Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries

(wind whistling) (thunder crashes) (suspenseful music) - Roland.

Roland Claremont.

I call you from the spirit world.

(suspenseful music continues) (suspenseful music continues) (thunder crashes) (man gasps) (soldiers chattering) - Prepare to fix bayonets!

- [Man] Bayonets!

- Fix bayonets!

- [Man] Bayonets!

- [Men] Charge!

(guns firing) - Come on!

Come on!

Move it forward!

Move it!

Get up!

Get up!

(men screaming) Ah!

(gun firing) (man screaming) Stretcher-bearer!

- Roland?

Roland?

Are you here?

- Auntie Prue.

And Maude, my sweet.

And dear Freddy.

Oh.

Darling Phryne too.

- Hello, Roland.

- Roly, we need to know.

Freddy needs to know.

He doesn't feel right accepting his award.

He can't recall his brave deeds that day, you see.

- Can't you recall anything, Freddy?

- Only the noise.

(wheezing) I'm sorry.

- Basil is here with me too, Freddy.

- [Prudence] Basil who?

- Captain!

Captain!

Captain!

Help me!

- [Roland] Stretcher-bearer!

- Help!

- Stretcher-bearer!

(gun firing) - Stretcher-bearer!

(man screaming) - Stretcher-bearer!

(gun firing) (suspenseful music) (Freddy wheezing) - Basil?

- Roly... Tell Freddy how he tried to save your life.

(Freddy wheezing) Tell him.

(suspenseful music continues) (Freddy panting) (suspenseful music continues) - Stretcher now!

Stretcher-bearer!

(suspenseful music continues) For pity's sake, man.

(groaning) (suspenseful music continues) (Freddy gasping) (gun fires) (Freddy hyperventilating) (upbeat music) (upbeat music continues) (upbeat music continues) (upbeat music continues) (Freddy coughing) - Freddy?

- Mr. Butler?

Your urgent assistance, please.

- Mrs. Bolkonsky, can you hear me?

Mrs. Bolkonsky?

- You have nothing to feel guilty about.

You did everything you could to help Roland.

- No, I can't know that!

I-I don't remember!

- No, and how could you?

You were in shock.

- Gunshot.

I heard a gunshot.

- [Prudence] Well, of course you did.

- No, no, no, after shelling, when it was quiet as death.

- Come on, darling.

Please, you need to breathe.

Please.

Please.

- No bravery, no award.

(gasping) - Big, slow breaths.

- You're as cold as ice.

(Bolkonsky gasping) - The circle is still open.

Everybody must return to the table.

- Not on your life.

I hope he settles soon.

We've got a long drive home.

- But you must stay the night.

- No, we c... We couldn't possibly impose.

- I insist.

Foster is too far for Freddy to travel in this state.

Mr. Butler will assist you to the guest room.

And, Dot, would you take up some fresh towels, please?

- Yes, miss.

- Thank you.

Larry, we'll need the laudanum and the captain's heart medicine.

- They're still in the motorcar, Mrs. Ashmead.

- No, I-I'll get them.

Just, for heaven's sake, get him out of this stuffy room.

(Freddy gasping) - Oh, dear.

- [Dunn] We can visit the cemetery in the morning.

- I-I'm so sorry.

Perhaps we could conclude our spiritual matters tomorrow.

- Well, if we don't, Mrs. Stanley, I can't be responsible.

- I can't believe Miss Phryne ever let that charlatan cross the doorstep.

- Have you ever known Miss Fisher to do anything she didn't want to do?

- And for that matter, I can't believe Mrs. Stanley is a life member of the Spiritualist Society.

- Well, I expect she joined after her godson was killed at the front.

Must have been a terrible blow.

And for poor Captain Ashmead as well.

- Father Grogan says dabbling in the occult is a mortal sin.

(eerie music) (feet plodding) (man whistling) (door creaking) - Who's there?

(eerie music continues) Who's in there?

Hello?

(tool whooshing) (man groaning) (suspenseful music) (man groaning) (tool clanging) - [Beale] Potts.

Ernie Potts.

Always did the graveyard shift, so to speak.

Awful business.

- Any next of kin?

- The missus passed away years ago.

There's a daughter.

- [Jack] Do you have a key to this?

(keys jangling) - [Hugh] Do you think he disturbed a break-in, sir?

(suspenseful music) - Doesn't look like anything's been disturbed.

(suspenseful music continues) - Whatever's going on?

(Phryne gasping) (suspenseful music continues) Jack.

- I'm afraid this is a restricted area.

A cemetery worker was murdered here last night.

And how is it, Miss Fisher, you always manage to turn up when I'm on the case?

- Not always, Jack.

We merely came to pay our respects.

- This is a crime scene.

- Roland was a good family friend.

Aunt Prudence's godson.

- No, no.

Crime scene.

- Oh, I take it this is the poor fellow's blood as well.

So, what are you thinking?

He disturbed a would-be grave robber?

- [Hugh] Ah, that's what I think, too, miss.

- The door was locked, and there's no sign of disturbance to the tomb.

(Freddy coughing) - Oh, Freddy!

Freddy, it's just a horrid coincidence.

- No!

It's Roland.

I know it.

(coughing) - Oh, I, I thought this would calm him.

- It's all right, Maude.

I'll see you back at the car.

- Come on.

- Mustard gas.

- Well, what's their connection?

- Oh, it's all very incestuous.

Maude is Roland's widow, and Freddy was his best friend.

Fought under him at Pozieres.

Then married his widow.

They're all staying with me at the present, so if you'd like to question them yourself, you might have to visit me.

- I'm impressed.

You've commandeered my case before I knew I had one.

Constable, finish searching the area.

I'll be at Miss Fisher's residence.

- [Hugh] Yes, sir.

- So you don't think it was a coincidence either?

- In my experience, there's no such thing.

(door thuds) - I-I can't tell you how distressing this is, Inspector.

No wonder my poor godson can't rest in peace.

- Hold your fire, Aunt P. The inspector's on the case now.

- Mrs. Stanley, I may as well begin with you.

- I hope you'll begin and end with me, Detective Inspector.

Maude and Freddy have enough to worry about, and we have an unfinished seance to deal with.

- Seance?

- [Prudence] Yes, with the great Mrs. Bolkonsky.

- You've not heard of her?

- In Melbourne by popular demand, offering her services to a very select few members of the Spiritualist Society.

- Aunt P turned out to be one of the select few.

The psychic equivalent of winning a chook raffle.

- Mrs. Bolkonsky chose us on merit.

She told me herself.

(sighs) And so timely.

Freddy has suffered very poor health recently.

Aunt P thought that if anybody could convince Freddy to accept his bravery award before it's too late, it would be Roland himself.

- Your late godson, Lieutenant Colonel Roland Claremont.

- Another fine young man cut down in his prime.

- How many miles of red tape did you have to battle to get his remains back from France?

- I wasn't about to leave him moldering in some godforsaken foreign turnip field!

- Well, I'll have to interview Captain Freddy Ashmead and his wife and any staff.

Now, where will I find Mrs. Bol whatsit?

(footsteps clacking) - How glorious!

(sniffs) Thank you.

- It's little enough in return for your hospitality, Miss Fisher.

Last night ended on an unfortunate note.

- Detective Inspector Robinson, may I introduce Mrs. Bolkonsky, spiritual medium from Sydney via Paris, London, and San Francisco.

- The Americans are so wonderfully open.

- And we were booked solid for weeks.

- And her manager, Mr. Warwick Hamilton.

- True love must never be denied, Detective Inspector.

- Very profound.

- I've been telling Mrs. Bolkonsky about the attack.

She has a theory.

- It wouldn't be the first time she's helped the police.

- And your theory is?

- Our gathering last night was interrupted.

- Yes, Freddy had a horrid attack.

- The channel was not properly closed.

And when this happens, the spiritual energy may linger, disturbed, and sometimes hostile.

- There's nothing spiritual about a man being hit over the head and impaled on a fence.

- That energy may enter a living person, drive them to violent acts.

It is irresistible.

- I'm sure it'll provide much comfort to Mr. Potts' family.

Now, where is Mr. Ashmead?

I'll need to speak with him first.

- I'm afraid he's still indisposed.

- Uh, Freddy's valet, Mr. Larry Dunn.

- An invaluable support to the Ashmeads and to Maude's family before that.

- Perhaps, Mrs. Ashmead, you should go up.

- Phryne, at this rate, I'm afraid we may have to extend our stay.

- Dear Maude, you're welcome to stay as long as you need.

- Let me help too.

- Perhaps Larry could answer any questions you have, Inspector.

- Thank you.

If I may use the parlor.

- Of course.

And, um, why not take some of these with you?

Ham, cheese, and mustard pickle.

I read your mind.

This way.

- Inspector, believe what I say, for your own sake.

The heart line never lies.

You know that your greatest passion is very close at hand.

(cup clinks) (John clears throat) Pursue it.

- And believe what I say, Mrs. Bolkonsky, I have no intention of pursuing my greatest passion.

Unless it's these sandwiches, which are a particular favorite.

(soft music) (silverware clinks) (Bolkonsky exhales sharply) - Oh, my heart.

(suspenseful music) - Are you all right?

- Oh, it's nothing, dear.

- Mrs. Bolkonsky looks so pale.

Is she ill?

- Oh, she's given her heart to her work, literally.

It's taken its toll.

She has no energy to spare for skeptics.

- Yes, well, Inspector Robinson can be a difficult man to sway.

- Well, you seem to have a way with him, Miss Fisher.

And what about you?

Skeptic or believer?

- Let's just say I keep an open mind.

- Mm.

Always wise to keep your wits about you.

- Yes.

Amazing what some get away with in a darkened room.

Balsa-wood tables on fishing lines.

- On fishing lines.

Balloons with painted faces, spirits with egg white and silk, collapsible wrapping sticks hidden under skirts.

Any amount of trickery and illusion.

- You seem very familiar with the charlatan's repertoire.

- Oh, I need to be, or those charlatans will bring genuine spiritualists into disrepute.

- And thanks to the Great War, there's no shortage of bereft customers ripe for the plucking.

My Aunt Prudence, for example.

Maude and Freddy.

(Cec inhales) - I must confess I was a bereft customer when I met Mrs. Bolkonsky.

I lost my twin brother at the Somme.

- [Phryne] I'm sorry.

- Mrs. Bolkonsky's gift is genuine, Miss Fisher.

She takes only a modest sum to help people and spirits alike to find peace in their separate realms.

And if people take solace in belief, who are we to criticize them?

(footsteps thud) - Thank you, Mr. Butler.

Mr. Ashmead seems much more settled after that broth.

Oh, good.

Must be a great responsibility having to care for such an ill gentleman.

- Oh, it's no burden.

The captain doesn't complain.

It's Mrs. Ashmead I worry for.

She gets herself into a state.

- You used to work for her parents?

- I've known her since she was a girl.

- You must be a great comfort to her, then.

- We do what we can, don't we?

(birds chirping) (gate creaking) - Didn't I make myself perfectly clear?

No more laudanum.

- [Dunn] Now, Captain, you know what Mrs. Ashmead says.

- Mrs. Ashmead cannot get it through her head that there are far worse crosses to bear than physical pain.

This fog in my head.

This, this constant mental daze.

- All right, all right.

(soft music) - Good morning.

- Morning.

(soft music continues) (Freddy sniffing) - These are, um, Bella Sprunts, if I'm not mistaken.

- Ah, yes, I believe so.

- Here you go, Captain.

Nice and hot.

And, uh, don't forget your heart medicine.

(liquid pouring) (soft music continues) (birds chirping) (hooves clopping) - Freddy?

Are you all right, Freddy?

- I'm sorry.

- Are you in pain?

- Sometimes, Phryne, I feel like I can't go forward, I can't be still.

I-I can't even drink tea without tasting blood.

- The seance has stirred it all up for you.

For me, it's faces on streets or trams bearing the slightest resemblance, and I'm right back there.

- B-But my war goes on and on, Phryne.

I-In my head.

(panting) Battle neurosis.

That's what the doctors say.

- It's a perfectly rational response to an absurd situation.

- But I can't help feeling there's some hideous truth lurking in a dark corner of my mind.

- Well, we're both home now.

We're safe.

(tense music) - Yes.

(tense music continues) I never appreciated flowers until France.

It's amazing how a single stunted wildflower, struggling for survival in a battlefield of mud, can touch what's left of one's heart.

(sighing) (tense music continues) Here.

Here.

Maude doesn't know that I've kept it.

She doesn't like me being upset.

- A dispatches report.

- The day Roland was killed.

- It says here that you carried him off the field in the midst of battle.

- Yes, but why does it rankle with me?

Why can't I remember?

When my time comes, I need to know what kind of man I am.

Was I a hero, as your aunt would have me be, or will I die a coward?

(shuddering) (engine) - Shell shock does mysterious things to the mind.

It closes doors.

- He doesn't trust that dispatches report.

So if you were to obtain Roland's war records as part of your inquiry into the cemetery murder... - And how would that help?

- Medical details.

The name of the doctor in the field hospital who treated Roland.

Someone must know the whole story.

- Why bother with records when Mrs. Bolkonsky can go direct to the source?

(person knocking) - Roland Claremont's war records, as requested, sir.

- How remarkably clairvoyant of you, Jack.

You know, Hugh, if we ask nicely, he'll make the desk levitate.

- I'm simply looking for a reason why someone would break into the tomb of a man who's been dead for over a decade.

- Yes.

And why they'd kill a poor gravedigger to do it.

"Claremont, Lieutenant Colonel Roland Albert.

Killed, the Somme, July 25, 1916.

Wounded in battle.

Died en route to field hospital."

And at the age of 12, he thought it was fun to throw lizards' guts at unsuspecting females.

I added that last bit.

- From personal experience?

- It wasn't me.

It was his nanny.

He was a horrible child.

- Not quite the way your Aunt Prudence described him.

- Oh, Saint Roly knew how to pick a target.

Signed Percy Bishop.

Well, it's a name at least.

(upbeat music) (upbeat music continues) - Oh, Cec, don't get butter on it.

It's from the library.

- So how does this Mrs. Baloney do it?

- Well, they pick up on clues.

You know, follow hunches.

- Just like Miss Fisher.

- Ah, Bert and Cec.

And drop scones!

- So who's this Percy Bishop you want us to round up?

All I can tell you is that he came from Coburg and worked out of a field hospital near Pozieres in 1916.

- Doctor?

- Stretcher-bearer.

- A bloody conchie.

A lily-livered, moralistic gutless wonder.

- And if he's still alive, I would like him to remain that way, at least until I've had a word with him.

- No guarantees.

(footsteps clacking) (tools clanging) - Percy Bishop - Go easy.

- That's me.

- Your mother said we'd find you here.

You the Percy Bishop who was a stretcher-bearer at Pozieres?

Percy the conchie?

War's been over 10 years and more, digger.

I don't need no more trouble.

- Oh, there won't be any trouble.

A man who can't raise his fists for his country isn't gonna be any trouble at all.

(awkward music) Since when does a pacifist go around breaking other blokes' noses?

- Ah, it's not broken.

- So you stand by and watch Percy "Iron Fist" Bishop pummel me into the dirt?

- You started it.

- Then it's your own fault.

It's not as if being anti-killing meant you got to sit out the war knitting socks by the fire.

- Now you're letting a Sheila henpeck me when I'm down.

Bloody hell.

- Dragging a half-dead digger out of two-foot-deep mud is no job for a coward.

- Oh, Bishop's no coward.

I'll grant you that.

- It was a bad day.

Heavy shelling and a casualty list to match.

That didn't stop Roaring Roly from taking his men over the top.

- "Roaring Roly."

That's appropriate.

- He was always bellowing at somebody.

And he was yelling fit to blow a gasket when he got hit.

His leg was buggered.

I could see that.

I tried to go out for him, but the Germans weren't finished.

I stuck my head out again after it went quiet, and that's when I saw the captain coming towards the trench with Roland on his shoulders.

- I assume he didn't die of a broken leg.

- No, some Hun took a potshot at him.

- Captain Ashmead remembers hearing a final pistol shot before Roland went quiet.

- That'd be right.

- But a pistol needs to be fired at close range to do the job, and of course only officers carried handguns.

- Maybe one of the German brass finishing off the survivors.

- If Roland was finished off, why would your report state that he died on the way to hospital?

- It was a long time ago.

- Mr. Bishop.

The truth is sometimes hard to live with.

But to die not knowing the truth...

In Captain Ashmead's place, what would you choose?

Roaring Roly, they called him.

And he led almost an entire battalion to their slaughter.

- And ends up with his own mausoleum.

- I never liked him.

I have no idea why a woman like Maude would want to marry him.

- Then Freddy avenges their deaths by shooting his commanding officer?

- Or he put a dying man out of his misery.

Mercy killing?

Murder?

Either way, it would explain Freddy's traumatic loss of memory.

- By rights, the military should be informed.

Even if it's been 10 years, there could be grounds for a court-martial.

- You wouldn't report him.

No, I didn't think so.

- Besides, I have my hands full trying to solve the murder of this unfortunate gravedigger.

- Mm.

Any progress?

- Constable, will you please bring in that evidence?

(phone ringing) We extended the search area of the cemetery.

- And found this late yesterday in the rhododendrons by the western entrance.

- There's dried blood on the tip here, and it matches Mr. Potts' injuries.

- Hmm.

Poor Mr. Potts.

Still, it doesn't explain why an innocent gravedigger was murdered on the doorstep of Roland's tomb right when Aunt Prudence is on her high horse about awards and poor Freddy is haunted by the past.

(suspenseful music) Look at this.

There's a splash of blood on the inside edge here.

So the door was ajar when the attack on Mr. Potts took place.

- Someone was on the inside.

- Either an expert lock pick or someone who had access to a key.

- Well, I don't understand.

What on earth would anyone be after, Inspector?

- There was no sign of theft, but an urn was smashed, so perhaps someone was disturbed.

- Whoever it was locked the door behind them after they left.

- Oh, we've always kept the key in the cemetery office.

- Yeah, it seemed easiest with us living out of town, and Prudence likes to bring flowers whenever she can.

- Is there anyone who would want to deface the grave?

Anyone with a grudge against Roland?

- Oh, apart from me, you mean?

- Oh, that's not true, Freddy.

My first husband was highly respected and highly decorated, Inspector.

- Maude.

- Freddy's not well.

I, I don't think he's strong enough to deal with any more talk of the war.

- Maude.

- I'm sure I can help- - Maude!

- With any more of your questions.

- You know that's not the whole story.

(wheezing) I've tried to pay homage.

Hold my tongue.

But I've had enough.

I'm still angry with Roland about what happened on the Somme that day.

And I'm, I'm sure I'm not the only one.

I tried to stop him.

I-I-I begged him not to send the lads out.

All, all dead.

Every single one.

- Excepting you and lieutenant colonel out on the field, wounded but alive.

- P-perhaps, in the, in the heat of the moment, I did something.

And all these years I've blotted it out of my mind.

- Freddy!

Freddy, don't say that.

(Freddy wheezing) You're a hero.

- Then why in God's name is all of this happening now?

(Freddy wheezing and coughing) - A-are you finished?

Come on.

Come on.

Come on, Freddy.

Slow breaths, darling.

- I need Mrs. Bolkonsky.

I need to speak to Roland again.

- No, Freddy, I don't think that's wise.

- I need to, Maude.

- [Maude] Come on.

Let's go upstairs, and you can lie down.

(Freddy gasping and wheezing) - I want you there, Inspector.

Answers.

You need them too.

- Come on.

Come on.

- [Hugh] Another break-in?

(keys jingling) (suspenseful music) - That must have happened last night, after you lot finished searching yesterday.

- And you didn't notice until now?

(suspenseful music continues) - I'm doing the job of two men.

Not by choice.

- Of course.

I didn't mean any... (key clanging) - Stick your light in there.

Must be the colonel had gold teeth.

Not much else left of him now.

(suspenseful music continues) - Right, well, I think I've seen enough.

If you could just keep this area secure, Mr. Beale, I'll, I'll inform my inspector.

- How do you suggest I do that?

Lock's broken.

- Stand guard?

- Trust me, son, those robbers got what they came for, and he isn't going anywhere.

(eerie music) (eerie music continues) - Why do you call me again?

- The truth.

Tell me, whatever I did.

- Basil is here, too, Freddy.

- Who is this Basil person?

(artillery fire whistling and booming) - Help me!

- Stretcher-bearer!

(suspenseful music) (guns firing) (suspenseful music continues) (Freddy sobbing) - You remember now, don't you?

- My God.

He was alive.

I could have saved him.

- But he did try to save you, didn't he, Roland?

- Ah!

(groaning) - The men dying all around.

Roland, you must know that I blamed you.

- I did not die by your hand.

- And yet, in that moment (wheezing) had I not been overcome with terror... - Freddy, what are you saying?

- It could have been by my hand.

(shuddering) I wanted him dead.

(wheezing) - Silver moon shines full and bright.

Lilac scents the soft spring night.

Here he'll slumber through the years while Mary weeps her silent tears.

(Bolkonsky groans) - That's one of Roland's poems.

- Yes.

It was the last he wrote.

I've carried it everywhere with me, always.

- What does it all mean?

(Bolkonsky gasps) - Go to his grave when the moon is full.

You must drink the virgin's tears.

Then the spirits will grant forgiveness from beyond the grave.

(suspenseful music continues) - [Freddy] It's a full moon tonight.

- No, the, the cemetery gates will be locked.

I'll phone them in the morning, and we'll make special arrangements for tomorrow night.

(suspenseful music continues) - I assume the culprit is the same person who murdered Ernie Potts?

- At least we know the motive for the first visit was robbery.

- I've noted his medals were missing, sir, but what we need to know now is what else was in the tomb, apart from the colonel himself.

- Must have been something extraordinarily valuable to risk returning after attracting the attention of the police force.

- I trust, Detective Inspector, you're now suitably impressed.

- Yes, indeed.

You don't strike me as the kind of woman who would fail to notice her handbag being raided.

- Oh!

Why can't you just accept that this is a sign from Roland?

- Full moons?

Virgin's tears?

Really, Aunt P, if Mrs. Bolkonsky is channeling anything, it's the mind of a penny-dreadful writer.

- And as for forgiveness beyond the grave, no one, least of all Captain Ashmead, is to go near that cemetery until I've made further investigations.

- What do you mean?

- Roland's tomb has been robbed of all valuables and the coroner has given his approval to exhume the body.

- Did you steal that poem out of my aunt's handbag?

(glass clinks) - No.

You have my word.

- [Phryne] What about the virgin's tears?

- Also known as angel's tears, Lourdes water, Ganges water, water from the Fountain of Youth or the Glastonbury Chalice, collected in our travels.

- [Phryne] Holy water.

- For those who believe.

And harmless for those who don't.

(Phryne scoffs) Tell me, Miss Fisher, do you discredit everything you cannot see?

- No.

Not everything.

I believe in radio waves and electricity and magnetism.

- Or the current that flows between two people.

- I would never discredit that.

- Two veterans of a war, perhaps.

- Or the energy that flares between two independent spirits, however briefly.

(crickets chirping) (soft music) - [Warwick] Shall we blame it on that moon?

- If you need a reason.

I've certainly never needed one.

(soft music continues) (lips smacking) (soft music continues) - Were you with your brother when he was killed?

Shrapnel wounds leave distinctive scars.

- Miss Fisher.

Private detective.

- But this is the sanctity of the boudoir.

- We were in different battalions.

- I thought twins did everything together.

- He enlisted before me.

Perhaps if I'd been with him that day... Brotherly love, no matter how strong, is no protection against mortar shells and mustard gas.

- I knew the moment it happened.

I felt my brother's death as though it were my own, as if a piece of me had died with him.

- Is that why you sought out Mrs. Bolkonsky?

To reclaim your soul from the spirit world?

- The dead may lay claim to our hearts and our minds, but not our souls.

(crickets chirping) (suspenseful music) (door banging) (Dorothy gasping) (suspenseful music continues) (door banging) (light clicks) (door banging) - Hello?

(door banging) Who's there?

(lock clicking) (Dorothy breathing heavily) Dorothy Williams, there are no such thing as ghosts.

- Basil's death was tragic, unjust, and he wanted me to know that.

- Basil?

(Dot screaming) - Get it off!

(screaming) Help!

- Dot!

- Get it off!

- It's all right!

It's all right!

It's just a piece of cloth.

(Dorthy exhales sharply) - I...

It was up there.

I... (panting) I pulled the cord to switch off the light, and it floated down and...

But who would do such a thing?

- The cord snapped just this morning.

I asked Bert and Cec to replace it.

- Bert and Cec.

Who else?

They were reading that book.

Of all the mean, horrid things.

- Is everything all right?

- It is now, Mr. Butler.

Dot just had a fright, that's all.

- Freddy's gone!

(tense music) He's gone!

(owl hooting) (tense music continues) (footsteps thudding) - [Jack] I hope you haven't called us out for nothing, Mr. Beale.

Define "rattled."

- You know, like a chained dog scratching fleas.

And then there was this dragging noise and (panting), - Did you see anything?

- I didn't stop to look.

- Well, which way did it go?

- The Claremont tomb.

- The, the Clare...

I thought you said he wasn't going anywhere.

- Sorry, but I don't speak for the dead.

- Right.

(suspenseful music) (Phryne grunting) (suspenseful music continues) (Phryne grunting) (Warwick grunting) (suspenseful music continues) (Warwick grunting) (suspenseful music continues) - Ah-ha!

So much for a dog with fleas.

(suspenseful music) Ashmead.

He's on his cane.

(suspenseful music continues) - Forgiveness.

(suspenseful music continues) (cork squeaks) - What is it?

- Shh!

- Who's there?

- [Jack] Not afraid of ghosts, are we, Mr. Hamilton?

- Jack.

- Ah, Miss Fisher.

No need for a crystal ball to know what brings you here.

(Freddy groaning) - Freddy!

(suspenseful music continues) (Freddy gasping and groaning) Freddy!

(Freddy groaning) Freddy!

His heart!

Where's your medication?

(panting) (suspenseful music continues) He's gone.

(suspenseful music continues) - I'd like your recipe for virgin's tears, Mr. Hamilton.

Down at the police station.

Rather convenient to make your own holy water, I would have thought, seeing as you're doing a roaring trade in the stuff.

- What possible motive could I have to kill off my own clientele?

- Revenge, perhaps?

- Excuse me?

Mr. Hamilton's twin brother was at Pozieres with Freddy and Roland.

He was killed along with the rest of the battalion.

His name was Basil.

- So much for the sanctity of the boudoir.

- I'm sorry, Warwick, but I draw the line at possible murder.

(Warwick chuckles) - Why would I kill him?

They haven't even paid us yet.

- Um.

Your, your, your brother's connection to Roland Claremont can't be mere coincidence.

Were both the seances rigged by you and Mrs. Bolkonsky?

- I find that suggestion highly insulting.

- Did you deliberately manipulate Freddy Ashmead so you could engineer his death?

- No.

Look, I admit to taking advantage of Mrs. Stanley's association with Freddy Ashmead.

I wanted to jog his memory about Basil.

I believe he could have done more to save my brother.

I wanted him to face the truth.

That's all.

The same thing Freddy himself wanted.

- You expect me to believe that after your virgin's-tears cure?

Collins?

- Why would I want him dead?

Memories make for powerful ghosts, and some people deserve to be haunted.

- Take his statement.

(door creaking) - It wasn't Warwick.

- Hamilton was after retribution.

You said it yourself.

Why are you now defending him?

- Because what he says make sense.

Freddy Ashmead was a dying man.

The only reason to hasten his death would be to stop his quest for the truth.

- And the person who knows the truth doesn't want it coming out.

- Deep down, Freddy knew what happened to Roland.

He witnessed it.

And he was killed on the verge of remembering everything.

- Which suggests Freddy wasn't the one who shot Roland.

- Exactly.

And neither did Warwick.

He was stationed at Arras, 15 miles away.

- Ah, you've obviously come to know him quite well.

(Phryne sighs) - As to who killed Freddy, that vial was on the dining room table for hours and any one of us could have slipped something into it.

- I'm not ruling out Warwick Hamilton just yet.

- But if I'm right, the break-in at the mausoleum wasn't any ordinary grave robbery.

(footsteps thudding) (person knocking) - Right.

Let's get this over with.

- Ah, Mr. Beale.

Constable Collins will take your statement when he's free, if you don't mind taking a seat.

- I've got a shift to get back to.

I don't have time to hang around here.

- That's a very lovely piece you have there.

Where did you get it?

- I found it.

- Really?

On a dead man, by any chance?

- This is everything of value I could find in the bin at the cemetery.

- And our light-fingered Mr. Beale swears that's where he found Roland's watch?

- He says it was on the ground beside it.

- According to the war records, Claremont was buried with his medals, his watch, his poetry, and his pistol.

(curious music) - Which isn't here.

So our thief took the pistol and dumped everything else.

(curious music continues) Ouch.

But not fatal.

(curious music continues) (curious music continues) Now, this is fatal, I presume.

(skull rattling) (curious music continues) - According to the war records, Roland's pistol was a Colt.

- [Phryne] I thought the Webley was standard issue for the British Commonwealth.

- Correct.

And fortuitously the Colt uses a slightly different caliber bullet to the Webley.

So if this came from the missing pistol... - Roland was shot with his own gun.

- An unlikely enemy execution.

(curious music continues) - I told you, I heard a shot, and then Captain Ashmead carried Roland through the trench with a shot to his head.

And whatever reason the captain had for pulling the trigger, I wasn't gonna make life any tougher blowing the whistle.

- So you did see Captain Ashmead shoot Roland Claremont?

- No.

(air whooshing) - Stretcher now!

Stretcher-bearer!

(gun firing) (air whooshing) - I just assumed he did.

- So you falsified medical records and spread the word that Ashmead was a hero?

- N-no, I didn't say nothing about him being a hero.

- Well, somebody did.

He was mentioned in dispatches.

- Wasn't me.

I kept my trap well and truly shut.

- Then who?

All Roland's men except Freddy were killed that day.

(suspenseful music) - Someone wrote it up later?

Ask Roland Claremont's batman, if he's still alive.

He helped to lay him out.

- Do you remember his name?

(person knocking) - Excuse me, sir.

Coroner's toxicology report on Captain Ashmead.

(suspenseful music) - Traces of strophanthus, a heart stimulant.

Toxic in large doses.

- Freddy was on medication for his heart.

His valet administered it.

His valet worked for Maude's family before her first marriage, and he went on to become Roland's valet.

- Perhaps Roland took him to war.

(suspenseful music continues) - Did Maude have a copy of that poem that Roland sent you?

- Possibly.

But she knew it by heart.

- Are Maude and Larry having an affair?

- Of course not!

Whatever made you think such a thing?

Oh, Maude's parents were killed when she was a little girl.

Larry was all she had left.

(suspenseful music) - Yes.

Her protector.

- I won't let this happen.

- Maude, calm yourself.

- No!

- Sh.

- It's so unfair!

- Maude, Maude, listen to me.

It's better this way.

- No!

- Haven't I always done what was best for you?

- Shh.

- Come on.

Come on.

I need you to answer some questions down at the station.

- Maude, come upstairs.

(suspenseful music) (case creaking) (suspenseful music continues) - Roland Claremont.

(handle clicks) (suspenseful music continues) (door thuds) You weren't only Roland's valet on the home front, were you, Larry?

I know what you did.

(suspenseful music) You tried to stop a bully from abusing his authority.

(suspenseful music continues) - On your feet, soldier!

Clean this!

(liquid sloshing) - [Bishop] With what?

- Use your hands.

(suspenseful music continues) - What a pity you couldn't stop him before that charge over no-man's-land.

- Stretcher now!

(suspenseful music continues) Stretcher-bearer!

(gun clicking) For pity's sake, man.

(suspenseful music continues) (gun fires) (gun clicking) - Captain!

Captain!

Captain!

He's wounded!

Help him!

(men groaning) - Freddy carried Roland off the field, and you made sure his heroism was duly noted in all the right places.

- Maude was terrified of Roland.

He was a brute.

To her most of all.

I couldn't let him come back from the war.

- And Freddy's shell shock made it all so easy... until my aunt started lobbying for his bravery award and it all started coming back for him.

And then Maude did what she could.

- After the seance, she panicked.

- And tried to retrieve the gun.

- She did it for me.

(air whooshing) She wasn't strong enough to open the tomb.

- Who's in there?

(suspenseful music) - Oh, that poor, poor man.

I panicked.

I didn't mean to kill him.

(metal clangs) (man groaning) Good God.

- And Larry realized what you'd done, and went back there with you to do the job properly.

- I thought if we could make it look like a proper robbery... We, we took everything.

- Except the bullet that killed Roland.

- I felt around for it, but it was dark.

Maude was upset.

- But it didn't stop Freddy's mind searching for the truth.

So someone had to stop him.

Someone with access to his medicine.

- Like who?

You think Larry poisoned Freddy?

You think I did?

- No!

She loved Freddy.

- She loved you too.

And he was a very sick man.

Was her debt to you the greater one?

- No, no.

She was like a daughter to me.

There's no debt.

There never was.

- You bribed Mrs. Bolkonsky to go along with your rigged seance, and you supplied her with the words to Roland's poem.

- No, we didn't bribe her.

She, she'd been pushing for another seance all along.

She, she knew Freddy was a tortured soul, but...

I recited the poem for her, that's all.

- Then you added his heart medicine to that vial?

- No.

No, I-I don't understand.

How could anyone kill him with cod-liver oil?

- Cod-liver oil?

- That's all we gave him for his heart.

- So drinking virgin's tears by the moonlight was Mrs. Bolkonsky's idea.

(suspenseful music) - Oh, is nothing dear.

That energy may enter a living person, drive them to violent acts.

It is irresistible.

(air whooshing) (Phryne sighs) - Jack, I think it's time you had a heart-to-heart with your tarot-card reader.

(birds chirping) - The wheel of fortune.

And the chariot.

Most auspicious.

Queen of swords.

A woman of great vision and courage.

- From my point of view, it's reversed.

Deceit, manipulation.

A woman adept at playing games with the truth.

- Are you unwell, Mrs. Bolkonsky?

- My heart, I'm afraid.

- I'll have Mr. Butler bring you some water unless you require something stronger.

- Justice.

Do you want me to continue with your reading, Inspector?

- I'd prefer a signed confession.

(tense music) - There's no escaping destiny, Mrs. Bolkonsky.

- "Strophanthus tonic.

Milk for the aging heart."

(tense music continues) - The hanged man.

(tense music continues) (cuffs clanking) That won't be necessary.

- I don't understand.

Why?

- For you!

For your brother, Basil!

(sobs) He was left hanging on barbed wire!

He died an agonizing death!

(gun firing) - Ah!

- And Freddy ignored his cries for help!

- But I didn't want Freddy dead.

- No, but your brother did!

(sobbing) (tense music continues) - I'll take that.

(crickets chirping) - Three murders, three murderers.

That's a personal best, Miss Fisher.

- It's not a record I hope to beat anytime soon.

- I'll drink to that.

(glasses clink) And Warwick Hamilton is in the clear.

- I presumed as much.

Otherwise you wouldn't have let him leave the country.

- Shame about our Mrs. Bolkonsky.

Now I'll never know what the future holds for me.

(Phryne chuckles) - A fortune-teller once told me that I would marry well, have four children, and play a lot of croquet.

What do you think of that?

- I can almost see you playing croquet.

(clock ticking) - I see a very careful man who professes to be cynical in the face of mysteries he can't explain and claims to have no passions in spite of a heart that runs as deep as the Pacific Ocean.

(clock ticking) - That's strange.

All I can see is another martini.

(upbeat music) (upbeat music continues) (upbeat music continues) (upbeat music continues) (upbeat music continues) (upbeat music continues) (bright music) (bright music) (air whooshing)