Original subtitles

(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!