Yes, Uncle.
(applause)
(sighs)
Did you see him?
He was mugging upstage.
If he tries that tonight...
They don't appreciate
a true artist, Mr Copland.
- Do you smell that?
- Like flowers.
(crackling)
Dorothea?
It can't be.
No!
Stay away.
I shouldn't be long.
Do you want to come in?
Oh, it's him.
Dot?
Yes?
- I'll see you inside.
- Mm-hm.
MAN: A bit of greasepaint
will cover it, sir.
But you must hurry. The curtain
goes up in 20 minutes!
I'm fine. I'm fine, don't fuss.
Thank you, Lin.
I'm in your debt.
- As am I.
- No, please.
Happy to be of service.
Phryne!
She hangs
upon the cheek of night
like a rich jewel
in an Ethiop's ear.
You're a little old for Romeo,
Bart.
Nonsense! Henry Irving was 45
when he played Romeo
at the Lyceum.
Besides, with you as my Juliet,
age is immaterial.
Miss Phryne Fisher,
may I present Lin Chung.
Mr Lin.
He was kind enough to come
to the aid of our leading man,
who was set upon by thugs
outside the theatre.
I'm sure anyone
would have done the same.
A pleasure to meet you,
Miss Fisher.
Good luck with the show.
You're looking ravishing
as always, dear girl.
You haven't changed a bit.
Hurry, Miss Leila.
15 minutes and counting.
Chookas, Mr Tarrant.
Love the dress!
(chuckles)
Unless you want me
to miss the curtain,
you'll have to tell me
why you invited me.
Quite right.
Tell me, Phryne,
are they true,
the rumors about you?
Usually, I'm afraid.
That you're a detective?
That too.
I should have guessed
free theatre tickets
would come with a price tag.
We have a ghost.
A ghost?
It's not just any ghost.
It's Dorothea Curtis.
I've heard that name.
Dorothea
was a promising soprano.
She died 20 years ago.
The last role she ever played
was Rosie,
in Ruddigore, in this theatre.
She died at her own hand
on opening night.
I found her
in the dressing room.
She'd stabbed herself
through the heart.
- That's unusual.
- She was an actress.
If one has to play out
a death scene,
Juliet's the classic choice.
MAN: Mr Tarrant,
five minute call! Break a leg!
Bart...
I may have a reputation
for taking on difficult cases
but even I can't fix a ghost.
All this talk of specters
will pass as soon
as the curtain rises.
Trust me.
I can't believe
we're sitting so close.
Close enough to get a good look
at the handsome Gwilym Evans.
Is he handsome?
You hadn't noticed?
It's his talent I admire.
Which I'm sure is formidable.
If you want some advice,
I'd hide your admiration
of Mr Gwilym Evans' talents
when your constable arrives.
Hugh's coming?
It was a surprise
for your birthday.
I thought you'd be pleased.
Sorry I'm late.
Constable Collins asked me
to send his apologies.
His football game
ended in a brawl.
He ended up arresting
half the opposing team.
I didn't pick you as a Gilbert
and Sullivan fan, Inspector.
Constable Collins
neglected to mention
the tickets
were for an operetta.
A pleasant surprise, then.
One for which he will most
definitely pay the price.
(music starts)
(applause)
Perfect as always, pumpkin.
Evans.
House is full to bursting.
- Break a leg.
- Indeed.
And I'll break yours
if you upstage me tonight.
This costume is not right.
Hansen!
Parbuckle me,
if you ain't the loveliest gal
I ever set eyes on.
There, I can't say
fairer than that, can I?
No!
The question is,
is it meet that a total stranger
should thus express himself?
Now he's in love with her?
But they've only just met.
Where's your sense of romance,
Jack?
♪ In sailing
o'er life's ocean wide ♪
♪ Your heart
should be your only guide ♪
♪ With summer sea
and favoring wind ♪
♪ Yourself in port
you'll surely find ♪
♪ My heart says
you're the prosperous lot ♪
♪ With acres wide ♪
♪ You mean
to settle all you've got ♪
♪ Upon your bride... ♪
Argh!
So now she's getting
engaged to the other fellow?
- ♪ This heart of mine... ♪
- Ssh!
♪ Sailing
o'er life's ocean wide ♪
♪ No doubt your heart
should be your guide ♪
♪ But it is awkward
when you find ♪
♪ A heart, a heart
that does not know its mind ♪
♪ A heart... ♪
♪ A heart
that does not know its mind ♪
(applause)
Is that what you'd call
a modern interpretation?
No.
Walter Copland looked like
he was dying on stage.
Absolutely. Gwilym Evans
really should be the lead.
Phryne, come quickly!
Do you think anyone noticed
we went off book?
Interval did come a tad early.
How's the patient?
Can't someone
just give Walter a tonic?
Is this a usual occurrence?
Mr Copland!
There's a doctor down the lane.
If Copland isn't up for it,
I know his part. I'll step up.
And who plays Richard?
Bradford knows all the parts.
- But...
- He may not be much to look at.
But he can sing a damn sight
better than Copland.
That's just for rehearsal, sir.
I couldn't step out
on the stage.
Nonsense, this is an emergency.
Look at him.
He's three sheets to the wind.
Is he?
JACK:
You can hold off on that doctor.
Looks like your man's dead.
JACK: Any enemies?
Surely you don't suspect murder?
We won't know
until we get the autopsy
but contracted pupils,
sudden coma.
Could indicate poison.
If the press get hold of this,
I'm ruined.
Are you alright?
I'm... I'm perfectly fine.
Thank you once again
for the theatre tickets.
It seems we won't be seeing
the second act.
PHRYNE: It's a murder, Jack.
Surely you don't expect me
to just walk out.
One can only hope.
I need to look after
the interests of my client.
Mr Tarrant employed me
this evening
to look into some strange
occurrences in the theatre.
I engaged Miss Fisher
right before
the curtain went up.
How convenient.
I know this is a terrible time
for everyone.
- Just ghastly.
- Not now, Gwilym!
It's just
don't you think Bradford
should get Walter's costume back
before they remove the body?
Whoever replaces him
will need it.
Actors, Jack. You need somebody
who understands their language
and I speak fluent thespian.
Ah. I'll stumble through.
Thanks all the same.
Come on, ladies.
Stand by in the wings, please.
Not quite
the birthday celebration
I had planned for you, Dot.
Not to worry, miss.
Hardly your fault
that poor man died.
GWILYM: I saved your show
tonight. You owe me.
BART:
I'll decide in the morning.
I'm sorry. In all the ruction
we haven't yet had the pleasure.
PHRYNE: No, we haven't.
- Gwilym Evans.
- Phryne Fisher, Mr Evans.
There were some questions
I was hoping I might ask you.
Anything to help a lady.
But first,
may I present Miss Williams?
She is a great admirer
of your talents.
Charmed.
Do you think
I might have an autograph?
- Dressing room.
- Yes, sir.
It's for my mother.
Her name is Dot.
Mr Evans. Shall we?
I was going to have a word
to Miss Fisher.
Oh, er...
Miss Fisher has to leave.
Did you see him? He spoke to me!
And that voice!
- Those eyes.
- May I?
Different hand.
Sorry, miss?
I said Gwilym Evans
has a lovely hand.
I heard tell of young ladies
being snatched from around here,
miss.
You mustn't believe everything
you read in The Argus.
There's absolutely nothing
to be...
MAN: Argh!
...afraid of.
Well, that's just rude.
I do approve
of a man who can fight
and still maintain
his sartorial elegance.
Shall we?
- Miss?
- Come along, Dot.
Miss...
I am sorry.
She wants to protect me
from the decadence of the west.
A losing battle,
I'm guessing.
Dot, try one of these.
Your skills with the chopsticks
are very impressive.
So are your fighting skills.
Sometimes in my business
it is necessary to employ them.
- And your business is?
- I'm an importer.
May I ask what you import?
Silk.
I didn't realize the
silk business was so dangerous.
Two fights in one evening.
Welcome to Chinatown.
There are those few here who
would rather rob their own kind
than make an honest living.
So that's what
the skirmish was about?
An attempt to rob you?
(speaks Mandarin)
And what were you doing
in the laneways at this hour?
I'm always interested
when somebody
avoids answering a question.
As you know,
we were at the theatre,
until one of the actors
up and died.
Your friend, Walter Copland.
I only met him tonight.
Mr Lin, you'll get me hooked.
BART: Thank you for coming,
darling girl.
A little earlier
than I'm used to.
Did the inspector
keep you up half the night?
Oh, he did.
I expect he asked
who might stand to gain
from Walter Copland's death?
He told me I shouldn't speak
to you about the case.
And?
I told him
there was no love lost
between Mr Copland and Mr Evans.
Don't let Dot hear you say that.
She worships the man.
And the reason
for their conflict?
(sighs)
Nothing apart from the obvious.
Two rival actors
competing for the same roles.
Creditors.
Painters, stage hands,
orchestra, even the actors.
Oddly enough,
they all expect to be paid.
What, they're not in it
for the love of theatre?
Only me.
- Are you quite alright?
- I've been better, my dear.
The truth is, Miss Fisher,
I have everything
riding on this show.
Every last cracker.
If Ruddigore goes down, I'm
ruined. That's the end of me.
Apparently, there's some tension
between your Mr Evans
and Mr Copland.
I can't think what about.
Unless it was jealousy
over Mr Evans's talent.
Could it be jealousy of the
attentions of Miss Esperance?
That's impossible, miss.
How so?
Well, Miss Esperance
was engaged to Mr Copland.
Mr Evans would never dally
with the affections
of an engaged lady.
Really?
- They were engaged?
- Mm.
Table Talk magazine
does not lie.
- I wondered when you'd be back.
- Did you miss me?
I never get a chance
to miss you.
It feels as if
you're in my office
every second day.
To what do I owe the pleasure?
A development in our case.
- Our case?
- I expect the actors
let slip about the ghost.
They did. Don't tell me
you suspect the ghost?
Might be a little difficult
to clap an apparition in irons.
I was thinking about who faked
the apparition's appearance.
And given that it's a woman...
You suspect Miss Esperance?
At the time, I didn't question
her indifference
to her fellow actor's collapse.
But is that the behavior
of a fiancée?
Doing Ruddigore
gave Walter and I
a chance to work together.
We didn't like to be apart.
So how long
have you been engaged?
Oh, two, is it?
Just before we began rehearsals.
Yes, two months.
I would have thought most
engaged women
could count out the minutes.
It wasn't my idea.
What wasn't?
It was just for an article
in Table Talk.
The engagement
was supposed to sell tickets.
Then you weren't really engaged?
So much of what we do
is make believe.
It was just one more thing
to pretend.
Mr Tarrant tells us
it was your idea
to mount a production
of Ruddigore.
Yes.
I wrote to him in England.
I thought it would be
the perfect opportunity
for him to return home
after all those years away.
Did you see the ghost?
No. When we finally heard
about it I looked for her
but she'd vanished.
Where were you
when the ghost appeared?
Downstage left.
We were in the middle
of a dress rehearsal.
So Walter was the only one
who saw it?
No. His dresser Hansen
was with him.
Following Walter
around like a puppy.
It appeared out of thin air.
Walter recognized her.
He'd worked with Dorothea
20 years ago.
He told her to stay away.
This note?
Yes, that's it. Yes.
Rather unusual, isn't it,
for a ghost to leave behind
such a palpable item
like a note?
I'm sure I have no idea
what ghosts do or don't do.
They don't usually do anything,
given they don't exist.
Oh, ye of little faith.
- It wasn't just the note.
- I beg your pardon?
That the ghost left behind.
When I returned
from the dressing room,
the sand had vanished.
Not entirely.
Do you have any idea who'd
want to murder Walter Copland?
I shouldn't say but Mr Evans
spent all last night
rehearsing Walter's role.
I hear you're taking on
Mr Copland's role.
The show must go on.
You weren't exactly on the best
of terms with Mr Copland.
The man was a ham.
Yes, it's a pity he's passed on
but I'm not going to pretend
he was the world's
greatest actor.
He could hardly stumble on stage
without a little help.
What kind of help?
The sort of help
usually found in a bottle.
You saw him take a drink
before he went on stage?
I didn't but my dresser Bradford
saw everything.
He made a great show
of pretending
there was something wrong
with his costume.
But there wasn't?
It was just an excuse
to have another tipple.
And what was it he was drinking?
You would have to ask
his dresser.
He was the keeper of the flask.
JACK: I believe Mr Copland
had a drink that night.
Walter would never compromise
his performance.
You're his dresser.
It's understandable
you'd be loyal to Mr Copland.
You'd know what he was carrying.
You're responsible
for his costume.
Not just his costume.
The dresser is the actor's ally,
his closest friend.
We're trying to find out
what happened to your friend.
Is there anything
you can tell us
that might help us
get to the truth?
He had a drink
before the play opened?
It was for his nerves,
to calm him before he went on.
And who filled the flask?
I did.
I can only assume you were
planning to tell me about this?
No planning involved, Jack.
You know me.
You really can't go round
removing evidence from a corpse.
I'll try and remember that
next time.
Am I forgiven?
Provisionally.
So you think the dresser did it?
He had access to the flask.
If he was poisoned, it
seems likely he's the culprit.
Isn't it a bit easy,
given that everybody knew
he carried Copland's booze?
Quite right.
It must have been the ghost.
DOT: Are you sure
this is a good idea, miss?
Walter Copland was killed
with an overdose of opium
and I need to find out
if there's any connection
with our Mr Lin Chung.
What makes you think there is?
For a start,
Walter Copland's hands
showed signs
he'd used an opium pipe.
Add to that his scrape
with some thugs in an alleyway,
only to be saved by Lin Chung.
At the very least,
our Chinese friend
knows more than he's letting on.
Would you care for champagne,
Mr Lin?
Yes, please.
You didn't get a chance
to tell me about the silk trade.
There's not much to tell.
I'm guessing
my overly curious nature
is not
a virtue in your culture.
I've always enjoyed explorations
beyond my culture.
Here's to exploration.
I do have one question for you.
After a meal like that,
it would be rude
not to answer one question.
Did Walter Copland
ever buy silk from you or...
...anything else?
Anything else?
Opium?
You take me
for an opium trader?
I'm asking.
Mr Copland
came to the same conclusion.
I'm Chinese and so it follows
that I must know
where to buy opium from.
That was why he followed me
outside the theatre.
Why were you at the theatre?
To show Mr Tarrant silks
for his next production,
The Mikado.
So you didn't help
Walter Copland obtain opium?
I'm very sorry
to disappoint you
but I am an importer of silk
and silk alone.
Now if you'll excuse me,
it's late.
It's early.
My apologies
if I've offended you.
Thank you for your hospitality
but I have
an early meeting tomorrow.
BUTLER:
Miss Williams, visitor for you.
- Oh!
- HUGH: Hello, Dot.
Er, sorry to bother.
I just wanted
to pop in before work
to bring you this.
It's, er, your birthday.
I know it's a little bit late
but...
Thank you.
I hope you like them.
They're...lovely.
They're very...useful.
Thought it might make up for me
missing out
on the theatre the other night.
Oh. Ow.
Sorry.
Kiss it better?
Constable Collins,
how delightful!
Er, Miss Phryne.
Sorry, Hugh was...
- A birthday gift.
- For our walks.
How romantic.
I have some darning to do.
Er, yes, me too.
No, not darning, but
other important police work.
Did the inspector
find Walter Copland's flask?
He... I...
I can't say, miss.
And were there traces of opium?
I'm not one for card games
but a little advice.
Don't ever play poker.
(whispers) If the inspector
asks, I didn't breathe a word.
You didn't have to, dear Hugh.
I can read you like a book.
Speaking of books,
I'm in a delicate situation
and I'd like your opinion.
The book was sent to me
as a gift.
Obviously it has artistic merit
but I'd hate to discover
it was in breach of the Obscene
and Indecent Publications Act.
I... I...
I suppose I could take
a look at it for you.
You might enjoy it.
There's an excellent chapter
on kissing.
- A whole chapter on kissing?
- Oh yes.
When it comes to seduction,
the East have a few thousand
years' head start on us.
Er, Miss Phryne?
What is it, Dot?
Sorry to trouble you
but Mrs Lin is here.
Says she wants to speak
with you.
Why don't you let her in?
She won't come in. I've asked.
My apologies, Mrs Lin.
Please, join us.
You are Fox Spirit.
Fox Spirits take man property
and waste it.
I assure you, I have no interest
in anyone else's property.
Lin Chung is promised
to be married
to a good family in Shanghai.
Leave him alone or you will be
cursed until your dying day.
Fox Spirit.
I quite like the sound of that.
Oh, here's one.
"Actress Takes Own Life."
- What date?
- June 15th 1908.
Sounds about right.
Read on, Macduff.
"Dorothea Curtis, while
performing in the opening night
of Gilbert and Sullivan's
Ruddigore,
was found dead by her own hand
in her dressing room."
Well found, old thing.
There we go.
"Dorothea had been wooed
by two suitors."
"One of them was a rather
handsome fellow
by the name
of Maurice Sheffield."
And the other?
Well, well.
PHRYNE: Why didn't you tell me
you and Dorothea
were sweethearts?
- Did you love her?
- Passionately.
But that wasn't enough.
Who was Maurice Sheffield?
Dorothea and I
had just finished Penzance.
The world was at our feet.
We'd both been offered
roles in London.
She decided not to come.
She retired from the stage
for a year!
While I was away,
she was won over by Sheffield.
When I came back,
she was engaged to him.
Then the three of us
were cast in Ruddigore.
But it became clear
that Dorothea and I
still had feelings.
You got back together?
I wasn't going to let her
get away again.
I asked her to marry me, to
break it off with Sheffield.
I'd wager Sheffield
wasn't thrilled.
Dorothea said she'd give me
her answer the night we opened.
But instead she er...
She sent me this note.
"My darling Bart,
I cannot go on."
"Please forgive me."
The ghost's hand
matches Dorothea's.
This is a punishment!
I should never
have gone to London.
I should have stayed.
This is where I found her.
She was late for an entrance.
I ran back,
swung open the door...
Do you have any notion of how I
might contact Maurice Sheffield?
He gave up the theatre,
as far as I know.
Her death broke both our hearts.
Did Dorothea have any family?
A cousin.
Her name was...
Mobbs.
Miss Fisher.
Inspector! What brings
you back to the theatre?
- A development in the case.
- Do tell.
It turns out the beneficiary
of Walter Copland's will
is his dresser Mr Hansen.
I wouldn't get too excited
if I were you.
Inheriting an actor's estate
is not exactly winning
the Melbourne Cup.
What do you expect
he'll inherit?
A fake moustache
and a stick of greasepaint?
It seems Walter Copland
was that rare thing,
an actor with independent means.
He came
from a well-to-do family.
- (knocking)
- Open up, Hansen!
Oh, I'm sorry to disturb.
I was actually looking
for Mr Hansen.
Well, he's not here.
This is Mr Evans' room now.
- So Hansen's been let go?
- I wouldn't know.
GWILYM: Bradford, my hat!
(weary) Yes, my lord and master.
No, I move down left
and you follow.
That may be the way
Walter did it.
Enough! I will come back
when you are ready to rehearse.
Do me a favor, Miss Fisher?
With pleasure.
I thought you didn't like
operetta.
I didn't. But I do now.
You, er, just follow along
as best you can.
Where's my mark?
Right here.
Mistress Rose.
Master Robin.
Do you smell hyacinths?
(creaking)
You see, that's not...
LEILA: Oh my God, look out!
Phryne?
Phryne.
Slowly.
That's it.
- PHRYNE: Gwilym?
- You were very lucky, my dear.
I'm afraid Gwilym not quite so.
(screams)
It was Dorothea, wasn't it?
Miss Esperance, there is no such
thing as ghosts.
This is just what happened
to Walter and now Gwilym!
There, there.
I know it's terrible
but we're going
to get through this. We must.
I smelt hyacinths
just before the sandbag dropped.
My men will search
the whole theatre.
Yes, yes, of course.
- How's your head?
- It'll be fine.
I just need a moment.
(crackling)
Not again.
What do you want?
(footsteps)
Must you sneak around?
- I heard something.
- So did I. In the fly tower.
We found the rope
for the counterweight.
It was frayed
all the way round.
Looks like an accident.
- A very convenient one.
- I agree.
- Did you smell it?
- The flowers?
It's hyacinths.
Now I really can't let you
out of my sight.
Why go to all the trouble
of faking a ghost?
It didn't look fake to me.
Well, who stands to benefit?
Is it to close down the show?
You know how superstitious
actors are.
Kill the leads
and you kill the production.
Had to be Hansen.
Even if he killed Copland
for the money,
why kill Gwilym
and why threaten me?
Wait, Jack, I know him.
Wrong neighborhood for sneaking
about in the shadows.
I am aware of the neighborhood.
Inspector Robinson, Mr Lin.
I was on my way to the theatre
in the hope you would be there.
Perhaps you'd like to join me
for supper.
Miss Fisher was on her way home.
Actually, Miss Fisher
is feeling a tad peckish.
I'd appreciate it
if you saw the lady safely home.
You have my word.
Miss Fisher?
I understand
my grandmother paid you a visit.
She's a charming woman,
your grandmother.
I've never heard her described
that way before.
She told me
you are to be married.
The marriage is arranged.
It is between our families.
I've never even met the girl.
My family's been importing silk
for three generations.
Our business isn't what it was.
The family my grandmother wants
me to marry into is the Hus.
They're very powerful
but they need respectability.
So a marriage of convenience
to solve
both families' problems.
She's in Shanghai, waiting
for me to agree to the contract.
You have a problem
with an arranged marriage?
My problem is marrying into
a family that deals in opium.
My father smoked opium.
Once he took to the pipe,
he was consumed by it.
First his family, business,
honor and then his life
all turned to smoke.
I'm sorry.
It is a dirty business and
I want nothing to do with it.
But your granny is keen for you
to marry into the Hu family?
I had hoped to recover
my family's wealth
but at what cost?
To marry or not to marry?
That is the question.
While you decide,
I suppose there's nothing
to stop us taking supper?
Nothing at all.
I'm very sorry
about Gwilym Evans, Dot.
Why would
anyone want to hurt him?
Perhaps it wasn't him
they were aiming for.
Miss?
At the time I was wearing
part of Miss Esperance's
costume.
You think
he was killed by mistake?
There's one way to find out.
I think it's time we became
better acquainted
with our ghost.
Dorothea Curtis
has a cousin, a Mrs Mobbs.
Doesn't seem right, miss,
to spy on people.
It's all in the service
of truth.
You'll have to stop
being such a goody two shoes.
DOT: Leila?
Curiouser and curiouser,
said Alice.
Alice who, miss?
I think we can assume
we have the right Mrs Mobbs.
Don't often get the chance
to meet Leila's friends
from the theatre.
Don't know why Bart
would put on Ruddigore again.
You think it's cursed?
No, just not very good.
It's not exactly HMS Pinafore,
is it?
You were an actress?
Oh, I flirted with the stage.
It didn't return my affections.
No,
I was busy with other things.
- Like bringing up Leila?
- Mm.
Were you in the production
of Ruddigore with Dorothea?
No, I'd retired by then.
And that would have been after
Dorothea's year away
from the stage.
Was her absence
for the age-old reason?
I'm sorry,
I didn't catch your name.
Phryne Fisher.
So,
what does a lady detective do?
Stir up trouble?
I'm investigating the murders
at the theatre.
And the ghost.
Leila didn't mention the ghost?
Dorothea's ghost,
haunting the theatre.
Oh!
No wonder the poor girl's
been such a wreck.
Dorothea gave you her baby
to raise as your own.
Mm.
How did you know?
Her reaction to the ghost
was the clincher.
I told her the truth
about her mother
when she turned 18.
That's when she decided to be
an actress herself.
So the poor girl
thinks the ghost is her mother?
How horrible.
Do you have any idea
of the whereabouts
of Maurice Sheffield?
Maurice was a charmer. He...
Not very practical, though.
He tried to talk our Dorothea
into acting in the cinema.
Thought he was
Cecil bloody B. DeMille.
- Really?
- Mm.
Leila doesn't know anything
about her father. Not from me.
She doesn't know
who her father is?
There's already been enough
misery from that story.
- But it's Bart Tarrant?
- Mm.
Do you think there
is the slightest chance
the ghost really is Dorothea?
She always did like an encore.
If Leila is Dorothea's daughter,
it doesn't change anything.
It gives her
a reason to seek revenge.
On?
On the theatre
that took her mother's life.
Or perhaps she blames Bart.
Leila encouraged him
to mount Ruddigore.
Now he's ruined.
(knocking)
- Do we have him?
- He's in the interview room.
We picked up Hansen
at Spencer Street.
He was on the Albury train.
I killed him.
PHRYNE: Gwilym Evans?
No, no, Walter.
I killed Walter.
I told him it would end badly.
How could it go on
the way it was going?
You mean his opium habit?
He developed a taste for it
a few months back.
At first it was the occasional
visit to Little Lonsdale Street.
I would have to drag him out
to get him ready for the show.
But Walter wasn't
the most agreeable person.
He could be insulting so he was
no longer welcome in the dens.
That's why he needed someone
to buy the opium for him.
Walter thought the Chinaman
at the theatre could help.
Mr Lin.
Your Chinaman?
That just led to a punch-up.
Walter was beside himself.
He couldn't concentrate,
couldn't remember his lines.
To get him through I convinced
the doctor down the lane
to give me laudanum.
And that worked?
I thought I followed
the doctor's instructions
to the letter
but I must have put too much in.
I tried to help but I couldn't.
I should have found a way.
But you have to believe me.
I would never do anything to
hurt Walter, never.
He meant the world to me.
I didn't mean to kill him.
(cries)
I didn't mean to kill him.
I checked with Mac.
The amount of laudanum
Hansen gave him
wasn't anywhere near
a lethal dose.
We only have Hansen's word
on the amount.
He clearly loved the man.
Why kill him?
Copland's estate
might be motivation enough.
As far as I'm concerned,
he can cool his heels in a cell
until a better suspect
comes along.
Anyone could have spiked
that flask
and put in enough
laudanum to do him in.
Do you have someone
in particular in mind?
Anyone who knew
Copland's dirty little secret.
You forgot to mention
your new friend sells opium.
Walter tried to buy opium
from some thugs in a laneway.
Lin Chung stepped in when things
got ugly.
That's quite a story.
It sounds like
you're questioning my judgment.
No, no, I'm questioning
your taste in men.
I didn't know you had such
a talent for the dramatic.
DOT: What are you doing?
I'm trying to create a ghost.
- Any luck?
- Not so far.
Thank goodness
for small mercies.
No, I'm stumped.
If I were enough of a detective
I'd work it out.
I think you're far and away
the best detective in the world,
miss.
Thank you, Dot.
Perhaps there are some cases
that can't be solved.
Time just runs out
and there are no clues left.
Oh, Dot,
why didn't I see it before?
You are brilliant!
I am?
As we all know,
this theatre has had more than
its fair share of misfortune
over the past few days.
The source of that misfortune
has been the ghost
of Dorothea Curtis,
who I will now summon before us.
It's Dorothea!
I can almost touch her.
But I'm sorry to say
there is no ghost,
just trickery.
It's a thin curtain
of falling sand.
Dot gave me the idea.
Like sand
running through an hour glass.
A scene from the one motion
picture Dorothea ever made
is projected
on to the falling sand.
All very clever but who did it?
Someone who knew Dorothea
very well.
No, I loved her.
It wasn't Bart.
(crackling)
(everyone talks at once)
Dorothea, it's you!
It's really you!
You left me, my love.
You... You left me behind.
I had so much to tell you
but I never had the chance.
I had your child
and you never knew.
What? A child?
The killer is someone
who kept Dorothea's letters
and could imitate
her handwriting.
Someone who had full access
to the theatre,
enabling him to set up
the projector,
and to spike
Walter Copland's flask
with a lethal dose of laudanum.
Maurice Sheffield.
Sheffield? Is that you?
It's a trick, sir.
Someone stop this!
That's not his only crime.
I didn't kill myself.
- You wrote that suicide note.
- What?
That's ridiculous!
You can't believe this!
You're the only one
who could have faked the ghost.
You, who photographed Dorothea's
one foray into the cinema,
a picture that never saw
the light of day.
No!
Argh!
I should have killed you
all those years ago
when I had the chance.
- Why did you come back?
- He stole her from me.
I tried to put it behind me,
I did.
And then he comes back
from London like he just did
and puts on Ruddigore.
So you murder two innocent men?
I wanted him ruined.
His leading man, dead on
opening night, he'd be finished.
PHRYNE: And Gwilym Evans?
That one was meant for you.
She was mine!
I killed her
so as you'd never have her.
Oh, you look so like her.
PHRYNE: That's because
she's Dorothea's daughter, Bart.
And yours too.
Is this true?
I thought playing Rose would
bring me closer to my mother.
I never imagined it
would bring a father too.
Thinking of Gwilym Evans?
This is where he stood and sang
just a few days ago.
Did you... Did you like him?
I didn't even know him.
Dotty?
You're so beautiful.
I got your note.
I thought you should know.
I agreed to the marriage.
Congratulations.
But I wanted to explain.
There's no explanation
necessary.
Nonetheless, you should know
I have my reasons.
Which I'm sure are honorable.
What my father lost,
I hope to regain.
And your new family alliance
will bring you that?
We provide the Hu family
with respectability
and they provide us
with their financial resources.
And their opium.
The Hu family
trade in many things
and once I am in control,
I decide what is imported.
Is it that simple?
There is a Chinese proverb.
The reed which bends
to the breeze does not break.
And eventually that reed
will stand tall.
You're an idealist, Miss Phryne
Fisher, although you hide it.
Guilty as charged.
To ideals.
And your Shanghai bride.
JACK: Congratulations.
Flattery from a policeman?
You'll turn my head,
Jack Robinson.
But there is one thing
you didn't figure out.
And that is?
My aversion to operetta.
You know I like a mystery.
Let me see.
A bad experience on the stage?
Pirates of Penzance.
(laughs)
The reviewer thought my
performance as the major general
was underwhelming.
Why don't you let me
judge for myself?
I can't remember a word of it.
What rot. Once you've learned
one of those patter songs
it's in there for good.
I'm more of a Shakespeare man.
The stage is all yours.
Age cannot wither her,
nor custom stale
her infinite variety.
Other women
cloy the appetites they feed,
but she makes hungry
where most she satisfies.
Perhaps a career in the theatre
beckons after all, Inspector.
Think I'll stick to crime.