All language subtitles for Deadloch.S01E04.1080p.WEB.h264-EDITH

Deadloch is in mourning!

Two kings of this town are dead.

The lake body
has been identified.

- Is it Sam O'Dwyer?
- It is.

The tongue is missing, Detective.
They are all connected.

Five years ago Deadloch's mayor,
Rod Dixon,

washed up dead on the same beach
as Trent Latham.

His tongue was also missing.

- Who's working the case?
- At the moment, me.

Dulce, you promised.

It is just until
the lead detective arrives.

He... He...
The detective, comes tomorrow.

Oh, OK.

Anyway, I've just about chewed
your fucking ear off, haven't I,

all night?

I fucking killed my partner!

- Bushy.
- He got eaten by a croc.

I was supposed to be with him
when it happened.

Deadloch has a serial killer.

I need an outsider's perspective.

I need a partner.

Trent, Gavin and Rod
have pentobarbital in their system.

That's a tranquiliser.

Men don't poison.

We're looking for a woman.

Dulcie, you say that your work
is very stressful at the moment.

Why is that?

Because I'm working
a murder investigation, Claire.

Mmm! A murder investigation.

Alright, let's talk about that.

I can't talk about it, Claire.

Why not? What's the block there
for you, Dulcie?

The law's the block, Claire.

But communication
is key in a relationship, isn't it?

Exactly. She didn't even tell me
our friend's dad was dead.

Well, it's... it's not procedure, so...

Mmm.

I'm moving back to the shack.

I'm confronting my fears.

Like someone eating a hot chicken roll

after a bout of gastro

from the hot chicken roll.

You know?

I have to open the shop up.

Oh.

Alright.

Sprog.

See ya round, Bushy.

I've been ordered by Mayorette Rahme

to put the footy club memorial
of my mates in the bin.

Oh, Mr McGangus,
I'm so sorry about that.

That woman has no respect, OK?

We are in mourning.

Not that you would know,
with this festival of tit art going on.

Good men are dead,

yet our mayorette wants us to
go and see a show

that teaches people how to...

wank off a carrot.
It just begs belief.

I can tell you now the late mayor,
Rod Dixon,

if he could see how his wife
and his successor

are using his money to destroy this town

he would be rolling
in his pauper's grave.

His pauper's grave?

Yes. Like, his pauper's grave.

Thank you. Thanks, that was...
No, paup...

That was good. Thank you.
I meant in a way... MEE-gan!

Hey!

Cath, let's turn to you.

You say that you're concerned
about how this lack of communication

is impacting on Dulcie's health.

Claire, the case is confidential.

Still a choice, Dulcie.

Tch.

Is that all it is for you, Cath?

No, well, also I feel very triggered.

It reminds me of how her behaviour
in Sydney made me feel.

Would you agree, though,
that your life here in Deadloch

is different from your life in Sydney?

- Very different.
- So here's your homework, Cath.

How about you try to see
this murder investigation

as unusual circumstances

that need to be approached in a new way?

Dulcie, carve out some time
in that double murder investigation

to really reconnect with Cath.

What's something that
brings you both together?

- Hikes.
- Fucking.

Detective? Detective.

Detective, Jeremy Hodge, the Bugle.

Are there any updates
on the Latham case, Detective?

What? Ah, no, Jeremy.

Uh, but everything's cool.

- We're onto it, so...
- Well, how, exactly...

Detective, what do you have to say
to this morning's article?

Ah, what... what article?

In the Tribune, written by me.

It suggests that you're not fit
to run this investigation,

after you went on the record
with a journalist

and badmouthed this beautiful town
and its hardworking residents.

And then you accused your colleagues
of gross incompetence and bad hair.

When the fuck did I say all that?

Last night. To me.

Who the fuck are you?

Detective, what measures... - Megan Lang,
I wrote the article. If you remember, we also talked about...

Ah no, no, I will not be taking
any questions at this time!

Alright, no more questions.

Thank you. All done.

Thank you. Have a lovely day.

- Cheers. Bye, MEE-gan.
- It's MEG-an!

- Fucking...
- Bye!

- Fuck! Fuck.
- Thanks.

There were journos
in that front bit before.

Yeah, good morning
to you too, Detective.

Don't worry, I didn't answer
any of their questions.

I was out of there
quicker than an airport fuck.

You look different.

Yeah, you look...
you look different also.

- Oh, yeah, I got clothes.
- Mm-hm.

- A full-length pant, if you will.
- Mm-hm.

Feel like a cheese toastie.
Oh, punch my tit.

- No. I'm not punching...
- No, come on. Come on. Punch my...

- I'm not going to do that.
- Come on. Go on.

Did you do it? I don't know.

- I didn't feel a thing.
- I did it. OK, good.

Well, I'm glad to be of service.

Did you speak to Commissioner Hastings?

Oh, yeah, that dildo wants me to
apologise to fucking McGangus.

Yeah, I spoke to the Commissioner too.

- I tried to tell him about this...
- Oh, the old...

Yeah, no, that's the one,
and he told me that I was hysterical

and ruled by the moon
and then he hung up on me.

So, that's really nice to know,
that he's in our corner.

Oh, my gosh, my mouth tastes
like a set of keys.

Yeah, nah, that's just adrenaline.

- You'll be OK, Collins.
- Mmm.

Right, let's get this thing started,
shall we?

I've started calling you Collins,
by the way.

It's just a little nickname.

OK. Alright.

Is there anything that
you want me to call you?

I can't nominate my own nickname.
I'm not Batman.

Big Eyes! Sven!
Come on, get in here.

- Yeah, so, look...
- So, what I'm about to say

cannot leave...

- Ah no, no, lesbians first.
- No, no, no, please.

- After you. No, you go.
- OK.

So, this morning a newspaper article
was published

in which I was quoted
as saying some stuff.

Yeah, we know.

Yes, you referred to me
as "Sergeant Horsehair".

- Oh, did I?
- Then you said that Abby looked like

a traumatised bush baby

and you called Sven "Sveg", so...

OK, well in light of this new info,

looks like last night
wasn't my best work.

Full disclosure, I have been known

to be a bit fiery
and impulsive sometimes.

But, you know, look, that's all
water under the bridge.

We're all OK.

Right. You're up, sunshine.

Right, thanks. So...

It is very possible that

the murders of
Trent Latham, Gavin Latham,

Rod Dixon and Sam O'Dwyer

are the actions of
a female serial killer

who uses pentobarbital
to sedate her victims

before she cuts out their tongues
and strangles them.

Oooh.

Yeah, so I think we can all agree that

that's a fairly significant development
in the case.

It's enormous!

Ma'ams, if you need anything,
Sven and I will be here for you.

- Well, no, not anything.
- Day and night.

- Not day or night, no.
- 24 hours.

- We will sleep here in the office.
- I've got my own life going on.

- On the couch, in shifts.
- My back's a little bit... This is a job for me, so...

OK. Alright, good to know.

Now, as far as the public are concerned,

there are only two victims,
Trent and Gavin Latham

And because my partner here referred to
the "Dead-C-word drug ring"

quite a lot in her press interview

everyone thinks that
the Latham murders are drug-related.

Now, I have no memory of that,
but you're welcome.

Right. So, luckily, no-one
has made the connection

between the Latham murders

and the historical murders of
Dixon and O'Dwyer.

But if a connection is made

it is a very short trip
from four victims to serial killer.

And once that gets out there,
there is no going back.

That's right.

It's like trying to shove a fart
back up a bum.

It's nigh-on impossible.

The town will go bananas,
and the press will go bananas,

not to mention the killer.

Who knows what that sort of attention
will embolden her to do?

I reckon she'll probably do
some more murders.

Yep. Yep, that is... That's...

That is also my instinct,
what I was implying.

- Just off the top of my dome, there.
- Right.

So... So no mention to anyone
outside of this room of serial killers.

And no using she/ her pronouns
when discussing the killer.

Yeah, you got that? Just use he/ him.

No, use they/ them.

That makes more sense.

It always does.

OK, our lady is most likely
white, over 25.

Her access to pentobarbital suggests
she is or was a medical professional.

Now for women,
murder is a means to an end

to improve their situation
or the situation of others.

And, as a rule, women,
even serial killers,

target people they know.

So here are some of the women
connected to our victims.

Sharelle Muir, Vanessa Latham

Victoria O'Dwyer, Skye O'Dwyer

and Margaret Carruthers.

Alright, how do we cut
this bint-list down?

Well, let's start with
her first kill.

It will be her most personal.

It will be formative in creating
her victim profile

and her methodology.

- So, what I was thinking was that...
- OK!

So, first victim is Rod Dixon.

So it was probably his missus.

Which one of these
lovely, evil women is she?

Ah, well, she is the one
holding the flan, Detective.

But, yes, this is a good start point.

Margaret could potentially lead us
to more viable suspects

connected to Rod Dixon,

like her staff, or colleagues.

Ah, no. Excuse me.

She is a white,
clearly over-25-year-old woman.

Yeah, with a line of
gourmet seed crackers, so...

No, look, come on.

You need to start seeing your lady
friends in a different light, Collins.

- That's why you begged me to stay, remember?
- Ah, that wasn't the reason.

How is this Margaret
connected to the victims?

Oh, Gavin and Trent used to work
at her husband's sawmill

and Rod ran the football club with Sam.

She has an amazing recipe
for roast chicken.

It's the best I've ever had.
You brine it with a syringe...

No, OK. Not related.

Look, Collins,

let's go and give this linen witch
a razz. Come on.

Come on.

It's razzle dazzle time!

Sven, why are you here?

I don't know, I just kinda
got caught up in the energy.

- Ma'am?
- Yeah?

Sam O'Dwyer's toxicology reports
came through.

OK, well note the level of
pentobarbital in Sam's file.

We need to know where the killer's
accessing these kinds of dosages.

Ma'am, he didn't have
any pentobarbital in his system.

- He didn't?
- No ma'am.

- That's...
- Odd?

No, not odd. That's interesting.

- Razzle dazzle!
- Yes, thank you. I heard you.

Ah, talk to Aleyna and Cath.

Get a list of anyone
they've prescribed pentobarbital to.

- I'm on it, ma'am.
- No, Abby, you can't.

You've got your
wedding makeup trial redo.

- Oh, no! Why?
- Because you're getting married.

Is it with Michelle again?
'Cause, like, clear the afternoon.

- It's OK
- I'm sorry, ma'am

- Razzle dazzle, come on!
- I've failed you!

Yes! Yes!

Detective, have you forgotten
there is that little apology

you need to do first?

Shove over. Get in your own seat!

OK, Margaret can see us at 10.

Go. Come on,
just get it over and done with.

McGangus!

Preyard Pathology,
Dr King's extension.

Yes, hello. It's Detective
Dulcie Collins, Deadloch Police.

Hi, Detective, I'm Kate.

I'm covering for James while
he's doing his TEDx talk in Perth.

Ah, right. OK.

Yeah, he let me know
from the airport at 6am.

Anyway, I assume you're calling
about Sam O'Dwyer's toxology results?

Yes, I am,
but if you're too busy, I can...

No, have the tox report
here in front of me. Um...

There's definitely no pentobarbital.

Very high levels of alcohol, though.

OK. Enough to
severely incapacitate him?

No, but at the rear of the skull
there is a head wound.

It's not dwelled on in the notes,
so I took another look at it.

- You did?
- Yeah, of course.

- Ah, I love you.
- Sorry?

Sorry, nothing. No, yep.

Well, I wondered if it was sustained

when the body was dislodged
from the lake,

but there's no damage
from that process at all,

which I thought was remarkable.

The injury is definitely sustained
before death.

OK, so you think he was hit from behind.

Yeah. And it was a decent whack, too.

I think it would have
knocked him out cold.

Um, ah, look, thanks, Kate.

That is more helpful than
James has ever been.

No probs. Have a good one.

In conclusion,
I am very sorry for any offence

I may have caused you
or your boat. Blah-blah.

See? That wasn't that bad,
was it, cupcake?

- Oh, fuck up, cunt.
- OK, alright.

Off we pop. Thank you, Phil.

Tell me, are you part of the order
to remove our memorial there, Sergeant?

I'm not, Phil, no.

But the tuna mornay containers
that people are leaving for Trent

are starting to attract rats.

Mike keeps running over them
with his ride-on mower.

Fucking Margaret!

Sitting high on her hill there, pulling
the strings of her little mayorette.

Not a fan of Marg's, are you, Phil?

Rod Dixon was like a father to me, OK?

But Margie and me,
we've never seen eye-to-eye.

Well, that makes sense. She's a fair bit
fucking taller than you, isn't she?

- Oh, OK. Right.
- Phil?

Oh, yeah, just two seconds, Ness.
Stay there.

Um, excuse me, ladies.

Trent Latham's widow needs me

and unlike you lot,
I care about what's going on here.

My bank account's
got no money in it.

I'm sorry Phil, I can't pay rent.

Trent's business cards keep declining.
I don't know what's happening.

- I'm definitely using the right PIN code.
- Oh, I can't watch.

It's 020572,

- 'cause it's the Rock's birthday.
- Rock's birthday. I know, I know.

Hey! Detective!

- Yes?
- Your mate?

- Oh, hi.
- Gidday Dulce, how's it going?

What you said
about my good mate last night

- is absolute bullshit, Detective.
- Hey, what the f...?

You need to apologise to her.

It's OK. It's alright, Skye.
The detective has apologised.

- Yeah.
- What are you all doing here?

Well, we heard some of the locals came
and laid tributes to Sam here, love,

and Nadiyah suggested
we come and pay our respects too.

Yeah, I've been trying to get them
to process their feelings.

So far, no dice.

The memorial's lovely, isn't it?

It's nice to know that so many people
in Deadloch loved our Sam.

But not more than
they love tuna mornay.

It's like a two-to-one ratio,
photos of Sam and...

- Alright.
- A lot of mornay.

Hey, fucking O'Dwyer!

Your grandpa was my under-10s coach.

Taught me how to fucking kick and shit.

He was a fucking dude, eh?

Yeah. He was a fucking dude.

Taught me everything I know
about footy, too.

Hey, we're having
some fucking beers later.

We're gonna try and kick down
a tree and shit.

You can fucking come if you want.

Yeah, I'll come.

Fucking thanks.

What the fuck? That's a rat!

There's several
acceleration programs.

It's got a wet lab,

which I was very disappointed
to discover is not a dog.

There's a wellness centre

and the Margaret Carruthers
culinary kitchen.

They just named it after me
so I'd buy them new hockey sticks.

Please, Fay, just have a seat.

No, I'm good.

Look, Aunty, there's a fencing pissed.

Piste.

Fuck!

Sorry, my bad!

Don't worry, darling!

These old houses - indestructible!

Look, I'm not saying this

just because they set of stoves
after me, Miranda.

A Circle of Mercy education
is a golden ticket

to do whatever you want
when you leave school.

Come on, Fay,
help me twist your niece's arm.

My girls make
their own decisions, Margaret.

Quite right.

Oh, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy,
that's my 10am arriving.

I'm so sorry, ladies,
but I'm going to have to run.

No, no, no, no, no,
sit, sit, sit, sit, sit.

Take your time, hmm?

Thank you so much, Mrs Carruthers.

No, thank you, Miranda.

You are such a special girl.

I am giddy at the prospect of
helping you shape your future.

We'll speak soon.

Oh, I love your earrings.

Who made those?

Oh, they're by
this Aboriginal designer...

Bring a card next time, hmm?

Lovely to see you again, Fay.

Give my regards to William.

Your brother's still in Ubud,
isn't he?

Mmm.

I know her family hasn't
been great to our mob, Aunty.

But I reckon Mrs Carruthers
might be a good one.

Hmm...

- Did you just growl?
- No.

I just find it interesting that

Sam O'Dwyer didn't have
pentobarbital in his system.

The killer didn't need to drug him.
She knocked him out.

I don't know, donking him on the head
and hoping for the best?

Seems very uncontrolled and unplanned.

Yeah, 100%.

- Right, what's our vibe in there?
- Our vibe?

Yeah. We're proper partners now,

so we need to firm up
our interview strategy, our flavour.

You know, do we good cop/ bad cop her?

- No, I don't...
- What about the old reach-around?

That always worked for me up in Darwin.

So you take the front bum,
I take the back bum...

- No, stop, stop! I don't...
- Bit of a verbal double-P...

- Stop! That...
- We get her with a phone book

That is not an image that
I ever wanted to have in my head.

I think that if we are seriously
considering Margaret as a suspect,

then we need to understand
what she stood to gain by killing Rod.

It's pretty fucking obvious.

Look at this joint. This lady's loaded.

She probably queefs gold.

This is all old money.
Her family founded the town.

Huh. Founded?

I think the term you're looking for
is "colonised", Collins.

Yeah, good point.

Alright, let's get in there,
see your mate.

No, she's not my mate!

So, Dulce, you got any birthday plans
for tomorrow?

Oh, just working,
then, uh, getting into my bed.

Oh, sounds heaven. And how are
you going with the Haddick farm?

Cath said they had a buyer drop out
because of the Latham murders.

Ah, yeah, Marg,
that's a good segue, actually.

Gavin and Trent. Shall we
talk about them for a little bit?

Ah, OK, sorry.

So, they both worked
at the sawmill until it closed.

Why'd you shut it down?
Not a fan of wood?

I love wood,
just prefer when it's a tree.

Deadloch was founded by
my great, great-grandfather in 1865,

and the Carruthers family has been
investing in its future ever since.

My Rod's death made me think
about my own legacy.

I decided to invest differently.

My legacy will be the improved
future of the women here, Detective.

They will finally shine.

Fuck.

Pretty good stump speech.
Word-perfect, too.

Yeah, well,
I have cheat notes in my bra.

And what did the blokes in town think
of your new plan for Deadloch, then?

Yeah, well, I mean,
the first year of the Feastival,

some local men had a tantrum

and decided to dump a pile of roadkill
in front of Town Hall in protest.

Mercifully, the patrons just thought
the whole thing was art.

Even the smell.

And were Trent and Gavin Latham
a part of that protest?

They were.

God rest their ridiculous souls.

All of those men had a...
better relationship with Rod.

- Really?
- Mmm.

- Men gravitated to Rod.
- Mm-hm.

They admired him.
They respected him.

I've never seen an equal to my Rod.

Oh, Margaret, do you need some...

- I might have a tissue somewhere
- God. No, I...

I know it's been five years,
but I just... I...

Of course.

- Still love him.
- Yeah, Of course.

Always will.

If you loved him so much, why is he
buried in the local cemetery, then?

Sorry?

Well, according to this
big, fucking weighty fuck-off book,

four generations of Carruthers
are buried at this here private island.

So why is your Rod
buried in the local cemetery?

It's tiger snake cocktail hour
all year round out there

and I don't my Rod would want me
mainlining antivenom

every time I visited.

Margaret!

Bloody Phil is on the warpath
about this Latham memorial.

Well, thank fuck.
Are you here to see me?

You know what Mikey told me?

Your marriage celebrant, Robin,

only marries couples
she reckons will last.

Cool.

You're so lucky to have
found someone, Abs.

You know 90% of the men that
I've slept with are married?

Seriously. I did a spreadsheet.

90%, Abby!

- What is wrong with me?
- I don't know. Hey, Michelle...

Oh, my goodness,
did you hear about Sam O'Dwyer?

- He was such a nice guy.
- Mm-hm.

I'd hate to drown.

Not as much as I'd hate to be on fire.

Hey, Michelle, what's that
certificate on your wall?

Oh, that's my Carruthers
Women in Business certificate.

That's how I opened my salon.

Margaret has given so many women
a leg-up with that grant.

I mean, there's Trish
at the bell tents,

Tania from the fromagerie, me.

It just goes to show that
you can have all the money in the world

and still have absolutely
shocking taste in men.

Because Rod Dixon was awful,
wasn't he?

He was?

He was, wasn't he?

Total bully misogynist.

What do you think, hon?
Are we getting close?

I think so, Michelle.

Do you reckon I could try on
a few pairs of lashes?

Yes!

But it could take a while, though.

That's OK. I'm happy to chat.

Ooh!

What about these ones?

Too much. Too much, Michelle. Too much.

What do you mean
you can't tell me anything?

Aleyna, it is not procedure
to comment on an active case.

Well, your procedure is
making me shit blood, Dulcie.

It's making people think that
I don't care about the Latham murders,

which I actually do, a bit.

And Phil is using that. You watch.

He's going to announce that
he's running for mayor soon.

That man is creeping up on me
like a disembodied scrotum.

Aleyna, did Margaret help you
with your mayoral campaign?

What? Yes. Why?

So you weren't a part of
Rod's succession plan?

Fuck no! Phil was part of
Rod's succession plan.

If Rod hadn't died and Margaret
hadn't put her money behind me

this little brown girl wouldn't have
stood a chance in Deadloch.

But here I am, the first female mayor.

And this town is only getting better.

It is a total paradise.

Fuck! Phil's just released
a statement condemning the murders.

He says "They're bad."
Well, of course they're bad, Phil.

They're murders, Phil!
Fuck me dead!

Um, Aleyna, can I get a list of anyone
you've prescribed pentobarbital to

in the last five years?

Ugh, we've got that interview.

That little turtleneck fucker Megan
is already three minutes late.

OK, Aleyna, pentobarbital, please.

Oh, fine, Dulce.

But if you want it to help you sleep,

you'd be better off
getting gummies off Joan.

- I don't want it, Aleyna.
- Margaret!

That Food, Wine and Crime writer
is running late again,

so don't give her a free cookbook.

She can pay 89.95 like everyone else.

OK, darling.

Jesus!

A baby could walk out of
that woman's surgery

with a sippy cup of morphine

and that doctor mayor
would not know.

The killer's using pentobarbital,
isn't he?

Ah, that's
confidential information, Aleyna.

Oh, my God. I cannot believe you're
not talking to me about this, Dulcie!

You're dead to me.

And happy birthday for tomorrow,
by the way.

Your doctor mayor mate
knows too fucking much.

Aleyna's a professional.
She won't blab, trust me.

Yeah, well just don't spill too much
when we talk with your wife.

Fine.

What's wrong with that sheep?

It's a goat.

Uh, hey, Cath, can we ask you
a few questions about pentobarbital?

Why?

It's relevant to the case, love.

OK, sexy. What do you need to know?

Well, have you prescribed pentobarbital
to any of your clients?

Well, I don't normally prescribe it.
I usually administer it myself.

- Ah-huh.
- Mmm.

But you have doled it out before, then?

Sorry, excuse me, I don't just dole out
potentially lethal sedatives, Detective.

My supply's under lock and key.
I keep fastidious records.

- They're watertight. Ask Dulce.
- Mm-hm.

You could use them as a dental dam.

Point is, I actually take my job
seriously, Detective Redcliffe.

Oh, good-o. So, ah...

So the Lathams get stuck with a needle?

That bit is confidential
case information, so I...

Fucking hell!

I'm sorry, love. Will you just
excuse us for one second?

Hey, I just think that
I'm better off doing this on my own.

Yeah, yeah. I agree. Get it done.

- Just get the fucking list.
- Yeah.

Oh, gosh, it's getting cold.

Oh. Um...

So, I was talking to Margaret earlier,

about that hobby farm
still being on the market.

And I was just thinking that
maybe we could...

have a little think about

talking about
thinking of putting in an offer.

Really?

- Really?
- Well...

I was literally just thinking
we could grow opium poppies there!

How illegal is that, though?

Oh, it's pretty illegal.

- I love you!
- Oh, OK...

Oh, it's dripping on my back!

OK. Mm-hm Yeah.

Um, OK. Alright, great.

Well, ah, could I get a list of
your pentobarbital records?

Yeah, yeah, sure.

I've just got to finish inseminating
Felicia. I'll email them to you.

Of course.

Alright, OK, I've got to go.

- OK. I love you.
- I love you.

Oh, hey, love, um, have you
ever prescribed pentobarbital

to any of the farm staff
at the Carruthers Estate?

- Nuh.
- OK.

Oh, just Margaret.

I just gave it straight to her
'cause she's an ex-nurse.

She knows exactly what she's doing.

I don't care if Margaret says
she uses it on her horses.

She also used it on her husband,
who is not a horse.

We don't know that.

Yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure
we do know.

I've seen photos. He doesn't look
much like a horse to me.

- No, that's not what I meant.
- Collins, Collins.

- Look at the facts.
- Don't be a smarty pants.

Marg is a nurse, who,
thanks to your missus

has enough penis-orbital...

- Pentobarbital.
- ...to fucking put down a football team.

And she is turning this town
into a man-free leztopia.

In conclusion,

Mrs Chutney Fucker is a psycho.

- OK, well, that...
- Ma'ams?

Big Eye... Oh.

Jesus Christ. What happened to you?

Michelle gave me lashes
and then I rubbed them.

Why? Does it look bad?

- Yes.
- Yeah.

So, Michelle talked at me for hours.

- I have so much goss...
- Shh, shh, shh!

Lydia, Claudia, Lydia.

Yeah.

OK, apparently Margaret and Rod
were estranged.

She spent, like,
six months a year overseas,

trying to get away from him.

Top line is,
Margaret hated her husband's guts.

Oh, did she?

Also, Michelle said that
Rod was a total misogynist bully

to the council women.

He even sniffed Aleyna's chair once.

OK, well, that is abhorrent but...

- Mate, mate, mate, mate.
- It's still not enough.

Mate!

You said that ladies kill
the person closest to them,

and then that first murder
informs the rest.

So I think she has bumped off
her husband.

She's got a taste of freedom.

Now she's passing on the benefits
to the other women in town.

I'm just... I'm struggling to
see her as a murderer.

- Sexy, you're too close.
- That is really inappropriate.

- Open your eyes.
- Can you not ever do that again?

Mate, she has the drugs.
Her husband was the first victim.

What if I'm right
and she kills again, hey?

OK, alright.

- Alright, we go.
- OK. Come on, Big Eyes, let's go.

- Yes, ma'am.
- I know where we can find her.

- Ahh
- Oh!

Constable, that eye
looks like a haemorrhoid.

- Mm-hm?
- Go and sort it out.

OK.

Oi! Move your hooves. Come on!

Clippety-clop! Clippety-clop!
Hurry up!

So, years ago,
I was out at Carruthers Island.

It's our private island.

It's a beautiful spot,
just off the coast.

- And I spot this little sea sprite...
- Get in there.

- Don't push!
- ...emerging from the water in diving gear.

- This girl, she's all of 13, 14.
- Mate, come on!

- Let's go get her.
- I assumed she was meeting a boy.

Just wait!

But when I asked her
what she was doing,

she replied in this flat little accent,

"Diving for abalone."

And then I said, "Well, darling,

"if you're stealing abalone
from my island,

"the least you can do
is cook it up for me."

And that was the first meal that

Feastival Culinary Director Skye O'Dwyer
ever cooked for me.

And now you can make it too, mm?

Alright, let's fucking go!

Margaret, beautiful stories
accompany your recipes.

One in particular resonated with me,

the story behind
your limoncello drizzle cake.

And it was on tour in Italy,

whilst you were eating
a slice of this cake,

as you were "overlooking
the azure waters of the Ligurian Sea"

that you received word that
your husband, Rod, had died.

That's right. I was in Riomaggiore.

Beautiful place. Terrible situation.

Sorry.

You were fucking where
when your husband died?

In Riomaggiore. In Italy.

Tom's not answering his phone, eh.

His grandpa just died five years ago,
so I want to do something nice for him.

You know, teach him how to kick,
or he can watch me kick.

- Oh, yeah, that'll cheer him up.
- I know.

Speaking of me, Adele,

because Miranda's abandoning us,

the Pademelons footy team
is just us two now.

So, let's talking titles.

First things first, which one of us
is going to be captain?

You should be captain.

Yeah, that's what I was thinking.
Good instinct, Adele.

Cunt! How the fuck is that woman
not a fucking psychopath?

Look, I don't know what to say.

Margaret wasn't in the country
when her husband died.

Yeah, well she probably outsourced it
like she did everything else.

So what do we fucking do now?

Oh! Dulcie, hon,
I am so sorry to bother you

but I've got to
get something off my chest.

It's about Sam O'Dwyer.

So I was lying in my floatation tank.

I swear by it,
it's like being back in the womb.

I was lying there so relaxed,
when, bang, it hit me,

and I realised, I have got to
tell Dulcie this

otherwise I am not going to
sleep a wink tonight.

Uh, Michelle, we're in the middle of
a murder investigation

at the moment so...

Oh, absolutely, hon.

The thing is, Abby came in today
to get her makeup redone,

and we got to talking about Sam O'Dwyer.

Did you ever meet Sam, Dulce,
or was he before your time?

Ah...

Anyway, I remembered how
I'd hired the footy club from Sam

for my brother Leo's 40th
Gangsters and Molls party.

Here's the thing.

I'd arranged to meet him at the club
on the day to decorate,

'cause I knew him quite well,

but he never showed up.

- Leo?
- No, Sam!

So here I was, stuck outside
with two hundred helium balloons

and six bags of plastic
cigarette holders from Shiploads,

because it was a really big do.

I'd hired a flapper dress
and everything.

In the end, I ended up having to
get Mike to relocate the party

to Geoff Haddick's wool shed.

Oh, are you and Cath still maybe
making an offer on that, Dulce?

Ah, yeah, we're thinking about
talking about putting in an offer.

Great!

- OK, thanks for that, Rochelle.
- Michelle.

So over the next few days I kept
calling Sam to get the deposit back,

because $75 is $75.

But I couldn't get a hold of him.

So after a week I thought, "Stuff it.

"I will get that miserable man,
Rod Dixon, to refund the deposit,"

because he was
president of the footy club at the time,

but he'd only refund me half.

What?

What date was Leo's party, Michelle?

13th of June, 2017.

Anyway, all this talk about Sam
made me realise in the flotation tank,

oh, my God, I didn't return
the flapper dress to the costume store.

I stole it!

So that's why I've turned myself in.

- Oh...
- Do you need to cuff me?

Sam disappeared
before Rod Dixon was killed.

- He was our first victim.
- He was.

We fucked the timeline.

It explains why she
stored his body so carefully.

He was special to her.

Also explains the head wound

and why there was no pentobarbital
in his system.

His death wasn't planned.
It was emotional.

He wasn't part of her MO.
He created it.

So we have to start again?

We do.

Fuck!

Who ordered the pud?

Mmm.

Cheers, hey!

- Are you Ted with the excavator?
- Why?

You trying to dig something up?

You could say that.

Good morning, you're listening to
Pink Flag Radio. This is Hamish.

I'm joined now by Mayor Aleyna Rahme.

Mayor Rahme, do you have any updates
on the Deadloch murders?

Well, I'm here to do
the Feastival Daily Diary, Hamish.

But you're very close
to Senior Sergeant Collins.

Has she given you any indication
of who they think is doing this?

Um...
Well, what I can tell you is...

Actually, no, um...

Tomorrow we are having
a dog parade, Hamish. That'll be nice.

- Collins!
- Good morning, Redcliff.

- No. That didn't feel...
- No, I don't...

- Yeah.
- OK.

Um, so, had a little poke
around the shack again last night.

Only thing I discovered was that

Sam O'Dwyer has
a lot of Shane Warne books.

Do with that what you will.

Here she is!

Haaa...

...ow good is that outfit, Eddie?

Th... That's really good.
That's, um... What colour is that?

Hot orange,
so I don't get shot by poachers.

- Oh, fun!
- OK, so turns out we were wrong.

Sam O'Dwyer is our first victim.

- Oh, bummer.
- Yeah, it is.

- Thanks, Sven, it is a bummer.
- Bummer.

So, victim profile.

Sam O'Dwyer was
a former football coach and publican.

And...

unlike the other victims,

who've proven to be
a veritable urine trough

of violent, abusive, misogynist bullies

Sam's family, friends
and everyone in town

describe him as kind, generous, caring.

And that... Which makes the, er, the...

killer's motivation for...
for, um, killing Sam less clear.

Well, he's still a man,

so there's got to be
something wrong with him.

So binary.

What?

Gender's made up, is all. It's made up.
It's like the stock market.

Ugh... Alright, alright.

Let's talk suspects.

Who are the women in Sam's sphere?

What about Vic O'Dwyer?
She's ripped.

Ah, well, what about her hips?

Well, I don't know if she's got
cum gutters. We're not that close.

- Ugh...
- OK, sorry, who are you talking about?

Victoria O'Dwyer,
Sam O'Dwyer's daughter.

That's Skye O'Dwyer!

She wasn't even in Deadloch
when Sam died.

Victoria is Sam's 70-year-old wife
with a steel hip.

Who else are you mixing up, Detective?

Hey, fair cop, mate!
It's a lot of names!

Alright, let's park Viv
for the moment...

- Vic! Vic!
- Vic, Vic, Vic.

What about, um, other women?

Any more of this lot up here
connected to Sam?

Not closely, no. I've already checked.

We're going to have to
cast the net a little wider.

Sven, what have you got?

Honestly, just, like, so much admiration
for both of you.

Like, you're both so incredible.

You're persevering with this case
even though it's not going very well.

So good.

I meant women with criminal records.

Oh, sorry. Brain fart.

These are all local women
with criminal records.

None of them have priors
for multiple murders, though,

I'm afraid.

The only one with a violent charge
was this lady, Wendy Taylor,

former Carruthers Estate cleaner
charged with assault.

Who'd she whack?

Where's Wendy's file?

Wendy Taylor assaulted Sam O'Dwyer.

Oh! That's the guy.

Alright! Let's bring her in, then!

Hmm...

- That's going to be hard.
- What?

Wendy's in jail.

But I do know who we can talk to.

Why did your mum assault
Sam O'Dwyer, Sharelle?

I don't recall.

Well, did she know Sam very well?

I know she also used to be the cleaner

at the footy club and the pub,
didn't she?

I don't recall that, either.

She knocked his teeth out,

so he must have done something
to piss her off.

I don't recall.

OK, well, is there anybody else
you can think of

that might have had a problem with him?

Cannot think of a single person.

Think you're lying to us, Sharelle.

I think I'm not.

- I think she is, yeah.
- Yeah, I think she might be.

- How far away is this prison, then?
- It's about two hours.

Look, maybe Wendy will tell us
what went on with her and Sam.

Oh, yeah.
she'll be a real chatty-Cathy.

Well, it's the only lead we have right now.

Oh, it's Kate!

Kate. Hang on.

- Hi! Hello.
- Hi, Detective Collins.

So, I took a lot at Sam O'Dwyer's body
and I found a foreign hair sample.

James must have missed it.

Really? That's, ah...
That's a big shame.

Kate, is there any chance that
next time you're in,

you could analyse the sample for us?

Oh, I've already done that.

It's a pube.

From a woman, or someone else
with two X chromosomes.

Right. Um, right. OK.

Mm-hm. I found it in his mouth.

Someone was sitting on
Sammy O'Dwyer's face!

OK, Kate, thank you.

- Was someone..
- Thank you.

- Was he...
- Thank you for doing that.

- Was he munching on clunts? Kate!
- Thank you.

That's great, guys!
Now, keep punching for ten more!

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six...

That's it, Mitchell, well done!

Foreign DNA? From overseas?

It just means it's not Sam's DNA.

Right.

But you can test DNA, can't you Dulce?

I mean, it might be mine.

Were you with Sam
the night he disappeared, Vic?

No, I think I was working at the pub.

Was your husband
having an affair, Mrs O'Dwyer?

What? No, of course not!

But you said you were at work.

Well, maybe I wasn't working.

- Oh, so you were there the night he died.
- No, I...

Why'd it take you two weeks
after Sam disappeared

to report him missing, hey?

I thought...

Well, I hoped that he might come back.

We are going to need
a DNA sample, Vic.

Right. 'Course.

Mm-hm.

Well, I have just been to the loo.

Just a mouth swab.

Well, he was banging someone else.

Not according to his wife.

Oh, yeah, nah, 'cause no-one's ever
kept their affair a secret before,

have they?

Oh...

It's that pie man.

Attention, attention.

Beginner's swimming class
is starting now.

Meet in the main pool.

Beginner's swimming? What the fuck?

I'm good!

I have to feed Fern the dog.
Go upstairs and have a shower.

Nah, I don't need a shower.

I'm one of those people
that don't need to wash.

Those people don't exist.
They do not exist!

Get up there. Go!

God, what's up your fucking bum?

Is this gonna be our, like,
dynamic from now on?

Because, if it is, mate,
I'm not for it, you know?

Surprise!

- Happy birthday!
- Ugh.

I just said that she could have a shower
and then she'll be gone.

Oh. You could have told me
she was coming over.

Hey! Sorry I'm late.

There was a code brown
at the pool.

Yeah.

- Hi, Dulce, here you go.
- Thanks.

Good. Yep.

I didn't think you'd be here.

Oh, didn't you?

♪ I'm horny ♪

♪ Horny, horny, horny ♪

♪ So horny...

- Oh, wow.
- Oh, yum! Pael-la!

- Pae-ya.
- Oh.

- Just move the glass?
- Yep. Yep.

- Oh!
- Oh, you right?

OK, plates up, plates up. You don't
want to miss out on a prawn, do you?

- Yum!
- That is a lot of shellfish, though.

Who wants some socarrat?

It's the crust at the bottom of the pan.

Yeah. Yeah, sure, yeah, yeah.

- Thank you.
- Don't mind me, don't mind me.

I'm just going to get my clothes
from the clothesline.

Dulcie put them in the dryer.

Right.

Never used one of them before.

La-di-dah.

Well, the old paella's
not gonna eat itself, is it?

No, it's not. Yum!

- Should we change the music?
- Yeah, put on Alanis Morrisette.

Dental dam alright.

Tighter than me Nan's cooch.

Where's my polar fleece?

So Skye's not coming, Nadiyah?

Ah, no.
No, she's not feeling up to it.

Oh, no. Is she sick?

No, Gez, her dad's dead.

Alright, better get going, Collins.

Killer to catch and all.

Actually, Detective, this is
Dulcie's surprise birthday party, so...

Right. Ah, yeah.

'Course. I'll, ah, head off by myself.

Which way is town again?

- Turn left.
- Just stay.

You've got to eat, so...

Oh, I know what's going on here.

Is everything all tense 'cause of
the affair Dulcie had in Sydney?

- No, Gez, don't...
- The what?

Oh, Dulcie had an affair with
her detective partner in Sydney.

You remember this, Ray.

That's why she and Cath
moved to Deadloch, to start over.

Mm, no.

Oh, Cath's freaking out
because she thinks

you two are going to have an affair.

Ugh.

Hello, everybody! It's a party!

No? OK.

I think we should probably just
wrap all this up, actually.

No, no, no, no, Dulce, Gez is right.

Sit. Sit.

- I need to name some feelings.
- Yep.

Eddie.

Ever since you've arrived in town,
I've been feeling...

...jealous and... insecure.

And yesterday,
when I was inseminating a goat,

I saw you two vibing off each other,

and I've been spiralling ever since

because you've become
Dulcie's confidante.

And I'm feeling
very threatened by that.

But whilst they are mine to parent,

I am entitled to my feelings.

And they are valid,
but they're not your responsibility.

So I'm sorry, both of you.

- Sorry.
- No. No.

Thank you. Yes.

Mate, just for the record,

I don't want to muff-dive your wife.

- I'm far more into Trey over there.
- Ray.

Yeah, look at him.
Looks like a fucking tree bear.

Only reason I'd kick him out of bed
is to fuck him on the floor.

- Oh!
- Thank you.

Dulcie's actually
a very sexual person, Eddie.

- Oh, Cath, don't. Don't. Not now.
- No, you are.

You radiate sexuality, like a...

- Yeah, nuh. To each their own.
- ...floodlight at an airport.

We can all feel Dulcie's sexual
energy wafting off her, can't we?

No. No. No. I can feel
something wafting, but it's not...

Yes, Aleyna and I have discussed it.

Actually, I think
that I might just, um...

pop into the kitchen

and shove my head in the freezer.

Ah, Constable.

- Me?
- Would you like to join me?

OK.

So good, getting that off my chest.

Eddie, socarrat?

If this is about what just happened,
I'm fine with it.

I am your work colleague,

but when I entered your private space
as a friend, Dulcie,

I consented to
sexually explicit conversations...

- No. No.
- ...about you and Cath and...

Abby, Abby, Abby.

Did you go to school
with Sharelle Muir?

- Um, yes, ma'am.
- Mm-hm.

Do you have any idea why
her mum assaulted Sam O'Dwyer?

- No.
- OK.

Forensics found a pubic hair
in Sam's mouth.

The detective thinks that Sam
was having an extramarital affair.

You think it could have been
with Sharelle's mum?

- I don't know, ma'am.
- 'Course, yeah.

Yeah, of course, of course.

I mean, from what I know of Sam O'Dwyer
it seems highly unlikely.

Probably got the pube from
a service station Chiko Roll, huh?

Yeah.

Mmm...

- Pube!
- Mmm.

Alright. Good. Yeah. Uh...

- Top up, there?
- Thanks.

So, what's happening with Aleyna?
Is she coming?

Oh, no, she can't now.

Aleyna's doing a press conference
about the Lathams.

- She's what?
- Fucking what?

Yeah, yeah.

She's going to make
an important announcement.

- I'm getting my keys. I'll get my keys.
- Fuck! Mate...

- Oh, whoa.
- Excuse me.

Which way's town? That way?

As you're all aware,

Deadloch has tragically lost
two of our finest sons,

Trent and Gavin Latham,

cut down in their prime.

This town will never know...

...two finer men.

Can you drive faster? That mayor has
already started and she knows too much.

- I'm going the speed limit.
- Ugh.

Fuck it's hot.
Can we turn on the aircon?

Should you just take off
some polar fleece?

Sure.

Can you not swim?

No.

It's a bit weird, for a fully grown man
and fit little unit like you.

Do you think I'm a fit little unit?

Now is not the time to try it on!
It's a murder investigation! Jesus!

- Oh, my God, I'm sorry, you're right.
- I don't have time to deal with your stiffy for me.

- Hey, I honestly...
- We're here. Just pull over.

What?

Mmm!

These men are dead.

You have no respect.

Go get a park. Fuck!

Yeah.

Hey, um, I'll get out here too, Ray.

- Yes. OK.
- Thanks.

Tonight, it is my honour

to announce that the public outdoor gym

will be renamed the Trent Latham
Memorial Outdoor Gym

and the toilet block next to it

will be named
the Gavin Latham Memorial Toilets.

Mayor, um, do you have any actual
updates on the Latham murders?

Well, that's a confidential police
investigation, Jeremy, so...

So the police aren't talking to you.

Do they not have faith
in you either, Mayor?

No, Megan, we are in
the constant contact with the police.

So, what can you tell us
about the case then, Mayor?

What have police told you?
What do you know?

Well, something that I do now
is that the police believe that...

Hi everyone! Sorry I'm late.

Thanks for that, Doctor Mayor.
You can shut the fuck up now.

Right, um... Yeah.

So now just a little update on the case,

and that update is there is no update
at this time, alright?

Detective! Detective!

Jimmy, I'm gonna slice your dick up
like a roast, true God, I will!

I need to tell Vanessa something
about something!

No, you fucking don't!
She's grieving!

- Leave her alone!
- Hey, calm down!

Calm down, alright? Hey, Jimmy,
come on. Come for a walk, alright?

I don't like walking, Mike!

- Fuck off, ya little prick!
- Moll bitch!

Sharelle!

Oh, what do you want?

I need to talk to you about Sam O'Dwyer.

Detective, do you have
any info on the killer?

I just said, I can't fucking
tell you anything, so...

I can't say anything about...

them at this time.

Is this because
you don't know anything about him?

No, because it wouldn't be
in the interests of the investigation

to reveal anything about... them.

Why do you keep saying "them"?
Is there more than one killer?

No, I keep saying "them"
because gender is made up.

Isn't that right, Sven?

Yep. Yes. Yep.

It's rooted in
white supremacy and colonialism

and it's actually a spectrum,
like a rainbow.

And everyone deserves to be liberated
from the gender binary.

Detective, four days ago Ted
from Ted's Excavation and Septic Tanks

exhumed a body from Deadloch Cemetery.

Was that at the request
of Deadloch Police?

Right, so it's not
Vic O'Dwyer's pubic hair?

- Sharelle!
- No, it's not matching her sample.

Sorry, Detective.

- OK. Thanks, Kate.
- Just hear me out.

Fuck, Abby!

Can you confirm or deny that
the exhumed body

was that of former mayor, Rod Dixon?

Ah...

Mayor Dixon's body was found
five years ago on Deadloch Beach,

- exactly the same location as recent victims Trent
and Gavin Latham. - Get me a beer!

Is that correct?

Ah, I will not be taking
any questions at this time.

Fuck, Abby! You know why Mum decked him.

You remember what he was like!

Sharelle, I know Sam cracked onto you.

I just need to know
who else he tried it with.

I'm never telling you
anything ever again, Abby.

You're a cop now.

The body of beloved local,
Sam O'Dwyer,

was recently recovered
from Deadloch Lake.

According to forensic pathologist
James King's recent TEDx Perth talk,

Sam likely died
only days before Rod Dixon died.

King also said O'Dwyer's death is
being treated by police as suspicious.

Suspicious means a murder, doesn't it?

Ah...

Um, I will not be, uh...
taking questions at this time.

Are the murder of Trent Latham,
Gavin Latham,

Rod Dixon and Sam O'Dwyer
connected?

Detective, a serial killer is defined as
someone who commits four murders

in a period of over a month

with cooling down time
between those murders.

Are these Deadloch murders
the work of a serial killer?

Ah...

Sharelle...

I can't sit on this information.

The police think that Sam O'Dwyer

was with someone else
the night he went missing.

So if you know who that was,
you have to tell us.

Mate, Sam O'Dwyer's dick
was like a ferret

constantly searching for any hole.

It could have been any number
of women that night.

What did you just say?

♪ I stand in the distance ♪

♪ I view from afar ♪

♪ Should I offer some assistance ♪

♪ Should it matter who you are ♪

♪ Problems should be shared ♪

♪ Confide in me ♪

♪ Confide in me ♪ ♪