All language subtitles for My.Life.Is.Murder.S04E03.720p.WEBRip.h264-ROPATA

Final round, team.

Time to push. Pick up
the pace. Let's go!

We're here for a reason — to train hard this
morning. Come on. What do you call that?

Let's go! Let's push! Let's go.

Are you gonna
actually hit or what?

Get stuck in. Let's go.
Show me what you got.

Let's do it. Hit me!

Come on — hit me. Hit me!

Argh!

Yeah!

- Whoa! - Whoo!
- Yeah!

- How was the workout?
- Let's just say I don't think that

group exercise is for me.
- You can't give up after one class.

I'm not giving up, Harry;
I'm not allowed back.

- Oh.
- Anyway, what you got?

You got any interest
in real estate?

You mean those agents who
think my no-junk-mail sign

doesn't apply to their cheesy flyers?
- Like Payton Green?

Yeah. OK —
Before I speak ill,

is Payton dead?
- As of seven weeks ago, yes.

He was discovered in a swimming
pool at a busy open home

in a leafy suburb.

One of the potential buyers
wanted a closer look at the pool,

and there he was.
- Drowned?

Autopsy showed a broken neck,

and some bruises
consistent with a fall.

We also found some weird paper,

under his fingernails
of his left hand.

Couldn't find a match anywhere
in the house where he died

or his own place or his office.

Payton was due to get
married in a few months.

His fiancee, Greta,
wants answers, obviously.

- Mm-hm.
- And we do have a prime suspect...

- Baxter Wells.
- Sells.

He was running the open home
that day. It wasn't his listing,

but the real estate office got a call
to say that no agent had shown up.

OK, why is Baxter Wells
Sells your favourite?

Rivalry between him and Payton?

Greta's pretty adamant that
he was Payton's only enemy.

It's pretty hard to pin
anything on Baxter, though.

The house was full of
DNA from agents, buyers.

You gonna take a look, aren't you?
- What makes you say that?

Because you hate
Baxter Wells already.

And the house where Payton
died has been sold 17 times

in the past 20 years.

The current
owner thinks it's cursed.

OK, so now you're trying too hard.

Why don't we just stick with
'Baxter Well Sells is a dick'?

- Works for me.
- OK.

Laters.

Captions by Faith Hamblyn.

Captions were made with
the support of NZ On Air.

www.able.co.nz
Copyright Able 2024.

Now, Baxter was
mail-dropping these

beauties the night of.

Harry said that the
police door-knocked

and confirmed that he did deliver
flyers to about a hundred homes,

even if they had 'no
junk mail' signs on them.

Well, it's a decent
enough alibi, I suppose,

but even without one, the house
has cameras front and back.

Payton arrives at 6 minutes
past 5 and never leaves.

Nobody else enters or exits
the house before or after.

No one who was caught
on camera, anyway.

Unless they came down the chimney,
Payton is the only person in that house.

Look, there he is. And there's
nothing, nothing, nothing.

Until he opened home
the next afternoon.

Digital forensics already
went through this footage

there's no sign of
doctoring, no fake news here.

- Mm.
- Nothing from the back door, either.

See, it'd be good if this angle was
the other way — like, a pool cam.

Mm. Hey, on the bright side,

Baxter worked with Payton.

Well, they seem happy enough.

But we both know there's...

Baxter's never met a
cliche he doesn't love.

Ooh, hey. Whoa. Here he is.

Very prompt response
to my inquiry.

Ooh, he can open up
the house for us in 15.

- Nice.
- Must be true that he's...

What do you reckon the sales
commission is on a place like this?

With the market the way it is, you're
looking at a sales price of $6.2 million.

Oh, come on, you know I
love real estate shows,

but the agent's
commission is around 2%.

Well, the office takes half of that.
That would leave Baxter Wells $62,000.

Worth killing for?
- Maybe it's about more than money for a guy like this.

According to the website,

Baxter Wells was in the finals
for the top sales SATs for years,

but never came first.

- That'd be Payton Green?
- Two years in a row.

Uh, Excuse me.

You know that this street
is residents-only parking?

Well, we're hoping to be
residents. This house is great.

Oh. Word to the wise —.

You need a parking permit.

The wardens around
here are ruthless.

- Ooh. Should I move it?
- Oh, I'll keep an eye out for you.

- Thank you.
- Only because you've got a sensible car.

These old streets aren't
designed for the gas guzzlers

that people buy nowadays.

I mean, what do you want a
ruddy Jeep for in the city?

My feelings exactly.

Oh, I'm Alexa Crowe, and
this is my friend Madison.

Oh. Leslie Roache.

We're, uh... We're just here
to meet the real-estate agent.

Baxter Wells. Mm.

I'll call the parking
warden myself.

Hi, Baxter.

Now, this home has
everything, Alexa.

All it needs is a classy owner,

and I think I just found her.

I bet you say that
to all the buyers.

Entertainer's kitchen,

all the bells and whistles,

butler's pantry.
- I wish I had a butler.

Don't
we all, Madison.

And there are LEDs

in the scotia.

It even has a disco mode.
- Bit of a boogie before breakfast.

You said it.

How's the outdoor living?

Oh, Alexa, now, that

that is the icing on the cake.

Go through to the
bedrooms. Look for any access point

not covered by security cameras.

Resort feel, like you're
on holiday year-round.

I saw the sales history — how come
this place changed hands so many times?

It's the price bracket — you
know, people are always upgrading.

They want a bigger
garage or a tennis court.

- Maybe there's something a bit off about the house.
- That's heated,

of course.
- Didn't some guy die in this pool a couple of months back?

- Uh...
- Well, you meant to disclose that, you know.

If a buyer is serious, then yes —
Yeah, of course. But you know what?

It's the thing about these heritage
homes — you know, they have a history.

People live in them, people
die in them — old age or...

His neck was broken, and
he was tossed in the pool;

It's not like Auntie Mavis slipped
off in her sleep, now, is it?

OK, so, uh,
what's going on here?

You, um... You
looking for a bargain?

Because
I happen to know,

the vendor — very motivated.

- You're incredible.
- Thank you.

- How well did you know Payton?
- Well, uh, he was, uh,

a colleague, and, um,

and I think he would want me to
finish the work that he started.

- Would he, now?
- OK. Yeah.

I don't think this is
the house for you, Alexa.

I just can't figure out if he
believes his own crap or not.

And I couldn't find any
other entry or exit points.

The windows are all deadbolted,
and there's no side door.

Hey, just a sec?

Hello, Leslie. Can I ask
you a quick question?

The night that that young man died in
the house, did you hear or see anything?

- Why is that?
- Well, sometimes I work for the police.

Ooh! You're a police officer.

I've been calling you
lot about the graffiti.

Oh! I could show you
the fence at number 3.

That's not really
my department, Les.

So you didn't hear anything
the night young Payton died?

It's noisy around here.

Cars zooming through
like it's a speedway.

I've called about that too.
- Don't talk to her, Leslie.

She's a death tourist.
- If you say so, Mr Sells.

- Wells.
- But your junk mail

says your name is Sells,

middle name Wells.
- We've had this conversation, Leslie.

- Have we?
- OK.

I'm as sharp as a
tack — believe me.

I just like to mess with him.
- Mm. - Smarmy git.

He's always coming over here and
asking me if I want an appraisal.

- You're not interested in selling?
- If I were,

I wouldn't have him near the place.
- Really?

- You'd have heard the story.
- Story?

About why there's bad blood
between him and the lad that died.

- Won't believe it. OK.
- What are you looking at?

At Sage, the homeowner. She's
got her own YouTube channel.

- Mm-hm.
- Apparently, this was the last morning she spent in the house,

before she put it on the market and never went back.
- So, last night when I went to bed,

the washing machine door
was closed. OK? Closed.

Now, look — everything's
on the floor.

The whole thing's spilled
out. I didn't do this.

Oh, the ghost came and
did her laundry for her.

I'm more concerned that she can be that
young and afford to own a house in this city.

Like, that hurts.
- You don't wanna buy a house, do you?

Well, I can't live with you
and Chowder forever, can I?

- I never really thought about it.
- Hey, what are you doing?

I'm just giving it all a quick spruce-up
before the real-estate agent gets here.

- What real-estate agent?
- Baxter.

I messaged him and
apologised for my behaviour.

Uh, you never apologise
for your behaviour.

Well, I told him I was thinking of
selling the house, so all is forgiven.

What? Why?

Why would you invite a
murder suspect to our home?

- So I can ask him something.
- Ah, you ever heard of a phone?

And so you can get some
intel while I give him a tour.

Baxter Well Sells. Hello again.

Great place, Alexa. Ah.

How about the postcode,
huh?

Yeah. Please come in. Uh,
you know Madison, right?

- Yeah. Hey.
- Yeah. Just, um,

put your stuff anywhere.

Uh, I'd like to show you
through the bedrooms.

Sure.

The luxurious master suite

tick. Or, uh,

should I say mistress suite?

I'm nobody's mistress. And
don't you get any ideas.

Oh, I won't say another word.

- Wouldn't wanna be unprofessional.
- Me? Never.

Or maybe sometimes
just a little bit.

Yeah, I've heard you're a player

that you like to play in
other people's bedrooms.

I, uh...

Is that an invitation?

I've heard that you would take your
girlfriends to the houses you were selling

and that Payton caught you.
- Ah. OK.

Stuff this.

The vendors were away,
but you had a key,

and Payton bought
some buyers there.

Boy, did they get an eyeful when
they came upstairs to see the view!

Payton had called your bosses
before you got your clothes back on.

The incident was dealt
with at the time.

We all moved on. Payton and
I, we didn't have a problem.

Now, do you want an
appraisal or not?

Revenge, rivalry

the motives are stacking up.

See, once
a cop, always a cop.

I can Google too. And
you don't want a sale

you want a snoop.

- Why'd you come here?
- Hey?

You suspected that I lured you
here under false pretences,

but you still came.

What, on the off chance
that I was genuine?

Oh, anything for the sale, right

anything at all.

Um, hey, don't
forget your phone.

Yeah? Got it?

Clone being emailed to
your laptop as we speak.

Ooh, and look at what I
found in his briefcase.

- Relevance?
- Maybe I should take a look.

- Because?
- I might be able to afford it.

- You'd live on your own?
- Oh, sure,

I'd miss having a housemate who invites every
murder suspect she meets to our home

One time— two times.

Mm.

You want your room back,
Chowder? He says yes!

Thanks for seeing me, Greta.

I'm so sorry to hear
about your fiance.

So, are you headed away?

Oh, just got back —
Wellington for work.

I used to love coming home
from my trips, but, um...

Yeah, I'm really sorry.

- I'm assuming you're looking into Baxter Wells.
- Payton worked with him a lot, yeah?

Baxter was his mentor when he
first got his real-estate licence.

But honestly, half of
it was what not to do.

- Tell me about that.
- Baxter would rip him off, use him.

He'd get Payton
to do mail drops,

promise that if they landed
a listing, they'd share it.

Except when they did, he'd say
the vendors only wanted him.

And if his name wasn't on the listing,
he didn't get a share of the commission.

Exactly. All that
work for nothing.

OK, but recently, Payton
had his own listings, right?

Yeah, once he finally
got a foot in the door.

People loved him — he was
honest, he went the extra mile.

So why do you think that
Baxter would wanna hurt Payton?

He couldn't handle that
he was more successful.

Or he was after Payton's listings —
He literally got them after he died.

And what about the scandal?

The old woman next door said
that Payton caught Baxter

entertaining a lady
friend in the house.

He... He didn't
say anything to me.

Well, he told his bosses —
Baxter was disciplined over it.

Why do you think he never
mentioned it to you?

Because he knew how I'd react.

I kept telling him to change
agencies to get away from Baxter.

- Why?
- Because Baxter hated Payton's guts.

So, the night off, Baxter Wells did a
mail drop of all his cheesy flyers, right?

- On this very street.
- And your team door-knocked,

to make sure that all the
residents received them, yes?

- You know they did.
- But there's one thing your team didn't check...

Baxter Wells' step count.
- And I suppose you did. - Yeah.

I had Madison do a phone clone when
he was in my bedroom this afternoon.

Sorry. What?

Baxter's step count
was 6243 for the day.

But look at this —
we're nearly at 6000,

and we've only done half the
route that Baxter claimed he did.

So unless he laid down
the rest of the day...

Baxter gave a false alibi.

Boom!

- Oh. Bless you.
- Mm-hm.

Hey, did you happen to
check out Baxter's iCal?

Every Wednesday night,
three hours blocked out.

- Including the night Payton died?
- Uh-huh.

No note, no information,
5 o'clock until 8.

Well, could he have blocked it out deliberately —
Like, made it seem like he had a regular appointment?

What, an even lamer attempt at
an alibi than doing a mail drop?

Speaking of lame, have you read
his online customer reviews?

- Yeah. Five stars.
- But I checked Baxter's browsing history, and guess what?

About six months ago, he hired
a digital removal company.

You're not talking
about moving house?

Mm-mm. There are businesses who
can bury negative online reviews,

never to be seen again.
- Unless some very clever person,

like my friend Madison,
goes looking for them?

Baxter's one-star reviews are
coming to your inbox right now.

Mm. Uh, ooh. 'Untrustworthy.'

'Sleazy. Do not list your
house with this man.'

It kind of seems like
a targeted campaign.

Agreed. The reviews are logged
from Hamilton, Cambridge, Taupo.

Shark in a knockoff
designer suit oozes sleaze.

Ooh. 'You can smell his
aftershave from the South Island.'

No wonder he wanted to bury these.
- Mm-hm.

Oh, Baxter.

What else are you hiding?

- - Hey.
- Oh, no, no. We're not interested.

Oh, but these five-star reviews say
you care. Are they not accurate?

- Can you please go away?
- Perhaps these ones are closer to the mark.

Do you recognise
them? You should do,

cos you paid a pretty penny to have
them scrubbed off the interwebs.

Well, I guess I'll be
asking for a refund, then.

Where were you the
night that Payton died?

I was delivering flyers.

Now, you usually have a
minion do that for you.

So where were you?
- You know those reviews are fake, right?

Payton wrote them.
- Payton didn't write these.

His girlfriend did.

- How do you know that?
- Because they were posted from places all over the North Island,

and I know that Greta travels
for work and she hates you.

- Bloody hell.
- Baxter, you seem shaken.

Kill the wrong person — is that it?
- I didn't kill anyone.

So, the Wednesday
night when Payton died.

I was delivering flyers.
The police checked.

And I checked and found that you

paid a kid $5 an hour
to deliver them for you.

And $10 not to say
anything about it.

Ah, you're wrong.
I didn't do that.

Argh. What part was
wrong? No, no, wait.

Uh, ah, you didn't
pay anybody anything,

cos, let's face it, you're
tight and you use people.

Now you're mean, you're
rude and you're wrong.

No, no, not wrong. Because I had you
going there for a minute, didn't I?

And your alibi is as
flimsy as a '90s townhouse,

and we both know it.

I wish I'd never bought this house.
It's been a nightmare from day one.

Actually, do you mind
if we don't go inside?

Sure. Hey, can I
ask you something?

How does somebody so youthful
afford to buy a house like this?

What do you do?
- Content creator.

- You must be nailing it.
- Well, I mean, I had a bit of help — the Bank of Mum and Dad.

Hey, you gotta do
what you gotta do. So,

tell me about this place — Like,
why is it such a nightmare?

You mean, apart from the real-estate
agent turning up dead in my pool?

Apart from that.

Well, there's also the ghost.

Oh yeah. I've seen some
of your footage online.

Wait. You have? Did you,
like? Did you subscribe?

Uh, tell me more
about this ghost.

Haunted me every day and every
night I was in that place.

It's back. I can
hear the footsteps.

Oh my God! Oh
my God! Oh my God! Oh no!

What do you think?

- Why am I still looking at this?
- She's got other footage too

some weird scraping noises.
- So she has rats.

Ah, but she had an exterminator come
out and check the ceiling space.

You seriously want us
to investigate a ghost?

- All I'm saying is, it could be fun.
- Ooh. Gotta go.

- Go where?
- It's Wednesday.

OK. This — this is too much.

So, what are we here for?
12-step program me, is that it?

Kia or a, everyone.
Welcome. Oh, new face.

You're here for
sensitivity training, yes?

Sensitivity training, yes, I am.

I'm sorry, Prue, um, I don't
think she's supposed to be here.

- Oh.
- Ah, I was kicked out of boxing class yesterday,

so I was born for
sensitivity training.

Well, hello.

Take one of these
and pass it on. Now,

this exercise is to improve our

awareness of our actions

and the emotions
associated with them.

Because we're all
emotional humans, right?

Prue, I don't think that Alexa
is aware of her emotions.

- Oh.
- Did you know that every action is driven by an emotion?

For example, uh,

following someone
to a peer support

group might be driven by desire.

- Desire to change.
- Mm.

More like unrequited lust.

- I don't think lust is an emotion.
- Oh—.

Well, uh, then infatuation —
Feelings you can't control.

Is Baxter flirting with me? Cos is
that a sensitive thing to do, Bax?

OK, no. Get this — she calls
me, up all sweet and nice.

She invites me over to her place, and
in her bedroom, she slam dunks me.

Well, not in the biblical sense.

And he was only there to take
a look, not do anything else.

By the way, Baxter, this is called
'consequences of your actions'.

Oh, I know about consequences.

Why do you think I'm in this god-awful
course with these crushingly dull do-gooders?

Because my bosses made me.
I hate every second of it.

And by the way, Prue, I
wasn't paying attention,

and, no, I haven't
learned anything.

Unbelievable.
- So, we get kicked out of sensitivity training.

It'll make a good story one day.
- I had three more sessions.

100% attendance for
the last three months—.

If you were here the
night that Payton died,

then why not just be honest with the police?
Why make up all this stuff about the mail drop?

Like, doing this sort of
course, it's not a good look.

- No, lying to the police is not a good look.
- Well, now you know the truth.

So you would rather be accused of murder than
admit to— - OK! I didn't like Payton, OK?

I begged him not to tell my
bosses about me and my girlfriend,

but he was just such a little suck-up. He
just kept banging on about the code of ethics.

Yeah, the pesky code of ethics.

He just wanted to take me
down. But I didn't kill him.

- Hiya.
- Hey. Where are you?

Are you checking up on me?

Of course not. Hey,
how was the house?

Oh, you mean the cute
little Art Deco place?

Yeah, the one that's probably got
toxic mould in the ceiling — that one.

Alexa, you don't want
me moving out, do you?

Why do you say a
thing like that?

You like having me
around. Just admit it.

Well, if I hated it, I would have
gotten rid of you two years ago.

I'm at the library.

I looked up the council records and found
something out about the murder house.

- Hmm?
- It was a house of ill repute.

There was a very famous madam
who lived there for 45 years.

- She's still alive?
- No, she died in 1983.

The house was sold,
and then sold again.

And again and again.

You're not gonna tell me that this
madam is haunting the house, are you?

Look, I am aware
that there is no

universally accepted
definition for a ghost,

but, I mean, it's interesting, right?
- Well,

we'll argue about it
when you get home.

You know, I don't know how I've

managed to live with
her all this time.

Here we go. Madam
Lorelle herself.

Hmm. OK, she never married,

didn't have any children.
Oh, died penniless,

and the house was
repossessed by the bank.

Gotta admit, if there was evidence
of the existence of ghosts,

this woman would definitely be the type
to walk the rooms of her former parlour.

- A human being killed Payton.
- All right. You wanna know something else?

The original plans show a whole
other wing that isn't there any more,

because it was destroyed
by fire in 1910.

- No one died.
- That we know of.

Oh, please. That place
has super-haunty vibes.

Oh,
you're such a buzzkill.

Ooh, Sage just
posted new content.

Hey, guys. Welcome to my
new channel, Haunted AF.

This week — my own
lived experience.

A ghost-hunting channel?

So, it all started the very
first night I moved in.

Before I even had a chance
to plan my housewarming,

a malicious ghost started
hounding me out of my new home.

Let me bring you in.

Is it too Gen-X of me to
say, 'Get a real job'?

Uh, Sage, I don't think
she needs a real job

she's a trust-fund kid.
- This is about as close as I get,

because inside, there
are evil secrets.

And, you know, I feel so lucky
to be standing where I am today,

because one person
wasn't so lucky.

My real-estate
agent, Payton Green,

walked into this house one
dark night and never left.

Payton's murder is
still unsolved. And why?

Because you cannot catch
what you cannot see.

Someone's making
money out of murder.

Did she kill him for
content? Is that a motive?

Look, I'm the wrong generation
to put a valuation on clicks,

but it's not entirely
implausible, is it?

I guess it makes more
sense than a ghost.

- No, don't make me go in there.
- You are exploiting a young guy's death.

I am trying to solve a
genuine horror story.

Yeah, or add value to the house — six
bedrooms, three bathrooms and one ghost.

No. No way. This place
is definitely haunted.

Well, prove it. We're going in.

- Hey, are we going in?
- Oh my God. Fine.

- Excuse me! Excuse me.
- Hi, Leslie.

Excuse me, Officer. I
need to report something.

- Detective — retired.
- Oh.

I think the chap
across the street

is receiving stolen goods.

- Hey, Leslie. - Mm-hm.
- You've lived here a long time.

Mm. Since I was a girl.

Do you remember
Lorelle who lived here?

Remember her? Oh,

she was like another
mother to me.

Well, you know, she ran kind
of a colourful business.

A brothel.

The street was very
different back then.

See, I've been reading
some police reports,

and apparently Madam Lorelle
went to court five times,

charged with brothel keeping.

But she was only ever done for
black-market booze and cigarettes.

Oh, look, the police were
raiding her place all the time.

The blokes used to scatter
off into the night.

Ma'am and I hid the girls
in our sitting room.

That was my childhood — making
cups of tea and playing cards

with Lorelle's
ladies of the night.

- Really?
- I loved it.

Never a dull moment.

Leslie, do you mind if
I visit you sometime?

Oh. Please do. I'll
put the kettle on,

and you and I can chat about how the
police are gonna tackle this problem

of the ram-raiders.

Sage, I see you installed security
cameras at the front and the back.

Yeah, I lived alone.
I wanted to feel safe.

Yet those cameras
were running 24-7,

and they never captured anybody
coming or going the night Payton died.

Apparitions don't
get caught on camera, Alexa.

Yet, you did capture one being extremely
noisy on your ghost-hunting channel.

Yes, but not the
physical embodiment.

So, do you do all the editing
and camerawork yourself?

Well, of course.

Maybe you doctored the security
camera footage yourself.

Are you trying to say that
I covered something up?

I'm just going down every road and
seeing what happens at the end of it.

Huh? Oh wait. I cannot believe
this. I am actually the victim here.

- How do you figure that?
- I've been haunted, I've been traumatised,

and my new home is a crime
scene that I can't even sell.

Alexa?

Oh my God! No. Stuff this.

I'm out!
- Sage!

- Cooee!
- Well, you scared the vendor off.

Yeah. OK, let's get
this show on the road.

Alexa, why would you do that?

Well, ghosts only haunt
in the dark, don't they?

Sage reckons this
one worked 24-7.

One time, she heard a crash,
came into the kitchen,

and everything was out of the
food cupboard — in broad daylight.

- She get a photo of that?
- I'd say she probably ran.

Alexa!

Oh!

You are meant to go away from the
freaking noise, not towards it.

That's not a very
efficient way to catch a killer.

Oh crap.

No way. Come
back here, ghostie.

What? You found something?

This place
is haunted, all right,

but not by a ghost.

I won't do the ghost-hunting
channel any more, OK?

- Blood orange for you.
- - Sorry about that.

- It's OK.
- And a latte. - Thanks, Reuben.

I can't even sleep any more.

I see shadows
around every corner.

When you disappeared the
other night, where'd you go?

- To Mum and Dad's.
- Did you?

- Yes.
- Hmm.

Why? Why are you
staring like that?

Well, you took off, and
then the noises started.

What noises?

Were your mum and dad
home when you got there?

- No.
- Handy.

OK. How would I have even
got back inside the house

without you or Madison
seeing me, or the cameras?

I'm working on it.

It's all changed, of
course, these days.

There was a plum tree right
where the swimming pool is.

Ooh, I remember when the
previous owners put it in.

They craned it right over
the top of the house.

What a sight!

Would Madam Lorelle be turning in her
grave with all the changes to her house?

- She'd love it.
- Yeah?

She'd be throwing
legendary pool parties.

Gosh, this is a nice
piece, isn't it?

It's not very practical,

but it's got great
sentimental value.

Now all it needs a
couple of classy owners.

I think I just found them.

You're not
allowed to be here.

I have a trespass order.

Oh, yes, but a trespass order is
voided if the person who lodged it

invites the person who received it.
- Yeah, I didn't invite you, so...

Oh, I beg to differ.

Please, Alexa, I...

- I have buyers here.
- I can see that.

So either we can make a
scene, or you can leave me alone,

so that nobody knows. I'm
looking into the very recent

and very unsolved murder, which happened
in this beautiful character villa—.

Yeah, yeah,
yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Thank you.

OK. I'm entering the bedroom
wing and the middle bedroom.

Measurements?

4m by 4m.

You know, somewhere
along the line,

this room went from being
a square to a rectangle.

It's missing half the room.
- A built-in wardrobe?

No, just a wall.

Ooh. Thanks, Mads.

Ah.

Sturdy as ever,
these old villas.

Now we're getting somewhere.

No. Oh God.

Oh! Oh.

And obviously a
built-in wine fridge.

Narnia was not at
all what I expected.

Over to you.

Oh my God. I bought the
creepiest house in Auckland.

Hey, just wanna to zip it,
cos I've got buyers inside.

Leslie, you said that Madam
Lorelle got raided all the time.

Is it possible that she had secret
passages built to hide the girls,

the customers?
- Wouldn't put it past her.

She was a smart lady,
a clever businesswoman.

What if this Lorelle is still
hanging around, haunting people?

Keeping her eye on things?

She was a woman of many secrets.
- Not any more.

The police will be crawling through
those tunnels and rooms tomorrow,

probably throw up a lot
of forensic evidence.

Ew. Really? Like what?

Fingerprints and so on.

So I'm guessing that we're gonna
cancel the open home for tomorrow,

or...

Argh! Why couldn't I have been there
when you found the secret basement?

And also, why would you go into a secret
basement alone? Like, who does that?

Someone that hasn't watched
enough horror movies — that's who.

I had a phone torch.

- Oh, you have such a casual attitude.
- Yeah, well, that casual attitude

just found us the way that the killer got into
the house unseen and the place that Paytondied.

See, Payton shouldn't
have gone in there either.

Wait. Why did he?
- Catch a ghost?

- Oh, so now there is a ghost?
- Ah, there was a ghost.

And I'm very much looking
forward to meeting him.

How are you going...? You're going into
the basement alone again, aren't you?

I'm fairly confident, Madison,
that I will not be alone,

and if I've done my job right, the
killer will be right there with me.

Hello, Les.

Ah, so it's true

the tunnels.

I thought I'd come
and see for myself.

Madam Lorelle was a genius.

But, of course, you've
always known that.

You've spent quite a lot of
time down there, haven't you?

Well, of course, you've
got your own entrance.

No, I've only just—.

You know, this place
was twice the size,

before a fire burnt
down an entire wing.

Your house was built in 1950,

where the rest of
this house once stood.

It was built on the basement

a basement that both
houses then shared.

Really? A fire?

Oh, I'd no idea.

Come, now.

How do you think those ladies of the
night escaped your house for cups of tea

when the police raided
without being seen?

I'm not a young
woman any more, Alexa

my memory isn't
what it used to be.

Sharp as a tack —
said it yourself.

Why would I want to come in
here and scare people? Huh?

Yeah, I wondered myself.
At first I thought,

'Maybe she just doesn't
like the neighbours.'

I mean, fair — I don't
like most people myself.

But then I realised it's not about
the people living here now —.

It's about the person who
lived here long ago —.

Madam Lorelle.

- What about her?
- I mean,

the records say that Madam Lorelle
died without a penny to her name,

but that doesn't make any sense.
I mean, look at the images here

the clothes, the furniture.
This woman had style and money,

didn't she, Les?
- I wouldn't know.

Come on. You were close.

And she gave you that
beautiful bureau desk.

I saw it here in the book,
and I saw it at your house.

Mm. I'd always admired it.

It was a very kind gesture.

What did she do with
the rest of the money?

Did she hide it? Did she
tell you where to find it?

What did she tell you — that she'd
hidden it behind a fake wall,

something like that?
How...

How could you know that?

Oh.

Oh bless.

No wonder Sage thought
her house was haunted

there was a selfish old woman
creeping around inside the walls,

looking for buried treasure.

You know, owner after owner felt
this place gave them a bad vibe.

You made them feel
unsafe in their own home!

I never bothered anybody.

If you'd
only been quieter,

then Payton Green
wouldn't have heard you.

He wouldn't have gone to
investigate the weird noise.

He wouldn't have found the stairs
down to the secret basement.

I never pushed the lad.

I never pushed him.

- It was an accident, was it?
- Mm.

Whatever happened, Payton ended up
broken at the bottom of the stairs.

But it's what you did
next that matters.

You knew where the blind spot was and
that the back camera wouldn't catch you.

Somehow, you dragged him
and dumped him in the pool.

You hoped people would think that he'd
fallen and hit his head on the way down.

Pulling the cover over
him was a mistake.

Was it the guilt,

what you'd done to an
innocent young man,

you couldn't bear to look?

Here's your ghost, Harry.

- Hello.
- Oh, one more thing,

Leslie. Maybe you should have tried
the back of that tiny cupboard

in the bureau she gave you.

I think maybe it was under
your nose the entire time.

Oh.

If only I'd known.

You would have been out of here?

No. I've never
lived anywhere else.

Well, that might
be about to change.

I used to work at this hotel
restaurant back in my hospo days,

and they say it was haunted by an
angry maitre d' from back in the 1920s.

Ooh, I would go to
that restaurant 100%.

And if you're lucky, Sage can
review it for her new channel.

Expecting someone?

Everybody I like in
Auckland's already here.

Here's your appraisal.

- Thank you, Baxter.
- And, uh, a little gift from me.

You know, when you do decide to
sell this place, you should call me.

I'm your guy.
- All is forgiven, huh?

Not really a grudge
holder. And, um, so,

I was thinking maybe I could take
you out for a drink one night?

You want an answer? Tyler
Wicks belongs in prison.

He put that poisonous
plant in Louie's food.

Death by stir-fry. It's kind
of in your wheelhouse, Alexa.

Maybe you just don't wanna be the only one
that Reuben blames when you arrest his mate.

Reuben, you're not
going in that house.

- I'm already there.
- All right, then she's going with you.

Louie was an
entitled snot stain.

Sometimes people get
what they deserve.

I need you to get me something.

- Hello.
- Consider this a first warning.

You actually made a
murder suspect cry.

Did I? Jury's out.

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