All language subtitles for The.Brokenwood.Mysteries.S12E03.Midnight.in.the.Garden.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-RAWR

Help!

Somebody, please!

Help! Somebody!

Help!

Somebody help!

Please!

Hey, there, you.
You okay?

Good morning.
- Hey, boss.

Nice day for it.

Is it?
- Uh, Gina's already started.

Considering the location,

I might actually forgive you
for calling us out today.

Right. Uh, happy new year.

Let's go.

You good there?
- Just a mo.

The property is known
as Whitecliff Manor,

and its owner, Maxwell Cornelius,

is our deceased, 79 years old.

He was found
just after 7:00 a.m.

by Frodo and the young woman
he's with,

Frances Martin.

She's a guest of Mr. Cornelius.

I'll take Frodo.

Morning, Gina.

Daniel, happy new year.

Kristin, how are you?

Box of birds. Thanks, Gina.

You should not keep
the birds in a box.

It's cruel.

Must have been a hell
of a party last night.

You think he tied one on
and blew a gasket?

Toxicology will tell us more.

A few who attended the party
are still in the manor.

On it.

What happened here, Maxwell?

Was it just your time,
or did you get some help?

The victim has
no obvious signs of injury.

Of course, this arouses
great interest in me.

Um, sure.

Anything else to add?

To die in this position,

it's very unusual.

I have a deep suspicion
his death is unnatural.

I feel it...

In your lagoon
where the devils dwell.

You know me so well.

Plus, I found this in his pocket.

"Meet me in the garden.
Come alone."

Last night,
Mr. Cornelius, the dead guy,

he hosted a masquerade ball
for, like, New Year's Eve.

That explains the pants.

Take it you've been here
all night?

Yeah,
I might have overdone it a bit.

You are a friend
of Mr. Cornelius?

Yeah. No.

He's always been pretty private.

But he was a regular
at the coffee cart.

Good morning, Franklin.
- Hey, Mr. Cornelius.

Your usual?

Ah, always.

A magic morning
begs for a little magic.

A magic what?

It's a double shot of ristretto

with three quarters flat white.

They're pretty hard to make.

I think that's
why I got an invite.

Private bash
to see in the New Year.

Hush, hush. Keep it close.

Loose lips sink ships.

So, it was supposed
to be a secret party?

Uh, I don't know, man.

I just went for the free booze.

Mildred Hawkins.
I'm the live-in housekeeper.

And how long have you
been working for Mr. Cornelius?

Close to 40 years.

You must be upset by his death.

Maxwell was a good employer.

And over time,
he became a dear friend.

But at his age...

...people die.

He liked extravagant parties.

No, not really.

He mostly kept to himself,

with the exception
of a few close friends.

Then why hold
a New Year's Eve event?

Today would have been
Maxwell's 80th birthday.

He wanted to celebrate.

And with New Year's Eve,

he could kill two birds
with one stone.

He wasn't sure how many
big milestones he had left.

Why a masquerade party?

Well, Maxwell had a love
of the theatrical.

Stems from his
art history background.

Before he retired,
he was an art valuer.

Oh.

What kind of art?

Historical paintings, mostly.

He was incredibly well known
in the fine arts world.

Some of the big name galleries
hired him on a regular basis.

They must have kept him busy.

Why are the police interested

in the death
of an elderly gentleman?

It's routine.

So, when was the last time
you saw him?

I tried to find him at midnight

to wish him a happy birthday.

Well, I assumed he'd be on the
balcony to watch the fireworks.

Attention, everyone!

It's almost midnight.

Everyone needs to come out
on the balcony

to see the fireworks.

Ten! Nine!

Eight! Seven!

Six! Five!

Four! Three!

Two! One!

Happy New Year!

He wasn't there?
- No.

It was strange.

When did you see him last?

Honestly, I can't remember.

I was flat out all night.

Approximation will do.

I guess sometime
around 11:00 p.m.,

I saw him chatting with Hattie.

And Hattie is?

Hattie Anderson,
Maxwell's one-time fiancée.

Although he called
the engagement off.

I think she still holds a candle.

Oh, Mildred.

Didn't you get the memo?

It's a masquerade ball.

Someone needs to serve.

And I'm ever grateful to you,
Millie.

What would I do without you?

Yes, I'm sure it would be hard
to find another waitress

at short notice.

Hattie!

That must have been humiliating.

I've always known my place.

Come through.

Sorry. I'm still...
- Oh, please take your time.

Finding a body can be
a very confronting thing.

What a way to start the year.

How did you know
Mr. Cornelius?

He's a recent acquaintance,

and I didn't have
any plans for New Year's,

so I thought, why not?

Please.

It appears Whitecliff Manor was
the place to be last night.

Yes, it was a fun party.

Then you were up
early this morning?

Yes.

Going somewhere?

I was about to get a taxi.

You're not from Brokenwood?

No.

I heard that
Mr. Cornelius was a bachelor.

Does that mean he's got
no next of kin?

Uh, we don't know that detail yet.

It will be part of our inquiry.

Why do you ask?

Just curious.

We'd appreciate if you stay
in the district a little longer.

Because?

Well, just in case
we get curious about things.

Of course.

Oh!

Mrs. Baker.
- Mrs.? Gracious.

D.C. Chalmers!

You almost gave me a heart attack.

If I didn't know better, I'd think

you might have
spent the night here.

Well, just between you and me,

I think that someone spiked
the champagne

because I barely had anything
to drink.

Next thing you know,
I'm waking up facedown

in the rumpus room.

Are you a friend
of Mr. Cornelius?

No. He's a client.

But I never say no to a dress-up.

I always loved making an effort
when it comes to haute couture.

As it turns out, my father was
a cross-dresser back in the day.

When you could still call it that.

Now, of course, that got him
into all sorts of trouble.

But also, I did wonder
if the rumors were true.

About Maxwell, not my father.

There were no rumors there.

Everyone knew
that he was a cross...

What rumors would they be?

Drinking on the job, Mrs. B?

Well, nothing like
a bit of stress relief

when you're under pressure.

I've been tasked with organizing
an extravagant birthday party.

An 80th.

And it happens to fall
on December 31st.

So, as you can imagine,
a lot going on.

Anyone we know?

Mr. Maxwell Cornelius,
he owns Whitecliff Manor.

That rich art guy.

He is very wealthy.

The invitation list is a who's-who

of the Brokenwood elite.

Frodo?

I don't know how he got on there,

but everyone else...

A bunch of snobs by the looks.

That's a bit harsh.

Or perhaps spies.

Spies?

Trudy has it on good authority

that Mr. Cornelius himself
used to be a spy.

Good authority?
- Clientele.

You know ow rumors are.

Cut off one head
and two grow in its place.

So, did you find any spies?
- Sadly, no.

The evening was a bit of a bust
in that respect.

But the costumes were lovely,

and I... and I had a very
uplifting reading with Morgana,

so it wasn't a complete waste.

Uh, Morgana Marincovich?

Yes, she had a table set up
for palm readings

with her sister-in-law, Svetlana.

Well, ex sister in law.

They still have
the same last name,

so that's a bit confusing.

I'm gonna need that guest list.

Mrs. Baker!

Silvertons.

Lovely, aren't they?

And expensive.

Oh, yeah.

What sort of money are we talking?

Well, Maxwell reckons close
to a million each.

For the pair, three million.

Uh...
Detective...

Second Lieutenant Philip Cradock

of the third Brigade.

Oh.

Something wrong?

Apology.

You remind me of someone.

You're... You're not Russian,
are you?

Not that I know of.

Very good.

Are you lost?
- What?

Well, you don't live here, do you?

Or do you? Do you?

Uh, no.
I'm... I'm here because...

What is your relationship
to Mr. Cornelius?

Well, Maxwell and I
are the best of friends.

We fought in the war together.

Right.

Are you aware...

...that Mr. Cornelius
was found dead this morning?

Oh, jolly good!

What a wonderful adventure
the old boy must be on.

Adventure?
- Near working his skills.

Party's not started yet.

Old chap, these salted peanuts

remind me of the ones
we got behind enemy lines.

Do you remember?
In the tins.

Tonight is a bit off, Philip.

I've just had
the strangest encounter.

Was it the Ruskies?

My dear friend, it's good of you

to remind me of a time

when the world was
more complicated.

But I may have to utilize
some of my old skills

to get to the bottom
of this enigma.

What kind of skills?

Skills that we garnered
whilst on Her Majesty's service.

He must have faked his own death

in order to solve the riddle.

What, uh, war
did you say you fought in?

Well, the only one that mattered.

The Great War.

The Great War,
meaning World War I?

Yes, that's right.

The Kaiser's boys,

they had us in their crosshairs,
you know.

But, uh. Oh, well...

We, um... we defeated them.

Yes. Mint?

But not the blue ones.
They're my favorite.

Uh, no.
I'm fine, thank you.

Oh.

Thanks.

Okay.
That coffee was actually...

God.

That is good.
What did you put in there?

Coffee.

Okay.

Uh, this was found
in the victim's pocket.

"Meet me in the garden.
Come alone."

So, he was lured to the folly.

Wealthy guy.
Easy motive.

Yeah.
Uh, believed to be a bachelor.

Uh, no next of kin
that I can find.

Well, he was once engaged
to Hattie Anderson,

but Maxwell called off
the engagement.

Uh, we need to track down
the will.

Find out who inherits.

Perhaps a close friend.

Philip Craddock?

He's known Mr. Cornelius
for years.

But, uh, I don't think he's
quite playing with a full deck.

Dementia?
- Something like that.

He said I reminded him of some
Russian woman he used to know.

Gina.

Thanks. No.

He also claimed
that he and Maxwell

fought in World War I together,

which would make them
around 130 years old.

Well, for what it's worth,

Mrs. Baker has heard rumors

that Mr. Cornelius
was involved in espionage.

Maybe that's not that far-fetched,

because I found this
at the crime scene.

Is that a hammer and sickle?

Yeah. It is.

They're a Russian brand
of cigarettes.

Comrades.

Were any of the guests Russian?

Not according to this.

Uh, Mrs. Baker provided me
with a full guest list.

There were only 39 people
in attendance.

The party was invitation-only?

Mm. Mrs. Baker was
the event planner.

Mr. Cornelius was
very particular

about who could attend.

Frodo.

The victim had a soft spot

for his favorite barista.

Uh, more curious,

Frances Martin claimed
she only just met Mr. Cornelius,

yet she was staying with him.

And she's not on the guest list.

Mm!

How can I help you.

Svetlana.

You and Morgana
attended the masquerade ball

at Whitecliff Manor last night?

Da.

Morgana, wake up!

We have a visitor.

Morning, uh, Morgana.

Daniel! How lovely.

I knew I would be
seeing you today.

Is that right?

It's Maxwell Cornelius.

He's dead, isn't he?

Uh, as it happens,

Mr. Cornelius was found dead
this morning.

The woman who was
with him last night?

She told me it was his time.

My thanks again, you two,
for coming this evening.

I think your stall
will provide some intrigue

to this evening's event.

You're very welcome,
Mr. Cornelius.

And we're expecting payment
up front.

Oh.

No need for the theatrics
just yet, Miss Marincovich.

Guests haven't started
arriving yet.

I don't want to alarm you,

but you should watch
your back tonight.

Someone has a score to settle.

This woman... was she a ghost?

A visitor from the spirit world?

Yes.

She had blonde hair, blue eyes,

and a Russian accent, I think.

If the Russians are involved,

you best believe
the death was not a natural one.

They cannot be trusted.

Any Russian in particular?

Da. Steve Fenshaw.

Has anyone ever told you
that you look Russian

with this big bald head of yours
and this Baltic chin?

Okay, I didn't come here
to be insulted.

Being unattractive
is the least of his problems.

Excuse me?

This [Speaks Russian] couldn't
build a sandcastle if you tried.

Maybe not, but you
didn't read that in his palm.

I didn't know you could
read palms as well.

She can't.

That's not nice.

I wouldn't be surprised
if it's all a cover-up story.

How so?

Everyone knows
that Steve is an English version

for Stepan, a Russian name.

Steve did make
a strange exit last night.

Steve! Come back!
I'll give you a proper reading.

Only KGB can go poof!

Thank you for meeting
with me, Miss Anderson.

Oh, Hattie, please.

I understand
that you and Mr. Cornelius

were once engaged to be married.

Well, yes, but we didn't
go through with it.

And it was a long, long time ago.

How long ago was that?

Ooh, close to 40 years.

We were but babes.

And are you still unmarried?

Not that it's any
of your business,

but I received a large
inheritance when my father died

and never had the need
for a husband, financially.

What about for love?

I was once in love with Maxwell,

but he was married to his work.

His work as an art valuer?

Or his work as a spy?

Well, that's just
simply small-town gossip.

Maxwell's career took him
all over the world.

It afforded him Whitecliff

and all these incredible works
of art.

Do you know who stands to inherit?

Why are you asking me?
- Well, you were close once.

We understand that Mr. Cornelius
has no living relatives.

Well, that much is true.

For what it's worth,

a young woman turned up
a few days ago,

claiming to be a distant cousin.

Hattie, my dear.

Delighted you were
able to make it.

Oh. 80 years young, Maxwell.
How could I miss it?

Although it feels
like only yesterday

we were all in our 30s.

Hello.
- Maxwell.

I'm Frances Martin,

your second cousin, twice removed.

Not that I believe it,

but if she is Maxwell's
closest living heir,

she would inherit Whitecliff,
wouldn't she?

Great.
- Oh, my God.

You read my mind.

What did you get up to last night?

Must have been fun.

That's kind of personal,
don't you think?

Is it?

I don't want to talk about it.

We have a time of death.

Is that...
- A pacemaker?

Yes, Mike.

It recorded his time of death
as midnight.

Exactly.

Beyond that, Gina is yet
to determine a cause.

Hopefully, toxicology results
will shed some light.

Uh, Steve Fenshaw
was seen entering the library

by the Marincoviches
around 11:45 p.m.,

after which
he completely disappeared.

As in vanished?

Which gave him the opportunity

to go from the manor to the folly.

Svetlana also suggested

that Mr. Fenshaw could be
a Russian operative,

although her motives seem
personal at best.

And Morgana?

She claims a Russian ghost
predicted Maxwell's death.

We need to determine where
everyone living was at midnight.

I'll talk to Mrs. Baker.
She may have filmed the event.

Yeah. Good idea.

Sims?
- Yes.

Um, indeed.

Uh, and according
to Hattie Anderson,

Frances Martin claimed to be a
distant cousin of Mr. Cornelius.

Yet she's only recently met him.

I don't know many
of my distant cousins.

She knew him well enough
to get a last-minute invite.

Track her down.

Hey. Usual?
- Thanks, Frodo.

Ms. Anderson. Good morning.
- Oh, Detective Sims.

Sorry to interrupt.
- Are you?

Do you recall where you were
at midnight on New Year's Eve?

Why?

Well, we have reason to believe

that's when Mr. Cornelius
passed away,

so we're trying to piece together

a timeline of the evening.

I don't remember.

I hope you can
wind things up soon.

I need to be getting home.

How long ago
did you receive your invite?

Oh, I received an e-mail
from a Becky Baker

while I was traveling.
- Oh, traveling where?

Gosh, you do ask
a lot of questions.

Mm, well, as you know,
I'm a detective.

South America.

It's always been
on my bucket list.

Machu Picchu was breathtaking.

Mm.
- Long black, no sugar.

Well, I really must get going.

Oh. Who's the lucky person?
- Hmm?

Your ring.
I take it you're engaged.

It's really none of your business.

Okay.

Uh... by the way,
Frances Martin.

You don't happen to know
where she's staying, do you?

I don't.

She's hardly welcome
at Whitecliff.

Why is that?

Because where does she come from?

What does she want?

So many questions.

Have you tried the motels?

Rude, right?

Real rude.

Yeah.

Thanks, Frodo.

I heard you had
a big one for New Year's, too.

That's a private matter.

Thanks for agreeing to meet.

Well, I'd rather be at the beach,

but what can you do?

Uh, you attended
the masquerade ball

at Whitecliff Manor?

Yeah. Why?

Mr. Cornelius was found
deceased yesterday.

I heard.
Nothing to do with me.

You were seen
on the night in question

entering the library
before disappearing.

I'm a builder, man,
not a magician.

Where did you go?

Look, I just needed to get away
from those Marincovich women.

This

couldn't build a sandcastle
if he wanted to.

Maybe not, but you
didn't read that in his palm.

Steve! Come back.

Aah!

I'll give you a proper reading.

Climbing out a window.

Must have been some palm reading.

Well, it wasn't the reading.
It was the abuse.

With this big bald head
of yours and this Baltic chin...

For the record, my mother is
of Norwegian extraction.

My father's family's Finnish.

No love lost with the Russians.

Well, that doesn't
answer my question.

Which was?

Where did you go?

Outside, obviously.

Then I went home.

How did you get into the party?

You weren't on the guest list.

I did a bit of work for
Mr. Cornelius a few months back.

What type of work?

Doesn't matter.
This was months ago.

You should be
looking at the people

who were close to the old man,

like his son.

My understanding is
that Mr. Cornelius

doesn't have any children.

That's what I thought, too.

It's good to see you, Badger.

Try and enjoy your evening.

Badger?
That your real name?

For my sins.

So, how do you know Maxwell?

Haven't you heard?

I'm his long-lost son.

How's that?
Maxwell doesn't have any kids.

Yeah.

Sounds like bullshit to me, too.

Uh, what did he mean by that?

No idea.

But what kind of name
is Badger, anyway?

Sounds made up.

It's through here.

Thanks for coming in.

Sure.
Whatever I can do to help.

Uh, for the record...

...you were at Mr. Cornelius's
masquerade party

on New Year's Eve?
- Yes.

As were a lot of people.

Well, they all had invites.

But you weren't on the list.

I was invited
by Mr. Cornelius directly.

Good night?
- Yeah, it was.

Do you recall
where you were at midnight?

I believe I was on the balcony.

You believe you were?

Well, I didn't look
at the clock or anything,

but I was on the balcony
when the fireworks went off,

so that must have been midnight.

You told D.S.S. Shepherd

that you'd only recently
met Mr. Cornelius?

I did.

Maxwell, I'm Frances Martin,

your second cousin, twice removed.

Oh.

Well, well.

- Your cousin Frances,
- Maxwell!

How wonderful.

Oh, you absolutely must stay.

Indeed you must.

That's when I met him.

So, are you Mr. Cornelius's
cousin or not?

My mother died several months ago,

and I found a connection
to Maxwell

when I was sorting
through her paperwork.

How did you know he was holding
a masquerade party?

I didn't.

But when Mr. Craddock
asked me to stay,

I guess I was invited by default.

And you just happened
to have a costume?

I got it from the hire place
in town.

They have a great
Renaissance section.

Then the next morning,
you got up and left.

Well, after Maxwell died,
it didn't feel right

for me to stay at the manor,
so I got a room at the motel.

It was my understanding
that you were already leaving

before you found out he'd died.

Well, yes, but I didn't
want to be a burden,

so I thought I would slip away.

And while you were slipping away,

you discovered Maxwell,
deceased in the folly?

Yes.

And now I'm here talking to you.

Good morning.
I'm D.S.S. Shepherd with...

I know who you are,
Mr. Shepherd.

And unless you have a warrant,

I'm afraid I can't
show you inside.

And you are?

Arthur Goedler, K.C., retired.

As Maxwell's closest friend,

I've taken it upon myself
to protect his legacy.

I have no intention
of disrespecting that legacy.

Well, I find myself
in the unenviable position

of being Maxwell's executor,

and all this confusion
about his death is unsettling.

Yeah, and I'm here
to find out how he died.

Well, then it's true
he was murdered.

Well, if you will allow me inside,

I'll tell you what I know.

We haven't confirmed
Mr. Cornelius's

cause of death yet.

But you have
a pretty good idea, I'm sure.

We have reason to believe
that foul play may be involved.

I see.

Any persons of interest?

We're pursuing
certain lines of inquiry.

Like the spy rumors.

That's one line of inquiry.

No matter how ridiculous
it sounds.

Well, I don't think
it sounds ridiculous at all.

In fact,
I'd say it was quite plausible.

Do you know something
that we don't?

I suppose
you want to see the will.

Maxwell updated his will
two months ago.

Who is Sam Parker?

Your guess is as good as mine.

I asked, but Maxwell was
very secretive about it.

Did anyone else know about this?

Mnh-mnh.
Whoever Sam Parker is,

he or she is about
to become exceedingly rich.

Come on, Andy,

I'm leaving my fingers
to do the walking here.

I'm looking for a Badger.

No, not a badger.

You don't have badgers
in Aotearoa.

Someone called Badger.

Badger someone or someone Badger.

Uh, hang five.
Another call.

I'm gonna ring you back.

Mike.

We have a beneficiary
for the will.

We need to locate a Sam Parker.

Usual spelling?

P-A-R-K-E-R, yeah.
That's all I've got.

Copy that.

Andy, any guests
under the name Parker?

Sam Parker?

That depends who's asking.

D.C. Chalmers, Brokenwood CIB.

I don't like talking to cops.

Technically speaking,
I'm a detective.

I know.

Bad suit gives it away.

Most people call me Badger.

It's from my boarding school days.

Is it true you're the son
of Maxwell Cornelius?

Does it matter?

The old man's dead.

Are you aware you're in his will?

No.

You're the sole beneficiary

of Mr. Cornelius' estate.

He's left you Whitecliff Manor
and everything in it.

This cigarette is Russian.

Mm, I know.

Where did you find it?

Uh, at the crime scene.

Prints couldn't lift anything.

I will send for the DNA.

That brand of cigarettes used
to be very popular with the KGB.

I, uh, don't think
the KGB are operational anymore.

Officially not.

But the KGB continues as the FSB,

and they are not
to be trifled with.

If Russian spies are involved,

Mike, you must be very careful.

Trust me, I know.

When you say you know,
do you mean you know

or do you know?

Let's just say, Mike,

there is a very good reason
why I left the motherland.

Mrs. Baker.

It's not what it looks like.

It looks
like you're drinking wine.

Okay, well,
it is what it looks like,

but it's non-alcoholic.

No, it isn't.
- Alright.

With the stress
of everything going on,

I figured I deserved a treat

to, you know,
absorb the situation.

Okay.
Uh, all I wanted to know is,

do you have any footage
from the masquerade ball?

Oh, yes.

I haven't put it on my socials yet

because it seemed
a bit inappropriate

under the circumstances.

Five!

So, was he?

Was he what?

A spy?

I can neither confirm nor deny.

Told you.

Can you send this to me?
- Of course.

Um, do you need it encrypted?

It's fine as it is.

Seven! Six! Five!
Four! Three! Two! One!

It reminds me
of the battle of the Somme.

We're going over the top, boys.

So, Frances was there?

The only people
not on the balcony at midnight,

where Hattie Anderson,
Artie Goedler,

Steve Fanshaw,
and Badger, AKA Sam Parker.

So, where were they?

Let's pin these people down.

Uh, Gina advises that
the Comrades brand of cigarette

is popular with
the Russian secret service.

So, we're back to spies again?

Uh, we are. Because...

...it turns out that there was
a lot of KGB activity

in New Zealand in the mid 1970s.

Maxwell Cornelius
would have been in his late 20s.

A Wellington man,

William Such was charged
with treason

under the Official Secrets Act.

The New Zealand
government suspected

that he was acting
as a spy for the KGB.

Mr. Goedler was evasive
as to whether

Cornelius worked for
the Secret Service or not.

Meaning he could know more
than he's letting on.

We might actually have
a dead spy in our midst.

Well, whether his
past life is relevant or not

remains to be seen.

But Gina is yet to confirm
the exact cause of death.

Uh, the birth certificate
came through for Sam Parker.

His mother is confirmed
as Mildred Hawkins.

Why the different surnames?

Uh, she married a James Hawkins,

but they divorced a year
before he was born.

She gave her maiden name
to Badger,

but kept her married name?

Was she trying to conceal
the relationship?

Well, maybe, but she's
on the birth certificate,

and the father's name is blank.

It seems more likely that
she's trying to conceal that.

To hide that Badger's
father was Maxwell.

Did Badger confirm
that he was Cornelius's son?

Well, not exactly.

And he claims he didn't know
he was in the will.

Well, yeah, he would say that.

If Badger did know
that he was Maxwell's sole heir,

that's a strong motive.

And he was smoking from a pack

of Comrades brand cigarettes
today.

As found at the crime scene.

Could Mildred have lied to Maxwell

in order for Badger to inherit
the entire estate?

And it's tempting, right?

Because despite Philip Cradock

having a delusional view
of the world,

he was right about one thing...

a single Silverton
recently sold for $1.73 million.

So, those two paintings
at Whitecliff

must be worth stupid amounts
of money.

Thanks.

I'm curious.
Do you smoke?

Absolutely not.

The only smoke around here
is Philip.

And Badger.

What?

Well, I understand Badger smokes,

and he comes and goes, right?

Does he?

Well, more fool him.

But Philip is always sneaking
off into the garden for a smoke.

To the garden?

Well, he's not allowed
to smoke inside.

How long has Mr. Craddock
lived here at Whitecliff?

Several years now.

I noticed he has an unusual
relationship to... reality.

It's sad.

He used to be one of Maxwell's
closest friends.

They met in the army in the 1960s.

But in recent years, he's, um...

Developed cognitive issues?

Some years ago, he came to visit.

Maxwell realized
he was in decline.

So, he, uh, moved him
into Whitecliff.

Maxwell was a good man
to those he cared about.

Will you just excuse me a moment?

If someone had told me
30 years ago

you'd still be working
as Maxwell's housekeeper,

I would have laughed.

If you've got something to say,
Hattie, just say it.

I'm just surprised you
never tried to get your hooks

into him, that's all.

Not everyone is like you, Hattie.

Thank goodness.

Well, at least I didn't raise
a son without a father.

Badger deserves better.

Save your sympathy.

Badger's going to be
very well taken care of.

What do you mean?

What have you made Maxwell do?

He's done what any father
would do for his son.

He's made sure
that Badger will be provided for

when the time comes.

I don't know what lies
you've told Maxwell,

but we both know
he's not Badger's father.

Do we?

Mr. Craddock.

What are you up to?

Well, just keeping my eye
on things, you know.

There are goons around.

Um... you might want to...

Oh!

I can take that for you
if you like.

Oh.
- Yep.

Thank you.

Comrades.

What?

I notice it's a Comrade cigarette.

Oh, well, you take
what you can get, you know.

Um, are you sure
you're not Russian?

No.
- Oh, don't worry,

I'm not sure about a lot
of things these days.

I mean, no, I'm not...

Mm.

Mr. Craddock, you were seen
here on the balcony

at midnight on New Year's Eve.

Was I?
- Yes.

Someone was filming
the festivities.

Oh.

Keeping their eye on things,
were they?

Can you recall where
you were just prior to that?

Could... Could...
Could you give me a clue?

As I was saying,
my old memory banks

are a lot slower
than they used to be.

Uh, were you inside
or perhaps outside?

No, the fireworks! Yes!

They were wonderful.

They reminded me of the Japanese
bombing Pearl Harbor.

Right.

Well, thank you.
I will leave you to it.

Sorry about that.

Bird watching, was he?

Yeah, in a manner of speaking.

Yes, he was.
- He's harmless.

Bit of an old fool.

Miss Hawkins, why didn't you
tell us Badger is your son?

No one asked.

Well, sure,

but he's listed
in Mr. Cornelius' will.

In fact,
he's the sole beneficiary.

You already knew.

It has nothing to do with
Maxwell's death.

Well, it does if it's a motive.

Badger's not involved.

You're looking
in the wrong direction.

Thanks for coming in,
Mr. Goedler.

Not at all.

Did you know that Badger was
Mr. Cornelius son?

The housekeeper's boy?
What makes you say that?

Badger is Sam Parker?

I always knew the boy as Badger.

But he grew up at Whitecliff.

He was away at boarding
school most of the time.

Maxwell was kind enough
to foot the bill.

I always thought
he was being too generous.

Is there any way
that Mr. Cornelius

could have been Badger's father?

I don't see how it's possible.

Mildred was already pregnant

when she first arrived
at Whitecliff.

Okay, let's say he's not
Mr. Cornelius' son.

Would that be enough
to negate the will?

Unfortunately not.

Maxwell's will is airtight.

If Badger really is Sam Parker,
he'll inherit everything.

Excuse me.

Gina.
- Mike.

I figure out
where the dog is buried.

What dog?
- No, Mike.

Where I come from, to dig up
a dog is to find the truth.

Because by digging up the dog,
you know it's actually dead.

Uh, thanks.
Uh, I'll be there shortly.

I have to ask...
the spy thing.

Look, you didn't
hear this from me,

but I'm sure the statute of
limitations has passed by now.

Mr. Cornelius did work

for the New Zealand
Intelligence Service?

Briefly,
after he left the army in 1972.

He was recruited by the SIS,

but he resigned in '74
after an incident.

What kind of incident?

A young woman died.

Maxwell felt responsible.

That's when he realized
he wasn't cut out

for the espionage business.

What time did you see
Mr. Cornelius last?

Um, maybe 11:00 or 11:30.

We got into an argument.

About what?

I don't like being lied to.

Your mother is pleased
you could make it back

for New Year's.

Is she?

I hope one day
you two will be closer.

She, uh...

She did the best she could.

Anyway,
I didn't come back for her.

I came for your birthday.

It's a big one this year.

The prospect of turning 80

has certainly put things
into perspective for me.

Yeah? Like what?

Like you.

Me?

Badger, my boy, you know
I've always looked at you

like a son.

I've discussed this with Mildred,

and she agrees.

You need to know the truth.

What truth?

About your father.

I know everything
I need to know about that loser.

He took off before I was born.

End of story.

The truth is a lot
more complicated than that.

Well, that's the only truth
I've ever known.

And I prefer to keep it that way.

Checkmate.

You left before he told you?

Well, I wasn't ready to hear it,

but I found out anyway.

I should have told you sooner.

So, he is my father?

I tried to avoid him all night,

but after a few drinks,

I confronted him.

You can't be my father.

Mom was already pregnant
when she arrived at Whitecliff.

I'm sorry, Sam.
I wanted to tell you myself.

Your mother had
just left her husband

when she arrived
all those years ago.

That's true.

But she wasn't pregnant.

What, so you knocked her up

and decided it was better
to lie to me about it

for my whole life?

Let me explain.
- Why?

So you can lie some more?

I despise you, old man.

Where were you at midnight?

I didn't feel like celebrating,

so I took off for a smoke.

Where'd you go?

To the car park.

I didn't want to see anyone.

So, when Mr. Cornelius died,
you were in the car park alone?

Yeah.

Comrades is a Russian brand.

Oh, yeah?

Well, they taste like crap.

Mike, I knew something is up.

I checked again and I found it.

The victim has a tiny prick.

At first, I thought
it must be a mosquito bite.

But no, this is a needle mark.

What did
the toxicology report say?

Oh.

Curare.

Poison?
- Not exactly.

A strong muscle relaxant.

Once in the bloodstream,

all the muscles of your body
begin to relax.

Why would that be fatal?

A small dose wouldn't.

But with the dose
Mr. Cornelius received,

he could have died

in as little as 15 minutes.
- How?

His lungs, too relaxed,

would have stopped drawing breath.

He effectively
suffocated to death.

And yet, most fascinating,

his heart would have continued
to pump blood

for some minutes after.

That explains why he was found
in the kneeling position.

Imagine in the last moments
of your life,

your brain is still active,

but your body is
a virtual slab of meat.

For a time, he was both
dead and alive.

Quite a unique death,
don't you think?

Hmm.

Mr. Cornelius's jugular
was the injection site.

Whatever introduced
the drug into his body,

it was very small.

A needle, 25, maybe 27 gauge.

Thanks, Jim.
- Mike.

Curare... it feels like the work
of the KGB.

We're looking into that.
- Of course.

But these are serious people.

You must keep your eyes open
on the back of your head.

I'll do my best with that.

Good morning.

Yes...
- No!

Yours is over there.

You're the best.

Mr. Cornelius died of asphyxia.

It was caused by
a concentrated dose of curare.

It's extracted from the
Chondrodendron tomentosum vine,

which is only known to grow
in Central and South America.

Where Hattie Anderson
just returned from.

It may have taken
as little as 15 minutes

for Mr. Cornelius' system
to shut down.

Well, that means the curare
would have been administered

at approximately 11:45 p.m.

for his heart to stop at midnight.

Of note, the offender
used a blow dart

to administer the poison,

likely projected
from a simple tube such as this.

Very covert.
- Yeah.

Mr. Goedler confirmed

that Mr. Cornelius worked
for the SIS up until 1974.

Was he suggesting
our victim was involved

in all that KGB activity?

I figured it out.

What's that?

You're with the resistance,
aren't you?

Did they parachute you in?

I'm a detective
trying to understand

who might have killed
your friend, Maxwell Cornelius.

Mm.

Um... mint?

Oh, no. Thank you.

Have you found him yet?

How would you feel if Maxwell
didn't fake his death?

You mean if he's actually dead?

Maxwell was a dear friend,

but he made mistakes in his life.

Everyone does, you know.

Maybe one of those mistakes
led to his death.

Any mistake in particular?

I did see something strange
the night before the party.

Mr. Craddock, you scared me.

Lovely, aren't they?

They were painted in 1904.

Yes, well, I was just getting
a glass of water.

I must get back to bed.

Pretty strange, don't you think?

That she didn't have a glass?

Very good.

Detective, indeed.

Do you think she did
something to the painting?

I think it's worse than that.

See, I have it on good authority
that she works for Stalin.

Well, I think
that's very unlikely,

because Stalin's been dead
for over 70 years.

The Cold War is not over yet.

Come in.
- Thank you.

Was Maxwell Cornelius
really Badger's father?

I had only been working for him
a few weeks

when it happened.

It was a mistake.

You fell pregnant?

I'd just left my husband.

It was an abusive marriage,

and I'd finally found
the courage to leave.

So, I wasn't looking
for another relationship.

Besides, Maxwell was
already engaged.

To Hattie?

It was just easier to pretend
I was already pregnant.

For his part, Maxwell promised
to always be there for Badger,

financially at least.

Mm.
Well, those Silvertons alone

must be worth
as much as Whitecliff itself.

Maxwell may not always have
procured his artwork

in the most honest of ways,

but he was a good man.

What do you mean by that?

That's a Robert Knowles,
worth about $350,000.

And as far as anyone knows,

it currently resides
in a small gallery

in the south of France.

Are you suggesting it's stolen?

Or perhaps displaced.

It's easier to show you.

This way.

This was the piece Max
was working on before he died.

He was an artist in his own right?

You could say that.

Oh, that one's coming
along nicely.

Getting there, Millie.

I believe I've finally perfected
the Knowles quirk,

a curious,
ever-so-delicate little flick

at the end of each brushstroke.
- Oh.

Maxwell was a forger?

I understood him
to be a conservationist.

Maxwell was an incredible artist,

but he sometimes appraised pieces

that were not respected
by the legal owners.

He'd create a replica
and then swap them out?

Some might see him as
protecting our artistic heritage

by ensuring
that certain pieces were kept

in the hands of someone
who could appreciate

and protect them.

His own hands.

I'm sure his intentions were good.

Mm, and I'm sure it's still theft.

Why are you telling me this?

I want you to catch his killer.

The way I see it, you were
complicit in his forgery.

How could that be?

I'm just the housekeeper.

Thanks for taking the time.

I can think of better places
to be.

I'm sure.

You didn't say what work
you did for Mr. Cornelius.

I renovated the roof of his shed.

Alright.

Two days labor, plus supplies.

Let's call it $3,800.
- Very well.

Bit of an artist, aren't you?

As I recall, my paintings
were carefully covered

with drop cloths.

Yeah, well, I had a look.

Seems you replicated some pretty
well-known New Zealand artists.

I figured it might be
worth double,

keep your little secret.

Why don't we call it an even $6K?

Given you proposed this little
job was under the table,

a cashy, as you called it,

I'm sure it wasn't the first.

No doubt the Inland Revenue

would be very interested in that.

He didn't pay you.

Left me no choice but to take
matters into my own hands.

That's why you attended the party.

It was a masquerade ball.

I could get in, get out,

without anyone
even realizing I was there.

So you could kill him.

For 3,800 bucks?

No, but the guy had a lot
of expensive artwork.

So you entered the parlor

with the intention
of stealing property?

Becky, it is lovely to see you.

Et tu, Morgana.

I've got some burning questions
I'm hoping you can help with.

Of course. Let me see.

I see you're very
in touch with the land.

You feel truly connected
to the garden.

I do.

I even have a greenhouse out back.

How delightful!

I see a wedding on your horizon.

Oh, my goodness!

Are you sure?

After Mr. Baker died, I really
thought it was over for me.

I figured if I took something
of equal value,

it'd kind of negate the debt.

After that, I didn't see anyone.

Just some couple racing off
towards the garden.

Then I went home.
- What'd they look like?

Guy was in a white
military jacket,

and the woman was
in a turquoise dress.

What time was that?

It must have been
close to midnight

because I saw the fireworks go off

as I was driving away.

You may want to check
with Beaver, though.

He saw them, too.

Badger?
- That's the one.

He pretty much crossed paths
with them,

going in the other direction.

He was leaving the garden?

Thanks.

It's been an absolute pleasure.

And we're gonna need
that artifact back, by the way.

Take a seat.

I believe I speak for both of us.

We have nothing more to say
without a lawyer.

If you're looking at myself
and Artie for this,

you're completely off track.

Noted.
I just have one question.

Why don't you both lie about
your whereabouts at midnight?

What makes you think we lied?

We have a witness
who saw you entering the garden

at approximately 11:45 p.m.

Do you deny it?

I've seen enough
innocent people get caught out

just by being in the wrong place
at the wrong time.

I thought it best to distance
ourselves from the crime scene.

He was protecting me.

We were in the garden at midnight.

But not to murder Maxwell.

Happy New Year!

It's... It's hard sometimes,

but we can barely keep
our hands off each other.

Hattie and I are devastated
that Maxwell lost his life.

But we had nothing
to do with his death.

You said you were
in the car park at midnight,

but you failed to mention
that you were in the garden

around 11:45 p.m.

I knew it would look bad.

Uh, I was on the balcony,

cooling off after my fight
with Max.

I saw Philip head inside
and leave his smokes behind.

You went to the folly.

Did you see Maxwell?

No.

How long were you there?

Long enough
to finish the cigarette.

I decided to head back
to the motel.

New Year's sucks
if you don't have anyone

you actually want
to spend it with.

Was anyone else at the folly?

No, I didn't see anyone.

Okay. Got it.
Thanks, Chalmers.

Ms. Martin.

Uh, quick word?

That's a large suitcase
for such a short stay.

I have a lot of clothes.

You're not really
Mr. Cornelius' cousin, are you?

After my mother died,

I did find a connection to him
in her paperwork.

But not as a relative.

He appraised
the family portraits, didn't he?

The Silvertons.

Not long after my mother's
death, I received a letter

suggesting that I should have
the paintings reappraised.

Who was the letter from?

It was anonymous.

Uh, do you still have it?

I need to hold on to this
for a while.

Why?

Uh, a line of inquiry.

And that's when you discovered
they were forgeries?

Maxwell Cornelius stole
my family's heritage.

Mm.

May I?

These would be the originals.
- Yes.

So, I didn't steal them.
They're rightfully mine.

We can talk more
down at the station.

You removed the paintings
the night before New Year's Eve.

I only needed a few minutes.

Ooh!

Mr. Craddock, you scared me.

Lovely, aren't they?

They were painted in 1904.

Yes, well, um, I was just
getting a glass of water,

so I must get back to bed.

Those paintings are
rightfully mine.

When was the last time
you spoke to Mr. Cornelius?

It must have been
about 11:15 p.m.

You're very lucky to have
those paintings, Maxwell.

I'm sure they're worth a fortune.

I've certainly made
some lucrative deals

in my time, Frances.

And you didn't see him
again after that?

I mean, I saw him again,
but I didn't speak to him.

When was that?
- Right after my palm reading.

About 11:30.
- Was he with anyone?

Yes.
He was talking to his friend.

The one that invited me to stay,
Philip Craddock.

It's a matter of life or death.

Thank you for coming in,
Ms. Martin.

As soon as we can confirm

that you are the rightful owner
of the Silvertons,

they will be returned to you.

Mr. Craddock.

Uh, thanks for coming in
at such late notice.

Of course, my dear fellow.
Anything to help.

Uh, do you recognize this note?

I can't say. I, uh...

Should I?

The old memory banks are
not what they used to be.

You gave it to Mr. Cornelius
on the night of the party.

It's a matter of life or death.

Oh, yes, I did. I did, yes.
I wanted Max's help.

They were Ruskies everywhere
that night.

Or you gave him the note
to lure him into the garden.

My dear man, why would I do that?

Because that's
where you planned to kill him.

Kill him?

But Maxwell is my...
my closest friend.

That may have been true once.

You've been planning this
for a long time,

haven't you, Mr. Craddock?

And as it turns out,

the rumors of Mr. Cornelius
being a spy

were grounded in truth.

What a fantastical tale,
D.S.S. Shepherd.

Now, please go on.
I'm enthralled.

There was a lot
of intelligence activity

in New Zealand in the 1970s.

Russian intelligence.

Well, we were
in the middle of the Cold War.

There were spies everywhere,

Reds under the beds
and all that, you know.

Yeah, but Maxwell
left the SIS in 1974

after an incident.

It was a young Russian woman
who died, wasn't it?

She was found in an alleyway
in Wellington

a couple of months after
a New Zealand intelligence agent

was arrested for selling secrets
to the KGB.

All she had on her
was a fake passport.

And a pack of Russian cigarettes.

♪ ...to dance with you
is all I wanna do ♪

♪ And I know that's no good ♪

♪ I'll just miss you
like I should ♪

♪ I want to take your hand ♪

♪ And dance just like we did
the night that we... ♪

As it happens,
you smoke this brand.

They taste like rubbish, but...

they were her favorites.

You can't smoke in here,
Mr. Craddock.

Her name was Tatiana.

Both Max and I were recruited
into the SIS in 1972.

They wanted him to infiltrate
the international art community,

but all they managed
to teach him was

how to master
the art of forgery...

and how to kill.

We were both there that night.

I had arranged to meet Tatiana.

Max got there first.

Initially, Tatiana was
just my contact.

But she was smart as a whip
and as funny as hell.

You fell for her.

Didn't mean to.
Lines got blurred.

Did Maxwell know?

He may have suspected.

After she died, he left the force

and we never spoke of it again.

Tatiana was dead.

And you wanted revenge.

Mm.

People say that revenge is
a dish best served cold.

Is 52 years cold enough?

Anyway, plenty of time to plan,
at least.

Why all the subterfuge, Philip?

What's going on?

I have to show you something, Max.

It's a matter of life or death.

Alright, my friend.
But make it quick.

I need to be back before midnight.

I can't miss my own party.

Ah, it's a beautiful night.

It is.

It reminds me of Tatiana Krylov.

The stars were bright
that night, too.

Do you remember, Max?

What is it you wanted to tell me?

We don't have much time.

Why, time is like a book, Max.

When we first start, we think
we have so much left to read.

And then one morning, we wake up
and we're on the last chapter.

I can see the end of the book
now, Max,

but I have one or two things
to tidy up

before the epilogue.

We have a few chapters left,
my friend.

What the hell was that?

I loved you
like a brother once, Max.

But I loved Tatiana more.

That was a lifetime ago.

What have you done?

You shouldn't have killed her.

I had no choice.
It was an order.

Oh, God.

He was your closest friend.

You get used to it.

I always liked using curare.

It's very difficult to detect.

Yet you left the dart behind.

Ah, well, these are not
working as well as they used to.

It's bit like
the old memory banks.

Neither are these.

And it was dark.

Goodbye, old friend.

See you in hell.

And then by midnight,
you were back on the balcony.

Oh, it reminds me
of the battle of the Somme.

We're going over the top, boys.

Quite the crazy old man.

I've had many personas
over the years.

I saved the best for last.

Where did you get the curare?

Oh, that information is above
your pay grade, D.S. Shepherd.

Fair enough.

You've got nothing to lose now.

This old spy still has one
or two tricks up his sleeves.

Standard issue, part of the kit.

I kept it for a rainy day.

Because I always knew
the road might end here.

I made my peace with that
a long time ago.

And why did you try and frame
Frances Martin?

I received a letter suggesting

that I should have
the paintings reappraised.

Who was the letter from?
- It was anonymous.

Your cousin Frances, Maxwell!

Oh, you absolutely must stay.

Old habits.

The writing in her letter

matches the writing
on Maxwell's note.

You win some, you lose some.

Philip Craddock,
you will be charged

with the murder
of Maxwell Cornelius.

Of course.

Mr. Craddock, we will need
your personal effects.

Of course.
I know the drill.

I must say, detective, it's been
a pleasure working with you.

I think you're probably wasted
in this rather small town.

Flattery will get you
nowhere, Mr. Craddock.

Blue one.

My favorite.

Oh, after that,
it's my round at the Croc.

You know,
I'll find out eventually.

Huh?
- Who you spent New Year's with.

You will never, ever.

The blue ones.

No.

Sims.

♪ And the stars
make their way ♪

♪ Across the night
like soldiers ♪

Mr. Craddock?

♪ Warriors who bring light ♪

♪ To those who sleep
in darkness ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh ♪

I'll call the medics.

Cyanide pill.

I guess he preferred
to go out on his own terms.

I live by the sword,
die by the sword?

Yeah.
Spies are a different breed.

Mm.

Oh, God.
- The usual?

Thanks, Trudy.
- Just a water for me, thanks.

Hello, Daniel.

It's lovely to see you
outside of work hours.

Thanks.
- You're like dog in heat.

Why don't you just ask him out?

Why are we here again?

Uh, message from Gina.

Something about toasting
New Year's 48 hours after.

Some Russian tradition.

Oh, my God, not again.

Don't go too hard,
will you, princess?

To celebrate the new year,

I have made a traditional
Russian delicacy.

Kholodets.

Delicious with crackers.

Gina, what will you have?

Vodka. Neat.

Unlike Kristin,
I can hold my liquor.

Wait, what?

Kristin hasn't told you?

We spent New Year's Eve together,

but only one of us
made it to midnight.

The other hardly made
it past 9:00.

Na zdorovye.
- Na zdorovye.

Again.

Pathetic.

Really?

No one should be alone
on New Year's Eve.

Very generous of you, Gina.

I dare either of you
to keep up with her.

She could drink an elephant
under the table.

You're too kind.

What is this? Kholodets?

Yes. Please help yourself.
- Yum!

Cheers, Daniel.

Has anyone ever told you
you have lovely eyes?

Uh, so what exactly is kholodets?

I thought you'd never ask.

First, you have to boil
a pig's head and a rooster

to extract the fat
for the jelly...