02x06 - Mortal Coil

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Do you mind?

What?
What do you think?

We ready?
We're ready.

Gentlemen.

Tell you when to lift.

And lift.

Take it easy, gentlemen.

Just turn this way.

Nice and steady.

There's no hurry.

Nice and easy.

Easy there.

Watch it there!

Watch it!

Watch it!

Who's that?

Jane. Are you alright?

Yes, I'm fine.

I'm sure Edith
would have been horrified.

Yes, Edith Woodley.
Wasn't she, um...

..um...
One of your father's patients.

Yes, yes. I don't remember
ever treating her.

No. She found you rather alarming.

Doctor.
You go.

Well, it looks like he's been sh*t.

You coming over a bit crook there,
Doc?

No, I'm fine, thank you, Charlie.
Fine.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Sid Bartel.

What, you knew him?

I threw crackers at his horse
when I was a boy.

Dr Harvey.
Dr Blake.

Single g*nsh*t wound,
mid occipital bone.

Yes, explains the bruising
round the eyes.

38, I'd say.

You can tell, just by looking?

Experience. Anything else?

His pockets were full of nails,
nuts and bolts.

He was a scrap merchant.

And he hadn't had a bath
for some time.

I think we can do without
any moral judgement.

It was an observation.

He has lice and burrs.

I can see the burrs here.

As I said, no bath recently.

Well, I'll perform the examination
then, shall I?

Facial contusions, some abrasions.

Severity?

Ah, moderate.
He's taken a fall at some point.

Face-first into the grass, I'd say.

No protective injuries.

Look at this.

Pre-mortem bruising to the chest
and the arm.

How pre?
Two weeks prior to death?

He's been beaten quite severely.

I imagine no-one's
claiming the body?

Pauper's grave, then?

Yes.

Perhaps you should bear that in mind

before complaining
about his personal hygiene.

Did your housekeeper burn your toast
this morning?

Dr Blake, pathology results
for Jean Beazley.

Ah, thank you, Sister. Yes.

God help us.

They let all types in here,
don't they?

They let you in.

Hello, mate.
Harold, good to see you.

Yeah. Bad news?

No, no, nothing. What about you?
What are you doing here, rude health?

I had a bit of a turn
a couple of days ago.

What sort of a turn?
The old ticker.

Bloody hell. What happened?

I'd bottled another batch of whiskey

and I'd found a great place to
store it, out of the way, you know?

Not at home, obviously?

I'm too smart for that, Doc.

Anyway, I'm lifting a few boxes
and I blacked out.

Bloody lucky the boy was there.

Quite. Your doctor's going to advise
you to cut back on the drinking,

you know that, don't you?
Yes.

Harold Morris?
Present.

When you're ready.

No laughing matter, is it?
Getting old.

It's obvious we've been broken
in to

and it's up to you to work it out.

That's right, Mr Callow,

which is why I'm shutting this place
down until we get it sorted.

What? You can't shut us down.

We're trying to run a business -
Dad.

My father's concerned because
we have another funeral booked.

The body's prepared,
Miriam Tucker will be devastated.

Well, that can go ahead,
but that will be all.

Thank you.
Follow me.

How long was Edith Woodley's body
in here?

Three days.

Was there a viewing?
No, she was Anglican.

We keep the bodies in here.

Who else has access?

No-one else, just my daughter and I.

It's obvious we've been broken
in to. I'm not the policeman, but -

Thank you, Mr Callow.

Did you and your daughter know
Sid Bartel?

Not at all.

Lydia and I put Edith Woodley
in the coffin ourselves.

That was yesterday.

Was the lid secured?

The room was locked
until we took the coffin for burial.

It's the cool room.

Malcolm Tucker.

Where does this door lead?

To a side driveway.
We bring the bodies in through there.

It's the only access.

No sign of a forced entry,
Mr Callow.

That'll be the front desk.

Do you mind?

May I help you?

Yes. Um, Dr Lucien Blake,
police surgeon.

I understand from
the hospital reports

you'll be taking care of the funeral
arrangements for Mr Sid Bartel.

Yes.

Um. I would very much like to pay
for his funeral.

My father and I were intending
to cover the costs.

I would like to handle things
properly. For Sid's sake.

Of course.

Thank you.

Ha!

Steven.

It's good to see you.

I saw your father at the hospital.
Oh. Was he behaving himself?

Well, mostly. How is he, really?

Ah, he's not getting any younger.

His mates at the RSL
are looking out for him, so -

Yes, I'm sure they are.
Hmm.

If there's anything I can do,
you let me know.

I was expecting you an hour ago.
I got held up, sorry.

Six boxes this morning.

Leave them round the back.

On time, next time.
Mm-hm.

Ah, thank you.

Have you considered
your own arrangements, Doctor?

I took the liberty of giving you
two copies,

I'm sure you'd want to spare your
family any unnecessary heartache

when your own time comes.

Yes. Ah... I'll let you know.

I'll get a constable to come round

and pick up the rest
of those records.

What are you doing here?

Ah, I had some arrangements
to take care of.

Well?

Ah, nothing useful from the driver.

Knew who Bartel was, but reckons
he had no dealings with him.

Search that storeroom for prints.

We need to find out
where Bartel d*ed.

Start with his house.
Yes, sir.

Blake?

You right there?
Ah, yes, of course.

Jean?

Jean?
I'm here. What is it?

Um...
What is it?

..it's, ah, it's a consent form.

Oh? Consent for what?

Well, in the event that I -
you know, when -

At some point I'm going to need
a funeral, and would you consider -

Well, would you consent
to being my next of kin?

Everything will be paid for
but you would be the one they called.

You know, if, in the event that I -

If that's alright.

Shall I be setting one less place
for dinner tonight?

Oh, no, no. It's just a formality,
if you want to have a read there.

You know old Sid was sh*t before he
was put into Edith Woodley's coffin.

Just sign there.

Oh.
Yes.

Are you alright, Lucien?

Yes, tickety-boo.
How are you feeling?

I'm still a little shakey.

Funerals are grim
at the best of times.

Yes, they are.

Who's looking after Sid's horse now?

Sid still had a horse?

Sid's always had a horse.

Charlie?
Yeah.

Anything?

Well, I just got here
but, ah, have a look at this.

Really?

Ah.
Callows Funeral Home.

Very interesting.

Certainly is.

Did you find anything else
at the home?

Well, where they keep the bodies
we found three sets of prints.

The old man's, the daughter's
and one we can't identify as yet.

Ah.

Where do you think that horse is?
No idea.

Ah, Doctor?
Yes.

You might want to come
and have a look at this.

Ah, goodness me.

How long's he been dead,
do you reckon?

Let's have a little look, hey?

Bloody hell!

Oh!

You just head back into town,
alright?

How'd you get on?

Name's Wallace Creen.

Bartel was letting him stay here
for a while.

Right. Anything useful?

Not really. Grog's wiped his brain.

I see.

Did he say anything about the horse?

Said his name was Bob.
Bob?

Bob the horse.

Bob the horse?

Where have you been, mister?

Charlie, come and check the cart
for me.

Hey, good boy.

What say we get you unhitched, hey?

Give you a nice rub-down.

What have you got going on there?

Doctor?
Yes?

What do you make
of this black paint?

It's not just black paint, Charlie,
that's from a car.

Good afternoon, officers.

Can I help you?

There's been some panel work here,
Mr Poole.

What happened?

I ran into a fence rail
and had to get the panel reworked.

It's nice work.

Where'd you have it done?

Brogan's, up on the main street.

That's interesting.

We just went and had a little chat
to Toby Brogan before he came here.

Didn't we, boss?
We did.

You wanna know what he told us?

Said that you got that ding

from running Sid Bartel's cart
off the road.

You wanna explain that?

Yeah, alright.

I ran his stupid cart off the road,

he was going two miles an hour,
whistling at his damn horse.

I had to get a body to a funeral.

We were told something else.

'I had to teach that
silly old bastard a lesson.'

This wasn't about being stuck
behind a cart, was it?

It was about him stealing
from your boss.

Sid Bartel had bruises
on his arms and legs

from a b*ating he received
two weeks before he d*ed.

I don't know anything about that.

You told everyone about it.

You said you made him beg.

No, I... I don't remember... that.
I -

Sid Bartel was 70 years old.

He was sh*t up at Fromelles.

And you b*at him up
for stealing a couple of vases.

No.

And you got a laugh from watching him
beg for his life.

How about I take you down
to the cells at the station

and show you exactly how that feels?

It was me boss.

Me boss made me do it.

Put them in the cells.

I dunno know what he's told you and
I don't care, this is ridiculous.

Superintendent!
Put them in the cells.

Get your hand off me!

Anything?

Yeah. We found this
in Alfred Poole's possessions.

It's a 38.

And there's three live rounds
still in the chamber.

It's been fired recently.

I'll send it to Melbourne,
see if they can find a match on it.

And if we don't get a match?

Well, we better just hope
we find out where Bartel was k*lled.

Is that yours?

Yes.

Wanna help me find who k*lled
your master?

Hey?
Be a detective with me?

Here. Here, hey.

Right.

Here we go, Bob. Giddy-up, I suppose.

Hmm? Off we go.

Bob?

Come on, Bob.

Ah, that's the one.

Whoa, whoa.

Alright, Bob, round there, mate.

Hey, nice car, Grandpa.

Bit of a step down for you,
isn't it, Doc?

Harold, what are you up to?

Wendouree branch of the RSL.

The boy's even taken time off
to have a drink with us.

Good to see you following
doctor's orders then.

You look like you could do
with a drink yourself.

You joining us?

Servicemen always welcome.
Come and have a nice cold beer.

Here we go.
Watch out, Doc.

Oh, thank you, Steven.

Lemonade?

I dunno about you blokes, but
I'm pretty embarrassed right now.

Yes, well, I... I'm on call.

I wondered what he was doing
with that horse and cart.

Well, as a matter of fact,
that's old Sid's gig.

I'm guessing this is one
of his watering holes.

One of them.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Tell me, Harold,
when did you last see him?

Last week, I reckon, why?

He d*ed a couple of days ago,
the police are investigating.

Jesus.
Yes.

What happened?

We don't know yet.
But if the cops are involved?

I heard he was at Fromelles.

Yes, that's right.

Bloody terrible, isn't it.

He survives the w*r
and cops it back home in Ballarat.

To old soldiers.

Hear, hear. Stevie.
Good on you, Harold.

There's a boy.

You just took it, did you?

I had a feeling about
the bloody thing.

No, that cart was material evidence.

Come on, Lawson,
at least it led us somewhere.

You're not a copper.

So it wasn't your call.

Now, you pull your head in.

Forgive me.

Sid had a regular route he'd follow,
I just let the horse have its head.

What was he doing here?

Well, scrap metal.
Helping himself, I think.

This his blood?

I don't think so.

Sid had one b*llet wound and
that b*llet was still in his skull.

This... this was used
on someone else.

What's that, a 38?

Looks like it, hey?

Sir.

Have a look.

b*llet mark.

Must've nicked the edge.

Drag marks here...

..and blood.

Here... and here.

Sid fell somewhere here,
they dragged the body this way.

What else have you found?

Nothing.

I just feel a little crook.

Yes?

I was going to compliment you
on your lovely notice for Sid Bartel

but I'm having second thoughts.

Jean, I'm sorry.

You alright?

Nothing a cup of tea wouldn't cure.

You know we found traces
of Sid's blood

outside an old run-down shed
out past the highway.

There was also blood
on the floor inside - someone else's.

Another body?
Yes.

Well, where is it?
We don't know.

Miriam Tucker's burying her husband
this afternoon.

Just the one husband, is it?

Apparently.

It is the same funeral home, but...

..well, that would be ridiculous,
wouldn't it?

Is she Catholic?

Why on earth
would that be important?

Would there have been a viewing?

Was the coffin open?
No, she's Anglican.

Get Lawson on the phone,
tell him to meet me there.

Do it, please, Jean.

Miss Callow.

Is Mrs Tucker here?
No.

Right, I need you
to open this coffin.

Doctor, this is unforgivable.

Two men are dead,
we've only found one body.

Now, please, I need you
to open this coffin.

You have no business coming here.

But I do.

Miss Callow,

we're in the middle of conducting
a missing persons investigation.

Would you be so kind
as to open the lid on this coffin?

I know it's a long sh*t.

Satisfied?
I am sorry.

Thank you, Miss Callow.

Who the bloody hell
do you think you are?

You know there are people
just waiting for you to stuff up

and you pull a stunt like this?

Matthew -
Shut up.

I don't know what the bloody hell's
wrong with you

but you better sort it out

before you even think
about resuming your duties.

Is that clear?
Yes.

Lucien?

Just give me a moment,
would you, Jean, please?

Yes?

Dinner's in a quarter of an hour.
Good. Thank you.

Ah, Dr McKenzie rang
from the hospital.

Apparently he's concerned
about my blood tests.

My liver function's down.

Well, I haven't had any blood tests
lately.

Any idea what he's talking about?
No.

Jean, how well do you know
Miriam Tucker?

Not that well, why?
We may have to send flowers.

You didn't go -
Yes, I did, do you think we could -

Yes, I think that's the least
we could do.

Thank you.

Quarter of an hour.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Thank you.

Come on, Mattie.

OK, what's going on?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Is he drinking?

No. I keep an eye
on the levels of his bottles

and he's not drinking at all.

Well, what about the club?
He hasn't been to the club in weeks.

He seems to be -
Rather more impossible than usual?

Yes.
Matthew Lawson said the same thing.

In fact -

Lucien!

What did the Superintendent say?
He said to keep an eye on him.

Glad to see you've taken my advice.

What's the thinking here?

Well... we're looking
for a second victim,

it's reasonable to assume the body
came through the funeral home.

Maybe it didn't.

Of course, that is a possibility.

Say you're right.

Why this one here?

Look... we checked a coffin today,
didn't we?

Nothing.

Now, if the body wasn't disposed of
after Sid's was,

then it must have been before.

And this...

..this was the only other
non-Catholic funeral

in the past two weeks.

Where are you going?

Got another shovel in the car.

Oh, bloody hell.

Give us a hand.

Thank you... Matthew.

It's funny, isn't it?

What's that?

That sooner or later, one way
or another, we all end up here.

You alright there?

Oh... I'd k*ll for a drink.

What if there's only one body?

We cover it up.

Yeah. Yeah, we cover it up.

Oh!

It's 3:00 in the morning.

And you started without me.

Who is he?

Andrew Morgan, 28.

Otherwise known as Handy Andy.
That's almost funny.

Some contusions to the face,
the arms.

What about the scratches?
Fingernails, most likely.

Yes, there's been a fight.

Fairly desperate, I'd say.

Ligature marks around the wrists,

the ones we saw around the ankles,

suggest he was bound pre-mortem.

Cause of death - single sh*t
to the back of the head, 38.

Like Bartel?
Well, not quite.

Minimal damage to the vertebrae...
Yes.

..which means full flexion
of the neck at the time of death.

Sid was sh*t as he was running away.

This poor chap was kneeling,
head bowed,

with hands and wrists bound.

The gunman would have been
standing over him

and the b*llet has passed
right through the skull.

Like an execution.

His blood type matches the blood
we found in the shed.

What?

Andrew Morgan, long record.
General thug for hire.

Anti-union and intimidation,

usually accompanied
by his brother, Victor.

So?

Morgan went missing four days ago,
so did Victor.

He hasn't been found yet.

I see.

So we might be looking
for one more body.

Hmm.

I'll leave you to it.

Goodnight.

No biting my head off tonight.

Um...

Would you mind terribly
doing me a favour?

Could you conduct some bloods for me?

Of course. What am I looking for?

Not for him.

Morning. I didn't wake you, did I?

A little difficult to sleep,
all things considered.

What happened?

Well, we found the body,
now we're looking for another one.

Cup of tea?

I don't think Sid was meant to die.
Why do you say that?

Well, he was running away.

This shed's part
of an old abandoned property,

he was stealing from it.

Oh, and someone finally caught him?

But if it's abandoned, it doesn't
belong to anyone, does it?

So why would someone sh**t him

for stealing something that
doesn't belong to anyone anymore?

What about the man with the, um -

Oh, the chap with the finger missing,
yes.

Whoever he was...

..they took him to that shed
to k*ll him.

Imagine it.

Ah, it's just awful.

Adrenalin flooding the system.

Probably hyperventilating
by that point.

Fight or flight.

Of course, he could do neither,
just...

..just awful.

And of course maybe -
maybe that's what Sid saw,

someone being m*rder*d.

And he tried to run.

Didn't get very far.

It makes sense, doesn't it.

Mmm! Did I tell you...

..I found a new home for Sid's horse.

Oh!
Mm! Local family, with children.

Which is ironic, really.

Why ironic?

Well, when I was a child,
I threw crackers at Sid's horse.

Different animal back then,
of course, but...

Oh, I thought Sid was gonna give me
such a thrashing.

And?

He sat me down...

..and he carved
a little wooden horse.

And he gave it to me.

Oh, I've never felt so ashamed.

Anyhow, I'm gonna see
if I can get some sleep.

Goodnight, you two.

Hey, Lyd -
Can't you see we're busy?

I got deliveries.

Not now, for God's sake.
Half an hour.

Morning.
Lawson, um, I was wondering,

how do the Callows fit in
with the Morgans?

Well, Martin and Lydia Callow
never met the Morgans.

Never heard of them.

They don't know how
this could possibly have happened.

And you believe them?

Oh, remains to be seen.
Ah, right.

Only two sets of keys,
father and daughter,

and no sign of forced entry.

I see. Well.

Anything else you need?

No, we'll be right.

Very good.

Sir?

You know Melbourne sent me up here
to keep an eye on things?

I did know that.

Well, they're reining in
most of the larger country stations

but they've got their eye
on Ballarat in particular.

And they've heard
the Doctor's out of control.

Hm. Wonder who they heard that from?

So, what do you reckon?

Well, I reckon he's a liability.

I reckon you think so too.

Would you have dug up a grave
in the middle of the night?

No.
Me neither.

Most of the time,
he's helping me do my job.

So it's just a question
of managing him.

Same as you.

Got everything?

Think so.
Let's go.

These premises will remain locked
until further notice

and you will report daily
down at the station

while the investigation is ongoing.

Is that understood?

Doc.
Steven.

You after a lift?
No. No, no, no. I'm fine.

But I would like to know how long
you've had a key to the storeroom.

I don't.

Really?
Yes.

Then you won't mind if I take a look
at those keys of yours.

It's a busy day, Doc.
I should head -

Steven, please, show me your keys.
Dunno what you're talking about.

You k*lled those men and used
your truck to bring the bodies here.

You leave it alone.
Then you put them in the coffins.

So just show me your keys -
I said leave it alone!

Steven!

Charlie, where's Lawson?

Town Hall.

They're asking questions about you.

I need to talk with him.

You are not going up there.

Charlie.
Doc. Doc!

You really don't wanna go around
making a nuisance of yourself

right now.

Lydia Callow is having a fling
with Steven Morris.

Who?
The delivery driver.

He has a key to the storeroom
where the bodies are kept.

He may well be that... unidentified
set of prints you found.

There's only supposed to be
two sets of keys.

That's right. And he was very violent
with me when I confronted him.

You what?

I confronted him, he threatened me
and then he drove away.

Oh, brilliant.
What?

Well, you've given him a chance
to destroy all the evidence.

Well, no-one else was asking him
anything, Charlie.

I'll get the boss,
tell him what happened.

You sit in that chair.
No.

You leave this room
and I'm charging you

with interfering
with a police investigation.

Is that clear?
It'll never stick, Charlie.

I'm not doing this for your benefit.

Victor.

Victor Morgan, can you hear me?

Don't be alarmed, I'm a doctor.
Let's get you out of here.

What have they done to you?

Throw an arm over. Alright.

Harold Morris.

And I'm guessing
that's your ex-service 38.

You don't sound surprised, Doc.

Well, the bottles of home-distilled
whiskey down there gave it away.

So what do you reckon?

Mmm. Could do with a little
more aging.

Funny bloke.

Always liked that about you.

Ah, stay there.

Oh, come on, Harold.

You don't want to do this.

Do you have a better idea?
Look, I -

I figure you've had it in for the
Morgan brothers for quite some time.

No. Never met them before.

I had some dealings
with their old man though,

when I was working for the union.

He ended up with his legs broken.

My guess is...
..the boys got old enough

and decided to square things up.

That right, son?

They came looking for me.

But I got the drop on them.
I see.

And that brought on
the heart trouble.

Yeah. Never used to worry me before.

Righto... time's up.

No hard feelings, Doc.

Oh!

Oh...

..now this is interesting.

You look like you've used one
of those before.

Once or twice.

On the floor, Harold,
hands on your head.

I can't do that, Doc.

You know, it's one thing to sh**t
someone in the middle of battle,

but it's another thing
to do it cold.

And to someone you know, too.

Most blokes don't have it in them.
but that's alright, you know.

You're a doctor. You spend most
of your life fixing blokes like me.

Don't feel bad
if you don't want to sh**t me.

And you really don't want
to sh**t me, do you, Doc?

Stop.
So just hand it back...

Stop.

..and you've got nothing
to worry about.

Come on, Doc.

Well, I'll be buggered.

How'd you first meet the Morgans?

I opened the front door
and those two brothers were there

and they both had coshes.

They'd come for Dad.

So what happened?

They walked me into the living room.

Dad must have heard something, he
got the first one with a golf club,

fought with the other,
and it got nasty.

Then I dropped the bloke
and that's, ah...

..when Dad's heart played up.

So you took your father
to the hospital?

No. He said that there was work
to do.

I put the brothers in the truck,
took them to that shed,

and Dad had, ah...

..he'd just sh*t the first one
when that old bloke appeared.

Sidney Bartel.

Yes. He must've seen everything,
so Dad did what he had to.

Ah, we buried Andy Morgan first

and then had to wait a couple
of days to get rid of old Sid.

And what about Victor Morgan?

There was another Anglican funeral
in three days time.

Most of the homicides I've seen,
people just dig a big hole.

Weren't you taking a risk
with coffins?

Have you ever dug a grave before?

Me neither.

But I've dug some bloody big holes
and it's hard work.

Anyway, ah, I'd checked the ledger
in the storeroom

and that old bird was supposed
to be cremated.

And we'd already gotten rid
of the first one.

Your girlfriend reckons
it was a bookkeeping error.

The old man's gonna be
pretty disappointed.

Ah.

Here he is.

How's the leg?

Bloody k*lling me.

I guess the boy's telling them
everything?

He is.

You know, you surprised me
back there.

I just didn't see it coming.

You were going to k*ll me,
weren't you?

I saw a fair bit of action
when I was in New Guinea.

Didn't worry me.

Not like most blokes.

Actually discovered
I was quite good at it.

Mr Morris?
Is there anything else that -

No, thanks, love.
All good, thank you.

I was lucky when I came back home.

The unions needed someone
who didn't get squeamish

and the work suited me.

But it's not for everyone.

You ever have to k*ll a bloke, Doc?

Then we've got more in common
than I thought.

No. You and I...

..we have nothing in common.

Whatever happened up in New Guinea,
you had a choice when you came back.

You didn't have to do all this.

Sermon over, Doc?

Sid Bartel was at Fromelles.

The worst single day in a battle
Australia's ever seen.

He had more reason than any of us
to go bad, and he didn't.

And you sh*t him in the back.

Hey, Doc.

You might as well drink the scotch
I left down in that basement.

Don't reckon I'll be getting back
to it.

You're sure?

No, I asked the lab to send back
the wrong results.

You see, this is why you should
never mix with living patients.

I thought you'd be glad.
I am. Of course I am.

It's a relief. It's just hepatitis.

You thought it was cirrhosis
of the liver, didn't you?

Liver enzymes raised,
bilirubin high,

symptoms comparable
with the onset of influenza.

Irritability?

I thought I was dying.

It's fairly simple to diagnose.

What about these tremors? Look.

Getting older.

Difficulty controlling my temper?

You're right.
They're not usual symptoms.

Hmmm.

Have you made any major changes
lately?

Diet? Routine?

Well... well, I stopped drinking.

What?

That's actually quite funny.

Considering you
misdiagnosed yourself.

You're right, it is, rather.
Thank you, Alice.

You'll need to stay off alcohol
until you're better.

Do you think you can do that?

Jean? Time to break out the whiskey.

Oh? What's the occasion?

Well, I've just been chatting
with Dr Harvey and, um -

Ah, yes - and apparently...

..apparently,
according to the good doctor -

Oh!

I have hepatitis.

Right. Is that such
a good idea then?

You drink it for me.

Please, Jean.

You do worry me.

Ah, ah, ah. You sip it.

And you savour it.

That is appalling.

I have no idea
how you can drink that.

Ah, ah, ah!

Not quite the reaction
I was hoping for.

How are you feeling?

Honestly?

Just glad to be alive.

Do you still require me
as your next of kin?

For your funeral?

Well, if that's still acceptable?

Yes, I suppose it is.

Bruising around the eyes.

He's been hit with something,
obviously.

A trophy base.

Donald McEvoy.
Look who it is.

What happened to your hand?
Boxing practice.

Did the tuckshop provide
Mr Lennox's lunches?

Oh, yes. Every day.

The last person to see Joseph Lennox
alive was Ms Blackwell,

the Headmaster's secretary.

I understand you worked
in the tuckshop?

We all did.
Donald McEvoy as well?

She was in a relationship
with Mr Lennox.

What about his breakfast and dinner?

He ate his breakfast at home.
Cornflakes, every day.

That seems like intimate knowledge
for a secretary.

Do you have a housekeeper, Doctor?
Yes, I do.

And how well does she know
your habits?