02x01 - m*rder Most Scandalous

[bunniefuu]

(Keys jangle)

Only me back home, Mr Sanderson!

Mr Sanderson, are you in there?

Are you in there?

Mr Sanderson!

(Gasps)

Oh, God!

I can't open the door!

♪ Theme music ♪
♪ Flamenco music ♪

Ole!

I'm looking for Dottie Williams.

And you are?

It's alright, Mr Butler.

I know who she is.

What are you doing here, Nancy -

I need to see Miss Fisher.

Miss Fisher? What do you need to see Miss Fisher for?

It's none of your business, alright?

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 just 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 m*rder*d my friend.

You'd better come through to the parlour, 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.

(Door opens)

Rosie.

Jack, it's father.

He's in trouble.

He's been out cold since they brought him into the hospital.

The 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 d*ed sometime earlier.

Oh, Jack.

Please, Jack.

He needs your help.

Hang on, what about Hawthorn, sir?

I thought they were in charge of this investigation.

Not anymore, Collins.

We're taking over.

(Car horn sounds)

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.

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.

Now according to these notes, the Deputy Commissioner was found in this chair with two glasses still on the table.

Liquorice.

Aniseed.

Hawthorn 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 behind 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 close associate of Dot's.

(Whispers) Her sister.

Ahem!

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.

I'm afraid I'll still need to question her.

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?

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.

Somebody locked that door, Jack.

And there were only two people in the room.

Murdering that girl, then locking himself in the room with her, makes no sense.

m*rder alone makes no sense, but... perhaps an accidental k*lling.

A clandestine dalliance gone wrong.

The cord around the neck, Jack.

La petite mort.

The little death of ecstasy becomes... the real thing.

Not m*rder, 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.

su1c1de?

But the maid returns before the job is done.

I've known George Sanderson close to 15 years.

You can't let your judgement be clouded by personal involvement.

And when it comes down to it, Jack, how well can one man really know another?

Morning, Inspector.

What can you tell the papers about your investigation?

It's continuing.

How long will you be protecting 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 nightcap, 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.

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?

You ordered a raid there six months ago, along with raids on two other high end brothels.

A man was sh*t, 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 to the house.

Well, 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 woman I've never met.

This doesn't make any sense.

Father?

Oh, is this a bad time?

No, no, no, we've just finished.

Ah, 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?

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 m*rder.

Lola.

It's no secret who k*lled 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 w*r 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 k*ller.

What do you with the information is your affair.

Doesn't she deserve that?

Perhaps your girls would feel more comfortable in confiding in one of their own, if you consider taking me on.

That depends, Miss Fisher.

How good is your fan dance?

(Whispers) Tell Carlos we need him back immediately!

(Shouting and jeering)

Get back!

Get back, get back!

I want the results of the decanter of port as soon as they're ready.

(Phone rings)

Yes, sir.

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.

Phwoar! 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.

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 familiarise myself and you 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 haemorrhage.

And the increase in blood pressure can bring on a blood nose as well.

So my more amorous theory could still be right.

(Rhythmic tapping on door)

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 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?

♪ Swing music 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 m*rder 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 learned long ago that 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 them up for you, Dottie?

We'd be happy to.

No, thank you. I need to see if Miss Fisher's happy with them.

You 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. Ah, please don't, Miss.

Don't...

Ahem.

What about the victim's customers?

Any regulars? Anyone unusual?

We've got all sorts in here.

Doctors, judges, politicians.

If I was you, I'd suspect the lot of 'em.

Thank you.

♪ Slow-tempo, exotic music ♪

(Music stops, light applause)

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.

Let's get that uniform out of here, Collins.

Ooh.

Leaving already?

Dottie.

Dottie, no, I...

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, all the way from the Follies Bergere, Miss Lulu Loreeta.

♪ Slow, sultry music ♪

(Wolf-whistle)

(Whistling)

(Cheering)

(Wolf-whistle)

(Applause)

(Whistling, cheering)

I thought I told you two to stay in the car.

Come on.

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' sister.

(Engine starts)

Dottie!

Gracias, Lena.

Lulu, isn't it?

(In Spanish accent) 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 find 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 try, 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 k*ll 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.

It's useless.

The city's full of John Smiths.

The doorman implied there's 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 one's a waste of time.

You made better headway than I did.

Though 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.

Now where's the results 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 laudanum 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?

Surely 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.

(Engine starts)

(Door closes)

Ugh!

(Tyres screech)

Sir! Hey!

You right?

Rego, Collins - 847 121. Oh!

Thanks for coming.

For all the birthdays I forgot.

Probably every one.

Thank you.

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?

Because what you're doing isn't right.

I'm trying to help you, Nell -

And 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 our mother -

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.

(Door opens)

(Door closes)

What happened to your trousers?

I fell over.

Liar.

Hugh said someone tried to k*ll 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 m*rder-su1c1de theory.

She was certainly dressed for business, apart from this crucifix.

You'd think that would put the punters off.

And 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 k*ll that woman, Jack.

It wasn't me.

I'm sorry, George.

You just do your job.

George Sanderson, I'm arresting you for the m*rder of Sarah Holloway.

(Floorboards creak)

(Lock clicks)

(Kissing)

(Gasps)

(In Spanish accent) 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 him 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 k*lled.

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 sh**t 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 Lavinia only recently found God, by way of a Catholic priest called Blackburn.

I'm looking for Father Blackburn.

That's me.

Habit I picked up as chaplain in the Navy.

I'm here about Lavinia.

When was the last time you saw her?

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 of Police 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 ♪

(Indistinct chatter)

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?

Enough to convince her to mend her ways.

You mean leave?

Mm.

Do you think Madam Lyon knew?

She wouldn't have been impressed to lose Lavinia to the church on top of her moonlighting.

I suspect Madam Lyon's the kind of woman who likes to settle a score.

But with a double m*rder?

(Giggling)

(In Spanish accent) Is taken!

Sorry.

That was close.

It still is.

Give me a good head start.

As always.

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.

(Phone rings)

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, and 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 closes)

Hugh said something about an electrical man.

A man the Melbourne Electric Supply Company have no record of.

You think he doctored the port?

Possibly.

Then he came back here after it took effect that night, tried to m*rder 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 magnetised.

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?

Clearly someone who wanted Sanderson dead.

Or Lavinia, or both.

Someone who might have a special mention in Madam Lyon's second register.

(Keys rattle)

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.

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 k*lled 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 rumour 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.

Got you.

(Clang!)

(Gasps)

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 m*rder*r.

And you haven't found them yet.

Quite a way down, is it?

(Birds fly past)

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 favourite.

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?

Because 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 now.

When did you discover the box was gone?

Before or after Lavinia was m*rder*d?

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.

(In Spanish accent) 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 m*rder.

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?

It must have been around ten.

Did he speak to Lavinia?

He wanted to, but I told him she was gone.

And you didn't think to mention this earlier?

Lena, what else you say to him?

What's going on? Are you a cop?

(Door opens)

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 m*rder*r had a tattoo.

Blackburn was in the Navy.

Excuse me, Miss Barnett, my constable will show you out.

Show Mrs Blunt Father Blackburn's newspaper photograph, Collins.

I want to know if he looks like her electrical man.

Yes, sir.

I just 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 m*rder, 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 k*ll Lavinia, Father?

No, I didn't.

I tried to help her.

Roll up your sleeves.

Lavinia's k*ller has a tattoo.

Do it.

Scratches. Where are they?

Dorothy!

Morning!

Ooh, 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 d*ed.

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 sh*t, 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 m*rder*d 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 m*rder 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 Sanderson's 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 well and truly out to it by the time she arrived.

So whoever k*lled Lavinia was there waiting for her.

That's who he looks like.

Who, Berkowicz?

I told you, he's dead.

But 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, and 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 10:00.

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.

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.

You deceived yourself into the house to poison the port.

You don't know the full story.

You drugged Sanderson and then you waited for Lavinia to show.

I don't feel sorry for that whore.

She put her own at risk to make money on the side.

But it wasn't Lavinia you wanted to punish, was it?

It was Sanderson.

He k*lled the only family I had left.

You don't know who sh*t Peter, but you blamed Sanderson and so you strangle an innocent woman and set Sanderson up with her m*rder, gouging his arm to match your own injuries and locking the door to prevent anyone from saving him.

What'd 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, Burke.

No. I won't let you.

Get your hands out of your pocket!

If that's the game you're playing...

(g*nsh*t)

(Thud!)

I thought he was armed.

Lavinia's attempt to escape.

'In loving memory - Pete.'

No, he didn't. He wouldn't.

Maurie wasn't a k*ller.

Ah... I'm afraid Burke confessed before... his death.

No.

Dot! (Sobs)

All I 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.

(Chuckles) 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 w*r what didn't suit me.

(Knock on door)

Excuse me.

You ready, my love?

Ah, 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, the second time round.

I wish you all the best.

There was at least £500 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 fiance, 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.

Ole.