,

but I told him she was gone.

You didn't think

to mention this earlier?

Lena, what else

you say to him?

What's going on? Are you a cop?

HUGH: Excuse me, sir.

Can I have a word?

The coroner's called again.

He said microscopic examination

of the skin underneath

the victim's fingernails

shows it was dyed

with permanent ink.

Ink? The murderer had a tattoo.

Blackburn was in the Navy.

Excuse me, Miss Barnett.

My constable will show you out.

Show Mrs. Blunt Father

Blackburn's photograph, Collins.

I want to know if he looks like

her electrical man.

Yes, sir.

BLACKBURN: I dropped off some

reading material for the women.

A witness says

you'd been drinking.

The doorman at the Imperial

wouldn't let me in,

so I stopped at a pub nearby.

After hours.

But you

got into the club somehow.

Yes. When I came back at ten

o'clock, no one was on the door.

Why were you asking

after Lavinia?

- I was concerned about her.

- Why?

I was trying

to help the poor girl.

You knew she was going to see

Sanderson, didn't you?

- Did you follow her?

- No.

You're under suspicion

of murder, Father.

I said I didn't follow her.

She told me she could get

her hands on this box.

It was a golden opportunity

to expose them all.

We were going straight

to the newspapers.

But she betrayed you.

She took it to Sanderson.

She needed money,

and she turned to the man

you loathed most to get it.

- Did you kill Lavinia, Father?

- No, I didn't.

- I tried to help her.

- PHRYNE: Roll up your sleeves.

Lavinia's killer has a tattoo.

Do it.

Scratches. Where are they?

BUTLER: Dorothy!

Morning! Oh, beautiful job.

Except there's still a piece

missing from the bottom.

Even better.

We'll plant it with a pansy.

Do you think Nell will be

forgiven?

For her sins, I mean,

not by me.

Well, Mary Magdalene was

a fallen woman.

Jesus had no trouble

forgiving her.

Oh, you've forgotten

something.

Lavinia?

That's the poor girl who died.

St. Margaret's.

I knew it. The only thing my

sister's ever given me

and it's stolen

from a dead woman.

It's the thought that counts,

Dorothy.

Excuse me, sir.

The files on Sanderson's raids.

- Thank you, Collins.

- Who's this man?

- He looks familiar.

- His name's Berkowicz.

He was a driver at the Dark

Rose, a club in Hardware Lane.

He was fatally shot by police.

Miss, I found this in the Bible

Nell gave me.

I think it's important. Look.

"Bring what you have

to 32 Cheltenham Avenue

tomorrow night, 11 o'clock."

Signed S.

We have the evidence,

George.

We know you were in contact

with the murdered girl.

Yes. She called me.

I didn't go chasing after her,

if that's what you think.

Why didn't you tell me before?

I've been fending off

half this town

to make sure you're treated

justly,

and you've been keeping

that from me.

She didn't leave a name.

Told me that she had information

that I might find interesting

to help close down the brothels.

She wanted money for it.

I was waiting for her

to call again.

I did not write that note.

You must tell me everything.

I swear to you, Jack.

I have not seen that before.

Someone else must have known

Lavinia had made

an offer to Sanderson,

and tried to murder them both.

Perhaps someone whose reputation

was at stake

if their private affairs

became public.

What time did Mrs. Blunt return

to the house?

She left at eight o'clock

and returned just after 11.

Lavinia disappeared some

time just before ten,

and if Sanderson

took his port at nine,

he would have been out to it

by the time she arrived.

So whoever killed Lavinia

was there waiting for her.

- That's who he looks like.

- Who, Berkowicz?

- I told you, he's dead.

- He looks like Maurie Burke.

The doorman

at the Imperial Club.

Burke and Berkowicz.

Don't they look alike to you?

Lola said Maurie had lost a

brother. Burke was on the door

when Father Blackburn tried

to get in at 9,30,

but he wasn't there when

Blackburn came back at ten.

Which could have put Burke's

departure ahead of Lavinia's.

Easily.

Lola, where's Maurie?

- Isn't he on the door?

- He doesn't appear to be.

We need to ask Mr. Burke

some questions about Lavinia.

He's told

you everything he knows.

Maurie's a good man.

I know he is.

Then give him the chance

to prove that to us.

Lola, if you have any idea where

Maurie is, you have to tell us.

He said he was going

to the shipyards,

collecting some payment

for a job.

Call Sanderson for back up.

Make sure we're armed.

HUGH: Stop! Police, stop!

Stop! Police, stop!

- Police, stop!

- Get back.

It's no use, Maurie.

We know it all.

You don't know anything.

You knew

where Lavinia was headed

the night she disappeared. You

set it up. You typed that note

so you knew she was headed

to Sanderson's.

JACK: You deceived yourself into

the house to poison the port.

You don't know the full story.

You drugged Sanderson

and waited for Lavinia to show.

I don't feel sorry

for that whore.

She put her own at risk

to make money.

PHRYNE: But it wasn't Lavinia

you wanted to punish, was it?

It was Sanderson.

He killed

the only family I had left.

You don't know who shot Peter,

but you blame him.

So you strangle

an innocent woman

and set Sanderson up

with her murder,

gouging his arm to match

your own injuries

and locking the door to prevent

anyone from saving him.

What did you do with the box?

That's all you're interested in,

isn't it?

Extortion, blackmail. You're no

better than the rest of them.

- What are you talking about?

- You're under arrest.

No. I won't let you.

Get your hands

out of your pocket!

If that's the game

you're playing...

(gunshot)

I thought he was armed.

Lavinia's attempt to escape.

PHRYNE: "In loving memory,

Pete."

No, he didn't. He wouldn't.

Maurie wasn't a killer.

Uh...

I'm afraid Mr. Burke

confessed before his death.

No. Dot!

(cries)

All he needed was kindness.

I'm just so relieved for Father.

I don't know how to thank you,

Jack.

It was a joint effort.

I accused you once

of a lack of ambition.

I wanted you to climb the ladder

like Father.

But I can see what you like

about where you are.

You're a different man

these days, Jack.

You've got your fight back.

Probably just that

lack of ambition.

Or escaping

a marriage that didn't suit you.

It's war what didn't suit me.

- (knocking)

- Excuse me.

Are you ready, my love?

- Yes, I'm coming.

- No hurry.

You know, I didn't get a chance

to tell you amid all the fuss,

but Sidney and I are engaged.

It's very different

second time round.

I wish you all the best.

There was at least 500 pounds

in Burke's pocket.

No doubt payment he received

for the box which is

still missing.

I assume someone paid money

for whatever was in it.

Perhaps the same person who made

you trip over

and tear your trousers?

Impressive that a man with as

little education as Burke

could concoct

such an elaborate plan.

Well, you can't assume education

and intelligence

go hand in hand.

No, of course not.

Rosie's fiancé,

for example,

Sidney Fletcher,

highly educated.

Also extremely good looking,

very charming

and admirably tall.

You're waving a red rag

at a bull, Miss Fisher.

But I'm no longer in that ring.

Olé.