02x06 - Marked For m*rder

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(Insects chirruping)

♪ PLODDING JAZZ MUSIC

(Water trickling)

♪ Theme music ♪

Man: Go Abbotsford!

(Men shouting exuberantly)

Man: What a win!

Abbotsford!

Let's hear it for the lads!

(Men cheer)

Hey, give us an autograph?

Get that into you, Vince.

What's happened to your captain?

Still off the booze?

Alright, Scotty. Get down.

(Scotty barks)

Coach.

How are ya, mate?

Coach. Where's our captain?

I left him to lock up the sheds.

Still mucking around with his health remedies and his bloody cold-water treatments?

As long as it helps him with his game.

You're the vice-captain.

You make sure they have a good time.

(Glass dinging, Scotty barking)

And the winner of the esteemed...

Call the bloody number, Bert.

Number 27.

(Men groan)

Hang on. That's me.

Go at it, Frank!

(All cheer)

Told you I could get it.

On ya, Coach.

Well done, Coach.

Last drinks, lads, and no hoarding!

Righto, you lot. This isn't funny.

Which one of you jokers has pinched my lucky hat?

It's not just A hat, Miss Fisher.

It's Coach Maclean's lucky hat he wears to every game.

Miss Fisher, is it? Joe Maclean.

Do you have any idea who might have taken your hat?

Someone who plugs for the opposition.

West Melbourne.

Come inside. We'll have a chat.

I'll pull them out of fitness training.

They look fit enough to me.

Get the ball. Bloody Harry forgot to lock it again.

You don't know how many times I've told him.

Superstitious lot I'm afraid, footy players.

(Footsteps approaching)

Harry!

Don't touch him.

But it's Harry The Hangman, the team captain!

Pat: Those West Melbourne bastards did this.

I say we go and burn down their rooms!

West Melbourne finally took The Hangman back into the fold.

It's an evil bloody joke, that's what it is.

He was hanged with a Wests scarf!

There'll be no v*olence.

Anyone taking things into their own hands will be arrested and charged.

That means you, Pat O'Farrell.

Yeah? You probably barrack for West Melbourne, do you Inspector!

As a matter of fact, Abbotsford is my team as well, Mr Johnson.

And mine too.

So if you'd all like to go home, we can get on with our investigation. Thank you gentlemen.

Where is he?

Celia, don't go in there.

What happened?

Vince, tell me what happened.

Mrs Harper. Inspector Robinson.

I think it's best if you go home and we'll come by and speak with you privately.

Lads, take her home, would ya?

Harry wouldn't want her left alone.

Pat: Sort it out, copper, or we will.

A football ground, Miss Fisher?

The last place I'd expect to find you.

I watched my first match from my father's shoulders, Jack.

Collingwood supporter?

Lapsed.

Since Collingwood versus Carlton, 1910.

1910.

But your team won.

Admittedly, some of the worst fighting ever seen on a football field.

Is that what put you off?

You know me better than that, Jack.

Why exactly are you here, Miss Fisher?

Maclean: She's here to help recover my hat.

Your lucky hat?

Stolen last night.

That's a West Melbourne scarf.

They might as well have put up a sign.

I can understand the opposition stealing a lucky charm, but m*rder?

That mob would do anything to see us go down.

Why are his wrists taped?

Injury.

Unusual to have both taped, though, and there's bruising to the back of the head.

He copped a blow at training yesterday, sir. From Barlow.

What about the soles of his feet?

What about them?

Well, you should take a closer look.

It's strange.

You have your brief to get on with, Miss Fisher, and I have mine.

Amazing what football does to a man.

Blisters.

Some kind of burns.

Man: Hey, Pat, here comes one of them.

Wests are only sour because we won the first clash of the season.

This is revenge, lads.

Heard the news.

Rubbing your hands, are ya?

Come on, just because I'm a Wests man.

You're a traitor to the suburb you were born in, Cec.

Yeah, but I'm a good son to my mum.

She was born at West Melbourne, so...

Phryne: Good morning!

Didn't realise you were called in on this case, Miss.

I called her in.

To find coach Maclean's lucky hat.

One of your mob's stolen it.

Yeah?

We wouldn't stoop that low.

Besides, we were in our clubhouse all night last night.

Oh, yeah!

You two do realise I won't be taking sides.

Why would ya?

You were born in Collingwood.

Gibbs.

Maclean: Neville.

Hello, Joe.

Here to rub it in, are you?

No, I'm here to offer my condolences.

It's a damn tragedy.

Mr Gibbs. Saved us a trip.

Perhaps you'd like to speak with us inside?

Certainly.

What a cheek.

Nev Gibbs?

He's no stranger to tragedy, Bert.

In what way?

He's a widower.

Lost his wife when he started coaching Wests, right?

Then a couple of years ago, his daughter dies.

He doesn't miss a b*at.

We almost won the flag that year.

(Laughs) Not even close.

You said the hat was taken from the clubrooms.

Well, how could a West Melbourne fan infiltrate without being noticed?

Yeah, good question, Miss.

There was that kid hanging around, asking for autographs.

I thought she looked suspicious.

Dressed like a boy.

Dressed like a boy?

Cheeky. About 16, 17.

I think it's our orange girl.

Where could we find this tomboy, Cec?

If I get my hands on her...

If Bert lays a finger on her, I'll drop the case.

West Melbourne. Fruit market.

No, anyone could have used that, not just one of us.

There are hundreds of them out there.

Still, Harry Harper doesn't have many friends at West Melbourne, does he?

He deserted... moved on to another club.

Now, no-one likes that.

But they wouldn't k*ll him for it.

Harper was a gifted player, but not everyone enjoyed his tactics.

Or his reputation.

He had an eye for the ladies, alright.

But why would someone from the West use their own club scarf to k*ll him?

It would just bring grief and suspicion on the whole club.

Cover of the crowd.

I'm still going to want to talk to your blokes, I'm afraid.

Oh, well, they're not going anywhere.

We've got a game to play.

But you might want to talk to Harper's teammates as well.

Plenty of people closer to home, unlike your man here, happy to have a go at Harper.

(Hugh exhales)

Now I'll say g'day, gentlemen.

I wasn't having a go, sir.

We need to set aside our allegiances, Collins.

This is a m*rder enquiry, not a footy match.

(Exhales heavily)

Sir, your wife.

Your previous wife, sir.

Jack, we just heard.

What a terrible thing.

Rosie. I thought you'd returned to the West Melbourne fold.

Yes, Father would have loved that, but unfortunately for him, Sidney's a fervent Abbotsford man.

Another one.

Jack.

Harry Harper was a brilliant player.

He was a good bloke, too.

He worked in shipping, didn't he?

Managing one of my warehouses, after he left West Melbourne.

Rosie and I have become quite close to both the Harpers.

Celia must be shattered, poor thing.

Oh, and if you happen to see our favourite Deputy Commissioner, no need to mention we were here.

Father couldn't take any more antagonising.

(Starts engine) Cheerio.

So Deputy Commissioner Sanderson's a West Melbourne fan, sir.

Rabid, Collins. Life member.

We'll have to tread carefully.

Man: Jonathan apples, 1s!

Sixpence a bushel!

(Continues spruiking)

(Both speak indistinctly)

Half a dozen oranges, please.

One more.

If you insist.

But you can keep the change.

Is that more than you were paid for the hat?

I don't have the faintest idea what you're...

Have you heard about Harry Harper?

Yeah, The Hangman? What about him?

Found dead in the locker rooms last night.

Well, I never liked him.

He was a traitor to the West.

Nevertheless, I think Abbotsford have enough going against them without the coach losing his lucky hat as well, don't you?

And the police will be looking very closely at everyone who was at the clubrooms last night, especially anyone with a motive to knock off Abbotsford's captain.

Look, whatever you think I did, I did it for all of us that love West Melbourne, not for a rotten pound.

I have a witness who can identify you.

And if you don't cooperate, I'll take you to the police myself.

If I tell you who it was, he'll k*ll me.

A description will do.

(Whistles)

(Both speak indistinctly)

Jack: That's right.

Stan Baines took The Hangman under his wing at West, then as soon as he becomes their shining star, The Hangman deserts his teammates and joins West's archenemy - us.

Because Gibbs never let him off his leash.

It speaks to the man's character, Collins.

Why do you think Harper was called 'The Hangman'?

The amount of time he could hang in the air.

Or the amount of heads he almost took off. He was out for himself.

Yes, but that's what made him so invincible on the field.

I think you're wrong.

Sir.

Sorry, sir.

Harper carried a guilty conscience.

That's why he went soft every time he went up against his old teammates.

That didn't stop him the first game of the season.

Harper and Baines had that punch on on the field, and then Harper ripped through him throughout the whole second half.

Yes, a feat Harry Harper won't be repeating.

I want to talk to his old teammates.

Dark hair, big shoulders? Could be half a dozen West Melbourne blokes.

Cec: Or Abbotsford blokes getting back at Coach Maclean.

He was always blueing with his players.

Like who?

Like Harry Harper.

Aghh! He wasn't above the odd set-to with his own coach.

You can't speak ill of the dead like that.

Players and coaches argue all the time.

Half-time, boys.

Poppy? Another crumb?

Gold front tooth.

Has to be him.

Who?

Both: Stan Baines.

Coach Gibbs dedicated the first match of the season to the dear departed.

And Harry thought we were trying to put the wind up him.

And were you?

No.

Gibbs meant his kid who passed on.

Myra.

How did you feel about him leaving West Melbourne?

Bloody angry.

But you know why I wouldn't rub him out?

I wanted to make my 300.

And I wanted my last day on the field to be against Harry.

(Door opens)

Inspector, sorry to interrupt.

Stan Baines, captain for West Melbourne.

Delighted to meet you.

Miss Fisher. Lady Detective.

If I might have a word with you about Joe Maclean's lucky hat?

Is this a joke?

Harry Harper's dead and you're worried about his coach's flea-bitten old cap?

You're here about Harper's death.

Answer the questions.

Do you know a young woman called Poppy Brown, West supporter?

Runs a fruit barrow?

Maybe.

Well, she confessed to the theft under heavy interrogation, but she refused to name the man who paid her.

What is this?

She your fullback?

I like the sound of that.

Excuse me, sir.

Yes.

Deputy Commissioner Sanderson's here, with Coach Gibbs.

Neville Gibbs telephoned me, complaining of police harassment.

He tells me that you've brought Stan Baines in.

Now, he can't be a suspect in this m*rder, surely.

It seemed worth a chat with him, sir, given the pair's history, recent and long-term.

Have you turned up any hard evidence?

A West Melbourne scarf was found at the crime scene.

I said hard evidence.

Anyone could have planted that.

But I can't rule out Baines yet.

Jack, Stan Baines is still a popular player with West fans.

Now if word gets out that you are an Abbotsford man and you are harassing him unnecessarily... it's you who will be suspect.

We're not holding Baines, Mr Gibbs.

He's told us what we need to know and he's free to go.

Good.

For the moment.

(Men shouting angrily)

Man: Get off him, you bastard!

Let him through!

Bert: Hey, why'd you do it?!

Why'd you do it, Baines?!

(Shouting continues)

Hey, let them through.

Let them through!

Get back!

We're down our best man, Gibbs, but we'll fight back.

You're gonna pay for this, pal.

Hugh: Stay back!

Bloody hell.

Stan Baines took it, you reckon?

Yeah, well, it doesn't surprise me.

(Sneezes)

Bless you.

Thank you.

Do you know why Harry Harper left West Melbourne to come across to you?

Baines wouldn't let him spread his wings.

And Gibbs wasn't on top of a thing because he'd had a bad trot.

First his wife d*ed, then his kid, one after the other.

So, moving to Abbotsford solved all Harry Harper's problems?

Seems so.

He married Celia, won the captaincy.

Only got the willies when we played West Melbourne and he ended up one on one with Baines.

(Sneezes)

Bless you.

Thank you, Bert.

So what will happen, now that you've lost your captain?

Vince Barlow will have to step up.

Dot: He's the vice-captain.

He was full-forward, in line for the captaincy before Harry Harper moved across to Abbotsford.

(Sniffles)

Hugh, he's my beau, explained it all to me.

Abbotsford man, is he?

Very much, sir.

(Phone ringing)

Yeah, well you've chosen well.

Yeah, we'll have to shuffle a few of the lads, but nothing's going to fill the hole that Harry's left.

Mr Butler: Telephone, Miss. The Inspector.

I'm off, anyway.

Come on, Scotty. Come on. Come on.

Thank you... for this. And the tea.

And if you could tell the Inspector, any developments I'd appreciate a nod.

Phryne: Of course.

(Scotty barks)

Lucky I didn't tell him you're a West Melbourne girl.

Until you hook up with Hugh Collins, that is.

If Hugh marries me, I don't see why I should convert.

No choice. He'll want to take his kids to the game.

I'll divide them up, just like my mum did.

Girls for the West, and boys for Abbotsford.

It's people like you who bring footy clubs down, Dottie!

(Clears throat)

I was just looking at his tattoo.

You've seen it before.

Well, my case is closed.

The hat is back where it belongs and Coach Maclean is most grateful.

Full marks.

But it won't win me any points with the Deputy Commissioner.

It's very bad luck that his daughter found herself another Abbotsford man.

Sidney Fletcher won't be winning any points with him, either.

Let's talk about Harry Harper's feet.

The burns are third degree.

Really? Which doesn't make any sense.

No.

We got the water back up to full heat, but even then it wasn't enough to burn skin.

And his feet were hanging off the ground, in any case.

It's a conundrum.

What about cause of death?

We're still waiting on the full autopsy, but preliminary examination points to strangulation, no broken neck.

But these marks indicate a rope.

If it was a rope that k*lled him, how did he come to be hanging by a scarf?

Assuming we're dealing with a su1c1de, Harper throws a rope...

Yet to be found.

Ties it off at the tap, climbs up, kicks the stool out, hangs himself.

Badly. Slowly suffocating instead of snapping his own spine.

Why was the hot water running?

That's odd.

Especially because Maclean's big on cold-water treatments all winter.

Toughens up the players.

Sounds hideous.

He kicked out with his feet, turning the taps on by accident.

Or perhaps it was whoever it was that swapped the rope for the scarf.

Someone strong enough to haul him up again.

Or smart enough to attach the scarf first, then release the rope.

Alright. Manly strength versus womanly intelligence.

Who would want to make a su1c1de look like a m*rder?

And why would Harry Harper, a man at the peak of his football career, want to k*ll himself in the first place?

(Boisterous shouting)

No, I don't believe it.

Harry had too much fight in him.

You're wrong.

Even if Harry Harper d*ed by his own hand, someone interfered with the body afterwards.

Why?

That's another mystery we're trying to solve.

What were you doing last night, Mr Maclean?

Me?

Where were you?

I was here at the clubrooms, having a drink with the lads after training, from about six.

Until when?

After ten. After I gave up looking for my bloody hat!

And you are wasting your time!

Harry Harper was m*rder*d by West Melbourne!

And I will continue to interview people from both clubs, Mr Maclean, until I've solved this case.

Joe Maclean was at the clubrooms last night.

But we still need to verify the times.

Bert was there. He could help.

Maclean was no help at all with Harry Harper's state of mind?

Refuses to even entertain the possibility of su1c1de.

And I'm with him, sir.

Collins.

Looks like I'll have to raise it with Harper's widow.

You said she was staying with your... wife.

Former...

Your... your former...

Wife.

Wife.

Yes.

And her fiance.

Potentially awkward.

But then what's awkward compared to dying naked in the shower with the opposition's scarf around your throat?

Besides, you have me on your team.

♪ I'm looking over a four leaf clover ♪
♪ That I overlooked before... ♪

Whatever kind of shipping Mr Fletcher dabbles in must be doing very nicely.

(Knocks)

Oh, it's Jack.

I thought it was Father.

It's that policeman's knock. Just...

We've come to speak with Mrs Harper.

Oh. And of course, Miss Fisher.

Miss Sanderson.

Please, call me Rosie.

Likewise. Phryne.

Is this a good time?

Yes.

I've just come to help Sidney with preparations for Harry's service this afternoon.

Please.

Celia: I know that he struggled after he left West Melbourne.

He was branded a traitor.

But after that, things improved.

Thanks to your help, Sidney.

I don't know what either of us would have done without your support.

Don't be silly. Offering him a job was the least I could do.

Jack? Miss Fisher?

Yes, I've always admired him for his ability to play football and surprisingly, a good head for business.

So Harry wasn't in any kind of financial trouble?

Not that I know of, though I'm... I'm sure there were things that Harry didn't share with me.

I'm sorry. Excuse me.

Oh, poor Celia.

Were Celia and Harry happy together, do you think?

They'd only been married a couple of years.

I think they had a perfectly good marriage.

Celia said they were planning a cruise to the continent at the end of the season.

Sounds romantic.

I thought so.

So this service you're holding today.

Sidney: Yes, it's for the team as much as Celia.

Mm. We just hope the newspapers will stay away.

Mm.

Jack?

We know you want to solve this case.

I mean, we all want that.

But it would be so much easier for Celia if there weren't a police presence.

Of course.

I assume you never took Rosie on a continental cruise.

No, but I did take her to Mrs Moller's Holiday Cottages at Lorne.

Excellent choice.

Rosie seemed very quick to defend Celia and Harry's marriage.

And what did Celia mean, the things Harry never shared with her?

I'm sure you'll try and find out at his memorial service while I keep my police presence away.

Don't sulk, Jack.

I'm sure the Deputy Commissioner's not invited.

Besides, you may need to visit a travel agent.

Where did you souvenir that?

Vince Barlow's locker.

Looks like somebody else was planning a sea voyage.

Phryne Fisher.

I didn't know you were an Abbotsford supporter.

It's a fledgling interest.

What are you hoping to find here?

Vince Barlow seems very attentive.

Oh.

If you're looking for a scarlet woman, I think you'll find you'll be disappointed.

I'd never presume to judge a woman on the basis of her morals.

I'm only trying to solve a m*rder case.

I thought you and Jack suspected su1c1de.

I don't think Harper's the type.

I'd have to agree with you there.

Purely on the basis of intuition.

Intuition or observation.

Sometimes one becomes the other.

A gesture, a little too intimate?

You suspect Vincent of harming Harry?

People usually k*ll for love or money.

Celia did ask my advice.

About what?

Uh, divorce, but I don't think she had any plans on going through with it.

Man: What's Baines doing here?

Ohh...

What's Baines doing here?

I've come to pay my respects.

Despite everything, we were teammates.

This is for Harry.

Mrs Harper.

Man: Get him out of here.

You have a bloody cheek turning up here.

You should not have come here!

Get out of my face!

Maclean: You've got no shame.

Go, before we throw you out!

Vince: Celia. Celia!

What are you saying?

What are you accusing me of?

I don't know what else to think.

I would have waited.

I would have suffered for you.

But everything's different now.

This is our chance.

Get your hands off me!

Stanley! I thought it was you.

We need to talk.

He's onto us.

Oi! What are you doing here?

You bloody hypocrite.

Your lot k*lled Harry.

This is Abbotsford's turf, mate.

You don't know the half of it, O'Farrell.

Man: Come back and finish the fight, Baines!

Come on, ya coward!

Jack: Did The Hangman know you and Celia were lovers?

Harry was a useless husband, and didn't give a damn about Celia.

He didn't give two hoots about the other women, either.

All he cared about was the game, nothing else.

Not his team, not other people, and certainly not his marriage.

You and Celia Harper have tickets booked for the end of the season on the Halcyon Sky cruise ship, in adjoining cabins.

I checked with King and Co.

Celia was asking Harry for a divorce, so there was no need to get him out of the way.

Vincent and I wouldn't have done anything to disrupt the game.

Like go on a cruise together?

You have to understand, Harry was too wrapped up in his own problems to have any time for me.

He never got over making the move to Abbotsford.

Wasn't it his decision?

He was only considering it.

And then Sidney Fletcher offered him that job on the docks, with the house as well, and...

A house?

But there's something else you should know.

Something Harry said the night before he d*ed.

Go on.

(Door opens)

Where's Inspector Robinson?

I'll just tell him you're here, Deputy Commissioner. (Clears throat)

We need to settle things down on the streets, Jack.

If we don't sort out this case before the match on Saturday, we will have a riot on our hands.

Did you know Sidney Fletcher bought the Harpers a house?

I have heard the rumours.

Then you must know Harper worked for Fletcher.

Well, if you have enough money, you can buy anything you want.

So Fletcher bribed Harper to swap teams?

I didn't say that.

Have you charged Barlow yet?

At this point, he's only helping us with enquiries.

Then hold him overnight.

I'm not sure I can justify that.

Jack, at least if you've got someone in custody, we can keep a lid on this unrest.

Just till the morning.

(Door slams shut)

That is evidence and you are not police.

And may I suggest that you make yourself scarce, Miss Fisher?

A suggestion's not the same as an order, is it?

Not in my book.

Does Mrs Harper have an alibi for the night her husband d*ed?

Yes, and I just found out.

According to Celia, Harry refused to grant her a divorce the night before he d*ed.

Looks like Barlow's spending the night with us after all.

(Door opens)

The full Coroner's report has just arrived, sir.

Strangulation, no surprise there.

Bruising.

Harper was struck with a blunt object on the right side of the back of his head.

So it wasn't a training injury.

And there was bruising under the tape on his wrists, consistent with the bruising to his neck, suggesting his hands were bound with rope as well.

So he was m*rder*d.

What I don't understand is why whoever did it removed the rope.

In favour of a scarf?

Whoever spent so much time knitting this would be horrified by where it ended up.

Don't feel like helping out, Collins?

Do your bit for Abbotsford?

No, there's no point, sir.

Harper's gone, and his vice-captain's locked up for carrying on with his wife.

That was his motive, Collins, not the reason we locked him up.

Anyway, I just need you to know, sir, I've burnt my footy scarf.

Miss Fisher said you were in training.

Hi, Dottie. No, we're just giving Mr Barlow some air.

Are you sure that's safe, Inspector?

Letting an inmate out?

Well, he's outnumbered, three to one now.

I used to make this for my brothers when they played Juniors.

Chicory with honey and pepper.

It's to fortify them.

They lost every game, but they gave it their best sh*t.

Every game?

Yes, but that's the hardest thing, isn't it?

Staying true to your team when everything's going wrong.

Just like you and the Inspector.

Make it count, Collins.

(Phone ringing)

Ah, Dot. How's Hugh faring?

He might still have some Abbotsford spirit left in him yet, Miss.

Ah.

(Sneezes)

Oh, bless you. Not a cold coming on?

No, I thought it was just that coach's dog that set me off, but maybe. (Sniffles)

Dot, come here.

Take a sniff.

I may have...

Take a deep sniff.

(Sniffs)

Have you been petting him, Miss?

(Phone ringing)

(Sneezes)

No. I was...

Hello, Phryne Fisher speaking.

It's Stan Baines here.

I have a confession I need to make.

I'm at the West Melbourne club rooms.

I'm on my way.

That you, Miss Fisher?

(g*nsh*t)

Now the West mob will be crying foul.

A telephone call, you said.

Baines was drunk.

Something about a confession.

A woman was waiting for Stan Baines when he left the memorial service for Harry earlier today.

Did she thr*aten him?

No. She wanted to talk to him.

It seemed urgent, but a bunch of Abbotsford rabble-rousers showed up...

Miss.

Sorry.

That noisy Irish fellow kicked up a fuss, and Baines knocked him down.

Pat O'Farrell.

Sounds like we need to find him as well as this other woman.

Any idea how to track her down?

No, but she knew Stan Baines, so I guess we start with the West Melbourne camp.

Look at this.

Oh, two, nine... seven.

Number of games he played, sir?

No, no, but he played 298.

So we have a k*ller who can't count.

Stan Baines was still a suspect for Harry Harper's death.

Perhaps someone else thought he did it, too.

Someone like Pat O'Farrell, sir?

If there was a confrontation, he's my first choice.

And then there's Celia Harper, Joe Maclean, Vince Barlow.

Barlow's still at the station, so he has a perfect alibi.

Oh, Christ.

Thanks for coming, Mr Gibbs.

We can talk outside.

Poppy Brown.

Hugh!

Oh! Yes, Miss?

I have an inkling of where we can track down this mystery friend of Stan Baines.

If I was going to knock off a Wests player, it'd be one of their young g*ns, not a bloke on the way out.

Why don't you take a seat, Mr O'Farrell?

Please, sit down.

Now, you have three times been ejected from various grounds for incitement and menaces.

You did three months for bottling an umpire.

I'm passionate about the game.

Hm.

You were witnessed arguing with him yesterday afternoon.

Where were you last night?

Raising a glass to Harry.

Then a fight outside around 11, then at the bloody hospital till two in the morning.

Good.

We'll check with the medical staff.

You do what you like.

You'll need another suspect.

Try one who owns a bloody g*n.

Do you own a p*stol?

I wouldn't know how to use one if I did.

A Lee-Enfield r*fle, maybe.

sh*t, was he - Baines?

(Knock at door)

Excuse me, Inspector. Do you mind if I ask Mr Maclean a quick question?

Be my guest.

Is your dog moulting?

I'm sorry, Miss Fisher? What?

Unfortunately, my companion, Dorothy Williams, has a terrible reaction to Scotty's hair.

Maybe she should just keep her distance.

But she also had a terrible reaction to my gloves, after I touched the West Melbourne scarf that was tied around Harry Harper's neck.

Perhaps I... I just patted Scotty, and then I touched that scarf.

You didn't go anywhere near that scarf after Harry Harper's body was found.

Did you m*rder him, before you tied the scarf around his neck?

No!

You'd better explain, then.

One of the younger blokes stole the scarf from West sheds.

I gave it to Scotty to sleep on.

So how did it end up around Harry Harper's neck?

When I went to look for Harry, when he hadn't turned up for the party, I found him.

Our club captain, hanging by a rope in the shower stall.

I went to my office, got that scarf, and swapped it with the rope.

I wanted West Melbourne to take the blame.

So you thought you'd covered up a su1c1de?

Why should we believe you?

He left...

He left a note.

Pinned to the coat rack.

'I was a traitor to my team.

This is all I deserve.

I am sorry for everything. Harry'.

I couldn't have that come out that Harry had k*lled himself because he left West Melbourne.

You said Harry used ice treatments after training.

Yes. He did that day, too.

There was a chunk of ice left over the drain.

Ice can cause third-degree burns, can't it?

If the contact is long enough.

So what gave you the idea?

An upset bowl of ice at Harry Harper's memorial.

So how will this establish the time of death, Miss?

The ice was almost gone when Maclean found him around eight o'clock.

And the water was still running hot.

So we can work backwards to find out when Harry was placed on the block of ice that burnt his feet and eventually led to his death.

An hour and fifteen minutes.

Which means Harper was forced onto the block around 6:45pm.

So who had the opportunity then?

(Chatter)

Poppy Brown?

You just missed her.

Ahh!

(Sighs)

Well, I'll just make do with you, then.

Tell me who this woman is, standing next to you.

It's Mrs Dangerfield.

And?

She used to be the club nurse.

Used to?

Yeah, before Myra Gibbs d*ed.

Two years ago, Stan Baines telephoned me.

I delivered his first kid here, and perhaps he thought I was discreet.

I had to be, at times.

Women would come to me for... all kinds of help.

If they were in trouble?

But it was too late by the time they brought Myra to me.

She'd already tried to help herself, with a knitting needle, and she was losing the bub.

So what'd you do?

I did what I could.

And I managed to stop the bleeding, but I gave them strict instructions to head for hospital if anything started up again.

I heard next morning that she'd been rushed to hospital.

(Tearfully) I couldn't come forward.

I couldn't even go to the poor lass's funeral.

(Weeps)

July 29th.

(Weeps)

You were away from the West Melbourne party for over an hour.

Well, that doesn't prove anything.

Your daughter d*ed on July 29th, two years ago.

What's that got to do with it?

We thought the number carved into Baines' forehead was a mistaken tally of the games he'd played.

But it wasn't.

It was the date of your daughter's death.

29-7.

This is all speculation.

No, no, it isn't.

You took two years to track down Mrs Dangerfield, but we had more luck.

Myra's death wasn't from peritonitis, was it?

I gave Harry a chance to confess.

When you dedicated the match to the dear departed.

Harry knew the game was up.

And he still didn't have the guts to front me.

Took it out on Baines instead.

So you made him write his goodbyes.

But you wanted something else from Harry, didn't you?

Myra told me there was two blokes involved... before she d*ed.

So you decided to force it out of him?

Harry must have told you about Stan Baines' involvement.

Ah... eventually.

Said Baines told him to get sh*t of Myra because she was in trouble.

Footy was what mattered.

Just the game, nothing else.

So you left Harry there?

Oh, I didn't care about him, about the game.

Nothing.

After what he did to my little girl.

Callous bastard.

You planned it to look like a su1c1de.

What did you make of your team scarf ending up around Harry's neck?

I thought it was ironic.

Myra knitted that scarf for me.

And Joe Maclean used it to cover up your deed.

Of course.

Who else but a coach would risk going to jail for the sake of a lousy football team?

So then you went after Stan Baines.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

(Cheering, applause)

(Crowd shout encouragement)

Come on!

Come on, Abbotsford!

Go Wests!

Abbotsford!

Go Wests!

(Crowd continues chanting)

Abbotsford!

Go Wests!

You look dashing, Hugh.

Well, you don't want anyone confused about who you barrack for.

And I used my best wool, so you're not allowed to burn this one.

Yes.

Oh.

Just wanted to wish you luck.

I'm surprised the game's still going ahead.

The club presidencies met last night to consider cancelling out of respect.

Father lost to Sidney.

Even my observational skills tell me that this does not bode well.

Excuse me.

Beautiful. Here.

Do you think Rosie knows her fiance bribed Harry Harper to leave her father's team?

All's fair in love and football, Miss Fisher.

I'm glad you think so.

So tell me, what kept you away from the game?

My mother.

After I was caught trying to sabotage Carlton's newest recruit by smuggling him beer.

Always an unsuspecting man involved.

I was only 10 at the time.

So this should be interesting.

At least the last week has levelled the playing field.

Two dead players, one coach locked up for obstructing an investigation and the other one charged with m*rder.

Anything could happen.

Even a Collingwood girl would have to stay for a game like that.

So what do you think?

To humour an Abbotsford man.

(Whistle blows)

(Cheering, applause)

♪ My baby don't care for shows ♪
♪ My baby don't care for clothes ♪
♪ My baby just cares for me ♪
♪ My baby don't care for silks and faces ♪
♪ My baby don't care for high-tone places ♪
♪ My baby don't care for rings ♪
♪ Or other expensive things ♪
♪ She's sensible as can be ♪
♪ My baby don't care ♪
♪ Who knows it ♪
♪ My baby just cares for me. ♪