All language subtitles for My.Life.Is.Murder.S05E07

- # I gotta get away sometimes.

# Oh yeah.

# I got to get away.

# I gotta slip away sometimes.

# Oh yeah.

# I got to slip away,

- Good morning!
- Morning.

Not that I'm not happy
to see you, but...
- OK, brace yourself.

Alexa is taking a vacation.

- OK, jokes aside ―
where is she really?

- No, she said she wanted
to switch off for a few days,
relax and do nothing.

- Yeah, right

- I think she dropped my call.

Hey, Reuben, did you know
about Alexa going away?

- Yeah. I've had to stockpile
the sourdough in the freezer.
- You're joking.

- It's better than
non-Alexa bread, right?

- t's like there's a kink
in the fabric of the universe.
- A little bit, yeah.

- She obviously needed a break,
and you obviously will not
be disturbing her, so...

what have we got, Harold?

Captions by Emilia Sullivan.
Edited by Sam Baker.

Captions were made with
the support of NZ On Air.

- Bula!

- Alexa Crowe.

do not believe it.

- Aw, Jesse Wrightson.

You said to come. Here I am.

- God, you have not changed a bit.

- Afternoon.

- Yeah. How do you always
manage to bypass the doorbell?
- Trade secret.

Alexa here?
- She's in Fiji.

- Fiji?
- Yeah, it's this beautiful Pacific
island 3000 K's from here.

- Oh, that's perfect. I need a place
to stay, Alexa's in Fiji, so...

- To stay? No, no, no, no, no―

- Madison, it's kind of a matter
of life and, well, not death,

but a level of damage, potentially.

- What have you done?

- Why is Alexa in Fiji?
- To take a vacation.

- Who'd she go with?
- By herself. But I don't
that think this is a good―

- No, no, no. Something else is
going on here. I don't buy it.

- Oh, why can't Alexa
just be taking a nice break?

- Because Alexa is Alexa, and
she doesn't do that sort of thing.

50 bucks says she's working
on more than just her suntan.

- Hmm.

- So, what was his name ―
the sergeant, our first supervisor?

- I don't know, but he thought
my name was 'darling'.

- I'd say you poured hot coffee
over his head in the police caff.

- Accidentally tripped and
spilled it on him, you mean.

- Ah.

Oh, we were gonna change
the world, huh?
- We didn't do too badly.

- I miss it
sometimes. And then...

I look around here,
and I go, 'Nah...'

I had my reasons for walking away
from the police force.

What about you?
Why did you take early retirement?

- You know why.

- Oh...

Gary. I'm sorry.
- Mm.

I was pretty angry with
the world for a while, but
I'm much more relaxed now.

And you work here, huh?
- Yeah. Job's somewhere between
a cop and a security guard.

- Sounds like early retirement to me.

Happy days.
- Yeah, about that...

- Why are you looking shifty?

- About six weeks ago, an expat
Irish woman died here at the resort―
- OK, which way to the sun loungers?

- OK, bear with me. Because the
woman's husband is someone both
you and I know very well.

Someone who we almost put away
and who should've gone inside but
didn't because of a technicality.

- It's Graydon Prentice, isn't it?
- He's here, Alexa.

And he's done it again.

I'd been here a couple of
months before I realised
that he was here too ―

Graydon Prentice ― Dr Death.
- Uh-huh.

- He and his wife, Orla ―
they moved to the island when he
took the job as a local medic.

They bought a house
not far from here.

- Jesse, I moved on. We moved on.
I mean, no, we didn't nail Graydon,
but...

- Alexa, listen ― Orla...

Orla was wife number four.

Do you wanna know what happened
to wives number two and three?
- You're joking.

- So Graydon got away with murder
in Melbourne,

then he married a British woman
who fell off a cliff in Greece.

And his New Zealand wife ―
she died eating vegetables
contaminated by possum bait.

- OK, so what happened to
the most recent Mrs Prentice?

- She went scuba diving ―
an outing organised by Graydon.

- A diving accident?
- No, no, she― she came back,

went to get a deep-tissue massage
at the resort spa.

Louise Malden, the massage
therapist ― she left her to
get dressed.

When she hadn't come out five
minutes later, she went in to
see if she was OK.

She wasn't. So Louise did CPR,
but it was too late ― she was
dead on the table.

- Official cause of death?
- Oxygen bubbles in the
bloodstream ― an air embolism.

- So a medical event?

don't think
you're going to be able to pin
this on Dr Death.

- Graydon booked the dive
and the massage for Orla.

Did you know that a massage
straight after a dive is dangerous?

- I did not.
- A doctor would.

Come on.

It can cause decompression
sickness ― the bends.

And it did with Orla ―
it killed her.

- So you're saying
that Graydon orchestrated
this whole medical event?

Good luck proving
that he's responsible.

- I don't need luck.
I've got Alexa Crowe.

Come on! You got to admit ―
you and me, the one that got away...
- Ugh.

- It's like the universe
has put us all here together―

- ...at the same time
so justice can finally be served.

- The universe didn't put me here;
you did.

- Remember how smug he was
as he walked out of that
Melbourne court a free man.

And what he used to call you.

- All right. I will think about it.

Poolside with a book...

- ...and no one mentioning murder.

- Oh! Bula.

Did you have an appointment?
- No... Louise.

Nice to meet you. I'm Alexa Crowe.
- Nice to meet you.

Uh, were you looking to book in
for a treatment, Alexa?

- No, actually, I was hoping that you
could answer a couple of questions...

about Orla Prentice.

- Why is that?

- Well, I had a bit to do
with her husband, Graydon,
years ago in Australia.

I understand that you were
the therapist who was with her
when she died.

- Notwithher.

She was alive when I left the room.

- Well, that must have been
very distressing―

- I've only just come back to work,
actually, and I'd really rather not
talk about it.

- Fair enough.

Was she an experienced scuba diver?

Did she tell you that she'd been?
I mean, you would be aware of the
dangers.

- I'm not answering any more of
your questions. I shouldn't
have answered the first one.

So, if you're not here to book
a treatment, please leave.
- Oh, nah. I wanna book a treatment.

And can I pick my therapist?
Because I kind of feel like
you and I have a rapport.

- We're fully booked.

Well, look who it is.

Little Detective McAngry-Face
all grown up.

- Bula, Graydon.

- What on earth are you doing
here, Alexa Crowe? Holiday?

Or have you come to visit your
wee psychic, Jesse Wrightson?

- I came to offer my condolences...

for Orla, I mean,
just to save any confusion.

Oh, hell, I might as well offer
condolences for your second wife too,
and your third. Anyone I've missed?

Any poor woman unlucky
enough to cross your path?

You and Jesse knock yourselves out.

You were never able
to prove anything.

And you never will.

But it's going to be very
entertaining watching you try.

- Crowe, what's happening?
- OK, Wrightson, I'm in.
- I knew it.

- Let's take this smug prick
of a wife killer down.

- Alexa, you're meant to be
in a hammock, not giving home
a second thought.

- Yeah, yeah, I just wanted
to check on my favourite person.
- Oh. That's nice.

- So how is he?
- Oh, right.

Chowder ― he hasn't even noticed
that you're gone.

Me, on the other hand...
And Will has all of these
conspiracy theories.

- Where'd you see Will?
- Uh, he called in, but
he's gone now.

- Oh. OK, well, can
you take this down?
- Sure.

- Mallory Prentice died 2019 in
Wellington ― accidental poisoning.
- Uh-huh.

- Just check the police file.
See if there was an investigation.

- Why?
- It's just a cold case
I'm interested in.

- You know, most people
would be relaxing on the beach
reading a romance novel.

- Yeah, well, I just wanna
make sure that every box was ticked.

Oh. Sorry, Mads ― gotta go.

- Well, at least she's relaxing.

- You scrub up very well,
Detective Crowe.

- And you're not bad yourself.

I think this is
a really good choice.

You know, barefoot, and
you got a tan. It's cute.

was living
happily ever after...

till Dr Death turned up.

This is a small island,
and you see people every day.

I could not bear seeing him.
- Living happily ever after? Yeah.

- didn't know Orla very well,
but she seemed like a nice young
woman living the dream.

- t's not just
about settling old scores.

- Yeah.

- Another round?

- We're good. Thanks.

I gotta be honest, Crowe.

I'm not ready for tonight
to be over.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

- I certainly hope so.

- Yeah. This is not
what I was thinking.

- So, Orla and Graydon and
bought this place together.

Is― She come from money?

- Yeah. I was thinking more your
hotel room, a little nightcap...

or even my place. Like, I'm so easy.
- No kidding.

So, has Graydon inherited a fortune
like he did with his first wife?
- Unsure.

But I do know that on Thursdays,
he plays poker with the guys down
at the port.

And around here, people are
pretty relaxed about security.

Ooh...

would you look at that?

I'm trying not to do this any more ―
you know, invading people's personal
space.

- Yeah, but Graydon ―
he's not people.

He's got a body count.

You having fun yet?

- Well, Graydon sure has embraced
the island fashion, hasn't he?

- Ah, look, he hasn't even unpacked
his dead wife's personal belongings.

- Anything in that?

- Uh...

clothing, some jewellery, and―

What are these?

She was sick.

- She probably shouldn't have
been scuba diving if she was.

Oh.

I wish Madison was here.
She sure has a knack for passwords.

- Uh-oh. Graydon has a
booking at the resort for dinner
tomorrow night ― table for two.

- Do you wanna takemeto dinner?
- Would love to.

- Well, Dr Death...

he sure is living the dream.

Graydon's Thursday poker ― is that
a bloke's thing, or could there be
a woman who plays?

- What are you reaching for, Crowe?
- Well, he doesn't need the money.

I just thought maybe there's
a third party in this marriage.

- Look, do we need to look into
motive? I― We know he did it.

- Remember him walking away,
Jesse, despite all the evidence
we had? We have to be thorough.

- Ah. You were always a swot.

- Well, somebody has to be...

Mr 'Rush On In'.

What, you're not gonna
answer that, are you?
- It might be my cat.

Hello?
- 'Course you have a cat
that can use a phone.

- OK. Take off.
- What about my tea?

- I'll see you tomorrow.

- OK, Madison. What's up?
- Who was that? Do you have
a bloke with you?

- What did you find out
about Mallory Prentice?

- Did you know that her husband was
already a widower when he met her?

He had a wife who died in Greece.
- Uh-huh.

- Wait, Alexa, please tell me the
man you just ejected from your room
isn't a suspect with twodead wives.

- Would I invite a murder suspect
into my room?

- Yes.
- OK, maybe, but not this time.

And besides, he has
four dead wives, not two.
- What?

- Yes.
- Oh man, Will bet me 50 bucks
that you were in Fiji

for something other than a holiday.
- Madison. Do not bet with my
brother. He is a liar anda cheat.

Oh, and don't tell him
I'm away. He'll find some way
to take advantage.

- Gotcha.

- Hey! Morning, roomie.
- Morning.

- So... you hear from Lex?

- Oof. Told you so.

My sister never stops.

- Well, there's no need
to 'Crowe' about it.
- Oh, I see what you did there.

Bad joke to distract from the fact
that I still know her better than
you do.

Hey, you don't have a spare phone
by any chance, do you?

- Why?

- No reason. Just had
to throw mine in the harbour.

- All right. What are you up to,
and do I have to call your sister?

- Ooh, I didn't pick you
for a nark, Madison.

- I'm not yet,
but have to.

- Mm. No, you won't.

Cos you're not gonna disturb Alexa
on the first vacation that she's
taken since you've known her.

Had any cancellations?
- No. I haven't.

And I'm actually with a client,
so if you don't mind...
- No, I don't mind.

But can I see the consent form
that Orla filled out before
her massage on the day she died?

- No, you bloody well cannot.

- Can you charge this
to my room, please?

7-3-0.

- Oh. Good morning.

- Why, you have managed
to upset Louise yet again.

- She called the cop on me?
- Mm-hm.

- How'd you get here so soon?
- I was coming to see you anyway.

- And this is where Orla died, huh?
- It is.

I've checked it out, of course,
but... fresh eyes.

- Hmm. Be easy to hide in here.

- What, you think Graydon was
lurking while Orla had her massage?

- Well, I have questions about
those bruises that the autopsy
blamed on CPR.

- What? So you don't think
Orla died from the medical
event that Graydon set up?

- Leaves too many things to chance.

- Well, he did sign off on
the death certificate. I guess
he could've said anything.

Alexa?

Hello?

Alexa?

- A button ― possibly
from a tropical shirt.

- That it could be.
- And you know who has an extensive
collection of those?

This is the way I see it ― so Graydon
organised the dive and the massage,

but he wasn't just relying
on an embolism to happen.

- Oh, right. It was just his literal
'get out of jail free' card.

But really, he was hiding
by the treatment centre,
Louise leaves and...

- ...and he suffocates her
with a towel or a pillow.

Maybe he held her down. I mean, that
could explain the bruising, right?

- And then Louise comes back in,
she calls a nurse, begins CPR,
and the rest we know.

- What was Graydon's alibi?
- Well, there was never
an investigation into it.

Orla's death was ruled
a medical event.

- Right.

Bula.

- Oh, gotcha.

Dammit.

- Hey, this is Madison.
Leave a message or text me.

- Mads, I need you to walk me through
bypassing a laptop password.

Fast would be good.

- God.

- Give me a moment while
I consider my options.

Call the useless cop
or deal with this myself.

- Well, while you ponder that,
let's talk about the day Orla died.

- I was nowhere near the resort
that day. I was with a patient
on the Coral Coast.

- And you have no proof of that.
- Why should I need proof?

Orla's death was...

was a...

a tragic accident.

- Oh. Good performance

I almost believed you.
- Oh, you believe what you want.

I loved her.

- So why would you book a massage
for her after a scuba dive?

Either you knew what would happen,
or you got your medical certificate
from the back of a Weet-Bix box.

Incompetence or murder?
Which of these things?

- Ah, you're really playing
a risky game, aren't you?

- Oh, hey, Mads!
- Called about a laptop password?
- No, not a good time.

I am in company one Graydon Prentice,
an associate from Melbourne.

I'm just talking to a friend
from the New Zealand Police.

In fact, do you know what?
I'm gonna take this outside.
It's been amazing. Talk later.

Madison.
- Alexa, you went to the
home of a serial killer.

- I needed to check something.
- Who then, let me guess,
caught you snooping around,

and if did...
- Look, I could have taken him.

- Please, Alexa, just go back to
the resort, order a banana daiquiri
and sit on the beach.

- Not until you tell me about
Graydon's other dead wives.

- Including the one from Melbourne?

- Ah, you know about that, do you?
- And the detective who
led the investigation.

- Yes. That was some
of my finest work.

Unfortunately,
he walked away on a technicality.

- You can't just
take a vacation, can you?

- I tried, but sometimes
your past catches up with you.

Hey, was that Will?
What is he doing there?

- Hey, sis.
Just visiting.

- Stop bothering Madison.
Go back to your own place.

- He can't. He's on the run
from someone or something.

- Will.
- Never you mind.
Just enjoy your vacation.

You said you wouldn't nark.
- No, you said I wouldn't,
and you were wrong.

- Where's the loyalty?
- To Alexa, obviously.
- Yeah, obviously. All right.

- You know, you can kick him out.
- Is that what you want me to do?
- You know what? No.

Just find out what he's up to and
if I need to come back and kick
his con man butt into next week.

- You went back to Graydon's without
me, and he caught you in his room.
- Tell-tale.

- Guy's a dick, Alexa ― of course
he's not gonna let it slide.

He wants to issue you with
a trespass notice.
- Oh, sure. Lay it on me.

- OK, look. He's also a four-times
killer, so would you please
just take a bit more care,yeah?

- I can look after myself.
- Yeah, I know you can, but...

- Are you gonna ask me
what I found out?

- That he's got a shirt
missing a little tree button.

- Ah, no ― still working
on that one. But...

I saw Orla's will.

And according to this,
apart from the house in Fiji, all
of her personal fortune and assets

go to Kay and Dermot O'Flannery
of Dublin ― her parents, I guess.

- Well, we always knew that he
didn't kill for money this time,
so what are you getting at?

- My third person theory.

Oh God. We've got a dinner to get to.
- Yeah. We do.

- Right, and if my theory
is correct, Graydon's sidepiece
will be there too.

- Sidepiece?

Maybe he's eating alone.

- No. There she is.

One sec.

Fia Collins!

Remember me?

- Alexa Crowe.

What are you doing in Fiji?
- I'm on vacation. What about you?
You working, visiting family?

Ooh, I saw your products
in the resort spa.

- I'm an authentic Fijian brand.
I'm stocked at most of the resorts.

- How do you know Graydon Prentice?

- He's an old friend.

- OK. Who was that?
- That is my third person.

Fia Collins ―
businesswoman from Auckland.

Ruthless. Greedy.
And she's sleeping with Graydon.

- And you know this how?
- Her dress ―
I saw it in his bedroom.

- Ooh, you are good, Crowe.
- I know.

- So you think maybe an affair
was Graydon's motive?

- Well, we've got ourselves
a brand new suspect.

- So, you never met Fia despite
her working at the resort spa?

- It's not exactly a place
I spend a lot of time, Alexa.

- Louise doesn't look happy,
does she?

- Well, I think
she and Orla were close.

- And now here's Graydon
in public, shamelessly
lining up wife number five.

- You don't seriously think
Fia Collins is a suspect?
- Just one sec.

Not a Graydon fan, huh?

I'm sorry that we got
off on the wrong foot.

- But I'm not a fan either.
I don't trust him.

And is it just me, or is
he replacing Orla real quick?

- You know about him and Fia?
- Oh, hard not to know.

- Tell me about it.

She's my boss.

- I thought she was just a supplier.
- Yeah. She was.

Then she bought the wellness centre.

And when Orla died...

Fia was only concerned about
making sure no one found out it
happened in our treatment room.

Thatwas the thing that
she cared about.

- Wait ― Fia...

was there when Orla died?

- Maybe Fia...

killed Orla.

- Do you really think that?
Or was that just the booze talking?

I'm fine.

- Oh! OK, OK.

- I'm fine.
- I'm fine.

- Maybe I can walk you back, huh?

- This is what I think about you,
Graydon Prentice!

- OK, OK. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I gotcha. All right. So, tell me...

you and Orla were close, huh?

- Yeah, we were best friends
after our backpacking days.
- Uh-huh.

- I tried for ages to get her
to come here, and then when she
finally did,hewas with her.

- Oh, you didn't like him
from the start?
- Ugh, he's so up himself.

And he hated

Orla spending time with me.

- Why do you think that was?
- Well, I don't know.

Wanted her all to himself, I guess.

Do you really think that
someone wanted to kill Orla?

- I wouldn't be asking questions
if I didn't.

- You don't think that I had
something to do with it?

- You were the last person
to see her alive.

Yeah. I know.

Thank you. I only have to think
about that every single day.

I'm fine from here.

- Who's Mallory Prentice?
- Whowas.

She's one of the dead wives
of Alexa's vacay buddy.

- Well, I won't ask.

- Well, I'm going to.

Who are you hiding from, Will?

- Don't worry. You're not in any
danger. She won't track me here.

- She?
- Mm.

- Oh, please tell me this isn't you
ghosting some poor, deluded woman.

- Hey, I would never do that,
all right? I'm an honest guy.

can't commit
right from the start.

But there... was a woman.
- Uh-huh?

- Yeah. I ran into her
a couple of weeks ago.

She didn't know I was out of jail.
- And?

- And preferred
it that way.

I mean, Evangeline is... she's
the best grifter I've ever met.

She's brilliant and a little...

dangerous.
- Oh, good ― she's dangerous.
Excellent

- Don't worry! I told ya ― she
doesn't know where to find me, so...

- Hold on. I just got an answer
from Mallory's family.

- You know, it's amazing
what you and Lex do.

You know, getting answers
for people, all that.

It's not like you have to do it.
- It's a little bit addictive.

- Yeah.

Yeah, I get that.

- Was Orla
the adventure tourism type?
- Not really.

- But in the months before
she died, she was jumping
out of planes and underwater.

I mean, a real risk-taker.

Almost like she had
a second chance at life.

I saw her medication ―
immunosuppressants ―

they're for people who have had
organ transplants.

And you've got a scar on
the right side of your abdomen.

- Orla had polycystic
kidney disease.

t was...
It seemed like a no-brainer.
- You made a huge sacrifice.

And then she's throwing herself
out of planes, well... that had
to be hard to watch.

- Well, Graydon was the one
encouraging her.

- Did you ever ask him why?
- Yep.

Yeah. He said...

I didn't own Orla.

He made it sound as if I'd donated
my kidney with... expectations.

- And did you?
- No.

No, I just...

just wanted her around.

- Were you and Orla
more than friends?

Did you want to be?
- No.

I just have a thing for
unavailable women.

Hello!

Fran, is it?

Yes, the Fiji facial?

Great ― come this way.

All right. There's a prize
for whoever finds it first.

- Uh...

Aha! Got it.

Orla Prentice.
- You serious?
- Consent form.

- Oh, come on, she's ticked
the box for 'no, she hadn't
been scuba diving'.

- OK, she lied on the consent form?

- No.

Orla didn't fill out this form.

Fia Collins did.

Look, see, her branding
is all about her, right down
to the font on her logo.

- Oh, for a smart woman,
that is a very dumb move.
- Mm-hm.

- So do you think she was
trying to cover her own arse because
someone died at the wellnesscentre?

Or was she trying
to cover for Graydon?
- No.

She's far too self-centred
to protect anyone else.

Bula.

- Unless you're delivering me
a mojito, you have no reason
to be standing in my sun.

- Were you sleeping with Graydon
before Orla died?

- Do you ever feel uncomfortable
asking strangers these personal
questions?

- Oh, we're not strangers, Fi.

- I'm told you're
the police representative here.
- Mm-hm.

- So, what's her role?
She shouldn't be questioning me.

- Oh, we just trying to get to
the bottom of what happened to Orla.

- And you must see how this looks.
- What?

Oh, like could
have my way with her husband.
- Yeah, exactly like that.

- I'm Fia Collins.
I don't need to murder to get a man.

wanted Graydon,
I would have taken him.

- You know, I believe her.

But you can do better than him ―
red flags all over the place.

- Like what?
- Oh, I don't know ―

like wearing loafers without socks,
being rude to waiters...

Oh, and he kills women.
- Mm.

- So now Graydon killed Orla,
not me. Make up your mind, Alexa.

- Well, we know that he killed
his first wife in Melbourne.

- Pretty sure he pushed
number two off a cliff in Greece.
- What?

- Oh, and he was investigated
for number three in New Zealand.

- Shall we talk about
the law of probabilities?

- Or shall we talk about Graydon's
convictions? Oh, hang on,
he doesn't have any, right?

- Just one more question.

How did you think you'd
get away with this?

- Louise got slack on her paperwork,
and I caught up.

This isn't the gotcha
that you think it is.

- Caught up on paperwork?
You forged a consent form.
- Oh my goodness.

- If Orla had have filled
this in before her treatment,
it could have saved her life.

- Orla lied to one
of my staff members.

She wanted a massage,
so she omitted the truth.

I can't go round interrogating
all my clients. Anything else?

- Yeah. Where were you
when Orla died?

- On a day trip to Malamala Island,
hoping for some downtime.

If there's anything else,
you can contact me.

Not Alexa Crowe...

you.

- Noted.

- Can you check that alibi?
- I'm on it.

- Vinaka.

- Oh! Perdon me.

Excuse me. Where'd
you get that shirt?

- Uh... gift shop.
- Oh.

Hey, Jesse!

- Souvenirs?

Well, so much for
my shirt button lead.

There's a whole rack of them here.
- Oh. Dead end, huh?

Well, I have news fresh
from the activities desk.
- Hit me.

- There was no ferry operating
on the 28th due to maintenance
of the jetty.

- So Fia Collins lied
about her alibi.

- told you
to leave me the hell alone.

- You weren't on Malamala Island
the day that Orla died.

Nobody was.
The jetty wasn't operating.

- I didn't have anything to do
with what happened to Orla, and
I was nowhere near this resort.

You see...

I'm on holiday, Fia,

so I've got all day
to wait for the truth.

- I was at the port.

Shop 49.

Do you really think that
all of this is natural?

- Yes, because your
brand marketing says so.

- So you can see my issue.
- Oh, misleading claims and false
advertising from Fia Collins?

That's a shock
- Well, I never personally
made the claims.

A journalist said that,
and I never corrected them.

- So if I go and check out Shop 49...
- Ask for Mere.

She's my cosmetic nurse ― has been
for years ― and she's a genius...
as you cansee.

- Sorry I'm late.

I was checking out Fia's alibi.
- Malamala?

- No, her other alibi.
- Which is...?

- Ah, secret women's business. But
let's just say she's in the clear.
- Ah.

Well, it's not like Graydon
ever needed an accomplice before.
- Mm. Frustrating day, though.

Are we gonna eat?
- We are.

But, um...

not here.

Please. Come on.

- All right.

Ahh, this is more like it. Thanks.

Less murder, more this.

- So, what do you reckon, Crowe?
Could you get used to island life?

- Well, I guess everybody
who comes here must do it.

Daydream about never going back.

- Yeah, but some of us ―
we make it a reality.

- Don't say reality.

Tonight, I just want to sit here

and pretend that I have
not a care in the world...

except for when my kokoda
will arrive.

- # ...for you to walk down
the boulevard.

- Alexa.

- # And to take me,
take me, take me.

# But the moment you appear,

# you wake me, wake me, wake me

# out of the slumbers of my head,

# from the slums of loneliness.

# And there's no conspiracy

- Still here, McAngry-Face?

- Well, I couldn't possibly
leave just yet...

not when I have unfinished business.

So...

you didn't kill your latest wife
for her money.

You weren't in the will.
But now that she's gone,

you do have your dream island home
all to yourself.

Well, yourself and your new lady.
- So...

I killed my wife
so I could be with Fia?

- Did ya?
- It is not that
kind of a relationship.

Fia lives in New Zealand.
- Oh, right, and you couldn't
possibly go back there

because they might pick you up
for the murder of your third wife ―
the cyanide one, hm?

Oh, yeah. You killed Mallory ― just
like you killed the two before her.

- I didn't touch a hair
on Orla's head.

Yes, I organised the dive for her
because she wanted to go.

I was up the coast.

I had no idea she was going
for a massage afterwards.
I didn't book it for her.

- What were you doing up the coast?

- I was with a patient ― Denise,
from New Zealand. That's all I know.

- Denise with an 'I' or a 'Y'?
- Ah. You're never gonna find her.

- What age?

70.

And she was here
for a birthday trip.

- See you later, Gray.

OK, so get this down ― a New
Zealand woman called Denise, aged 70,

visited the Coral Coast
six weeks ago.

- I love looking for hen's teeth.
- I believe in you, Madison.

- As you should, because I've just
spoken to the family of Mallory
Prentice, Graydon's thirdwife.

- Anything interesting?
- Well, they quite liked Graydon,

but they are starting to worry
because I'm not the first person
to contact them recently.

- How do you mean?
- About six months ago, they had
a visit from a private detective

asking about the case ―
ex-Australian homicide.

And I also spoke to the brother
of the English wife ― same thing.

He was questioned six months ago
by an Australian detective.

Alexa, hello?

- Yeah, than― thanks, Mads.
It's good. Thank you.

- I'm guessing you know
who the other cop is.

- Got a pretty good idea, yeah.

- Ni sa bula. Welcome.
- Bula.

- Just a little something
I whipped up.

- Oh! Wow.

Bathroom?

And then got anything to drink?
- Yeah, I got some fresh OJ.
- Sounds good!

- This isn't the bathroom, Crowe.

What are you looking for?

Oh, come on, please tell me
it's not a shirt with a missing...

button.

What's going on?

- You tell me, Jesse.

Because you've been lying to me,
haven't you?

- You told me it was a coincidence.

That Graydon and Orla arrived
to live here after you.

But it was the other way round. You
knew that he was here when you came.
That's why you came.

- was bored,

and I got to wondering, what ever
happened to Graydon Prentice, the
one who slipped through the bars?

So I did some research,
and you know what I found?

- Two more dead wives.
Yeah, I get that.

Why did you lie to me?
- Look, when I first messaged you,
it had nothing to do with thecase.

It's because it has always been
my other great regret...

not asking you out before Gary did.

- I regret nothing.
- I know.

Come on. wasn't honest
about Graydon or moving here to try
and save the life of astranger.

And I failed.

couldn't save Orla.

- See, there's something about that.

You were here waiting for Graydon
to make his next move, and then when
he did, what happened?

- What are you asking me, exactly?

- Well, how did he kill her when
you were watching his every move?

- I haven't done anything wrong.

- I'm just not feeling it, Jesse.

- Oh.

Orla!

Orla?

Jesse?

This is not OK.

Jesse?

Jesse?

Help!

I think we've been going down
the wrong path.

- Something's going on with her.

- Is your fourth wife actually dead,
or are you running some
kind of insurance scam?

Or maybe I saw a ghost today.

- Go back to New Zealand, Alexa.
You're wasting your time.

- Actually,
'm getting somewhere,

and somebody doesn't like it.

― I'm asking myself,
what would Alexa Crowe do?

- What would she do?
- She would find out.

Surprise!
- Oh! Look!