All language subtitles for Episode 1 - Murder Most Scandalous

(Keys jangle)

Only me back home, Mr Sanderson!

Mr Sanderson, are you in there?

Are you in there?

Mr Sanderson!

(Gasps)

Oh, God!

I can't open the door!

♪ Theme music

♪ Flamenco music

Ole!

I'm looking for Dottie Williams.

And you are?

It's alright, Mr Butler.
I know who she is.

What are you doing here, Nancy -
I need to see Miss Fisher.

Miss Fisher? What do you need to see
Miss Fisher for?

It's none of your business, alright?

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 just 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 parlour, 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.

(Door opens)

Rosie.

Jack, it's father.

He's in trouble.

He's been out cold since they
brought him into the hospital.

The 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.

Hang on, what about Hawthorn, sir?

I thought they were in charge of
this investigation.

Not anymore, Collins.
We're taking over.

(Car horn sounds)

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.

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.

Now according to these notes,

the Deputy Commissioner was found
in this chair

with two glasses still on the table.

Liquorice.
Aniseed.

Hawthorn 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 behind 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 close associate of Dot's.

(Whispers) Her sister.

Ahem!

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.

I'm afraid I'll still need
to question her.

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?

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.

Somebody locked that door, Jack.

And there were only two people
in the room.

Murdering that girl, then locking
himself in the room 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
before the job is done.

I've known George Sanderson
close to 15 years.

You can't let your judgement
be clouded by personal involvement.

And when it comes down to it, Jack,

how well can one man
really know another?

Morning, Inspector.

What can you tell the papers
about your investigation?

It's continuing.

How long will you be protecting
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 nightcap,
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.

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?

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 to the house.

Well, 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 woman I've never met.

This doesn't make any sense.
Father?

Oh, is this a bad time?
No, no, no, we've just finished.

Ah, 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?

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

in confiding in one of their own,
if you consider taking me on.

That depends, Miss Fisher.

How good is your fan dance?

(Whispers) Tell Carlos
we need him back immediately!

(Shouting and jeering)

Get back!

Get back, get back!

I want the results of the decanter
of port as soon as they're ready.

(Phone rings)

Yes, sir.
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.

Phwoar! 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.

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 familiarise myself

and you 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 haemorrhage.

And the increase in blood pressure
can bring on a blood nose as well.

So my more amorous theory
could still be right.

(Rhythmic tapping on door)

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 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?

♪ Swing music

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 learned long ago

that 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 them up
for you, Dottie?

We'd be happy to.

No, thank you. I need to see
if Miss Fisher's happy with them.

You 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. Ah, please don't, Miss.

Don't...

Ahem.
What about the victim's customers?

Any regulars? Anyone unusual?

We've got all sorts in here.
Doctors, judges, politicians.

If I was you,
I'd suspect the lot of 'em.

Thank you.

♪ Slow-tempo, exotic music

(Music stops, light applause)

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.

Let's get that uniform out of here,
Collins.

Ooh.
Leaving already?

Dottie.

Dottie, no, I...

Ladies and gentlemen,
please welcome to the stage,

all the way
from the Follies Bergere,

Miss Lulu Loreeta.

♪ Slow, sultry music

(Wolf-whistle)

(Whistling)

(Cheering)

(Wolf-whistle)

(Applause)

(Whistling, cheering)

I thought I told you two
to stay in the car.

Come on.
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' sister.

(Engine starts)

Dottie!

Gracias, Lena.

Lulu, isn't it?

(In Spanish accent) 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 find 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 try, 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.

It's useless.
The city's full of John Smiths.

The doorman implied
there's 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 one's a waste of time.

You made better headway than I did.

Though 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.

Now where's the results
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 laudanum
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?

Surely 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.

(Engine starts)

(Door closes)

Ugh!
(Tyres screech)

Sir! Hey!

You right?

Rego, Collins - 847 121. Oh!

Thanks for coming.

For all the birthdays I forgot.

Probably every one.

Thank you.

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?

Because what you're doing
isn't right.

I'm trying to help you, Nell -

And 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
our mother -

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.

(Door opens)

(Door closes)

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.

And 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.

(Floorboards creak)

(Lock clicks)

(Kissing)

(Gasps)

(In Spanish accent) 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 him 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 Lavinia only recently
found God,

by way of a Catholic priest
called Blackburn.

I'm looking for Father Blackburn.

That's me.

Habit I picked up
as chaplain in the Navy.

I'm here about Lavinia.

When was the last time you saw her?

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 of Police
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

(Indistinct chatter)

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?

Enough to convince her
to mend her ways.

You mean leave?
Mm.

Do you think Madam Lyon knew?

She wouldn't have been impressed

to lose Lavinia to the church
on top of her moonlighting.

I suspect Madam Lyon's the kind of
woman who likes to settle a score.

But with a double murder?
(Giggling)

(In Spanish accent) Is taken!
Sorry.

That was close.

It still is.

Give me a good head start.

As always.

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.

(Phone rings)

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, and 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 closes)

Hugh said something about
an electrical man.

A man the Melbourne Electric
Supply Company have no record of.

You think he doctored the port?
Possibly.

Then he 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 magnetised.

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?

Clearly someone
who wanted Sanderson dead.

Or Lavinia, or both.

Someone who might have
a special mention

in Madam Lyon's second register.

(Keys rattle)

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.

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 rumour 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.

Got you.

(Clang!)

(Gasps)

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, is it?

(Birds fly past)

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 favourite.

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?

Because 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 now.

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.

(In Spanish accent) 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?

It must have been around ten.

Did he speak to Lavinia?

He wanted to,
but I told him she was gone.

And you didn't think to mention this
earlier?

Lena, what else you say to him?
What's going on? Are you a cop?

(Door opens)
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
newspaper photograph, Collins.

I want to know if he looks like
her electrical man.

Yes, sir.

I just 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.

Roll up your sleeves.

Lavinia's killer has a tattoo.
Do it.

Scratches. Where are they?

Dorothy!

Morning!

Ooh, 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 Sanderson's 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 well and truly
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.

But 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,

and 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 10:00.

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.

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.

You deceived yourself
into the house to poison the port.

You don't know the full story.

You drugged Sanderson and then
you waited for Lavinia to show.

I don't feel sorry for that whore.

She put her own at risk
to make money on the side.

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 blamed Sanderson

and 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'd 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, Burke.

No. I won't let you.
Get your hands out of your pocket!

If that's the game you're playing...
(Gunshot)

(Thud!)

I thought he was armed.

Lavinia's attempt to escape.

'In loving memory - Pete.'

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

Maurie wasn't a killer.

Ah... I'm afraid Burke confessed
before...

..his death.
No.

Dot! (Sobs)

All I 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.

(Chuckles) 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.

(Knock on door)
Excuse me.

You ready, my love?

Ah, 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,
the second time round.

I wish you all the best.

There was at least £500
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 fiance,
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.

Ole.