03x07 - Room Without a View

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£1,000 up front.

And the money doesn't change?

Absolutely, Mr King.
It certainly doesn't.

And all that fine print, we'll take
care of with the signature later on.

- Good.
- Excellent.

You're about to be a
very wealthy man, Mr King.

OK, Henry, you're
done for the night.

Mr Webster's been kind
enough to book you a room.

Here, number 27.

- Who do you think you are?
- Go.

Miserable bloody cow.

- What did you call me?
- You heard me.

I'm sorry about that. It didn't
seem like much of a celebration

without a real drink.

Henry doesn't need
another reason to drink.

Well, he's about to
become a very wealthy man.

I promised him
tonight was on me.

So, are there any rooms
available for the evening?

One on the first floor, one on
the second, next to Mr King's.

Well, the higher the floor,
the better the view, hmm?

Thank you.

Let me do that.

Goodnight, Henry.

Any chance you
could take care of that?

Certainly.

Henry!

Henry, time to check out!

Oh, he hasn't checked
out already, has he?

We still have some
business to finalize.

No, he's still here. He's just
decided to have a sleep in.

Henry! Henry!

Mr Webster?

- Would you mind?
- Of course.

Thank you so much.

Come on, Henry, it's
time to rejoin the world.

Henry?

Henry.

Are you all right?

Come on, Henry.

Henry!

Oh, God.

Are you all right?

Take it easy. Slow down.

It's OK. I've got
you. I've got you.

I personally made
sure he got in all right.

That was nine
o'clock last night.

- He'd had a few drinks.
- He was drunk as a skunk.

Right. And you're the owner
of the hotel, Miss Lewis?

That's right.

Sergeant, I'm hoping
this will all be cleared up

quite quickly and quietly?

Ah, we'll need some
more answers first.

Sorry? Ah, you are...?

I'm Norman Baker.

I'm Len's business partner.

And were you staying
at the hotel last night?

No. No, I'm just
here to pick up Len.

- He's in through that room.
- Right, thank you, Charlie.

What's happened?

Well, we can't officially talk
about that at the moment,

but if I can ask you
a few questions...

Well...

Superintendent Lawson.

Chief Inspector, actually.

- Chief Inspector.
- Mm.

What have we got?

Oscar Morrison.

No, it's Henry King.
Forty years old.

Owns the hardware
store on Grace Street.

Might have d*ed in his sleep.

But you don't think so.

Catherine Lewis,
the hotel owner...

Something doesn't seem right.

According to eyewitnesses,

they were having an argument
in the dining room last night.

She saw him to his
room about 9 p.m.

- And?
- And she wasn't seen again

until 8 a.m. this morning.

Apparently, he's not
a very cheerful drunk.

And she's the only
one with a master key.

And the chair?

It was placed underneath
the door handle.

We're looking into it.

Very good.

Well, muscle stiffness
and body temperature

might help us determine...

What is it?

Matthew, call an ambulance.

Davis. Davis!

- Yes?
- Get an ambulance.

There's a heartbeat!
Matthew, my bag.

What am I looking for?

A syringe. Adrenaline.

- Matthew!
- Yes, I'm trying.

Time of death 11:37.

Frog.

- Clock.
- Good.

In one minute, I'll ask you what
those three things are again.

- Lucien!
- Mattie.

Jessie, this is Dr Lucien Blake.
He's our local police surgeon.

Hello.

Quite a bump, by
the looks of things.

We think Jessie
was in an accident,

although she can't
remember much of it yet.

I can't seem to remember
much of anything right now.

Well, give it time.

Excuse me for just
a moment. Lucien?

Is everything all right?

Yes, just...

been a difficult morning.

Have you spoken to Jean?

Has she made a decision?

Not that I know of.

Look, I know her family needs
her, but Ballarat is her home.

- She can't just leave!
- Mattie...

This is her decision
to make, all right?

Now, the patient seems
to be doing quite well.

Physically, yes.
Mentally, I'm not so sure.

Jessie can talk
about her childhood.

She knows that Robert
Menzies is running the country.

Just nothing about the
accident, or a few days before it.

So, her long-term
memory's intact.

So far, she's remembers she
takes her tea black with lemon,

she doesn't like biscuits
and that she's a smoker.

She sent me to buy
her some matches.

There was a new pack
of cigarettes in her pocket.

You see, addiction... that
uses a different part of the brain.

She's lucky you found her.

Initial toxicology suggests
he'd been drinking, a lot.

Dupuytren's contracture,
swelling of the abdomen, jaundice.

Looks like chronic
liver disease.

Excessive use of
alcohol over long periods.

But we're looking for
signs someone did this?

Well, nothing to suggest
he asphyxiated himself.

No evidence of him having
choked on his own vomit.

So, that's a yes.

Yes.

His hotel room door was
secured from the inside.

There are signs
of a struggle here.

There's excessive bruising

and abrasions on the
inside of the mouth.

Yes.

Oh, Alice, of course!

He was smothered.

The cause of death was asphyxiation,
regardless of the time frame.

Yes, I know it was m*rder. I
called ahead to the morgue.

Wasn't expecting
your presence here.

If you'd accompany
us upstairs, please.

Ah, this is a police interview.

If you are required,
I'll ask for you.

In the meantime, you stay down
here. Do I make myself clear?

Hey! I've got a business to run.
Are we going to be here all day?

- Sorry, Mr...?
- Errol Stott.

Well, Mr Stott, I'm afraid your
customers might have to wait.

Excuse me.

I hope you don't think I
had anything to do with this,

just because of the master key.

You said a chair was
used to close the room door.

Is that correct?

- That's right.
- Is there any reason why

you initially called the police

- and not an ambulance?
- I thought he was dead.

Where were you between
the hours of 9 p.m. last night

and 8 a.m. this morning?

I needed a break.

I went for a long walk
and then I went to bed.

Anyone see you?

- No.
- That's unfortunate, Mrs Lewis.

- It's "Miss".
- Oh.

You and the deceased
argued, earlier last night.

What were you arguing about?

I told Henry and Mr Webster
that they'd had too many,

that they were
cut off for the night.

- Henry wasn't too pleased about it.
- Did you argue with anyone else?

- No.
- You sure?

Yes, I don't take rubbish
from anyone in my hotel.

That's not a crime.

Miss Lewis, is there anything
else you can tell us about

what the deceased and
Mr Webster were doing?

What they were talking about?

Only that Mr Webster said he was
about to make Henry a very rich man.

I gave out room keys.

Henry was in room number 27

and Mr Webster opted for
the room next to Mr King's.

Mr Webster chose that room?

Yes.

He said something about "the
higher the room, the better the view".

Where is Mr Webster now?

He's booked another
night in the hotel.

And that was the last you
saw of either of them, that night?

Yes.

- You're sure?
- Yes.

I've told you
everything that I know.

I have.

Did you have anything to do
with the death of Henry King?

No.

Thank you, Miss Lewis.
That'll be all for now.

You didn't think to mention
Len Webster to me?

He was drinking with Henry King.

He chose the room
next to the deceased.

- Superintendent...
- I don't want to hear it!

I thought you were
better than this.

Go back to Len Webster.

Get the interview right
this time, Inspector.

Davis, I need you to head
to a home in Lynchfield.

The main power's
been cut to the property.

Wouldn't that require
an electrician, sir?

Go!

Take a statement.

With respect, Superintendent,
Sergeant Davis is a senior officer.

And I'm his commanding officer.

I'd focus on Len
Webster, if I were you.

Ah, Blake.

Still waiting on your
resignation, aren't I?

Has the good doctor formally
resigned, Superintendent?

Davis.

You were there.

Inform the Inspector
here what was said.

Sorry, sir. I didn't
hear anything.

I see.

We'll make this more
formal from now on, shall we?

Lucien.

How are you?

All the better for seeing you,
Doug. What are you doing here?

Catherine Lewis's parents
are old friends of mine.

I'm here to make sure
Catherine is all right.

And is she?

She'll survive.

She's a tough girl.

Matthew Lawson
is back, I gather.

And how would you know that?

And I can also tell you that...

most of last night's
guests have checked out.

They're rattled.

And that most of the staff are
off cleaning rooms until 2 p.m.

Or thereabouts.

And I can also tell you
that one Henry King

spent far too much time
here with a drink in his hand.

You don't miss a trick, do you?

Once a policeman, Lucien...

Always good to see you, Doug.

And you.

I was hoping Mr King would
sell me his hardware store.

Made for the perfect site
for our new g*n emporium.

But now, with Mr
King having passed,

it makes a decision a
lot more complicated.

You must have been
quietly confident he'd sell,

if you were already celebrating.

You paid for the
drinks last night.

You also offered to
pay for Mr King's room.

Well, Norm and I had been
tracking King's business.

Mr Baker, your business partner?

That's right.

We weren't sure that
King would sell, initially.

But you had a plan, didn't you?

You'd book him into a room,
you'd get him blind drunk

and you'd try and get him
to sign the papers last night.

Yes, actually.

And where were you
in all this, Mr Baker?

I was letting Len
do the heavy lifting.

You were going to
open a g*n emporium.

There's already a g*n shop a
few doors down from Mr King.

Errol Stott's place.

There is. But competition's
a good thing, isn't it?

Are you going to stay
in town another night?

Yes, but in a different room.

Someone d*ed, Inspector,
right next door to me.

Excuse me, if I may.

Is this the only reason
you were in Ballarat?

We had attended a
memorial earlier that morning.

My daughter.

Mr Baker, forgive
me. I am so very sorry.

She passed away a while ago.

Time doesn't make it any easier.

What'd you do
after the memorial?

Oh, I checked into the
hotel and we had lunch.

Basically waited for my
meeting with Mr King.

- What time was that?
- About 5:30.

Mr King was running late.

Said he was coming straight
from a meeting at the church hall.

Thanks, Errol. That's great.
Sounds like things are going well.

Anyone else like to
share with the group?

Um...

I'm coming up to 18
months without alcohol now,

and I'm having trouble
with the 8th step.

Well, Errol, the 8th step demands
an honesty about our relations

with other people, and with God.

It allows us to start forgiving
others and then, in turn,

- to be forgiven by them...
- Which is impossible.

You see, my problem is,

I know I should
be able to forgive,

but I can't.

I just can't.

Forgiveness isn't easy.

I know...

Welcome. Pull up a chair.

I should be able
to forgive people

for nearly putting me out of
business and almost ruining my life?

How do you forgive that?

We can still forgive people,
long after they've gone.

But quite honestly...

how can we even
begin to forgive others,

when we can't forgive ourselves?

As a new participant,

would you like to
share with the group?

Hello.

My name is Lucien.

We're closed!

I happened to be at
the meeting earlier.

Yeah, and I saw you at
the station this morning.

- You're a copper.
- Well, police surgeon, actually.

I'm just trying to find out a
little bit more about Henry King.

I understand you
were both acquainted?

Acquainted?

You can call it
that, if you want.

There's suspicion
surrounding his death.

Do you think I don't know that?

Can you think of anyone who
might have wanted to hurt Mr King?

- You mean, would I hurt him?
- Well, with him deceased,

out of the way, as it were,

- what would happen to his store?
- Don't know. Don't care.

Won't be sold to that Len Webster
bloke any time too soon, though.

But what if he had sold?

I wasn't involved in his death.
As much as I wanted to be.

Mr Stott.

Tell me the truth about
what happened to Henry King.

Why not, eh?

Yes, I did go to
the hotel that night.

I knew Henry would
be in his regular room,

the room he always used
when he couldn't drive home.

I knocked on his door.

Even had this with me, in a bag.

Tried to open the
door, and it was locked.

Even tried shouldering
it, and it wouldn't budge.

If that party hadn't
been across the hall, I...

I might have held my nerve.

But I didn't.

If you'd like to go through
with the Constable, thank you.

I would not put it
past him to k*ll a man.

Yes. Thing is...

I just don't know if
he k*lled our man.

You went to visit Mr Stott
on your own last night.

- What did you think you were doing?
- Getting answers.

You do realize that every
step we take is being watched?

We're trying to
seek a conviction.

You be careful. You're starting
to sound like you-know-who.

Process, Blake.

We do things the right way.

Good to have you back, Matthew.

Doctor, a word.

Superintendent.

I'm hearing reports you fronted
up to an AA meeting last night.

Is that correct?

Yes, it is.

And you've been officially
cautioned more than once

about drinking on
the job, haven't you?

Please.

If you think I'm going to let
your actions reflect poorly

upon this police station and
upon me, you are sorely mistaken.

Know that this isn't
just the kind of thing

that could cost
you your role here.

If I have my way, you will
lose your license to practice.

Is that right? Will there be
anything else today, William?

Get out of my station.

Now.

I know, you told me so.

Mr Stott said something in
there that might interest you.

Turns out you and Catherine
Lewis have something in common.

- And what's that?
- According to Errol,

she was supposed to
be at that AA meeting too.

Yes, I'm a reformed alcoholic.

And Henry King?

- Were you two involved...?
- Don't be daft. I was his sponsor.

But he was beyond help.

He was delusional.

I mean, he threatened to tell
people about me, about my past...

Before I took over the family
hotel, I lived in Melbourne for a while.

I...

Well, let's just say I did some
things that I'm not proud of.

I made some bad choices.

And you told him all of this?

Yes, we're supposed to
be open with one another,

and I thought it
would help. It didn't.

Catherine, when did
Henry start drinking?

Well, he's always
enjoyed a drink,

but he told me it was around
ten years ago that it got worse.

And what happened
to him ten years ago?

Well, his business
nearly collapsed.

I see.

Just one more thing,
if I may. That chair...

Yes, what about it?

Well, did Henry ever mention
being scared of anyone?

Someone who may
have wanted to harm him?

No, I don't think so.

You said he stayed
here on occasion.

Do you know...

Would he always prop that
chair up against the door?

No, no, it was the first time
I've ever known him to do it.

How do you know?

Because most
mornings he was here,

I would have to go
in and wake him up.

Right, now, first of all...

Why are you all in there?

It's almost dinner!

Jean, just in time. Come in.
We're trying to solve a puzzle.

I'm not sure there's
enough room in there.

We're trying to work out how
someone got in or out of a room

with a chair wedged
under the door handle.

Like this. I'll show you.

Like that!

So, there was no other
real evidence in the room?

Um, there was a matchbook...

on a sideboardy
little table thing.

The top of it was torn.

No idea why. Now, how
did Henry King's k*ller get in?

Through the panels in the wall?

Ahh. Even if there was
a way through the walls,

the rooms on either side
are occupied at the time.

- What about the window?
- Good idea, Charlie.

Too high. No reasonable
point of entry, and also,

no ledge outside, yes.

Through the floorboards.

There was no evidence to suggest
that they'd been tampered with

and also, there was reasonably
new carpet in the room.

What about the roof?

- The what?
- The roof!

Hang on!

Did you say the roof?
Um, it's a good idea.

Lawson and I checked it out.
There was really no way to get down.

Nothing to secure to, to lower
yourself down to the second floor.

I'll tell you what, though.
Hang on a minute.

Oh, no.

Not enough space
above or below the door

for any sort of tie
or rope, you see?

So, what if...?

What if King didn't
put the chair there?

What if his k*ller got
inside, did the job, got out,

and got the chair in place
from outside in the hallway?

- Don't know.
- How would you manage that?

Charlie, I have no idea.

Ooh!

You two, out.

Thank you, Mattie.
Thank you, Charlie.

Jean, I'm sorry. I don't
think I'll be joining you.

I'd like to spend
the night at the hotel.

I think if I spend some
time there, it might help.

Well, if that's what you
feel you have to do...

Yes... thank you.

You mind telling me why you felt
the need to call me at midnight?

Come on in, Matthew.

And please, take a seat
on the end of the bed there.

Right.

That's your Morrison.

Yes. An important
Australian colonial artist.

Wonderful color.

Best of all, his use
of light and shade.

Tremendous shadow work.

Is that all?

Well, there's something
unusual going on here.

Something you wouldn't
typically find in a Morrison painting.

Here, in the bottom corner.

That's a hole.

Something has
gone clean through it.

- That's a fresh b*llet hole.
- Yes.

There's no gunpowder residue,
which means it exited through here.

Which means it was
sh*t from the next room.

Plaster is easy enough to sh**t
through, but where's the b*llet?

Not here.

Honestly, I searched high
and low before I called you.

The thing is, Matthew,

if we can't find the
b*llet anywhere in here...

then there's a slim
chance, a very slim chance...

..it may still be in Henry King.

All right. Well,
first things first.

Follow me.

I'm sorry for the intrusion,
sir. I'm with the Ballarat Police.

We need to take
a look in this room.

Matthew.

Look here.

Oh. Toothpaste.

It's g*n residue. This
was fired from close range.

Yes. Obviously, someone
was trying to mask the evidence.

Len Webster. This was his room.

Blake.

Ah, chewing gum.

30 cal.

Don't ask me what it
was fired from, though.

I mean, who leaves the case
behind, but plugs up a hole in the wall?

I'm sorry, sir. This
is now a crime scene.

I'm going to have
to ask you to move.

Here's hoping we
don't find a b*llet.

I don't want to get the
sack, having just quit.

Did you happen to see the
ashtray in that adjoining hotel room?

There wasn't one
in Henry King's room.

If Webster wanted to sh**t
King, why do it through a wall?

I have absolutely no idea.

Does this ever get to you?

Well, it's the "how" that
makes it mechanical.

A way of distancing
myself, really.

Must make it easier, then,

if you're considering
digging up your own mother.

Not you, too.

And it's precisely the reason
I need to do it, Matthew,

because she's my mother.

What about you? You
haven't told me a damned thing

about what happened
in Melbourne.

Ah, now's not the time, is it?

It's not going to get any
more private than this.

Well, I was accused of
several counts of corruption.

One Special Branch
hearing after another.

- They couldn't make anything stick.
- No.

They were going to sack me
one way or another, though.

So, what did you do?

Pulled a rabbit out of the
hat, with Charlie's help.

Char... Our Charlie?

I did, however, remain a can
of worms, so they demoted me,

and hoped the humiliation
would drive me out.

Really?

Well, they didn't know
you very well, did they?

Nope.

And here I am.

Well, I can tell you, no b*llet.

Henry King wasn't sh*t,
and thank heaven for that.

Munro's still going to want to
know where this came from, though.

An M1 carbine.

How stupid do you have to
be to leave the case behind?

g*n automatically ejects it.

You stock these, don't
you? The M1 carbine?

Only bloke in Ballarat who does.

Did you k*ll Henry King?

When I was younger, if I'd had a
drink in me, I might have done it.

But not now.

Thanks, mate.

Thanks.

You think that
if I start digging,

that I can't make a case
against you, Mr Stott?

I know you had access to an M1.

You knew King was planning to
sell his business and put you under.

And you've admitted you
visited King's room that night.

We'd like to know how
you got into that hotel room.

Any other services
you provide here?

Why are you asking me questions
you already know the answers to?

So I can tell if you're lying.

I cut keys as well.

So, you could have got
into King's hotel room,

cut a new key,

m*rder*d Henry King...

..propped a chair behind
the door on your way out.

Mate, I own a g*n store.

I'm not bloody Houdini.

If you didn't fire that g*n,
then who did, Mr Stott?

I'm telling you, I don't know.

But I can give you a list
of people I sold an M1 to.

Yes, I purchased an M1
carbine from that store.

Normally, I would have
never drunk that much.

The g*n f*ring was
a complete accident.

And what happened when
it went off, Mr Webster?

The b*llet went
clean through the wall.

I knew there was a chance
that I had sh*t Mr King.

I waited for someone to
report the sound, at least,

but there was so much
noise in the hallway

that no-one seemed
to have noticed.

The next day, I heard that Henry
had suffocated. He wasn't sh*t.

I figured the b*llet had missed him
and no-one seemed to have noticed.

And you covered the
hole with toothpaste.

Hang on a moment.

You didn't cover
the hole, did you?

Norman Baker of
Castlemaine, Victoria.

We need you to be
honest with us, this time.

Were you in the hotel
the night Henry King d*ed?

Yes.

Mr Baker, why didn't
you mention this earlier?

Because in a few more
questions, you're going to find out

that I was there
when the r*fle went off.

And then, you'll find
some way to implicate me

in the m*rder of Henry King,
and as you can appreciate,

I didn't really want that.

So hopefully, my honesty
now will count for something.

But I did not touch that g*n.

I was just there
when it went off.

And then?

And then I went home.

Is there anyone who
can verify that, Mr Baker?

No. I live on my own.

Did you attempt to k*ll Mr
King by sh**ting or suffocation?

No, I did not.

Lucien? You just missed Mattie.

That girl, Jessie, she remembers
being in town to visit her father.

Thank you.

Well, she's from out of
town. That's something.

And Mrs Pryor just rang.

She wants to make an appointment
in two weeks for a follow-up.

- What do you want me to do?
- What would you normally do?

Well, I'm not booking anyone
beyond the end of next week,

because, well...

Of course. Um...

then yes, please,
do... Do book her in.

- Right. I'll let her know.
- Thank you.

Oh, any news on Henry King?

Almost too much, in fact.

And no logic to any of it.

What I'd like to know is what
happened to him ten years ago.

Why ten years ago?

I'm told that's when he
started drinking heavily.

Perhaps there's something
he wanted to forget.

Catherine Lewis seems to think

his declining business
was the problem.

Oh.

Well, uncertainty in your
job is a real worry for people.

Jean, you know...

You know you'll
always have a job here.

Will, sir, be having another?

No. No, thank you, Cec.

And will there be anything
else this afternoon, sir?

No, I don't think...

Actually, Cec, you may be
able to help me with something.

Did you know Henry King?

I knew of him, sir.

His drinking, I
was told, got fairly...

shall we say, out of
hand about a decade ago.

Something to do
with his business.

His business?

Specifically, that
his store was failing.

Begging your pardon, sir,

but Mr King didn't own his hardware
store back then. He was a builder.

A builder, you say? Mm.

- And that drove him to the bottle?
- Well, no, sir.

It was something else entirely.

A tragedy, really.

Catherine! We need to talk.

You told me Henry
King's failing business

was the reason he
started drinking heavily.

That's not quite right, is it?

There was an accident,
on the job. Somebody d*ed.

A customer.

People said that Henry
was so desperate for a drink,

he ran off the job without
a second thought to safety.

Who was the victim?

I don't know. Henry never said.

Only that it was a place
out at Castlemaine.

Mr Baker.

I'm Sergeant Davis, and you know
Doctor Blake. Sorry to bother you.

Like to ask you a few more
questions, if that's all right.

Yes, Mr Baker, if you
don't mind, we'd like to...

We'd like to know a
little bit more about your...

Your dear daughter
who passed away.

She was eight.

My little girl.

I thought she was
playing in her bedroom.

Henry King was
retiling the roof.

He went off for a
drink, about lunchtime.

Didn't batten down
the tiles properly.

They came loose.

- And you blamed him for the accident?
- He was to blame.

So, why do business
with him now?

I didn't k*ll Henry King.

But that's not to say I didn't
want to leave him with nothing.

You wanted to go into business
with him, effectively to destroy him.

Buying his business meant
that he wouldn't need to be sober.

He'd pissed it
all away in booze.

And I could watch
him fall apart.

Just like my family did.

I lost my youngest daughter.

And then soon after,
my wife and I separated.

And my eldest
daughter moved away.

Your eldest daughter?

Yes.

She was here a few
days back for the memorial

at the family plot
at West Wendouree.

Then we had lunch at the Royal.

Obviously, she's
from out of town.

Yes. She drove back to
Bendigo the same day.

You must miss her.

Yes.

That's my youngest
daughter's name.

- Mr...
- Thank you, Mr Baker.

I'm sure Sergeant
Davis will be in touch,

if we have any
further questions.

And you're saying this
man, he's my father?

I think so, yes.

Norman Baker.
Does that ring a bell?

Ah... yeah, yes. That's him.

Good. Good.

Now, you both attended a
memorial on the day of your accident.

- Er... in the morning.
- Yes. Yes, that's right.

And after the memorial, you had
lunch together at the Royal Hotel.

Yeah, Dad... Dad
picked it, I think.

Can you remember the hotel?

I don't know. I don't think so.

Right. Well, here's
what I think happened.

I think you drove
away from the hotel,

heading for your home in
Bendigo, and you crashed your car.

It's cream, my car.
It's a cream Holden.

Excuse me.

The memorial...

it was for my sister.

Yes, that's right. Now, do
you remember her name?

Yes. Jessie.

- No, that's your name, remember?
- No, it's not my name.

It's hers.

Is it possible you've been
remembering your sister's name

rather than your own?

When Jessie d*ed...

Dad sometimes would
call me by her name.

Eventually, I just
stopped correcting him.

So, what's your name?

Anna.

I'll call your father.

Let him know where you are and
that he can come and pick you up.

So, the girl was
inside that hotel,

and now her memories
are starting to return?

Seems that way, yes.

We both know that Norman
Baker didn't have an alibi,

and plenty of motive,
according to you.

Did Anna know her father was
doing a deal with Henry King?

The man who k*lled her sister?

You think she was involved
in the business deal?

Oh, I don't know. Doesn't
feel right though, does it?

The chair.

What if the k*ller never
left the room at all?

Er, hang on, Charlie.

Doc, boss. There's something
you should probably see.

And that's the name of the
specialist I want you to see in Bendigo.

- I'll make sure she does.
- Thanks so much, Mattie.

You're welcome.

I'm so glad you're all right.

Anna.

I have a couple of last-minute
questions I'd like to ask you,

if that's all right, before
you're discharged.

- Er, yeah, of course.
- Thank you. Thank you.

Tell me, what does the
name Henry King mean to you?

He's the man who k*lled Jessie.

It's his fault it happened.

It's a long time ago, now.

We need to know what happened

between you saying goodbye
to your father after lunch

and you leaving the hotel.

I imagine you bought
some cigarettes.

I... I did, yes.

But you didn't have
any matches, remember?

You had to ask Miss O'Brien
to purchase some for you

- here in the hospital.
- I can't...

I'm sorry, I... I
don't remember.

- I... don't remember that at all.
- I think you do.

All right, that's
enough. We're leaving.

Retrograde amnesia, which
is what you've been exhibiting,

is the inability to
remember things

that happened before
a particular trauma,

in this case, your accident.

Now, anterograde amnesia,
which you do not have,

is when you can't learn
or remember anything new.

I don't claim to understand how
memory works, Doctor Blake.

- You're lying, Anna.
- Now, just a minute!

You've been lying to
me, lying to Miss O'Brien,

you've been lying the whole
time. This is what I think happened.

You went upstairs
at the Royal Hotel.

It wouldn't have been difficult to
work out which room was Mr King's.

In fact, the rooms are
unlocked during the afternoons,

while the staff clean.

You went into
room 27 and you hid.

You hid under the bed.

- Lucien!
- No-no-no-no-no, and you waited.

You were ever so patient.

You waited for Mr King to
return. Eventually, he passed out.

And then...

And then you smothered
him with the cushion.

- Annie, no...
- I did it because you couldn't!

I wanted him dead and you just wanted
to see him broken! It wasn't enough.

I panicked.

All those noises,
coming from the hallway.

People coming and going.
Somebody knocking on the door.

Errol Stott.

So, I used the
chair to bar it shut.

They left.

I waited.

I thought I'd managed to
find the courage to leave.

And then, there was a g*nsh*t.

I didn't know what to do.

So, I hid, under the bed.

The longer I was there,
the harder it was to leave.

I froze.

You were still
there, next morning...

when Catherine Lewis and
Len Webster found the body.

They left to call the police.

They left the door open...

and I ran.

I got in the car...
and I was gone.

You took the cushion
and the ashtray, didn't you?

It was always supposed
to look like natural causes.

But you hadn't planned
on the car crash.

Sergeant Davis?

We found your car, Miss Baker.

Sergeant Davis also
found these nearby.

Miss Baker, I'm arresting you
for the m*rder of Henry King.

Anything you say can be written
down and used against you in evidence.

Yes.

What now, Inspector?

I've tried words...

but I think you're
more a man of actions.

Now, if I'm not mistaken,
I'd say that that's you,

the Commissioner of Police
and Mick "Froggie" Morgan.

Strange, don't you think, that two
such high-ranking police officers

should be drinking with the
most wanted man in the state?

Your friends in Melbourne
were very happy to see this.

Besides them, who
else knows about this?

Myself and Blake.

Does Special Branch know
where you got this photo from?

Not yet.

So?

Well, we've both
shown our hands.

And what happens now?

Now, it's a game
of who cracks first.

You were keeping Lawson
informed the whole time, weren't you?

You even found that photograph.

Thank you, Charlie.

Any time, Doc.

And you were right. It
wasn't in any textbook.

Oh, Mattie.

It was impossible
for you to know.

You knew. I didn't even
consider that she was faking.

Our patients...

They...

Ah, Jean.

Sometimes, we want to
believe everything they tell us,

in spite of ourselves.

Jean, why don't you take
my place? I'm going to bed.

- Goodnight.
- Night, Mattie.

Whisky?

Now, that's not your usual.

No. But I thought I might
need some extra courage.

- You've made your decision.
- Yes, I have.

I'm leaving tomorrow morning.

Well...

Goodnight, Lucien.

Goodnight, Jean.