All language subtitles for S04E02.720p.WEB.H264-ROPATA

(JAN HELLREIGEL'S
'LOVE AND CONVICTION')

(UPBEAT MUSIC CONTINUES)

- # Well, some things,
I'm really proud of,

# and I don't mind if I share.

# Other things I've screwed right
up, they're whispers in the air... #

- Kia ora, Alexa.

- So, what's the occasion?
- Well, it's a beautiful day ―

why not?
- All right. I don't hate this.

Now, Harry Henare. You lure me here
on the pretence of wanting to spend
time with me―

- I always wanna spend
time with you, Alexa.

- ...when actually you
want help with a case.

- You can't tell me you
didn't suspect as much.

- You know, I was perfectly happy
at home, with my cat, baking bread.

- Riveting.

Griff Springfield ―

tennis pro and coach at the
super-posh Kingston Racquets Club.

- Is that a pod of dolphin I see?

- He was found dead on the court,
killed by a malfunctioning ball
launcher.

He was hit quite a few times.

- Tennis-ball launcher?
- Yep.

- Why didn't he just run?
- Exactly.

Cause of death was a massive
aneurysm from a one-in-a-million
shot to the base of the skull.

No witnesses, of course.
He was found first thing

by assistant coach Callum Armstrong.

Callum has his own
swipe card for entry,

but the system shows he didn't
activate it until that morning.

Forensics place time
of death about 10pm.

So as far as we can tell, Griff was
definitely at the club on his own.

- Well, then, case closed ―
the ball launcher's guilty.

- You really think one of those
things can deliver a tennis ball
so fast,

it becomes lethal?
- You know, I haven't
given it much thought.

- Coroner thinks so.

They're calling it a freak accident.

Now's the time when you ask
about the grieving widow ―

one Verity Springfield.
- Now, why would I do that?

- Because three weeks
before her husband died,

she hired a private investigator
to spy on him.

- To see if he was cheating. Was he?

- PI didn't find anything. But it's
the thought that counts, right?

- So unhappy marriage and
a suspicious wife. Yeah.

Yeah. Yeah, OK.

- OK ― you'll take it?

- (SIGHS) You know, Harry,...

I'm super-flattered that
you'd go to all this trouble,

when you could have just said killed
by his own tennis-ball launcher.

- True.

- So, does this
Verity have an alibi?

- Shall we take a look?
- Yes.

Let's.

(SOUL MUSIC)

Captions by Faith Hamblyn.

Captions were made with
the support of NZ On Air.

www.able.co.nz
Copyright Able 2024.

- If you have to hire a PI to spy on
your partner,

then you've clearly got the
answer you're looking for.
- Which is?

- That you're in a loveless marriage
and devoid of trust.

- Oh wow. The PI is
super-glam. Look.

- Christine Knox, a discreet
investigator who will give you back
your peace of mind.

- Specialises in exposing infidelity

and also offers teenager
surveillance for worried parents.

- Stalking your own kid ― uncool.

- Whoa. How much for a stakeout?

Reports and photographs are extra.
Who can afford to hire this woman?

- Do you wanna find out?

(RELAXED MUSIC)

Oh.

Uh, Verity Springfield?

- (SIGHS) I told those
boys to lock the gates.

- My name is Alexa Crowe.
- (SIGHS) God,

how many of you are there?
- There's definitely
only one of Alexa.

- Oh, she'd like to think so,
but they're all the same ―

Desperate Housewives come
to tell me about your

special relationship
with my husband.

- Actually, I never met your husband.
- Me neither.

- I'm a friend of the police. I help
them out with their inquiries.

- And I help her with her inquiries.

- Well, I've been advised not to
say anything more to the police.

- From your lawyer?
- My private investigator.

She says it's only a matter of time
before they become lazy and point
the finger back atme.

- No one's pointing any fingers,
Verity ― we just wanna ask some
questions.

- Well, you needn't worry ―
Christine has sworn to find
the person who killed Griff.

- So you do think your
husband was killed.

Care to speculate on who?
- If I had any ideas,

I'd tell them to her, not to you.

- What's up with the excavator?
Are you digging up the tennis court?

- It's going to make a
lovely topiary garden.

- Well, nothing says
moving on quite like

digging up your dead
husband's tennis court.

- Well, what can I say?
We all grieve in our own ways.

- We all grieve in our own way ―

she's grieving like somebody
who does not give a toss.

- She's certainly carrying
a lot of resentment.

- So, where to now?
Famous Christine Knox PI?

- Why?
- Well, she's been working the case;

she might have some
leads to save us time.

- Um...
- Or we could go to the tennis club,
check out the murder weapon.

- That's a much better idea.

I'm sure we'll meet
Christine Knox soon enough.

(TINKLY MUSIC)

- Hi. Hi, can I help?

- Oh, hi. Yes, uh, we were
looking for a new summer sport,

and a friend told me that Kingston
Racquets is an absolute delight.

- Are you the coach here?
- Yeah, sure am. Callum Armstrong.
- Alexa. Madison.

- Well, it is a great club,
great facilities and good coaching.

- If you do say so yourself.
- Well, I just took
over as head coach,

and we're making some changes,
instigating a more positive culture.

- Oh, positivity's good.
Mind if we look around?

- Help yourself, and just shout
out if you have any questions.

- Bound to. Thanks.

Here's the culprit.

The Tennis Tutor Plus.

- OK.

Maximum speed ―

110km.
- I guess that could pack a punch.

- Big enough to cause a lethal blow?

- Maybe we should ask Christine.
- OK, look, what I said in the car ―

I wasn't suggesting that
Christine knew more than us.

- No, I meant, we should ask
Christine. She's over there
on the bench.

Followed us all the
way from Verity's.

- I'm sorry ―
Christine's spying on us?

- Seems like it.
Let's give her a shot.

In fact, let's see how lethal
the Tennis Tutor really is.

OK, give me some balls.
- But you don't have a racquet.

- Don't care. Aim at the torso.
- I don't want to.

- Come on, babe! Come on!

- Just so you know,
I really don't wanna do this.

- Uh-uh. Uh-uh. Uh-huh.

Bring it.

- Ooh! Sorry!
- Missed.

- Sorry!
- Aim it at me.
- It won't let me.

- Come on, keep it straight!
- I can't ― it's random.

Sorry, sorry!
- Crank it up!

- Ooh!
- God.
- I'm sorry!

- Is that the highest speed it's got?
- Yes.

- OK, turn it off. Turn it off.

Think she enjoyed the entertainment?
- You know,

there are easier ways to solve a
crime than turning the murder weapon
on yourself.

- Yeah, but not as much fun.

- As usual, I saved my very
best table just for you.

- Well, she might need a cushion.

- So, what are you trying
to say about my new chairs?
- Never mind that, Ruben.

So, flat white and two
lattes to go, please.

- Done.
- Admit it ― that one on
the tushie stings, huh?

- Nevertheless, hardly a fatal blow.

- Yeah, and I had the machine
cranked up to the highest speed.

- You know, players like Federer
have been clocked at serving

more than 200km/h.

Do you think somebody could have
served the ball and hit Griff?

- They'd have to have superhuman
aim. Also, Griff had the gates
locked ―

nobody else was on the courts. Wait.
Did you just order three coffees?

- Yes, I did. I think it's
time I met the competition.

- (GASPS) Do you mind?

- First rule of surveillance,
Christine ― never leave
the doors unlocked.

I just thought I should
introduce myself.

- Alexa Crowe, formerly
with the Australian Police,

lives with one Madison Feliciano
and a ginger cat.

Hobbies include sourdough-bread
baking and helping Homicide Division
with their inquiries.

Do you want me to go on?
- That's a pretty
impressive deep dive.

- Mm-hm.
- You don't know the
name of the cat, though.

- I'm working on it. I don't have a
hacker on my payroll, like you do.

- Oh, please.
Madison is not a hacker.

She is a highly trained data analyst.

- Potato, pot-ah-to.

Must be convenient having
her access-all-areas

police-intelligence pass.

- Why are you still working
for Verity Springfield?

I'm sure that Griff is no
longer sleeping around.

- Well, somebody killed Griff ―
Verity wants answers.

- Well, not me or Madison.

- Well, obviously, you're
not a suspect. I'm just―

- Trying to figure out what we know?

Which means you don't have any leads.

- Oh, I do. But I don't want you
messing with my lines of inquiry.

- (SCOFFS) Which is
very fancy police talk,

for a woman whose office appears to
be the back seat of their station
wagon.

- I do spend a lot of
time in my car, yes.

- Well, it's all those
very expensive stakeouts.

- A picture's worth
a thousand words.

I took these yesterday.

Now, it turns out all those
weekly credit-card charges

weren't for sports massages.

- Ooh la la.
- I took that one with
a telephoto lens.

- Wait a minute.
- (GIGGLES)

- All right.
You're a regular David Attenborough.

- I do love capturing the
cheetah in his natural habitat.

- So you must have a lot of
happy, unhappy customers.

- (CHUCKLES)

- What have you got
on Griff Springfield?

Know this woman?

- It's Taylor Perkins ―
Griff's star player.

I've already discussed
this with Christine.

- And?
- (SIGHS) Poor wee Taylor.

Look, I don't know what happened,
and I don't care.

- Well, you certainly spent a lot of
cash on a private eye for a woman who
doesn't care.

- Well, it was already
over, wasn't it?

When I hired Christine,
it didn't matter what she found.

The fact is, I hired her ―

it's not what a happy wife does.

- Why didn't you call
time on the marriage?

- Well, I intended to,
but before I could get around to it,

Griff was dead.

- Which kind of
leaves you better off.

Well, divorce, you get half;
death, you don't have to share.

- (LAUGHS)

You think I was after his money?

Everything you see
here was already mine.

Mr Hotshot Coach brought
zero to this marriage.

- But what would he leave with?
- Nothing but a jockstrap
and a can of balls.

It's called a prenup, darling.
Mine was airtight.

- So the night Griff
died, you were here.

- With Christine. She'd come
over with her case report,

stayed for dinner.

I know how this looks, all right ―

digging up the tennis
court, hiring a PI.

But Griff was a lying,
philandering prick,

with no regard for
me or my feelings.

I won't pretend ―

I won't play the grieving
widow for anyone.

- Verity's a Gibson, as in
the media magnate Gibsons,

which makes her heir to one of
New Zealand's larger fortunes.

And according to this profile, she's
made a ton of her own money too.

- And a locked and loaded
prenuptial agreement.

- Watertight. Griff was definitely
gonna be the loser, not her.

- You know, what bothers me is that
if Christina the PI is so good at her
job,

how come the only pictures she
managed to get of Griff and Taylor

are of a fully clothed
hunk at the tennis club?

- She looks kind of upset here.
Maybe they were breaking up.

- Yeah, I agree,
something's going on.

I don't think it was an affair.

(RELAXED MUSIC)

(MUSIC FADES)

Wish I hadyourbackhand.
- Just practice ―

seven hours a day, 365 days a year,
sure it'll come naturally to you
too.

- You're Taylor Perkins.

Yeah, I saw you play
that match to the death,

over four hours straight,
down at Stanley Street,

against Karolina Pliskova, right?

- That was, um...
That was two years ago.
- Amazing.

- The last time I played
in an ITF tournament.

I've been out with an injury.

- Really? Well, it must be major, to
have kept you from competing so long.

- Yeah, well, did my rotator cuff,

and I kept reinjuring it.

- And it must be tough to
come back without the coach

that you've been working
with for so long.

I'm Alexa, and I wanna talk to you

about Griff Springfield's death.

(SNEAKY MUSIC)

(MUSIC CONTINUES)

(MUSIC CONTINUES)

(MUSIC CONTINUES)

- (SCOFFS)

She was spying on us?

-Isspying on you.

That's her PI over
there on the bleachers.

Well, actually, she could
be spying onmeright now,

but she definitely
took those pictures.

- So Verity thought
that Griff and I were...

But he was old enough
to be my father.

- Strangely, that doesn't seem
to be off-putting to some men.

- Well, it is to me.
Griff was my coach since I was 9 ―

youngest-ever player to top an
ITF. I won the nationals at 18.

That was all Griff.
- Well, surely it had a
little bit to do with you.

- I just... I can't believe
that Verity would think that.

You know, Griff was
like a dad to me.

Now he's gone, and I'm supposed
to be making this big comeback.

- What about your new coach, Callum?

- He's useless. Griff used
to call him Mr Soft Serve.

- Taylor, what's going
on in these pictures?

You seem upset.

- I wasn't coping with
training that day.

I was weak. I needed to step up.

- Griff said that to you?

- That's the coach's job.

- Did he ever push you too hard?

- He made me a winner.
It's called tough love.

(SNEAKY MUSIC)

(MUSIC CONTINUES)

- Oh, hello. Um, I was here
yesterday, checking out the club.

Is this where I join up?

- No, you don't join up in
the head coach's office.

- Oh. OK. Cos I thought, um,
there might be a form, you know,

to join in here. That's
what I was looking for.

- Yeah, registration's downstairs.

- Great. I'll, uh, go straight
there and sign my life away.

It's very exciting. (GIGGLES)

- Wait. Hold on.

Beryl's off sick today,
so I'll have to do it.

- Oh, great.
- Yeah. We take credit card,
cash or bank transfer.

Follow me.

- Well, I'm now a member of
the Kingston Racquets Club.

- Whoa. What did you do, buy shares?

- And it's non-refundable.

- Leave you alone for five minutes.
- It might have been worth it.
I think I found something.

Trash file on Griff's computer
was completely empty.

- Oh, so by finding something,
you mean nothing?

- It was empty for two
days after Griff died.

- So somebody came
back and cleaned it up?
- Mm-hm.

And I found this in
Callum's desk drawer.

- Oh.

(CHUCKLES)

(HUMS)

- And welcome back, deleted files.

It looks like they're
all video clips.

- Ooh, great. Let's see 'em.
- Bring popcorn.
There's a lot of them,

and they all seem to
be the same thing.

Right, it looks like Griff was
recording her training sessions
as a way to help her.

- Square stance. Be ready.

You're not reacting fast enough.

- It's normal enough.
- I don't think anyone
would be deleting normal.

What else you got?

- Come on, get forward! Attack!
- OK.
- Hello.

- Cover and attack! Come on, Taylor!

What was that?! Come on!

- Argh!
- Ooh!
- Argh!

- Come on, don't be a
loser. Come on, Taylor,

pick yourself up and get forward!

- Oh.
- Pick yourself up and keep going!

- That's enough, Griff!
Leave her alone.

- I run this club. Don't tell
me how to train my athletes.
- This isn't training;

this is abuse, OK?
You're an old dinosaur.
- Oh, yeah, really,

Mr Summer Holiday Programme?
- Yeah. Yeah.

- Get your hand off my athlete.

- Callum!
- Don't touch me!
- No!

Callum, stop!
- Get away!

- In Callum's desk drawer, you say?
- Mm-hm.

- Well, so much for Mr Soft Serve.

- The bruise at the base of the neck
is consistent with a billiard ball.

Where did you say
you found it, again?
- Callum's desk drawer.

- And Callum was the one
who found Griff's body.

- Yeah, we looked at him at
the time, but he had an alibi.

Until now, we've had no reason
to add him to the list.

- Well, if you look at that video,
there's no love lost between him
and Griff.

- You know, top players like Taylor
Perkins, they bring in a lot of
money to coaches―

that's motive right there.
- Coach gets 10% of
whatever the player earns.

- Eh?
- Serena Williams
pulled in $130 million.

So you do the math.
- Tennis man, huh?

- WHISPERS: Serena fan.
- (GIGGLES)

- So, if Griff dies, then what
happens to his star player?

- She's automatically handed
over to Griff's 2IC, Callum.

- Not to mention all
the up-and-coming players
that Callum's inherited ―

he's running the show now.

- Madison, I think it's time we put
that tennis membership of yours to
use.

- Madison, welcome.
- I'm very excited. (CHUCKLES)

- Yeah, so, what level are
you, beginner, intermediate?
- Beginner.

You know, the friend who referred me
here used to have lessons with Griff
Springfield.

That was tragic, how he died.

- Yeah. Real sad. Uh,
so, let's get started. Hmm?

- I mean, the guy was a legend. You
must have learned so much from him.

- (SCOFFS) What,
like what not to do?

- Oh, you weren't a fan?
- I just didn't
like Griff's methods.

OK, Madison, let's see
what you can do, hmm?

(POOL BALLS CRACK)

(CONTEMPLATIVE MUSIC)

- Mind if I interrupt?

- Would it make a difference
if I said yes?

- No. I just wanted
to show you something.

- Recover and attack!
Come on, Taylor!

What was that?! Come on!

- Argh!

(SHRIEKS)

- Come on, Taylor,
pick yourself up and get forward!

- Doesn't look like
you're having much fun.

- Yeah, well, training's
not supposed to be fun.

- You're a pro athlete, I get it.

There's a lot on the line.

But that doesn't excuse this.

- No, Griff was a genius.
I was lucky to have him.

- Oh, I'm sure he convinced you
that you were nothing without him.

That's how it works, right?
It's all about control.

Taylor, this isn't tough love;

this isn't love at all.

- I hear you're coaching Taylor
Perkins now. She's a star, right?

- She could be, yeah.

- And was that always your ambition,
to coach someone like her?

- You need to be moving your feet
a bit more before you hit the ball.

- I hear that you were the
one who found Griff's body.

What were you doing
the night before?
- Guitar lesson.

- Oh, cool. And how
long are the lessons?

- An hour. Do you
usually talk this much?

- How's Taylor feeling now?
Are you guys getting on?

Whoa!

- Lesson's over.

- How did I do?

So, Callum's got quite the arm
on him. And quite the temper too.

I didn't do anything to provoke him.
Well, only what I've seen you do a
million times.

What's up?
- Well, look at these hoardings.

They've got holes in them.
- Well, it's a tennis court ―
balls probably hit 'em.

- No. Check out the letters ―

these I's are literally dotted.

(CHUCKLES) Well, that's not random ―

that's target practice.

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

(SNEAKY MUSIC)

(MUSIC CONTINUES)

(MUSIC CONTINUES)

Need a hand?
- (GASPS)

(SIGHS) I'm fine.

I did a YouTube tutorial.

- Well, that sounds
like a lot of work.

I usually find that most
people leave out a key.

- Well, he's just asking
to be broken into.

- Investigated, Christine,
not broken into.

So, why the sudden interest
in Callum? What are you after?

- Same as you ― looking
for the murder weapon.

- Oh, I already found that.
Well, at least half of it.

- So... what are you
looking for, then?

- I'll know it when I see it.

(CELL PHONE RINGS)

WHISPERS: What?
- Hey, I've been going through
Callum's hard drive, and guess what?

- WHISPERS: I'm not exactly in
a position to play charades.
What is it?

- He wasn't at guitar
lessons that night.

His phone-location services
place him at Verity's house.

- WHISPERS: Christine said that she
was at Verity's ― she's her alibi.

- Could all of them have been there?
- Verity said that the
meeting was about the case ―

the spying-on-Griff case.
- Callum wouldn't have been
in on that, so what's going on?

- I'll find out.

You were not at Verity's
the night that Griff died.

- No.

No, I wasn't. I was on
a stakeout for another client.

- Why'd you lie?

- Oh, Verity was beside herself ―

the cops were all over her.
She needed a decent alibi.

- I believe she had one.
- Callum?

How would that look to the cops, if
they knew that she was sleeping with
someone else?

- Are you absolutely certain that
they were together, at Verity's,

doing the wild thing, that night?
- Well, that's what Verity told...

Wait. Do you think they
both killed Griff together?

- That never occurred to you?

- Has Verity been playing
me this whole time?

(DOOR OPENS)

Callum's back.

- That's inconvenient.

WHISPERS: Right. If it hadn't been
for you, I would have been in and
out of here ages ago. Getin.

- WHISPERS: If it hadn't
have been for you!

WHISPERS: Oh God.
- WHISPERS: Shh.

- WHISPERS: So blue.

Mm.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

- # Tell me what...

# whatever happened to...

# Tracey...

# to Tracey...

# Oh, tell me what...

# ever happened to Tracey.

# Oh, tell me what...

# whatever happened to Tracey.

Come on, everybody, now!

# So tell me what, yeah,...

# whatever happened to

# Tracey? #

- Tracey couldn't take it
any more, and neither can I.

- Have you ever considered guitar
lessons? Could make a world of
difference.

- No, no, no, the guitar lessons was
his alibi ― clearly another poor
kid―

- What the hell are you doing in
my wardrobe, my room, my house?

- All very fair questions, Callum.

- Hello, Police?

- See ― friend of the
cops, like I told you.

- I still don't think you're allowed
to hide in someone's wardrobe
without a warrant.

- You know, if you can
forgive me for that,

I'll forgive you for lying to the
police about where you were the night
of Griff's murder.

- What?
- Yeah.

You weren't at a guitar lesson,
Callum. I think that much is obvious.

You were with Griff's wife, Verity.

The question is,
what were you two doing?

- Well, what do you think?
- Well, you could
have been having sex,

or you could have been executing a
plan to murder a man using his own
tennis ball.

- No, no. No, OK?
No. Absolutely not.

- You hated Griff.
He was bullying his players.

- And everybody else ― me just as
much as them. He talked down to me.

He mocked me every chance he could.

So I seduced his wife.
- You deleted the video of you

confronting Griff on the
court with Taylor that day.

- Yeah, because it
looked bad. I knew that.

- Where did you get this?
- I've never seen that before.

Look, I haven't. OK.

Man.

- That was the first time in my
career I have had the cops called
on me.

- You know, I find that
very difficult to believe,

given all that wrist clicking
and rattling and whatnot ―

anybody would think you'd never
had to hide in a wardrobe before.

- What about her? Where's her
warning? Where's her trespass
notice?

- I'll be getting that later.
- Ka kite, folks.

- I bet that's not
allyou get later.
- Alexa, we'll talk.

- You know, if you
weren't with Verity

the night that Griff died,
then you don't have an alibi.

- I said I was working ―
I was on a stakeout.

- Any proof of that, like witnesses?

- LAUGHS: No. I wouldn't be very
good at my job if anybody saw me.

(CHUCKLES) But I was
taking some pictures,

so there are time codes on
all the images proving that,

yes, I was outside a house
on Cheshire St until dawn.

- I'd like to see those pictures.

- No. I think our days of being in
a buddy movie are over, don't you?

I'll be conducting my own
investigation from now on.

- Hey! Come on.
There's no 'I' in team.

- No, but there's
two in 'Christine.'

(GIGGLES)

- Oh God.

Harry is so mad.

- Yeah. Great. Look, this footage of
Griff and Taylor, there's something
bothering me aboutit ―

I just can't figure out what it is.
- Obsessive.

If you're not careful,
you'll end up like me.

- Oh, hang on. You remember when
I was shooting the balls at you?

- Well, you. Didn't shoot the balls
at me, cos the tennis shooter fires
at random.

- Yeah, you had to run to
get hit, but, here ― look.

- What was that?! Come on!
- Hey!

- Oh, he's targeting her.
- Mm-hm.
- Argh!

- Which means the
Tennis Tutor launcher...

- ...is not the murder weapon.
- Mm-hm.

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

(MUSIC FADES)

- Oh, I've been meaning to sort
this all out. It's a mess.

- Why didn't you just tell
the police the truth ―

that you were with Callum
the night Griff died?

His cell phone places him here.

- Look. Callum showed up uninvited.

He wanted to offer sympathy. He
understood how hard it had been
for me,

with the gossip
about Griff's affair.

- Why did he do that?
Are you friends?

- Sure.

- Friends what sleep together?

- All right, no, not friends. He's
just a hot young coach. And it was
only the once.

- Good. Thank you. So,

Callum shows up out of the goodness
of his heart. One thing leads to
another.

- I don't have to apologise for it.

- Callum says that he seduced
you to spite Griff.

- (SCOFFS) Well,
that makes two of us.

For me, it was definitely a
revenge bonk ― nothing more.

- So why don't you just
tell the police the truth?
- Oh, Christine said it was risky.

I was already in the line
of fire, so to speak.

Well, look at that ―

the gator.

- Was it not normally kept here?
- No. This was Griff's ―
he normally kept it at the club.

What's it doing here?

(THUDDING)

- What? What?

What the hell is that?

Oh my God.
- This, my friend, is the gator,...

aka the other half
of the murder weapon.

(BOOM!)

(SHOES SQUEAK, TENNIS BALLS THUD)

- My name's on this
one three times ―

The Junior Interclub Trophy.

- How old were you
when you first won it?

- 11.

Yeah, it was my best friend's
birthday party the day before.

God, I wanted to go so bad.

Griff said no.

I won this one at Nationals.

Could barely hold my racket, my, uh,

shoulder was hurting so much.

Played for three hours
through that pain.

- That's when you blew
out your rotator cuff.

- Cried like a baby.

And Griff,... (SIGHS)

he said, 'Harden up.

'Stop snivelling.'

He liked that word.

Show any pain, any weakness,

and you were snivelling.

Why did I put up with it, Alexa?

- Because you were a kid.

Taylor, tell me about the gator.

- What about it?
- Well, that was the ball launcher

that you used all the time at
training, right? Not the Tennis
Tutor.

- Well, the Tennis Tutor
can only go up to 110K ―

top players, they can
serve at 170, even 200.

- But the Gator's top
speed was only 110.

- (CHUCKLES) Not after Griff
messed with the settings ―

I've got the bruises to prove it.

- And he kept it here the whole
time ― he never took it home?

- No. We never trained at his place.

- Right.

- Is it true that Verity is turning
Griff's tennis court into a rose
garden?

- I believe so.

Mads, we've gotta check an alibi.

- (GASPS)
- Hi.

Hi, I'm Madison, Alexa's friend.

- Yes, I know who you are.
- Look, I hope I'm not being pushy,

but I'm a really big
fan of your work.

No, seriously, there's nothing
I hate more than a cheater,

and I'd really love to
get into your line of work.

Would you consider
giving me some advice?

- Why don't you ask
your friend Alexa?
- In case you hadn't noticed,

Alexa's a little bit lacking
in the people-skills department.

- Well, since you mention it,
not exactly mentor material.

- I know. Right?
- (BOTH LAUGH)

- Can I buy you a coffee?
- Sure.

- So in a nutshell, top tips ―

what's the secret to your success?

- Well, number one, be subtle.

- Locked my keys in. (CHUCKLES)

- Two ― you have to
be highly organised.

Juggling multiple cases,
systems are absolutely key.

Mm. Trust no one.

Assume that everyone is a liar.

And you have to be alert. You have
to keep your wits about you at all
times.

Excuse me, handsome.
Which way to the ladies' room?

- Uh, right through there.

Whoa! That's not cool.
- Look, I'm not stealing ―

I'm just looking.
- You can't do that.
What if she comes back?

Nope ― not gonna watch.

(SNEAKY MUSIC)

(BIRDS SQUAWK)

- Guess what?

You stole her camera?
- Yeah, I want you to
check something on it.

- With the whole camera? You could
have just taken the memory card.

- Just relax, Nana. She'll get it
back. Now, what special features
does this thing have?

- Wait. I got news. I snooped into
Christine's wallet while she was in
the loo.

- And you give me grief
about stealing a camera?

- No, I just looked at the wallet;
I didn't take it. One's illegal,
and the other is―

- ...dodgy.
- It's quite dodgy, yes,

but there was a credit card
with a different name on it,

Christine Kavorsky.

- You run it through
the police database?
- Of course.

Nothing came up, though,
so I did a deep dive ―

dug up old school records
for Christine Kavorsky.

Christine Knox is her married name.

Here's Christine Kavorsky in a
couple of old community newspaper
stories.

I'm not sure if they're
relevant, though.

- Look again, Madison.

Game, set and match.

Christine,

I'm so glad you got my message.

- What's this about?
- Well, I've solved everything,

so I just wanted you to be here when
I put it all in a box and stuck a bow
on it.

- And why didn't you just say that?
- Are you still on Verity's payroll?

Because she's going to be very
annoyed when she learns that she's

been paying the killer
to catch the killer.

She's gonna want a refund.

- (LAUGHS)

Is that your big breakthrough,
that you think I killed Griff?

- Yes. And I think that you set
your client up to take the fall.

- (LAUGHS)
- You encouraged her
to lie to the police,

and then you hid half the
murder weapon at her house

and half right here
in Callum's desk ―

that's two suspects for one.

- Alexa Crowe,

the great detective,...

except for the little detail that
I was nowhere near the crime scene
that night.

I was on a stakeout,
and I have proof of that.

You stole my camera.
- Well, I needed to check your alibi,

which is that you were taking a
lot of pictures with that sucker,

looking for a wayward husband
visiting his mistress.

And I must confess, I was
a bit mystified at first

as to why you were taking
all these photos if,

well, nothing happened.

And then I realised, well, it's
not about the images, is it?

It's about the timecode. Your camera
has a time-lapse function.

You set it up to snap
pictures every 15 minutes,

while you went to pay Griff a visit.

- My job is to catch
cheating husbands ―

killing them is hardly
a great business model.

- You never saw any evidence of Griff
cheating ― you saw something else.

Something much more triggering.

The brutal way Griff treated Taylor,

it brought your own demons
rushing back for you.

Gymnastics was your passion.

And you were good at it ―
Olympic material, apparently.

Back when you were
Christine Kavorsky,

not Christine Knox.

The dream ended one day,
when you broke both your wrists

on a dismount from the uneven bars.

But the coach made you carry on,

and so the damage never
had a chance to heal,

and the pain and the weakness
ended your career.

But it stuck with you to this day.

And I found the wrist
guards in your car.

- So a ruined childhood dream ―

you think that's enough,
do you, for me to kill someone?

- Maybe not on its own.

I mean, the rage and the hurt,
that a coach would push you too hard,

and then discard you like trash.

Well, you've been carrying
that around a long time.

But you saw it happening again,

and you saw it happening
to someone else,

to Taylor Perkins.

You knew Griff's routine by now ―

he was alone at the club
that night, packing up.

You turned Griff's machine on him and

gave him a taste of his own medicine.

Tennis-ball bruises,
but a billiard ball ―

shot to the point of the neck
to strike the carotid artery?

(BOOM!)

Fatal.

- WHISPERS: What
would you have done?

Huh? Would you have walked away?

Would you have let
that poor girl suffer?

We idolise these men

because they make us believe
we are nothing without them.

Our talent, our wins ―
they just take them from us.

They take and they take
until we're broken...

and the money's gone
and the hope's gone.

And then they're gone too,
on to the next poor, wretched,

talented child,
to do it all over again.

- My God, there's other ways to
have gone about that, Christine.

You ― you could have
been a powerhouse.

You could have spoken up
for other child athletes,

like you and like Taylor Perkins.

- Griff was a monster...

and a parasite.

Tell me he didn't get
what he deserved.

- Rule number one, Christine ―

you hate the game, not the player.

(POIGNANT MUSIC)

(HOPEFUL MUSIC)

- So, why are we back at
the scene of the crime?

- Because I paid a bomb for this
membership, and I'm getting my
money's worth.

- Ooh.

- ANNA CODDINGTON: # We climbed
a mountain right to the top

# and waited for the sun to land.

- Whoa!
- Yes! 40-love ― in your faces.

- (CACKLES)
- Oh, that's great sportsmanship (!)

- Oh, you've had enough, bro.

- I don't know who this new
Madison is, but Iloveher.

- I guess you guys want
a drinks break now, huh?

- Not a chance.
- Actually, howaboutthat drink?

- You can quench your
thirst on my serve, bro!
- (CHUCKLES)

- ALL: Oh!

- All right, no more Mr Nice Guys.
- Bring it on.

- ANNA CODDINGTON: # Wherever
you are, that's where I wanna be.

# I wanna be with you.

# Near or far, that's
where I'm gonna be ―

# I wanna be with you.

# Wherever you are,
that's where I wanna be.

# I wanna be with you.

# Near or far, that's
where I'm gonna be ―

# I wanna be with you. #

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

- Yeah, I've heard you're a player.
- Is that an invitation?

- 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
havehimnear the place.

- My real-estate agent walked into
this house one dark night and never
left.

- WHISPERS: Current
owner thinks it's cursed.

- You seriously want us
to investigate a ghost?

- You are meant to go away from
a freaky noise, not towards it.

- WHISPERS: Come back here, ghostie!