All language subtitles for brokenwood_12x03_gepi

We thought you by my side and left the
stars to be my guide. In the

dark, a voice that calls, you're
stronger on your own. And I watch the

clouds go by and I think about the time
we...

Hey there, you okay?

Good morning.

Hey boss, nice day for it.

Is it?

Uh, Gina's already started.

Considering the location, I might
actually forgive you for calling us out

Right. Happy New Year.

Let's go.

You good there? Just a mo.

The property is known as Whitecliffe
Manor and its owner, Maxwell Cornelius,

our deceased, 79 years old.

He was found just after 7am by Frodo and
the young woman he's with, Frances

Martin. She's a guest of Mr Cornelius.

I'll take Frodo.

Morning, Gina.

Daniel, happy new year.

Christine, how are you?

Box of birds, thanks, Gina.

You should not keep the birds in a box.
It's cruel.

Must have been a hell of a party last
night.

What do you think he tied one on and
blew a gas can?

Toxicology will tell us more.

A few who attend the party are still on
the manner.

On it.

What happened here, Maxwell?

Was it just your time, or did you get
some help?

The victim has no obvious signs of
injury.

Of course, this arouses great interest
in me.

Um, sure.

Anything else to add?

To die in this position, it's very
unusual.

I have a deep suspicion his death is
unnatural.

I feel it in... In your lagoon where the
devils dwell.

You know me so well.

Plus, I found this in his pocket.

Meet me in the garden. Come alone.

Last night, Mr Cornelius, the dead guy,
he hosted a masquerade ball for, like,

knew the... That explains the pants.

Take it you've been here all night.

Yeah. I might have overdone it a bit.

You're a friend of Mr. Cornelius?

Yeah. Nah.

He's always been pretty private.

But he was a regular at the coffee cart.

Good morning, Franklin.

Hey, Mr. Cornelius. Your usual?

Always.

A magic morning begs for a little magic.

A magic what?

It's a double shot wrist arena.

Three quarters flat white.

They're pretty hard to make. I think
that's why I got an invite.

A private barrage to see in the new
year.

Hush, hush. Keep it close.

Loose lips sink ships.

So it was supposed to be a secret party.

I don't know, man. I just went for the
free booze.

Mildred Hawkins.

I'm the living housekeeper.

And how long have you been working for
Mr Cornelius?

Close to 40 years.

You must be upset by his death.

Maxwell was a good employer, and over
time he became a dear friend.

But at his age, people die.

He liked extravagant parties.

No, not really.

He mostly kept to himself, with the
exception of a few close friends.

Then why hold a New Year's Eve event?

Today would have been Maxwell's 80th
birthday.

He wanted to celebrate.

And with New Year's Eve, he could kill
two birds with one stone.

He wasn't sure how many big milestones
he had left.

Why a masquerade party?

Maxwell had a love of the theatrical.

It stems from his art history
background.

Before he retired, he was an art valuer.

Oh.

What kind of art?

Historical paintings, mostly.

He was incredibly well -known in the
fine arts world.

Some of the big -name galleries hired
him on a regular basis.

That must have kept him busy.

Why are the police interested in the
death of an elderly gentleman?

It's routine.

So when was the last time you saw him?

I tried to find him at midnight to wish
him a happy birthday.

Well, I assumed he'd be on the balcony
to watch the fireworks.

Attention, everyone.

It's almost midnight. Everyone needs to
come out on the balcony to see the

fireworks.

He wasn't there.

No.

It was strange.

When did you see him, Lout?

Honestly, I can't remember.

I was flat out all night.

Approximation will do.

I guess sometime around 11pm.

I saw him chatting with Hattie.

And Hattie is?

Hattie Anderson.

Maxwell's one -time fiancé.

Although he called the engagement off, I
think she still holds a candle.

Oh, Muldred.

Didn't you get the memo?

It's a masquerade ball.

Someone needs to serve.

And I'm ever grateful to you, Millie.

Or would I do without you?

Yes, I'm sure it would be hard to find
another waitress at short notice.

Hattie.

That must have been humiliating.

I've always known my place.

Come through.

Sorry, I'm still, uh... Oh, please, take
your time. Finding a body can be a very

confronting thing.

What a way to start the year.

How did you know Mr.

Cornelius?

He's a recent acquaintance.

And I didn't have any plans for New
Year's, so I thought, why not?

Please.

It appears Whitecliffe Manor was the
place to be last night.

Yes, it was a fun party.

Then you were up early this morning?

Yes.

Going somewhere?

I was about to get a taxi.

You're not from Brokewood?

No.

I heard that Mr Cornelius was a
bachelor.

Does that mean he's got no next of kin?

We don't know that detail yet.

It will be part of our inquiry.

Why do you ask?

Just curious.

We'd appreciate if you stayed in the
district a little longer.

Because?

Just in case we get curious about
things.

Of course.

Oh!

Mrs Baker!

Gracious dear child.

You almost gave me a heart attack.

If I didn't know better, I'd think you
might have spent the night here.

Well, just between you and me, I think
that someone's liked the champagne

because I barely had anything to drink.
Next thing you know, I'm waking up face

down in the breakfast room.

Are you a friend of Mr Cornelia?

No. Or even a client, but I never say no
to a dress -up.

I've always loved making an effort when
it comes to haute couture.

As it turns out, my father was a cross
-dresser back in the day, when you could

still call it that. Now, of course, that
got him into all sorts of trouble, but

also I did wonder if the rumours were
true about Maxwell, not my father. There

were no rumours there. Everyone knew
that he was a cross -dresser. What

would they be?

Drinking on the job, Mrs B?

Well, nothing like a bit of stress
relief when you're under pressure.

I've been tasked with organising an
exercise...

ravagant birthday party in eight years,
and it happens to fall on December 31st.

So, as you can imagine, a lot going on.

Anyone we know?

Mr Maxwell Cornelius.

He owns Whitecliffe Manor. That rich art
guy.

He is very wealthy.

The invitation list is a who's who of
the Broken Wood Elite.

Frodo. I don't know how he got on there,
but everyone out. Bunch of snobs by the

looks. That's a bit harsh.

Or perhaps.

Spies? Trudy has it on good authority
that Mr Cornelius himself used to be a

spy. Good authority?

I tell it's crock and panther, but the
rumours are it had one head and two grow

in its place.

So did you find any spies?

Sadly, no.

The evening was a bit of a bust in that
respect, but all the costumes were

lovely, and I had a very uplifting
reading with Morgana, so it wasn't a

waste.

Well, uh...

Morgana Marinkovic. Yes, she had a table
set up for palm readings with her

sister -in -law, Svetlana. Well, ex
-sister -in -law.

They still have the same last name, so
that's a bit confusing.

I'm going to need that guest list.

Mrs Baker!

Silverton.

Lovely, aren't they?

And expensive.

Oh, yeah?

What sort of money are we talking?

Well, Maxwell reckons close to a million
each.

For the pair, three million.

Second Lieutenant Philip Craddock of the
3rd Brigade.

Oh.

Something wrong?

Apology, you remind me of someone.

You're not Russian, are you?

Not that I know of.

Very good.

Are you lost?

What?

Well, you don't live here, do you?

Or do you? Do you?

No, I'm here because... What is your
relationship to Mr Cornelius?

Well, Maxwell and I are the best of
friends.

We fought in the war together.

Right. Are you aware that

Mr Cornelius was found dead this
morning?

Oh, joy, good.

What a wonderful adventure the old boy
must be on.

Adventure? Yeah, working his skills.

Party has not started yet.

Old chap, these salted peanuts remind me
of the ones we got behind enemy lines.

Do you remember? In the tins.

Tonight is a bit off, Philip.

I've just had the strangest encounter.

Was it the Ruskies?

My dear friend, it's good of you to
remind me of a time when the world was

complicated.

But I may have to utilize some of my old
skills to get to the bottom of this

enigma.

What kind of skills?

Skills that we garnered whilst on Her
Majesty's service.

He must have faked his own death in
order to solve the riddle.

What war did you say you fought in? The
only one that mattered. The Great War.

The Great War meaning World War I?

Yes, that's right.

The Kaiser's boys, they had us in their
crosshairs, you know.

We defeated them. Yes, sir. Mint?

But not the blue ones. They're my
favourite.

No, I'm fine, thank you.

Oh.

Thanks.

Okay, that coffee was actually... God,
that is good.

What did you put in there?

Coffee.

Okay.

This was found in the victim's pocket.

To meet me in the garden, come alone.

So he was lured to the folly.

Wealthy guy, easy motive.

Yeah, believed to be a bachelor.

No next of kin that I can find.

Well, he was once engaged to Hattie
Anderson, but Maxwell called off the

engagement.

We need to track down the will and find
out who inherits. Perhaps a close

friend. Philip Craddock.

He's known Mr Cornelius for years.

But I don't think he's quite playing
with a full deck.

Dementia? Something like that.

He said I reminded him of some Russian
woman he used to know.

Gina.

Thanks. No.

He also claimed that he and Maxwell
fought in World War I together, which

make them around 130 years old.

Well, for what it's worth, Mrs Baker has
heard rumours that Mr Cornelius was

involved in espionage.

Maybe that's not that far -fetched,
because I found this at the crime

scene.

Is that a hammer and sickle? Yeah, it
is.

They're a Russian brand of cigarettes,
comrades.

Were any of the guests Russian?

No, according to this.

Mrs. Baker provided me with a full guest
list.

There were only 39 people in attendance.

The party was invitation only?

Mrs. Baker was the event planner.

Mr. Cornelius was very particular about
who could attend.

Frodo, the victim, had a soft spot for
his favorite barista.

More curious, Frances Martin claimed she
only just met Mr. Cornelius, yet she

was staying with him.

And she's not on the guest list.

How can I help you?

You and Morgana attended the masquerade
ball at Wycliffe Meadow last night?

Yes.

Morgana, wake up.

We have a visitor.

Good morning, Morgana. Daniel, how
lovely.

I knew I would be seeing you today.

Is that right?

It's Maxwell Cornelius.

He's dead, isn't he?

As it happens, Mr Cornelius was found
dead this morning.

The woman who was with him last night,
she told me it was his time.

My thanks again, you two, for coming
this evening.

I think your store will provide some
intrigue to this evening's events.

You're very welcome, Mr Cornelius. And
we're expecting payment up front.

No need for theatrics just yet, Miss
Meringovich.

Guests haven't started arriving yet.

I don't want to alarm you, but you
should watch your back tonight.

Someone has a score to settle.

This woman, was she a ghost?

A visitor from the spirit world, yes.

She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a
Russian accent, I think.

If the Russians are involved, you best
believe that death was not a natural

They cannot be trusted.

Any Russian in particular?

Da, Steve Fanshawe. Has anyone ever told
you that you look Russian?

With this big bald head of yours and
this baltic chin. Okay, I didn't come

to be insulted. Giovanna, being
unattractive is the least of his

Excuse me? Sortie! This good bit and you
couldn't build a sense castle if you

tried. Maybe not, but you didn't read
that in his palm.

I didn't know you could read palms as
well.

She can't.

That's not nice.

I wouldn't be surprised if it's all a
cover -up story.

How so?

Everyone knows that Steve is an English
version for Stepan. That I shouldn't

name.

Steve did make a strange exit last
night. Steve, come back. I'll give you a

proper reading.

Only KGB can go.

Thank you for meeting with me, Ms.
Anderson.

Oh, Hattie, please.

I understand that you and Mr. Cornelius
were once engaged to be married.

Well, yes, but we didn't go through with
it. And it was a long, long time ago.

How long ago was that?

Oh, close to 40 years.

We were but babes.

And are you still unmarried?

Not that it's any of your business, but
I received a large inheritance when my

father died and never had the need for a
husband financially.

What about for love?

I was once in love with Maxwell, but he
was married to his work.

His work as an art valuer?

Or his work as a spy?

Well, that's just simply small -town
gossip.

Maxwell's career took him all over the
world.

It afforded him Whitecliffe and all
these incredible works of art.

Do you know who stands to inherit?

Why are you asking me?

Well, you were close once.

We understand that Mr Cornelius has no
living relative.

Well, that much is true.

For what it's worth, a young woman
turned up a few days ago claiming to be

distant cousin.

Hattie, my dear.

Delighted you were able to make it. Oh,
80 years young, Maxwell. How could I

miss it?

Although it feels like only yesterday,
we're all in our 30s.

Hello?

Maxwell, I'm Frances Martin, your second
cousin, twice removed.

Not that I believe it, but if she is
Maxwell's closest living heir,

she would inherit Whitecliffe, wouldn't
she?

Great. Oh, my God, you read my mind.

What did you get up to last night?

Must have been fun.

It's kind of personal, don't you think?

Is it?

I don't want to talk about it.

We have a time of death.

Is that... The bass maker?

Yes, Mike.

It recorded his time of death as
midnight, exactly.

Beyond that, Gina is yet to determine a
cause.

Hopefully toxicology results will shed
some light.

Steve Fanshawe was seen entering the
library by the Marinkovitches around 11

.45pm, after which he completely
disappeared.

As in, vanished.

Which gave him the opportunity to go
from the manor to the folly.

Svetlana also suggested that Mr Fanshawe
could be a Russian operative.

Although her motives seem personal at
best.

And Morgana?

She claims a Russian goat predicted
Maxwell's death.

We need to determine where everyone
living was at midnight.

I'll talk to Mrs Baker. She may have
filmed the event.

Ah, good idea.

Sims? Yes.

Um, indeed.

And according to Hattie Anderson,
Francis Martin claimed to be a distant

of Mr Cornelius.

Yet she's only recently met him.

Well, I don't know many of my distant
cousins. She knew him well enough to get

last -minute invite.

Track her down.

Hey, usual?

Thanks, Frodo.

Miss Anderson, good morning.

Oh, Detective Sims.

Sorry to interrupt.

Are you?

Do you recall where you were at midnight
on New Year's Eve?

Why? Well, we have reason to believe
that's when Mr Cornelius passed away, so

we're trying to piece together a
timeline of the evening.

I don't remember.

I hope you can wind things up soon. I
need to be getting home.

How long ago did you receive your
invite?

Oh, I received an email from a Becky
Baker while I was travelling.

No, travelling where?

Oh, you do ask a lot of questions.

Well, as you know, I'm a detective.

South America.

It's always been on my bucket list.

Matthew Pichu was breathtaking.

Long black, no sugar.

Well, I really must get going.

Who's the lucky person?

Your ring. I take it you're engaged.

That's really none of your business.

Okay.

By the way, Frances Martin, you don't
happen to know where she's staying, do

you? I don't. She's hardly welcome at
Whitecliffe.

Why is that?

Because. Where does she come from? What
does she want?

So many questions.

Have you tried the motel?

Rude, right?

Real rude.

Yeah.

Thanks, Frodo.

I heard you had a big one for New Year's
too.

It's a private matter.

Thanks for agreeing to meet.

I'd rather be at the beach, but what can
you do?

You attended the masquerade ball at
Wycliffe Manor? Yeah.

Why?

Mr Cornelius was found deceased
yesterday.

I heard.

Nothing to do with me.

You were seen on the night in question
entering the library before

I'm a builder, mate, not a magician.

Where did you go?

Look, I just needed to get away from
those Marinkovitch women.

This could be if you couldn't build a
sand castle if you wanted to. Maybe not,

but you didn't read that in his palm.

Steve, come back!

I'll give you a proper reading!

Climbing out a window, must have been
some palm reading.

Well, it wasn't the reading, it was the
abuse.

With this big bald head of yours and
this Baltic chin?

For the record, my mother is of
Norwegian extraction. My father's

Finnish.

No love lost with the Russians.

Well, that doesn't answer my question.

It was.

Where did you go?

Outside, obviously.

Then I went home.

How did you get into the party? You
weren't on the guest list.

I did a bit of work for Mr. Cornelius a
few months back.

What type of work?

It doesn't matter. This was months ago.

You should be looking at the people who
were closer to the old man, like a son.

My understanding is that Mr Cornelius
doesn't have any children.

That's what I thought too.

It's good to see you, Badger.

Try and enjoy your evening.

Badger, are you real, mate?

All my sins.

How do you know Maxwell?

How did you know?

I'm his long -lost son.

Well, that makes for what I'm going to
be, kid.

Yeah.

Sounds like bullshit to me, too.

What did he mean by that?

No idea.

But what kind of name is Badger, anyway?

Sounds made up.

It's right here.

Thanks for coming in.

Sure, whatever I can do to help.

For the record, you were at Mr
Cornelius' masquerade party

on New Year's Eve.

Yes, that's where a lot of people...
Well, they all had invites, but

you weren't on the list.

I was invited by Mr Cornelius directly.

Good night?

Yeah, it was.

Do you recall where you were at
midnight?

I believe I was on the balcony.

You believe you were?

Well, I didn't look at the clock or
anything, but I was on the balcony when

fireworks went off, so that must have
been midnight.

You told DSS Shepard that you'd only
recently met Mr Cornelius.

I did.

Maxwell, I'm Frances Martin, your second
cousin, twice removed.

Well, well.

Your cousin Francis Maxwell.

How wonderful.

Oh, you absolutely must stay.

Indeed you must.

That's when I met him.

So are you Mr Cornelius's cousin or not?

My mother died several months ago and I
found a connection to Maxwell when I was

sorting through her paperwork.

How did you know he was holding a
masquerade puppy?

I didn't. But when Mr Craddock asked me
to stay, I guess I was invited by

default.

And you just happened to have a costume?

I got it from the hire place in town.

They have a great renaissance section.

Then the next morning you got up and
left.

Well, after Maxwell died, it didn't feel
right for me to stay at the manor, so I

got a room at the motel.

Was my understanding that you were
already leaving before you found out

died?

Well, yes, but I didn't want to be a
burden, so I thought I would slip away.

And while you were slipping away, you
discovered Maxwell deceased in the

Yes.

And now I'm here talking to you.

Good morning.

I'm D .S .D. Shepard. I know who you
are, Mr. Shepard.

And unless you have a warrant, I'm
afraid I can't show you inside.

And you are?

Arthur Girdler, K .C., retired.

As Maxwell's closest friend, I've taken
it upon myself to protect his legacy.

I have no intention of disrespecting
that legacy. Well...

I find myself in the unenviable position
of being Maxwell's executor, and all

this confusion about his death is
unsettling.

Yeah, and I'm here to find out how he
died.

Well, then it's true he was murdered.

Well, if you'll allow me inside, I'll
tell you what I know.

We haven't confirmed Mr Cornelius' cause
of death yet.

But you have a pretty good idea, I'm
sure.

We have reason to believe that foul play
may be involved.

I see.

Any persons of interest?

We're pursuing certain lines of inquiry.

Like the spy rumours?

That's one line of inquiry, no matter
how ridiculous it sounds.

Well, I don't think it sounds ridiculous
at all.

In fact, I'd say it was quite plausible.

Do you know something that we don't?

I suppose you want to see the will.

Maxwell updated his will two months ago.

Who is Sam Parker?

Your guess is as good as mine. I asked.

But Maxwell was very secretive about it.
Did anyone else know about this?

Whoever Sam Parker is, he or she, is
about to become exceedingly rich.

Come on, Andy. I'm leading my fingers
through the walking here.

I'm looking for a badger.

No, not a badger.

We don't have badgers in Aotearoa.

Someone called badger.

Badger someone or someone badger.

Hang five, another call. I'm going to
ring you back.

Mike. We have a beneficiary for the
will.

We need to locate a Sam Parker.

Usual spelling?

P -A -R -K -E -R.

That's all I've got.

Andy, any guests under the name Parker?

Sam Parker.

That depends who's asking.

DC Chalmers, Brokenwood CIB.

I don't like talking to cops.

Technically speaking, I'm a detective.

I know.

Bad suit gives it away.

Most people call me Badger.

It's from my boarding school days.

Is it true you're the son of Maxwell
Cornelius?

Does it matter?

The old man's dead.

Are you aware you're in his will?

No. You're the sole beneficiary of Mr.
Cornelius' estate.

He's left you Whitecliffe Manor and
everything in it.

This cigarette is Russian.

I know. Where did you find it? At the
crime scene.

Prints couldn't lift anything.

I will send for the DNA.

That brand of cigarettes used to be very
popular with the KGB.

I don't think the KGB are operational
anymore.

Officially not.

But the KGB continues as the FSB.

And they are not to be trifled with. If
Russian spies are involved.

Mike, you must be very careful.

Trust me.

I know.

When you say you know, do you mean you
know or do you know?

Let's just say, Mike, there is a very
good reason why I left the Motherland.

Baker.

It's not what it looks like.

It looks like you're drinking wine.

Okay, well, it is what it looks like,
but it's non -alcoholic. No, it isn't.

right.

With the stress of everything going on,
I figured I'd just be able to treat to,

you know, absorb the situation.

Okay. All I wanted to know is, do you
have any footage from the masquerade

Oh, yes.

I haven't put it on my social yet
because it seemed a bit...

Inappropriate under the circumstances.

Oh, right.

So was he?

Was he what?

A spy.

I can neither confirm nor deny. Told
you.

Can you send this to me? Of course.

Do you need it encrypted?

It's fine as it is.

Reminds me of the Battle of the Storm.
We're going over the top, boys!

So Francis was there.

The only people not on the balcony at
midnight were Hattie Anderson, Archie

Girdler, Steve Fanshaw and Badger, a .k
.a. Sam Parker.

So where were they?

Let's pin these people down.

Gina advises that the Comrades brand of
cigarette is popular with the Russian

Secret Service.

So we're back to spies again.

We are because... It turns out that
there was a lot of KGB

activity in New Zealand in the mid
-1970s.

Maxwell Cornelius would have been in his
late 20s.

A Wellington man, William Such, was
charged with treason under the Official

Secrets Act.

The New Zealand government suspected
that he was acting as a spy for the KGB.

Mr. Girdler was evasive as to whether
Cornelius worked for the Secret Service

not. Meaning he could know more than
he's letting on.

We might actually have a dead spy in our
midst.

Well, whether his past life is relevant
or not remains to be seen. But Gina has

yet to confirm the exact cause of death.

The birth certificate came through for
Sam Parker.

His mother is confirmed as Mildred
Hawkins.

Why the different surnames?

She married a James Hawkins, but they
divorced a year before he was born.

She gave her maiden name to Badger, but
kept her married name.

Was she trying to conceal the
relationship?

Maybe, but she's on the birth
certificate and the father's name is

Seems more likely that she's trying to
conceal that.

Too high that Badger's father was
Maxwell.

Did Badger confirm that he was
Cornelius' son?

Well, not exactly.

And he claims he didn't know he was in
the will.

Well, yeah, he would say that.

If Badger did know that he was Maxwell's
sole heir, that's a strong motive.

And he was smoking from a pack of
Comrades brand cigarettes today.

As found at the crime scene.

Could Mildred have lied to Maxwell in
order for Badger to inherit the entire

estate? That is tempting, right?

Because, despite Philip Craddock having
a delusional...

view of the world, he was right about
one thing.

A single silver tin recently sold for 1
.73 million.

So those two paintings at Lightcliff
must be worth stupid amounts of money.

Thanks.

I'm curious, do you smoke?

Absolutely not.

The only smoker around here is Philip.

And Badger.

What? Well, I understand Badger smokes
and he comes and goes, right?

Does he? Well,

more for him.

But Philip is always sneaking off into
the garden for a smoke. To the garden?

Well, he's not allowed to smoke inside.

How long has Mr Craddock lived here at
Wycliffe?

Several years now.

I notice he has an unusual relationship
to reality.

It's sad.

He used to be one of Maxwell's closest
friends.

They met in the army in the 1960s. But
in recent years, he's...

developed cognitive issues.

Some years ago, he came to visit.

Maxwell realised he was in decline, so
he moved him into Whitecliffe.

Maxwell was a good man to those he cared
about.

Would you just excuse me a moment?

If someone had told me 30 years ago
you'd still be working as Maxwell's

housekeeper, I would have laughed.

If you've got something to say, Hattie,
just say it. I'm just surprised you

never tried to get your hooks into an
ansel.

Not everyone is like you, Hattie, thank
goodness.

Well, at least I didn't raise a son
without a father.

Badger did better.

Save your sympathy.

Badger's going to be very well taken
care of.

What do you mean?

What have you made Maxwell do?

He's done what any father would do for
his son.

He's made sure that Badger will be
provided for when the time comes. I

know what lies you've told Maxwell, but
we both know he's not Badger's father.

Do we?

Mr. Craddock.

What are you up to?

Well, just keeping my eye on things. You
know, there are goons around.

Um, you might want to... I can take that
for you if you

like. Oh, thank you.

Comrades.

What?

I noticed it's a comrade's cigarette.

Oh, you take what you can get, you know.

Are you sure you're not Russian?

No. Don't worry, I'm not sure about a
lot of things these days.

I mean, no, I'm not.

Mr Craddock, you were seen here on the
balcony at midnight on New Year's Eve.

Was I?

Yes. Someone was filming the
festivities.

Ah, keeping their eye on things, were
they?

Can you recall where you were just prior
to that?

Could you give me a clue?

As I was saying, my old memory banks are
a lot slower than they used to be.

Were you inside or perhaps outside?

Oh, the file!

Yes, they were wonderful.

They reminded me of the Japanese bombing
Pearl Harbor.

Right.

Well, thank you. I will leave you to it.

Sorry about that.

Bird -watching, was he?

In a manner of speaking, yes, he was.
He's harmless.

Bit of an old fool.

Miss Hawkins, why didn't you tell us
Badger is your son?

No one asked.

Well, sure.

But he's listed in Mr Cornelius as well.
In fact, he's the sole beneficiary.

You already knew.

It has nothing to do with Maxwell's
death. Well, it does if it's a motive.

Badger's not involved.

You're looking in the wrong direction.

Thanks for coming in, Mr. Girdler.

Not at all.

Did you know that Badger was Mr.

Cornelius's son?

The housekeeper's boy.

What makes you say that?

Badger is Sam Parker.

I always knew the boy as a badger.

But he grew up at Wycliffe.

He was away at boarding school most of
the time.

Maxwell was kind enough to foot the
bill.

I always thought he was being too
generous.

Is there any way that Mr Cornelius could
have been Badger's father?

I don't see how it's possible.

Mildred was already pregnant when she
first arrived at Wycliffe.

Okay, let's say he's not Mr Cornelius'
son.

Would that be enough to negate the will?

Unfortunately not.

Maxwell's will is airtight.

If Badger really is Sam Parker, he'll
inherit everything.

Excuse me.

Gina. Mike.

I figure out where the dog is buried.

What dog?

No, Mike. Where I come from, to dig up a
dog is to find the truth. Because by

digging up the dog, you know it's
actually dead.

Thanks. I'll be there shortly.

I have to ask, the spy thing.

Look, you didn't hear this from me, but
I'm sure the statute of limitations has

passed by now.

Mr Cornelius did work for the New
Zealand Intelligence Service. Briefly,

he left the army in 1972, he was
recruited by the SIS.

But he resigned in 74 after an incident.
What kind of incident?

A young woman died.

Maxwell felt responsible.

That's when he realised he wasn't cut
out for the espionage business.

What time did you see Mr Cornelius last?

Um, maybe 11 or 11 .30.

We...

Got into an argument.

About what?

I don't like being lied to.

Your mother is pleased you could make it
back for New Year's.

Is she?

I hope one day you two will be closer.

She, uh, she did the best she could.

Anyway, I didn't come back for her.

I came for your birthday.

It's a big one, this year. The prospect
of turning 80 has certainly put things

into perspective for me. Yeah.

Like what?

Like you.

Me?

Badger, my boy, you know I've always
looked at you like a son.

I've discussed this with Mildred and she
agrees.

You need to know the truth.

What truth?

About your father.

I know everything I need to know about
that loser.

He took off before I was born.

End of story.

The truth is a lot more complicated than
that.

Well, that's the only truth I've ever
known.

And I prefer to keep it that way.

Checkmate.

You left before he told you.

Well, I wasn't ready to hear it, but I
found out anyway.

I should have told you sooner.

So he is my father.

I tried to avoid him all night, but
after a few drinks, I confronted him.

You can't be my father.

Mum was already pregnant when she
arrived at Wycliffe.

I'm sorry, Sam. I wanted to tell you
myself.

Your mother had just left her husband
when she arrived all those years ago.

That's true.

But she wasn't pregnant.

What, so you knocked her up?

And decided it was better to lie to me
about it for my whole life?

Let me explain. Why?

So you can lie some more?

I despise you, old man.

Where were you at midnight?

I didn't feel like celebrating, so I
took off for a smoke.

Where'd you go?

To the car park.

I didn't want to see anyone.

So when Mr Cornelius died, you were in
the car park?

Alone? Yeah.

Comrades, is the Russian bread... Oh,
yeah?

Well, they taste like crap.

Mike, I knew something is up.

I checked again and I found it. The
victim has a tiny prick.

At first, I thought it must be a
mosquito bite.

But no, this is a needle mark.

What did the toxicology report say?

Oh.

Curare.

Poison? Not exactly. A strong muscle
relaxant.

Once in the bloodstream... all the
muscles of your body begin to relax.

Why would that be fatal?

A small dose wouldn't. But with the dose
Mr. Cornelius received, he could have

died in as little as 15 minutes.

How? His lungs, too relaxed, would have
stopped drawing breath.

He effectively suffocated to death.

And yet, most fascinating, his heart
would have continued to pump blood for

minutes after.

That explains why he was found in the
kneeling position. Imagine, in the last

moment of your life, your brain is still
active, but your body is a virtual slab

of meat. For a time, he was both dead
and alive.

Quite a unique death, don't you think?

Mr.

Cornelius' jugular was the injection
site.

Whatever introduced the drug into his
body, it was very small.

A needle.

25, maybe 27 gauge.

Thanks, Jan.

Mike, curare, it feels like the work of
the KGB.

We're looking into that. Of course.

But these are serious people.

You must keep your eyes open on the back
of your head.

I'll do my best with that.

Morning. Yeah. No.

Yours is over there.

You're the PA.

Mr Cornelius died of asphyxia. It was
caused by a concentrated dose

of curare.

It's extracted from the chondrodendron
tomentosum vine, which is only known to

grow in Central and South America.

Where Patty Anderson just returned from.

It may have taken as little as 15
minutes for Mr Cornelius' system to shut

Well, that means the curare would have
been administered at approximately 11

.45pm. It was hard to stop at midnight.

Of note, the offender used a blow dart.

To administer the poison.

Likely projected from a simple tube such
as this.

Very covert.

Mr. Girdler confirmed that Mr. Cornelius
worked for the SAS up until 1974.

Was he suggesting our victim was
involved in all that KGB activity?

I've figured it out.

What's that?

You're with the resistance, aren't you?

Did they parachute you in?

I'm a detective trying to understand who
might have killed your friend, Maxwell

Cornelius.

Um... Mint?

Oh, no, thank you.

Have you found him yet?

How would you feel if Maxwell...

Didn't fake his death.

You mean if he's actually dead?

Maxwell was a dear friend, but he made
mistakes in his life.

Everyone does, you know.

Maybe one of those mistakes led to his
death.

Any mistake in particular?

I did see something strange the night
before the party.

Mr.

Craddock, you scared me.

Lovely, aren't they?

They were painted in 1904.

Yes. Well, I was just getting a glass of
water.

Must get back to bed.

Pretty strange, don't you think?

That she didn't have a glass.

Very good.

Detective indeed.

Do you think she did something to the
paintings? I think it's worse than that.

See, I have it on good authority that
she works for Stalin.

Well, I think that's very unlikely
because Stalin's been dead for over 70

The Cold War's not over yet.

Come in.

Thank you.

Was Maxwell Cornelius really Badger's
father?

I had only been working for him a few
weeks when it happened. It was a

You fell pregnant?

I'd just left my husband. It was an
abusive marriage, and I'd finally found

courage to leave, so I was looking for
another relationship.

Besides, Maxwell was already engaged.

To Hattie?

It was just... easier to pretend I was
already pregnant.

For his part, Maxwell promised to always
be there for Badger, financially at

least. Well, those Silversons alone must
be worth as much as Wycliffe itself.

Maxwell may not always have procured his
artwork in the most honest of ways, but

he was a good man.

What do you mean by that?

That's a Robert Knowles, worth about
$350 ,000.

And as far as anyone knows, it currently
resides in a small gallery in the south

of France.

Are you suggesting it's stolen?

Or perhaps displaced.

It's easier to show you.

This way.

This was the piece Max was working on
before he died.

He was an artist in his own right.

You could say that.

Oh, that one's coming along nicely.

Getting there, Millie.

I believe I've finally perfected the
nose quirk.

A curious, ever so delicate little flick
at the end of each brushstroke.

Maxwell was a forger.

I understood him to be a
conservationist.

Maxwell was an incredible artist, but he
sometimes appraised pieces that were

not respected by the legal owners.

He'd create a replica and then swap them
out.

But some might see him as protecting our
artistic heritage by ensuring that

certain pieces were kept in the hands of
someone who could appreciate and

protect them.

His own hands.

I'm sure his intentions were good.

And I'm sure it's still theft.

Why are you telling me this?

I want you to catch his killer.

The way I see it, you were complicit in
his forgery.

How could that be?

I'm just the housekeeper.

Thanks for taking the time.

I can think of better places to be,
but... I'm sure.

You didn't say what work you did for Mr.
Cornelius.

I renovated the roof of his shed.

All right.

Two days' labour plus supplies.

Let's call it $3 ,800.

Very well.

Bit of an artist, aren't you?

As I recall, my paintings were carefully
covered with drop cloths. Yeah, well, I

had a look.

Seems you've replicated some pretty well
-known New Zealand artists.

I figured it might be worth double, keep
you a little secret.

Why don't we call it an even 6K?

Given you proposed this little job was
under the table, a cashier, as you

it, I'm sure it wasn't the first.

No doubt the Inland Revenue would be
very interested in that.

He didn't pay you.

Left me no choice but to take matters
into my own hands.

That's why you attended the party.

It was a masquerade ball.

I could get in, get out, without anyone
even realising I was there.

So you could kill him?

For $3 ,800.

No.

But the guy had a lot of expensive
artwork.

So you entered the parlour with the
intention of stealing property?

Becky, it is lovely to see you.

It's you, Morgana. I've got some burning
questions I'm hoping you can help with.

Of course. Let me see.

I see you're very in touch with the
land.

You feel thoroughly connected to the
gods.

I do. I even have green hair, though.

That's delightful.

I see a winning on your horizon.

After Mr Baker died, I really thought it
was over for me.

I forget if I took something of equal
value, it would kind of negate the debt.

After that, I didn't see anyone.

Just some couple racing off towards the
garden.

Then I went home.

What did they look like?

The guy was in a white military jacket
and the woman was in a turquoise dress.

What time was that?

It must have been close to midnight
because I saw the fireworks go off as I

driving away.

You may want to check with Beaver,
though.

He's swollen too.

Badger.

That's the one. He pretty much crossed
paths with him going in the other

direction. He was leaving the garden.

Thanks.

It's been an absolute pleasure.

And we're going to need that artifact
back, by the way.

I believe I speak for both of us.

We have nothing more to say without a
lawyer.

If you're looking at myself and Artie
for this, you're completely off track.

Noted. I just have one question.

Why did you both lie about your
whereabouts at midnight?

What makes you think we lied?

We have a witness who saw you entering
the garden at approximately 11 .45pm.

Do you deny it?

I've seen enough innocent people get
caught out just by being in the wrong

at the wrong time. I thought it best to
distance ourselves from the crime scene.

He was protecting me.

We were in the garden at midnight.

But not to murder Maxwell.

It's hard sometimes, but we can barely
keep our hands off each other.

Hattie and I are devastated that Maxwell
lost his life.

But we had nothing to do with his death.

You said you were in the car park at
midnight, but you failed to mention that

you were in the garden around 11 .45pm.

I knew it would look bad.

I was on the balcony.

calling off after my fight with Max.

I saw Philip head inside and leave his
smokes behind.

You went to the folly.

Did you see Maxwell?

No.

How long were you there?

Long enough to finish the cigarette.

I decided to head back to the motel.

New Year's sucks if you don't have
anyone you actually want to spend it

Was anyone else at the folly?

No, I didn't see anyone.

Okay, got it. Thanks, Thomas.

Ms. Martin, a quick word?

It's a large suitcase for such a short
stay.

I have a lot of clothes.

You're not really Mr.

Cornelius's cousin, are you?

After my mother died, I did find a
connection to him in her paperwork, but

as a relative.

He appraised the family portraits,
didn't he? The Silvertons.

Not long after my mother's death, I
received a letter suggesting that I

have the paintings reappraised.

Who was the letter from?

It was anonymous.

Do you still have it?

I need to hold on to this for a while.
Why?

A line of inquiry.

And that's when you discovered they were
forgeries.

Maxwell Cornelius stole my family's
heritage.

May I?

These would be the originals? Yes, so I
didn't steal them. They're rightfully

mine.

We can talk more down at the station.

You removed the paintings the night
before New Year's Eve.

I only needed a few minutes.

Mr Craddock, you scared me.

Lovely, aren't they?

They were painted in 1904.

Yes. Well, I was just getting a glass of
water.

I must get back to bed.

Those paintings are rightfully mine.

When was the last time you spoke to Mr
Cornelius?

Must have been about 11 .15pm.

You're very lucky to have those
paintings, Maxwell.

I'm sure they're worth a fortune.

I've certainly made some lucrative deals
in my time, Francis.

And you didn't see him again after that?

I mean, I saw him again, but I didn't
speak to him. When was that?

Right after my palm reading, about 11
.30.

Was he with anyone?

Yes, he was talking to his friend.

The one that invited me to stay, Philip
Craddock.

It's a natural life of gas.

Thank you for coming in, Mrs

Martin. As soon as we can confirm that
you are the rightful owner of the

Silvertons, they will be returned to
you.

Mr. Craddock, uh, thanks for coming in
at such late notice.

Of course, my dear fellow. Anything to
help.

Uh,

do you recognize this note?

I, uh, I can't say I, uh... Could I?

Your memory banks are not what they used
to be.

You gave it to Mr Cornelius on the night
of the party.

It's a natural light of my death.

Yes, I did. I did. Yes, I wanted Max's
help. There were Ruskies everywhere that

night.

Or you gave him the note to lure him
into the garden.

My dear man, why would I do that?

Because that's where you plan to kill
him.

Kill him? But Maxwell is my closest
friend.

That may have been true once.

You've been planning this for a long
time, haven't you, Mr Craddock?

And as it turns out, the rumours of Mr
Cornelius being a spy were grounded in

truth. What a fantastical tale, dear Sir
Shepherd.

Please go on, I'm enthralled.

There was a lot of intelligence activity
in New Zealand in the 1970s, Russian

intelligence.

Well, we were in the middle of the Cold
War.

There were spies everywhere, rents under
the beds and all that, you know. Yeah,

but Maxwell left the FAS in 1974 after
an incident.

It was a young Russian woman who died.

Wasn't it?

She was found in an alleyway in
Wellington a couple of months after a

Zealand intelligence agent was arrested
for selling secrets to the KGB.

All she had on her was a fake passport
and a pack of Russian

cigarettes.

As it happens, you smoke this brand.

It tastes like rubbish, but they were
her favourites.

You can't smoke in here, Mr Craddock.

His name was Tatiana.

Both Max and I were recruited into the
SIS in 1972.

They wanted him to infiltrate the
international art community.

But all they managed to teach him was
how to master the art of forgery and how

to kill.

We were both there that night.

I had arranged to meet Tatiana.

Max got there first.

Initially, Tatiana was just my contact.

But she was smart as a whip and as funny
as Harold.

You fell for her.

Didn't mean to. Lines got blurred.

Did Maxwell know?

He may have suspected, but after she
died, he left the force and we never

of it again.

Tatiana was dead.

And you wanted revenge.

People say that revenge is a dish best
served cold.

It's 52 years cold enough.

Anyway, plenty of time to plan the
least.

Why all the subterfuge, Philip?

What's going on?

I have to show you something, Max.

It's a matter of life or death.

All right, my friend.

But make it quick. I need to be back
before midnight.

I can't miss my own party.

It's a beautiful knife.

It is.

It reminds me of Tatiana Krylov. The
stars were bright that night, too. Do

remember, Max?

What is it you wanted to tell me?

We don't have much time. Well, time is
like a book, Max.

When we first start, we think we have so
much left to read, and then one morning

we wake up and we're on the last
chapter. I can see the end of the book

Max, but I have one or two things to
tidy up before the epilogue.

We have a few chapters left, my friend.

What the hell was that?

I loved you like a brother once, Max.

But I loved Tatiana more.

That was a lifetime ago.

What have you done?

You shouldn't have killed her.

I had no choice. It was an order.

Oh, my. Oh, God.

He was your closest friend.

You get used to it.

I always liked using Karare.

It's very difficult to detect.

Yet you left the dark behind.

Oh, well, these are not working as well
as they used to. It's a bit like the old

memory banks.

Neither are these.

And it was dark.

And then by midnight, we were back on
the balcony.

Oh, it reminds me of the Battle of the
Storm. We're going over the top, boys!

Quite the crazy old man.

I've had many personas over the years.

I saved the best for last.

Where did you get the curare?

Oh, that information is above your pay
grade, DSS Shepherd.

Fair enough.

You've got nothing to lose now.

This old spy still has one or two tricks
up his sleeve.

Standard issued part of the kit.

I kept it for a rainy day.

Because I always knew the road might end
here, I made my peace with that a long

time ago.

Then why did you try and frame Francis
Martin?

I received a letter suggesting that I
should have the painting reappraised.

Who was the letter from?

It was anonymous.

Your cousin Francis Maxwell.

Oh, you absolutely must stay.

Old habits.

The writing in her letter matches the
writing on Maxwell's note.

You win some, you lose some.

Craddock, you will be charged with the
murder of Maxwell Cornelius.

Of course.

Mr. Craddock, we will need your personal
effects.

Of course, I know the drill.

I must say, Detective, it's been a
pleasure working with you.

I think you're probably wasted in this
rather small town.

Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr.
Craddock.

Blue one.

My favorite.

After that, it's my round at the crock.

I'll find out eventually.

Huh? Who you spent New Year's with.

You will never, ever...

The blue ones.

No.

Tim.

Mr.

Craddock.

Philip.

Philip.

Welcome to the meeting.

Good night, pal.

I guess he preferred to go out on his
own terms.

Live by the sword, die by the sword.

Spies are a different breed.

The usual?

Thanks, Trudy. Just a water for me,
thanks.

Hello, Daniel.

It's lovely to see you outside of work
hours.

Thanks. You're like dog on head.

Why don't you just ask him out?

Why are we here again?

A message from Gina. Something about
toasting New Year's 48 hours after. Some

Russian tradition.

Oh, my God. Not again.

Don't go too hard, will you? I think.

Novengarden.

To celebrate the new year, I have made a
traditional Russian delicacy.

Aladjet.

Delicious with crackers.

Gina, what will you have?

Vodka. And it.

Unlike Christine, I can hold my liquor.

Wait, what?

Christine hasn't told you? We spend New
Year's Eve together.

But only one of us made it to midnight.

The other hardly made it past nine.

Again.

Pathetic.

Really?

No one should be alone on New Year's
Eve.

Very generous of you, Gina.

I dare either of you to keep up with
her. She could drink an elephant under

table.

You're too kind.

What is this? Yes.

Please help yourself.

Cheers,

Daniel.

Has anyone ever told you you have lovely
eyes?

So what exactly is... I thought you'd
never ask.

First, you have to boil a pig's head and
a root to extract the fat from the

head.