Only me back home,
Mr. Sanderson!
Mr. Sanderson, are you in there?
Are you in there?
Mr. Sanderson?
(gasps)
Dear God!
WOMAN: I can't open the door!
(Spanish guitar playing)
(knocking)
Olé!
- I'm looking for Dottie.
- And you are?
DOTTIE: It's all right,
Mr. Butler. I know who she is.
- What are you doing here?
- I need to see Miss Fisher.
- Miss Fisher? What for?
- None of your business.
Well, it is my business
when you come to my work...
If you must know,
one of my friends is in trouble.
- You can't turn up...
- I need to see her!
- Dot, what is it?
- I'm Dot's sister, Lola.
Since when was
your name Lola?
I'm here because
a dirty rotten cop
has murdered my friend.
You'd better come through
to the parlor, then.
Excuse me.
Is Detective Inspector
Jack Robinson still in?
Ah, what's it regarding?
The Deputy Commissioner
of Police.
Well, was he expecting you?
Well, I doubt it.
Rosie.
Jack, it's Father.
He's in trouble.
He's been out cold since they
brought him into the hospital.
Doctors assure me
he's going to be fine,
apart from a few scratches.
What have they told
you about the woman?
Nothing, except that she was
found in the library with him
and that she'd died
sometime earlier.
Oh, Jack. Please, Jack.
He needs your help.
HUGH: Hang on.
What about Hawthorn, sir?
I thought they were in charge
of the investigation.
Not anymore, Collins.
We're taking over.
Hello, Jack.
Oh, come on. You'd be
disappointed if I didn't show.
Make sure they're headed
to City South morgue.
Yes, sir.
- CROSSLEY: Inspector Robinson.
- Morning, Sergeant.
Who'd have thought
all that do-gooding,
trying to clean this town,
and the Deputy Commissioner
winds up drunk
in the arms of a dead floozy.
It's not looking too good,
is it?
I'll let you know
once I solve the case.
Ah, my photographs
and any relevant notes.
I don't know
who you think you are, Robinson.
I'm the officer who outranks
you, Crossley.
Take it up with Russell Street.
HUGH: Now,
according to these notes,
the Deputy Commissioner
was found in this chair
with two glasses
still on the table.
- Licorice.
- Aniseed.
The Hawthorns have already sent
the glasses off for examination.
I want the decanter tested, too.
Yes, sir.
Now, how do you come to be
at my crime scene?
It's my crime scene, too.
I've been asked to investigate
on behalf of the victim.
How? We haven't established
her identity yet.
Well, I can't help being
one step ahead.
She was known as Lavinia,
formerly Sarah Holloway
of Bundaberg, Queensland.
She was a hostess at
the Imperial Club.
I've been retained
by her colleague, Lola,
who is also a close associate
of Dot's.
- Her sister.
- (Hugh clears his throat)
Excuse me, sir. Your...
The Deputy Commissioner's
daughter has just arrived.
Miss... Miss Phryne Fisher.
Miss Rosie ...
Sanderson will do now, Jack.
Rosie is my wife.
Well, ah, former... former wife.
I'm so glad to finally meet you,
Miss Fisher.
So, the Deputy Commissioner
is your former father-in-law?
- That's right.
- Oh. Hmm.
Who else had access
to your father's port?
Only Mrs. Blunt,
but she's part of the family.
JACK: I'm afraid I'll still need
to question her.
ROSIE: I'll go and find her.
Do you think your father-in-law
was enjoying
the privileges of his position
a little too carnally?
- Well, that's one theory.
- But you have another?
Cleaning up this city's
not for the faint hearted.
Sanderson's made plenty of
enemies
and they're not confined
to the streets.
You're suggesting he was framed?
MRS. BLUNT: No, we've had
no proper house visitors
since Wednesday. That's when
Mr. Sanderson's daughter
dines with him.
There was the baker, of course,
the electrical man
come to check the meter,
and the usual delivery
from the fishmonger.
What time did you leave the
Flinders Street Picture House
last night, Mrs. Blunt?
The film finished
at ten o'clock.
We'll need to see
your admission ticket, then.
Well, if it wasn't for me
telephoning the police
to come and break the door down,
he wouldn't even be with us.
Mrs. Blunt? Why did
the police have to break in?
Surely you have
your own set of keys?
Well, I tried them,
but it was no use.
The door was bolted
from the inside.
PHRYNE: Somebody locked
that door, Jack.
There were only two people
in the room.
JACK: But murdering that girl,
then locking himself
in with her. Makes no sense.
Murder alone makes no sense,
but perhaps
an accidental killing.
A clandestine dalliance
gone wrong.
The cord around the neck, Jack.
La petite mort.
The little death of ecstasy
becomes the real thing.
Not murder, manslaughter.
Then overwhelming remorse,
self-loathing
and a final attempt
to obliterate it all
with a good dose of whatever it
was that smelled of aniseed.
- Suicide?
- But the maid returns.
I've known George Sanderson
close to 15 years.
You can't let your judgment be
clouded by personal involvement.
And when it comes down to it,
Jack,
how well can one man
really know another?
MAN: Inspector, what can
you tell the papers
about your investigation?
It's continuing.
How long will
you protect your own?
Stand back, please. Get back.
Is the Deputy Commissioner
on the way out,
or will this hypocrisy be swept
under the carpet?
The public want answers,
Inspector.
(sighs) Mrs. Blunt said goodbye.
She was off to some nonsense
at the pictures.
I poured myself a night cap,
as I always do.
That's all I can remember,
till I woke up here
and those idiots started
blathering
about a dead woman
lying on my Persian rug.
- The Imperial Club, you said?
- That's right.
JACK: Did you know her?
In passing, perhaps?
No. Jack.
I've worked hard to try and stop
these bludgers and criminals
from living off the earnings
of these unfortunate women.
Do you really think that I would
frequent places like that?
JACK: You ordered a raid there
six months ago,
along with raids
on two other high-end brothels.
A man was shot, wasn't he?
It was an armed raid.
These things happen.
Clearly I have been set up
by someone.
That's what you get
when you ruffle feathers.
Mrs. Blunt said the library door
was locked when she came back.
Obviously someone locked
it when they left.
It was bolted from the inside.
That's impossible.
She had to call for help
to break the door down, George.
So presumably I did it.
After murdering
a women I've never met.
- This doesn't make any sense.
- Father? Is this a bad time?
JACK: No, no, no,
we've just finished.
Uh, Jack,
you remember Sidney Fletcher?
Yes, yes, of course.
You're Rosie's cousin.
George's godson.
No, we're not related by blood.
Stroke of luck, as it turns out.
So how's the patient been?
JACK: Rosie mentioned
you were the last person
to see George yesterday.
How did he seem?
Well, uh, we attempted
a round of golf,
but now that I think about it,
he wasn't himself at all.
Triple bogeyed the ninth hole.
I assume
that's not a good thing.
No, no, it's not.
Lady detective.
I've no doubt you're a lady.
As to the second part of
your claim...
You remain to be convinced.
That's the way I like it.
A colleague of Lavinia's
has asked me to investigate
her murder.
Lola.
It's no secret who killed
Lavinia.
She was found dead
in his house.
Madam Lyon, did
the Deputy Commissioner
ever visit Lavinia at your club?
He may be a hypocrite,
Miss Fisher,
but I'm sure he's not stupid.
This is the man who calls my
establishment morally corrupt.
Who declares war
on our clubs.
But I'm quite prepared
to believe
he indulges his dark desires
in secret.
He wouldn't be the first.
Do you think he had a private
arrangement with Lavinia?
My girls understand
the exclusive nature
of the club is their protection.
- So you don't know?
- They know better than to talk.
Not to the police.
Not even to me.
All the more reason
to let me investigate.
I'm very discreet.
I'm sorry.
I want to see justice done
for that poor girl
as much as anyone,
but not at the expense
of my business.
Or the rest of my staff.
Thank you for the tea, my dear.
Let me find Lavinia's killer.
What do you with the information
is your affair.
Doesn't she deserve that?
Perhaps your girls would feel
more comfortable
confiding in one of their own,
if you'd consider taking me on.
That depends, Miss Fisher.
How good is your fan dance?
Tell Carlos
we need him back immediately!
(women shouting)
Get back! Get back! Get back!
I want the results
on that decanter of port
as soon as they're ready.
(phone rings)
Should be some time today, sir.
City South Police.
Ah, ah, yes, sir.
Of course, sir.
Sir, it's Chief
Commissioner Hall.
Detective Inspector
Jack Robinson here.
Yes, Commissioner.
No, he's still in the hospital,
sir.
Yes, I...
No, I intend to, sir.
Yes, I'll bear that in mind,
sir. Good day.
He wants to know
why I haven't arrested
his Deputy Commissioner.
Phew! I don't think
he's the only one, sir.
According to my colleague
at the Melbourne,
Sanderson was treated
for minor lacerations
and an opiate overdose.
What kind of opiate?
Thank you. Laudanum.
Sydenham's Laudanum,
to be precise.
Enough to flatten an elephant.
DOT: Are you sure you want these
fans as big as you said, Miss?
You won't be able to see
the rest of your costume.
Oh, it's fine, Dot. I want
people to focus on the feathers.
I'll head down to the Imperial
Club to familiarize myself.
Have Cec and Bert deliver them
when you've finished.
Of course, Miss.
You said the victim was
bleeding.
Doesn't that contradict
the idea of an assignation?
She had a bloodied nose.
That could be due
to strangulation.
The block in venous drainage
causes capillary hemorrhage.
And the increase in blood
pressure
can bring on a bloody nose
as well.
So my more amorous theory
could still be right.
(approaching rhythmic feet)
Ah, Carlos.
(sighs)
Have you ever fan danced before,
Miss Fisher?
No, but I've seen it done.
How hard can it be?
Besides, you have
a full three hours to turn me
into a fully fledged showgirl,
perhaps with a Spanish accent?
Or maybe we could make it two
and have an hour to recover.
Members?
Ah, must have left it at home.
This do?
(jazz music playing)
You two know
how to clear a room.
Though I do love
a man in uniform.
All those buttons to undo.
I'm Lola.
How can I help you, gentlemen?
Ah, Madam Lyon, I assume.
I'm Detective Inspector
Jack Robinson.
Police officers tend to put our
guests off their drinks.
It's murder I'm interested in,
Madam, not vice.
Take a statement
from the doorman.
- Yes, sir.
- This way.
I need to ask some questions
about the death
of Miss Sarah Holloway.
Lavinia.
No one saw anything.
We were very busy last night.
- That's right.
- We were busy.
I have a very complicated
relationship
with the police, Inspector.
- I'm sure you do.
- And I learnt long ago
the only way to protect
my business
and keep my girls safe
is to trust no one.
Except
you didn't keep Lavinia safe.
I can't help you, Inspector.
But if you don't lock up
the right person soon,
you may come to regret it.
Why don't you let us take those
up for you, Dottie?
- We'd be happy to.
- No, thank you.
I need to see if Miss Fisher's
happy with them.
- Think she'll be right?
- Let's give her five minutes.
So did you see the victim
leave the building that night?
Not that I recall.
But you are on the
door all night?
All night. That's me job.
Miss Williams, what...
What are you doing here?
- What are they?
- I'm delivering some fans.
- For one of the dancers?
- Upstairs.
Miss? No. Um...
Uh, please don't, Miss. Don't...
(clears throat) Excuse me.
What about the victim's
customers?
Any regulars? Anyone unusual?
We get all sorts in here.
Doctors, judges, politicians.
If I was you,
I'd suspect the lot of 'em.
Thank you.
I want a complete list
of the club's employees
from the police file
on the Sanderson raid.
Call each of the women
into the station separately,
including Madam Lyon.
- Yes, sir.
- Did he give you anything?
Not much, sir.
There you go.
The official club register.
Please tell Madam Lyon we'll
return it as soon as possible.
JACK: Let's get that uniform
out of here, Collins.
- Ooh.
- Leaving already?
HUGH: Dottie. Dottie, no, I...
MADAM LYON:
Ladies and gentlemen,
please welcome to the stage,
all the way
from the Follies B'erget,
Miss Lulu Loreeta.
(applause)
(seductive music)
(wolf whistle)
(applause)
DOT: I thought I told you two
to stay in the car. Come on.
HUGH: Dottie, wait. Dottie!
I'm sorry, sir.
It seems Miss Fisher's
performance has upset Dot.
I suspect there's more to it
than that, Collins.
That young lady
who liked your buttons...
I didn't touch her.
I believe
it's Miss Williams's sister.
Dottie!
(Spanish accent)
Gracias, Lena.
- Lulu, isn't it?
- Mm-hmm.
Were you very close
with Lavinia?
We all were.
She'd do anything for anyone.
Nothing I can do about it now,
though.
I just wish she'd stuck
to the rules.
That policeman.
The one they found with her.
Do you think he was a customer?
I don't know for sure,
but she boasted to me
about a private appointment
with the high end of town.
Oh. A dangerous game.
Look, I warned her,
but she wouldn't listen.
At least you tried, huh?
I don't know why she took
the risk.
- I'm set, thanks.
- You have been here how long?
Few months. Beats the docks.
Better view.
Lola tells me you're from Spain.
Seville. Then to Paris, Sydney.
I heard great things
of the Imperial Club, but now,
this poor girl last night,
I'm not so sure.
Shocking.
The policeman,
the one who kill her,
Lola says he made those raids.
I reckon there's probably more
to the story than that.
Well, if there is more trouble
to come, you will warn me, yes?
Those raids weren't about
closing us down.
We were just the excuse.
Those cops were
looking for dirt.
- What dirt is this?
- The club register.
But they never got it.
Not the last time, anyway.
And they won't get much joy
with that one
Madam Lyon gave
those cops tonight, either.
JACK: It's useless.
The city's full of John Smiths.
The doorman implied there was
a second register.
He claims that's what the raid
was all about,
the police trying to get
their hands on it.
That would explain why this
is a waste of time.
You made better headway
than I did.
But I'm fairly convinced fan
feathers wouldn't work for me.
Have you seen this?
"Police Protect Sanderson."
You even get a mention.
Seems everyone wants
Sanderson locked up,
including the Commissioner.
PHRYNE: Now, where's the result
on that decanter?
Was Mac right?
Both the decanter and the glass
were adulterated.
But if he was trying to poison
himself,
surely he'd just put it
into his own glass.
Unless he was trying
to poison Lavinia as well.
Do you know
if she drank the port?
The coroner will let us know
first thing in the morning.
Good. See you at the morgue.
A few feathers missing, but
otherwise, a successful evening.
Miss, am I right in thinking
that show dancing
isn't all on that's on offer
at Madam Lyon's
gentleman's club?
It's all that's on offer
from me.
There's no shame attached
to indulging in
the sensual pleasures of life.
I'm just not that interested
in getting paid for it.
What about Nell? Lola?
Dot, women have supported
themselves this way
since before antiquity.
Not in my family.
How am I going
to explain it to Hugh?
He won't judge you by what
your sister does for a living.
- Wouldn't blame him if he did.
- I would.
Perhaps this is an opportunity
to test Hugh's Christian values.
- Like forgiveness.
- I might have to test my own.
I'm happy to forgive Nell
from afar.
She'll never pay you, Miss.
I know what she's like,
and you've gone to all
this trouble with feathers
and dancing
and being Mexican and...
Spanish, Dot.
But, Dot,
no matter what she does,
she's still your sister.
And sisters are a precious
commodity, believe me.
Sir!
Hey!
You all right?
Rego, Collins, 847 121.
(groans)
Thanks for coming.
For all the birthdays I forgot.
Probably every one.
Thank you.
It looks better
than that moth-eaten thing
you used to take to church.
That Bible is very precious
to me.
Mother gave it to me
when I was five years old.
She didn't give me a Bible
when I was five.
Nell, I know it isn't easy,
but...
I could help you find
some other kind of work.
Why scrub floors when
I can earn double the money
in less than half the time?
What you're doing isn't right.
I'm trying to help you, Nell.
What if I don't need
your help?
What if I don't want
to be saved?
Lavinia was saved,
and look what happened to her.
Why do you always have
to spoil everything?
Because while you're at someone
else's beck and call,
I'm earning enough money
to do whatever I like.
I get to dance and smoke gaspers
and drink champagne
with rich gentlemen.
And some of them even like me
enough to buy me presents.
You're breaking Mother's heart.
Our mother is her
own worst enemy.
Don't you dare talk about her!
You think
that my life is worse than hers?
Six kids, never any break.
Not even enough money to buy
herself a new dress.
I bet Dad would come home
and expect his dues to be paid
whether she felt like it or not.
At least I get paid
for my trouble.
Now you've done it.
What happened to your trousers?
- I fell over.
- Liar.
Hugh said someone tried
to kill you.
Rubbish. They drove around me
after they tried
to knock me out.
It was only a warning.
- From whom?
- I'm making a list.
Not a drop of alcohol
in her system.
There goes my double poisoning
murder suicide theory.
She was certainly dressed
for business,
apart from this crucifix.
You'd think that would put
the punters off.
JACK: They found skin underneath
some of her fingernails,
indicating she put up a fight.
You'd better take a closer look
at the Deputy Commissioner's
lacerations.
And I need another word
with Lola.
Any idea how you got them?
None whatsoever.
George, there was skin found
underneath the victim's nails.
I did not kill that woman, Jack.
It wasn't me.
- I'm sorry, George.
- You just do your job.
George Sanderson,
I'm arresting you
for the murder
of Sarah Holloway.
(furniture scraping)
(lock clicking)
(kissing)
- (gasps)
- Excuse me.
Lucky you weren't Madam Lyon.
She doesn't let us mix
with the male staff.
I thought I locked the door.
You didn't tell who I am,
I hope?
Of course not.
Maurie's a good man, though.
He just talks tough.
- We're about to get engaged.
- Congratulations.
Hardly spoke a word to me
when I first met him.
His brother had
just been killed.
Why were you looking for me,
anyway?
Was Lavinia particularly
devout?
She was wearing a gold cross.
Well, you can blame
our Father Blackburn for that.
Rolls up with his pamphlets,
like all the other wowsers
and do-gooders.
Madam Lyon even threatened
to shoot him.
Clearly you don't share
your sister's fondness
for the church.
Well, I'm sure
it helps some people.
But if you ask me, he wanted to
save more than Lavinia's soul.
Jack, it's me. It seems that
Lavinia only recently found God,
by way of a Catholic priest
called Blackburn.
JACK: I'm looking
for Father Blackburn.
That's me.
Habit I picked up
as chaplain in the Navy.
JACK: I'm here about Lavinia.
When was
the last time you saw her?
BLACKBURN: A number of days ago.
Did she mention anything
to indicate
she might be in danger?
They're all in danger,
Inspector.
Exploited, abused, degraded.
You've been quite vocal
in your opinions, Father.
The Deputy Commissioner
being a particular target.
George Sanderson claims
his raids will help save them.
Tell me how.
How did you try and help
Lavinia?
I helped her
find salvation in God.
She was making changes
in her life.
What kind of changes?
The kind Madam Lyon would not be
happy with.
(jazz music)
Hey, hombre, follow me.
You're right
about Father Blackburn.
He seems to have taken
a very personal interest
in Lavinia before her death.
How personal?
He convinced her
to mend her ways.
- You mean leave?
- Mm-hmm.
Do you think Madam Lyon knew?
She wouldn't have been impressed
to lose Lavinia to the church.
I suspect Madam Lyon's
the kind of woman
who likes to settle a score.
But with a double murder?
(giggling)
- Is taken!
- Sorry.
- That was close.
- It still is.
- Give me a good head start.
- As always.
MRS BLUNT: I'm afraid
it's been through the wash.
But you can see I was there,
Constable.
Like I said, the 8,30 session
of Kid Stakes.
- Ah.
- Have you seen it?
No, but I hear it's very good.
Oh, it had me on the edge
of my seat.
For a while, I was afraid
that Fatty Finn
wasn't going to be able to find
his goat, Hector, in time.
Mind you, I know goat racing is
illegal in Woolloomooloo.
Right, thanks for coming in,
Mrs. Blunt.
And did he...
Actually, no, don't tell me.
- Yes...
- Collins.
Oh, the electrical company
called in again today.
Said they knew nothing
about that other fellow.
- What fellow?
- I told you.
He came to check
the meter two days ago.
Can you give me a description?
(door creaking)
Hugh said something
about an electrical man.
Who Melbourne Electric Supply
Company have no record of.
You think he doctored the port?
Possibly. Then came back here
after it took effect that night,
tried to murder two people
and then disappeared
like Houdini
from a room with a locked window
and a tiny chimney.
Not even a secret bookcase?
This is iron, isn't it?
Rather than brass.
These scratches on the outside.
That could have been the maid,
or the Constable who broke in.
It's very faint,
but it looks
as if something flat
has been dragged across it.
- The lock's been magnetized.
- What?
This bolt on the inside
could have been bolted
from the outside
using a very strong magnet.
In fact, I'm confident enough
to say that it was.
- That's remarkable.
- Thank you.
You should see what I can do
with a garter.
So who was it?
Someone who wanted
Sanderson dead.
Or Lavinia, or both.
Someone
who might have a special mention
in Madam Lyon's second register.
You're free to go, George.
- How?
- You were right.
Someone else locked you
in the library that night.
And you won't rest
till you find out who.
You're a good cop, Jack.
And you were a good son-in-law.
PHRYNE: Psst!
I know Madam Lyon keeps
some kind of record
of her more
confidential patrons.
A secret register.
Have you ever seen it?
Don't you want to know
who killed Lavinia?
She was your friend.
What if someone else dies?
It's not a book of names,
exactly.
What is it?
She gets us to nick things
from the bigwigs.
Business cards, engraved
cufflinks, that sort of thing.
There's even a cop's badge.
I haven't seen it,
but the rumor is that it belongs
to the Chief Commissioner.
- Where does she keep it?
- No.
It's just between us, Lola.
She need never know.
Promise?
Look up there. There's a room.
It connects
to Madam Lyon's office.
But you won't get through
the door.
It's solid metal, with
a lock like a safe.
PHRYNE: Got you.
(hook clanks)
(pants)
MADAM LYON: You're trespassing,
Miss Fisher.
I did not let you into my club
to have you go creeping around
behind my back.
Tell me where that box
is and I won't need to.
What are you after? Looking
to make a profit on the side?
No.
I'm trying to catch a murderer.
And you haven't found them yet.
Quite a way down, isn't it?
This is a position
I much prefer.
That box contains information
I need.
- Hand it over.
- It's not here.
Would you rather I asked
the police to do a search?
It's not here, because
someone stole it from me.
Who?
Lavinia.
She was my favorite.
Hardworking, uncomplaining.
And I was ill,
bedridden with influenza
when the police raided us.
I had to place my trust
in somebody.
I gave Lavinia the combination.
Why didn't you tell me
the box was stolen?
If word gets out
it's floating around,
I'll finish up face down
in the Yarra.
I was hoping you'd lead
me to whoever has it.
When did you discover
the box was gone?
Before or after
Lavinia was murdered?
- Three days before.
- And you didn't accuse her?
No, because I didn't think
it was her.
I didn't want to believe
she'd betray me.
Lena, she want
to help her friend. Speak.
You asked if Lavinia had
any special visitors.
Anyone out of the ordinary,
unexpected,
on the night of the murder.
Well, Father Blackburn was
always expected,
but Burke's not meant to let him
in. He didn't stay long.
Brought his pamphlets about
some charity he keeps flogging.
Actually, he looked
like he'd been on the grog.
- What time?
- Must have been around ten?
Did he speak to Lavinia?
He wanted to,
but I told him she was gone.
You didn't think
to mention this earlier?
Lena, what else
you say to him?
What's going on? Are you a cop?
HUGH: Excuse me, sir.
Can I have a word?
The coroner's called again.
He said microscopic examination
of the skin underneath
the victim's fingernails
shows it was dyed
with permanent ink.
Ink? The murderer had a tattoo.
Blackburn was in the Navy.
Excuse me, Miss Barnett.
My constable will show you out.
Show Mrs. Blunt Father
Blackburn's photograph, Collins.
I want to know if he looks like
her electrical man.
Yes, sir.
BLACKBURN: I dropped off some
reading material for the women.
A witness says
you'd been drinking.
The doorman at the Imperial
wouldn't let me in,
so I stopped at a pub nearby.
After hours.
But you
got into the club somehow.
Yes. When I came back at ten
o'clock, no one was on the door.
Why were you asking
after Lavinia?
- I was concerned about her.
- Why?
I was trying
to help the poor girl.
You knew she was going to see
Sanderson, didn't you?
- Did you follow her?
- No.
You're under suspicion
of murder, Father.
I said I didn't follow her.
She told me she could get
her hands on this box.
It was a golden opportunity
to expose them all.
We were going straight
to the newspapers.
But she betrayed you.
She took it to Sanderson.
She needed money,
and she turned to the man
you loathed most to get it.
- Did you kill Lavinia, Father?
- No, I didn't.
- I tried to help her.
- PHRYNE: Roll up your sleeves.
Lavinia's killer has a tattoo.
Do it.
Scratches. Where are they?
BUTLER: Dorothy!
Morning! Oh, beautiful job.
Except there's still a piece
missing from the bottom.
Even better.
We'll plant it with a pansy.
Do you think Nell will be
forgiven?
For her sins, I mean,
not by me.
Well, Mary Magdalene was
a fallen woman.
Jesus had no trouble
forgiving her.
Oh, you've forgotten
something.
Lavinia?
That's the poor girl who died.
St. Margaret's.
I knew it. The only thing my
sister's ever given me
and it's stolen
from a dead woman.
It's the thought that counts,
Dorothy.
Excuse me, sir.
The files on Sanderson's raids.
- Thank you, Collins.
- Who's this man?
- He looks familiar.
- His name's Berkowicz.
He was a driver at the Dark
Rose, a club in Hardware Lane.
He was fatally shot by police.
Miss, I found this in the Bible
Nell gave me.
I think it's important. Look.
"Bring what you have
to 32 Cheltenham Avenue
tomorrow night, 11 o'clock."
Signed S.
We have the evidence,
George.
We know you were in contact
with the murdered girl.
Yes. She called me.
I didn't go chasing after her,
if that's what you think.
Why didn't you tell me before?
I've been fending off
half this town
to make sure you're treated
justly,
and you've been keeping
that from me.
She didn't leave a name.
Told me that she had information
that I might find interesting
to help close down the brothels.
She wanted money for it.
I was waiting for her
to call again.
I did not write that note.
You must tell me everything.
I swear to you, Jack.
I have not seen that before.
Someone else must have known
Lavinia had made
an offer to Sanderson,
and tried to murder them both.
Perhaps someone whose reputation
was at stake
if their private affairs
became public.
What time did Mrs. Blunt return
to the house?
She left at eight o'clock
and returned just after 11.
Lavinia disappeared some
time just before ten,
and if Sanderson
took his port at nine,
he would have been out to it
by the time she arrived.
So whoever killed Lavinia
was there waiting for her.
- That's who he looks like.
- Who, Berkowicz?
- I told you, he's dead.
- He looks like Maurie Burke.
The doorman
at the Imperial Club.
Burke and Berkowicz.
Don't they look alike to you?
Lola said Maurie had lost a
brother. Burke was on the door
when Father Blackburn tried
to get in at 9,30,
but he wasn't there when
Blackburn came back at ten.
Which could have put Burke's
departure ahead of Lavinia's.
Easily.
Lola, where's Maurie?
- Isn't he on the door?
- He doesn't appear to be.
We need to ask Mr. Burke
some questions about Lavinia.
He's told
you everything he knows.
Maurie's a good man.
I know he is.
Then give him the chance
to prove that to us.
Lola, if you have any idea where
Maurie is, you have to tell us.
He said he was going
to the shipyards,
collecting some payment
for a job.
Call Sanderson for back up.
Make sure we're armed.
HUGH: Stop! Police, stop!
Stop! Police, stop!
- Police, stop!
- Get back.
It's no use, Maurie.
We know it all.
You don't know anything.
You knew
where Lavinia was headed
the night she disappeared. You
set it up. You typed that note
so you knew she was headed
to Sanderson's.
JACK: You deceived yourself into
the house to poison the port.
You don't know the full story.
You drugged Sanderson
and waited for Lavinia to show.
I don't feel sorry
for that whore.
She put her own at risk
to make money.
PHRYNE: But it wasn't Lavinia
you wanted to punish, was it?
It was Sanderson.
He killed
the only family I had left.
You don't know who shot Peter,
but you blame him.
So you strangle
an innocent woman
and set Sanderson up
with her murder,
gouging his arm to match
your own injuries
and locking the door to prevent
anyone from saving him.
What did you do with the box?
That's all you're interested in,
isn't it?
Extortion, blackmail. You're no
better than the rest of them.
- What are you talking about?
- You're under arrest.
No. I won't let you.
Get your hands
out of your pocket!
If that's the game
you're playing...
(gunshot)
I thought he was armed.
Lavinia's attempt to escape.
PHRYNE: "In loving memory,
Pete."
No, he didn't. He wouldn't.
Maurie wasn't a killer.
Uh...
I'm afraid Mr. Burke
confessed before his death.
No. Dot!
(cries)
All he needed was kindness.
I'm just so relieved for Father.
I don't know how to thank you,
Jack.
It was a joint effort.
I accused you once
of a lack of ambition.
I wanted you to climb the ladder
like Father.
But I can see what you like
about where you are.
You're a different man
these days, Jack.
You've got your fight back.
Probably just that
lack of ambition.
Or escaping
a marriage that didn't suit you.
It's war what didn't suit me.
- (knocking)
- Excuse me.
Are you ready, my love?
- Yes, I'm coming.
- No hurry.
You know, I didn't get a chance
to tell you amid all the fuss,
but Sidney and I are engaged.
It's very different
second time round.
I wish you all the best.
There was at least 500 pounds
in Burke's pocket.
No doubt payment he received
for the box which is
still missing.
I assume someone paid money
for whatever was in it.
Perhaps the same person who made
you trip over
and tear your trousers?
Impressive that a man with as
little education as Burke
could concoct
such an elaborate plan.
Well, you can't assume education
and intelligence
go hand in hand.
No, of course not.
Rosie's fiancé,
for example,
Sidney Fletcher,
highly educated.
Also extremely good looking,
very charming
and admirably tall.
You're waving a red rag
at a bull, Miss Fisher.
But I'm no longer in that ring.
Olé.