All language subtitles for The Doctor Blake Mysteries - 04x06 - A Difficult Lie.-WEB-DL.x264-RARBG.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

Wouldn't want to leave it short.

No. Thanks for that, Frank.

- Bloody hell.
- And that would be...?

Terry Reynolds. He's a journalist.

Couldn't wait 30 seconds till
we were off the green, mate?

I called 'fore'. Didn't I, Freddie?

Besides, no harm done.

Right, Clay?

Helluva shot! What do you think, Freddie?

- That's a gimme.
- If you say so, Mr Reynolds.

Well, pull your head
out and go pick it up!

Not the sharpest tool.

Gentlemen.

That's it for me, lads. Lots
to be done at the clubhouse.

Me too. Work beckons.

Thanks, fellas.

Now, Patrick, um,

wouldn't care to make the back nine
a bit more interesting, would you?

Well, Frank, it's this for a
tie or the drinks are on you.

Don't know about you but
I'm feeling pretty thirsty.

Keep smiling, you big
bastard! Keep smiling.

Oh... Get up!

Just pushed it to the right.

Huh! Safe.

Patrick!

- How's that egg?
- Lovely, thank you.

You should try the porridge,
Lucien. It's really quite good.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

It's alright. It's just a little tea.

- You didn't burn yourself?
- Please don't tell Mr Finn.

He said we're to be extra
nice to the Doctor's wife.

I won't. What's your name?

- Iris.
- My favourite flower.

There -- our secret.

No-one can begrudge a woman
her secrets, can they?

Quite.

- Doctor?
- Yes?

- A message for you from Mrs Beazley.
- Thank you.

Frank, what have we got?

Found him about an hour ago.
Terry Reynolds. He's a, er...

- Reporter for The Courier. - Yes.
- I met him briefly a while back.

Checked for a pulse but he'd already gone.

The footsteps you can
see here, they're mine.

Right. That area there, that's been raked.

Not by me.

I see.

Best have a look.

A blow to the head, obviously.

And possible fractured skull.

That ball?

That's mine.

- Any chance that I hit him?
- Well, it's not impossible.

Where are his clubs?

Right.

Well, as always, I'll know more,
once I've conducted an autopsy.

Er, Frank? Can we have a word?

Clay.

That's, er, Clay
Richardson, club president.

He was in our group this morning

but only played the first nine holes.

Just this way.

After Mr Reynolds finished his round,

you lodged his scorecard at the clubhouse.

- Is that correct?
- Yes.

I think it was 10:15,
maybe. I'm not 100% sure.

Mm-hm, 10:15. And did you see anyone else?

We were hoping, for now, you'd
be able to keep this quiet.

We're carrying out a
full investigation, Clay.

- Um, tell me, do you know Terry well?
- Oh, no, not well.

He hadn't been a member long.

He seemed a nice enough
bloke over a beer or two.

Mr Richardson, if you don't mind,

when the Chief Superintendent
found Terry Reynolds, you were...

Tending the practice fairways.

I don't understand. From what
Patrick said, this was an accident.

Yes. Patrick, your relationship
with Terry these days was...

Strictly professional. He didn't
work for me. He worked for my son.

Whenever you're ready, Clay.

We're supposed to be having
that bloody board meeting.

Excuse me, would you?

Frank, the Ballarat
Open is only days away.

Ah! Yes, and it's your company
sponsoring the tournament, Patrick.

And it has absolutely
nothing to do with this.

I thought you might see
quite a juicy story here.

Not my job anymore, Blake.

No, it's your son's and
Edward seems quite talented

at poking his nose where it doesn't belong

if he thinks it might
sell more newspapers.

Frank, you'll have my
report shortly. Patrick.

Dirt and grass stains
to the heel of the hand.

No other defensive injuries.

Sand around and...

Yes.

.. inside the mouth and airways.

You can see the pond fracture,
the radiating lines here and here.

I'll know more once I've opened the skull.

- You've been busy. Anything else?
- I started toxicology.

There's faint traces of
alcohol in the stomach.

You've done that without me?

Wasn't gonna sit on my hands
all day waiting for you, was I?

This bruising here...

Suggests that he was struck with
something with rounded edges,

possibly spherical.

- We'll let it settle overnight?
- Yes.

The ball.

No traces of blood, no skin or tissue.

But you're still thinking murder.

Thing is, his caddy was the
last person to see him alive.

And?

And, according to Charlie, they'd
long since finished their round

so what was he doing there,

still on the course all alone?

Tell me, Freddie, Mr Reynolds,
would he usually play on his own?

Most of the time, yeah.

He could rub his playing
partners up the wrong way,

other members mostly.

Right.

And do you think... Ah,
Charlie, how did you go?

- Find anything on the 18th?
- Er, no.

Just a MacGregor and a
couple of Dunlops --

some old lost balls.

Those are some pretty flash
clubs, Freddie. They yours?

Freddie?

Whose clubs are those?

Freddie, I need you to
stop what you're doing now

and put the clubs down.

- Bloody hell!
- Freddie, stop!

Oh!

Alright. Get up. We'll continue
this down at the station. Let's go.

- You right, Charlie?
- Yep.

- Well, thank you, Mr, er...
- Richardson. Alec.

- Oh, yes, of course.
- What the bloody hell's going on?

Yes, they're Terry's clubs.

The police need those as evidence,
Freddie, so why did you take them?

Because he owed me. That's why.

He didn't pay you, did he?

He never paid you. Sound about right?

How do you know?

I saw how he treated you
on the course, Freddie.

But the clubs weren't
enough, were they, Freddie?

You also took Terry Reynolds' wallet.

He owed you quite a sum of money

so you whacked him, took
his money after he was dead.

- That's not... That's not true.
- Oh, my word, it's true.

You whacked him with a golf
club and got caught red-handed

cleaning the murder weapon!

Son, this does not look good for you.

- Freddie, your arms...
- Roll up your sleeves now, son.

It's fine. Doesn't hurt.

Terry hit a ball into
the drink this morning.

Threw a tantrum, chucked his
3 wood in the water hazard

and, normally... normally
we stay well out of there.

Because of the leeches.

But he made you go in.

He wouldn't let me see to these
until he finished his round.

Yes, I found him in the bunker
but he'd already carked it.

Nothing I could do.

So I took his wallet and I raked the
sand out behind me on the way out.

That is all I done.

Nothing else in his pockets,
just a bunch of scorecards,

some spare tees and pencils.

If you wouldn't mind tending to the
boy's armand testing those clubs.

- I've got calls to make.
- Right you are.

- Frank...
- I'm a tad busy.

Freddie's our most popular caddie.
He wouldn't do something like this.

We've heard reports suggesting

Freddie and Mr Reynolds
hadn't been getting along.

The odd harsh word maybe but he only
ever wanted Freddie to caddy for him

and Freddie never said no.

Well, what about other members?

Well, what happens on the course
is supposed to stay on the course.

Reynolds nearly hit Lyall
Phillips with a ball this morning

and they had a real belter
of an argument last Thursday.

Thought he was gonna
knock Terry's block off.

Right.

And, Clay, um, Lyall Phillips was
the other member of your foursome?

Yes.

Last week? That was nothing.

I'd caught Terry using
the old leather wedge

out on the course a few times --

moving the ball to a
better lie with his foot.

It was nothing serious.

That's not what we heard, Mr Phillips.

What's this about, anyway?

Terry Reynolds is dead.

Found on the golf course this morning

under what may be
suspicious circumstances.

He's... Well, this isn't
gonna sound good, then.

Reynolds and I had been fighting.

He was suggesting that I gift him
a fairly substantial sum of money.

And why would you do that, exactly?

Otherwise he was gonna write
more unfavourable articles

about the cricket cluband about me.

About you?

He's the sports editor of The Courier.

And he's done this before.

Yeah, he said things
like I doctored pictures,

paid opponents to throw games.

All bloody lies, of course.

Hey, get behind it. Elbow up.

And that's it, Mr Phillips?

It's not enough? How would you like it?

I mean, made to look
like a cheat, like a liar

in front of everybody in Ballarat.

So you paid him to
protect your reputation?

To protect my family,
my wife and my daughter.

These articles, had you
spoken to anyone about them?

Yeah, I spoke to Patrick
and then to his son.

Right.

And what did Edward have to say?

I told him The Courier can write
articles about whomever we wish.

That is our job, after all.
Isn't that right, Alec?

- And you are?
- He's an old friendand my lawyer.

Thought it might be handy having him
here, especially dealing with him.

You don't seem particularly,
um, upset about Terry Reynolds.

It wouldn't do me any good to
go to water, would it, Doctor?

What sort of example
would I set for my staff?

I liked the man, for what it's worth.

He was very astute.

You call blackmailing
Lyall Phillips astute?

That's quite an allegation, Sergeant.

I give my staff a fair amount
of licence to do their job

and Terry delivered.

By using his column to, shall we
say, coerce money from the public?

As editor of the newspaper,
that must concern you.

If you can find proof that Terry
was doing anything illegal,

then, yes, it would concern me.

Yes. Of course.

Um, we'd like to look through
your archives, if we may,

just to read some of Mr Reynolds' work.

Then Sergeant Davis can get a warrant.

That's correct, isn't it,
Alec, from a legal perspective?

Now, er, if you don't mind...

- I got your message.
- I thought you'd want to see this.

The official cause of death is
actually extradural haemorrhage.

Related to the skull fracture.

The fracture tears the artery
here, just behind the temple.

Yes. So he's struck, falls, blacks out.

Yes.

And then, after some
time... he'd have woken up.

- Woken up?
- Yes.

Before long, he would've
become woozy again.

The bleed compressed his brain.

He'd be stumbling and slurring

until the pain and drowsiness overtook him

and he fell one last time.

So what you're saying is that it
definitely wasn't my golf ball.

- Not your ball, no.
- Oh.

So murder, more than likely.

- Blood alcohol?
- Negligible.

One drink, two at the most.

I tell you what, though,

the death blow might not
have happened at the bunker.

- So where, then?
- Absolutely no idea.

But he was alive when he went in.

You know, of course, Reynolds and
Tyneman have had bad blood...

Yes. An incident last year. I'm aware.

- Patrick was with me all morning.
- Yes, but he and his boy, they...

They might know more
than they're letting on.

I see.

So that was the reason for your
visit to Edward this morning

and not the lovely photograph of
you and your wife on page six?

We need to go back to The Courier
and look at Reynolds' columns,

see if there was anyone else
he may have been blackmailing.

Watch you don't cut yourself.

'Greco's tidy off-spin tweak has
bamboozled the bland batsman.'

Huh! I see what you mean about
the quality of the man's writing.

Not a patch on the previous
chap they had covering sport.

- Harvey Treloar.
- That's him.

I used to read his columns to your father.

He said he was the best sports
writer he'd read since Percy Taylor.

- Is that right?
- Mm!

Oh.

Oh, do you mind, um, setting these?

Er, yes, yes, of course.

You know, Jean, Lyall
Phillips was telling the truth.

There were a number of poison pen stories

written about the cricket club
and then, about a month ago,

they stopped.

You know I saw the article
about you and Mei Lin?

- How is she? Is she alright?
- Yes.

She's, um... she...

She wanted me to thank you again

for that lovely picnic
basket you made up for her,

which reminds me, I still have
a few tests I need to conduct.

Before you open the fridge,
Jean, I should tell you...

Oh.

I think you've set one too many places.

Yes, I have. I'm sorry.

Um, I thought I might invite
someone over for dinner.

I hope that was alright.

If I'd known in advance
that you were coming...

- No, no. That was just fine.
- Thank you, Jean.

So you think Terry was murdered.

Off the record, quite possibly, yes.

That's what you were up to at the paper.

And, of course, these things, Charlie,

well, they're not blank at all, are they?

Why would they have been
erased, do you think?

I have no idea.

Rose, I meant to ask you, though,

um, what was their reaction in the
office to the news of Terry's death?

I wouldn't say anyone was heartbroken.

So he had enemies at work, then?

- A long list, starting with the Bear.
- Sorry? 'The Bear'?

Harvey Treloar. Interesting nickname.

As in 'cuddly'?

No. Grumpy, the moody old
bugger, and punchy too.

'Punchy' how, Miss Anderson?

Well, Sergeant, it's
practically legend at the paper

the number of scraps Harvey
got into over the years.

Right. Such as?

Like the time this full-back
turns up to the paper

demanding to fight Harvey over what
he said was a piss-poor article --

sorry, Jean -- about
his play on the weekend.

What happened? Harvey knocked
two of his teeth out.

- With one punch.
- Oh!

Then spent the afternoon drinking
and talking footy at the pub.

- What, and he only now gets sacked?
- Not even sacked.

Terry demoted him to the printing press.

Why would a man like that
be demoted and not fight?

It's a tough job. 4:00am starts.
Harvey would do well to pack it in.

No offence, Doctor,

but sometimes the older generation
needs to be told when to step aside.

Oh...

I suppose this is about Terry Reynolds.

Killed by a rogue golf ball,
Clay said. Is that right?

Well... Not entirely.

Mr Treloar, I saw you at the
club not long after, um...

Oh, yeah.

It's been a while since
I played a round or two

but they're still stuck
with me on the board.

Are you qualified to workin here?

Does it look like I'm qualified?

I just whack things
till they start working.

Mr Treloar -- Harvey --

I imagine it must've been
difficult for you, at your age,

to... to start over.

Harvey, you finished working
yesterday morningat...?

Half-past nine, as always.

And turned up at the golf club for
your board meeting just after midday.

Is there anyone who can vouch for
your whereabouts in the meantime?

Nah.

It's a pity, though.

If I'd got there sooner, I
might've seen it happen.

You think this is funny?

See this?

'Colac's Calamitous Cricketing Collapse'

by Terry Reynolds.

It's a bad bloody joke, is what it is.

You know, if you ask me...

.. it's just a shame he wasn't
hit by something larger.

When was the last time you saw
or spoke to Terry Reynolds?

Er, a couple of weeks ago, maybe.

What did you two speak about?

He demanded all my old work, my notebooks,

all my research, everything.

Right. And you just, um...
just gave them to him, did you?

He said it didn't belong to
me, it belonged to the paper.

What was in the notebooks?
38 years worth of contacts.

And you expect me to believe

that all that inspired in you was
a little professional jealousy?

Did you kill Terry Reynolds, Mr Treloar?

- Of course I didn't!
- Are you sure?

Pretty bloody sure, yeah.

Alright, Harvey, you're free to go.

But if there's something you're
not telling me, I will find out.

Are we clear?

- Are we clear?
- We're clear.

Oh, I need to search Terry Reynolds' flat.

I've released the caddy. You
can head over to The Courier.

- Er, no need, Superintendent.
- Mr Tyneman.

What can we do for you?

After your Sergeant's visit,

I had Miss Anderson perform a
search of Terry Reynolds' desk.

And?

Mr Tyneman thought this might
be useful to your investigation.

Harvey Treloar's old notebooks,
a few photos, some hate mail.

We found them in a hidden
compartment underneath a drawer.

As I said, if Terry has
done anything untoward

I want to know about it.

Just want to be clear where we all stand.

I know. I know. The man can be an
arse but at least now we have these.

What is it?

We may have a problem.

Lucien, what on earth are you doing?

Um, well, I popped home to
ask you a question and...

Well, you... you were out.

So you thought you'd
murder all the dishes?

What happened to Mr Pig?

Hm? Mr Pig.

Yes, well, he was used to test for
bruising and this, all of this,

is to test for skull fractures.

Look, I'm trying to determine
a potential murder weapon.

- Is that what you wanted to ask me about?
- No, as a matter of fact.

Um, look, Jean, here.

- That's shorthand.
- Yes.

I'm sorry. I've never had any need for it.

No, didn't think so.

- Ah. This? Hate mail.
- Really?

Addressed to Terry Reynolds

signed by a number of different people,

all with the same handwriting.

Hm!

You know, there was another article
in this afternoon's edition

about the Chinese.

Have you spoken to Mei Lin?

I think you should visit
and explain what's going on.

Yes, well, perhaps later I might. By
the way, I should be home in time...

- .. for supper. I've got a few...
- Lucien... you don't always need
to change the topic of conversation.

Thank you, Jean.

- I should probably take...
- I'll do it.

I'll be home later.

Mei Lin, these... these articles, they...

Look, it's all about selling newspapers.

I wouldn't want to think
that something like this

would make you feel unwelcome in any way.

You worry too much about me.

If I've proven nothing else,
it's that I'm survivor, yes?

Yes.

You're stronger than me. You always were.

This case you're working on, have
you found the person responsible?

No, not yet.

There are several suspects,

all with their own reasons
for wanting him dead.

It reminds me of something you used to say

about the men you worked
with in Singapore.

'Cut the grass and...'

And the snakes will come out.

You remember that?

I remember everything.

Goodness me. I-I should
probably get going.

- Yes. And I was about to go for my walk.
- Will you be alright on your own?

I've already organised to
meet Iris, my new friend.

I'm fine, Lucien.

Alright.

- Sergeant Davis, you called?
- Yes.

I was just about to knock off.

Fancy a drink?

Another, if you'd be
so kind, thank you, Cec.

Certainly, sir. A drink or a newspaper?

Cec, tell me, you much of a golfer?

Well, sir, my father used to say
golf was a waste of good farmland.

- I see. So how often do you play?
- Twice a week, when I can.

Good for you.

- And, Cec?
- Yes?

- Thank you for the telephone call.
- Of course, sir.

Look, that's not the issue at the moment.

I have to agree with your father on this.

- OK, well, what are we gonna do?
- Don't worry about what we'll do.

- But what's it worth to us?
- What are you doing? You don't...

Bit of an upstart, isn't he?

What's Blake doing staring at us?

Sounds like Harvey was onto something
seriously strange at the golf club.

Strange how?

I want to be the one to write this story.

If we're going to work together,
Sergeant Davis, I have certain terms.

Tell you what,

for all your help, I'll give you
two free questions about the case.

Five questions.

Three each.

- Within reason, of course.
- Of course.

So do the police have any suspects
in the Terry Reynolds murder as yet?

We've interviewed several suspects
but there's no hard evidenceas yet

to charge anyone.

Do those notes mention any names?

Oh, well, Richardson keeps popping up.

- Is that the president of the club?
- Was that a question?

Nice try.

Any truth to the rumours of an altercation

between Reynolds and Richardson in
the days leading up to his murder?

Clay Richardson? Well, not that I...

You've heard something from one
of your sources, I'm guessing.

You're gonna just take all this
to Edward Tyneman, aren't you?

Of course I am. What a
waste of a question.

How can you work for someone like that?

Do you know why I'm here in Ballarat?

I used to work for a paper
in Collingwood, The Chronicle.

- I know it.
- I was there for almost three years.

Never got further than a secretarial role.

Then my editor offered me a
chance to get my foot in the door

provided that I sleep with him.

I said no and then I hit him
in the face with a dictionary.

He didn't take it well.

Made a few calls, I got blacklisted
from every paper in Melbourne.

I've worked with all sorts, Charlie.

Edward Tyneman, yeah, he's different.

He's taken an interest in me.

Not like that.

- He's using you, Rose.
- And I am using him.

I'm not going to report to people

like the editor of The Chronicle forever.

I work for the likes of Edward Tyneman now

so that, in the future, I won't have to.

So shall we get back to business?

- Alec? Fancy a game?
- I was just getting my coat.

Right.

I hope you don't mind me saying
so but that looked a tad heated.

The local tennis squad want to
rent some of our practice fairways,

convert them to grass courts.

- I think it's a good idea.
- Ah.

- But your father and the board don't.
- We need more revenue.

Dad needs my help, even
if he'd never admit it.

What about you, Doctor? Any interest
in becoming a fee-paying member?

Well, thank you, but no.

The only swing I'm familiar
with comes from a big band!

Hey! Get your hand of my boy!

- Mr Richardson, Alec and I...
- Bloody busybody!

Alright, Dad. Time to go home.

Evening.

There's been a report of a
disturbance at Reynolds' place.

Speaking of which, I need to borrow you.

Alright, son, there's nowhere to run.

You're looking for something. So are we.

So this is why you broke into
Reynolds' place, more scorecards?

They're not scorecards.

Terry paid me to keep my ears open,
write down every dirty little secret

these blokes might mention to one another.

And pass them on for a
few quid each time, yes?

But why break in to find them?

Because... Terry always
made me sign the cards.

He said if anyone found out what
he was doing, I'd go down too.

Which explains why the ones
we found on you yesterday

you'd already arranged.

These are the secrets

of arguably some of the most
important men in Ballarat.

It's alright, son.

It's alright.

The thing is, what secret
is worth killing for?

I haven't got time for this.
It's true, Mr Phillips.

Terry Reynolds was blackmailing you
but not about the cricket club.

Leave me alone.

Just answer the question,
please, Mr Phillips.

Terry Reynolds dealt in secrets and
he discovered yours, didn't he,

about your daughter, Claire?

- Does anyone else...
- Lyall, it's alright. No-one...

No-one else needs to know.

My Claire, she got herself
in a bit of trouble

with one of the boys at school.

The baby's been adopted now
and Claire's recovering

but Reynolds found out something.

He said he was gonna tell
one of the boys on the team,

maybe even the gossip
columnist at the paper.

- Unless you paid him.
- She was 17, Doctor.

He would've ruined her life.

Sounds like you had every reason to...

.. despise the man.

I hated the bastard.

I wrote some angry letters to the
paper, signed with different names.

I thought they'd give him
the flick but Harvey --

remember how I told you I
took him out for a drink

- the night Reynolds
sent him packing? - And?

And I remember Harvey saying that
Terry would never see him coming.

- All because they were demoting him?
- They weren't just demoting him.

Mr Treloar?

Mr Treloar, we'd just like to
speak with you for a minute.

Mr Treloar, we'd just
like to speak with you.

Just leave me alone!

Harvey, please.

- Edward, what the blazes...
- Not now, Dad.

Everything's under control.

Thank you, Doctor. Now I have
cause to fire the old fool.

Edward, please...

You've known Harvey Treloar
for... More than 30 years.

We started out together.

My father hired him.

And my son just fired him.

This was never about you sponsoring
the Ballarat Open, was it?

You knew, sooner or later, all
this would lead back to Edward

and I'm guessing you knew
what Terry Reynolds was up to.

Of course I did.

But you were worried
Edward was somehow involved.

I've tried being hard on him. We
both saw how well that worked.

And I've tried helping him,
I've tried encouraging him.

You look after your family above all else.

That's what my father taught me.

Yes.

Patrick, if he's done something wrong,

I... I can't protect him.

I know.

I can't protect him anymore either.

Thanks for the drink, Lucien.

Look, you have no alibi at the
time of Terry Reynolds' murder

and we know you'd spoken
seriously about harming the man!

- Am I wrong?
- You're a fool.

Am I wrong?

You're thicker than two
planks, is what you are!

Harvey, please. Please try to remain calm.

I... I know this is difficult.

Chief Superintendent, do you think
we're able to remove the handcuffs?

As a sign of good faith?

There we are.

Now, Harvey, if you didn't
kill Terry Reynolds,

can you think of anyone
else who may have wanted to?

Take your pick.

You know, in looking into this
case, I read some of your writing.

Apparently my dear late father
very much enjoyed your work,

your passion, years of dedication,
your... your turn of phrase.

There was one in particular. Um...

Ah, yes.

'What the especially brutal
local derby lacked in ambience...

.. it more than made up for in ambulance.'

Yeah, well, what of it?

You see, Harvey, I think it's that pride,

that love for what you do...

.. that's what Terry
Reynolds and Edward Tyneman

took from you, isn't it?

They laughed at me.

Thought it was funny,
sending me down there.

They tried to break me, get me to retire.

But you're not 65 yet, are you?

They said it made no difference

that'd I'd be physically
unfit to work the press.

Patrick's bloody son.

I thought he was a mate.

Yes, but Patrick's been cut
off from the newspaper.

He couldn't help you, not this time.

His boy said if... if I fought it,

his lawyer would leave me
without a leg to stand on.

- And that made you angry.
- Of course it made me bloody angry!

Starts out you're...
you're too old for footy,

too old for boxing.

You can't keep up with
the grandkids anymore.

Ah, it happens. Nothing
you can do about it.

But for them to try to tell
me I was too old to write,

to even try to take that from me...

No-one treats me like
a doddering old fool!

I don't want to have anyone laugh
at me either, not now, not ever.

Boss? We've finished with the shorthand.

There's something you should see.

Well?

Now, Frank, please don't think
I'm not enjoying being your caddy

but what are we doing
back at the crime scene?

The shorthand indicated
that Richardson may have been

guilty of misappropriating
funds from the golf club.

You think Reynolds had
him under the thumb too?

Well...

- Whoa, whoa!
- You're right.

Thank you.

Frank, when you found Reynolds,

he was roughly where you're
standing now, lying face-up, correct?

Yes. That's right.

Well, if he fell in from up
here, and I'm sure he did,

why were there no marks in the
sand showing where he tumbled down?

Well, Freddie Wilson said he raked.

Yes, around the body, after
he stole Mr Reynolds' wallet,

but time would've been of the essence.

I think he would've raked his
footprints to and from the body

but not the whole bunker, surely.

Hm...

It's none of your bloody business!
I'll go to prison for this!

- What the hell are you doing?
- Hey, there's no need for that!

You're coming with me.

Don't worry, Dad.

- I'm coming with you.
- No, you're not, Alec.

As legal counsel, I have
the right to accompany him.

Fine. Suit yourself.

Now, Clay, you've obviously been
drinking so we can delay this

till we're both satisfied
that you're sober.

No. No, get it over with.

Now, you're aware that The Courier
was putting together a story on you?

- Phff! Bastard Reynolds.
- Not a first, though.

Harvey Treloar found out about
everything that was going on

but he wasn't about to publish anything.

No. You see, he wouldn't
do that to a mate.

Terry Reynolds, on the other hand,

well, he knew the club
was in a bit of strife

and he knew you were responsible.

You don't have to answer that,
Dad. It wasn't a question.

- We lost some money.
- You were embezzling funds.

Unless you have proof
of that, Superintendent,

that's speculative nonsense.

I didn't embezzle a penny.

I just... made some bad decisions
with the... the club's money.

And Terry knew, with the
Ballarat Open only days away,

well, if the members found out...

This is absurd! Superintendent,
I suggest we postpone...

Will you shut your
mouth? Let me handle this!

You keep interrupting and
I'll be interviewing you next.

Sit down.

Thank you.

The autopsy report shows
a small amount of alcohol

in Reynolds' system when he died.

So you two have a beer at the
clubhouse after his round, yes?

Yes.

You argued at the bar. Soon
after, he was found dead.

Bottle to the temple is my
guess, or something similar.

Superintendent, please...

Son, your father is a helluva
nice bloke when he's sober

but forever looking for
a fight when he's not.

You were the last person
to see Reynolds alive

and no-one, no-one can
corroborate your story

of being on the practice
fairway at the time of death!

No. No, that's right.

Oh, there you are. What are you
doing, sitting in the dark?

Oh. Was I?

You know, if someone
really wanted that man dead,

then doing the deed on
a public golf course

still seems like a very
strange choice to me.

It's obvious that you need
to talk about this, Lucien,

and I'm not going anywhere
until you do, so...

Alright.

The police have arrested Clay Richardson

for Terry Reynolds' murder.

- But you don't think he did it.
- Oh...

Jean, what do you know about the man?

Well, Clay owned and ran a
successful freight company

with his wife, till not very long ago.

His wife?

Bronwyn. She passed away a
year or so ago. Lovely woman.

Right. And after she died...

He sold the company. Bronwyn handled
the finances, from what I've heard.

I see.

Which might explain...

.. why he's now in
trouble for embezzlement.

From the golf club? No,
that doesn't sound right.

No?

'Embezzlement' suggests
he knew what he was doing.

I think it's more likely that he
just couldn't juggle club finances.

Right. Would he kill someone
to keep that hidden, I wonder?

And then, of course,
there's, um, er, Alec.

The son? Well, he's a
lawyer, not an accountant.

Do you know, he very
nearly decked me today.

- Who? The father or the son?
- Richardson the elder.

He, um... Well, he'd had
a few too many and...

Anyhow, his boy stepped in to stop him.

It's a shame. Some men just
need to be saved from themselves.

What?

Of course.

- Alec! - Doctor. What
are you doing here?

- Fancy that game now?
- I'm actually quite busy.

Alec, it's your father, just a few
questions I need to work through.

My father didn't murder
Terry Reynolds, Doctor.

No. No, I don't think so either.

But your father's never had a
head for figures, has he, Alec?

But you do.

The money from the tennis club,

that wasn't enough to
cover what he'd lost.

Mind you, it was a start.

Now... Break?

Lovely.

Now, you organised to meet Terry
Reynolds after he finished his round.

You didn't tell your father.

This was something you were
determined to deal with...

.. on your own.

Now, you argued.

Push turned to shove and you
struck him as hard as you could

with one of these

right here at the billiard table.

Phenolic resin, incredibly hard.

You thought you'd killed him.

In fact, you started
cleaning up all the evidence.

But he got up and he went outside.

He staggered as far as the
bunker and then he fell.

You followed him in,
you rolled him over...

.. and finished what you'd started.

Alec?

Is this man bothering you?

And then you rolled him
over again onto his back

and then you raked the sand,
hoping it would look...

Oh, goodness. .. like
some unfortunate accident.

It's an interesting theory,
Doctor, but it's all conjecture.

Yes, but if I went to the Colonists' Club

and checked the billiard tables

there'd be a ball missing, wouldn't there?

Of course, you'd have
disposed of it by now.

However, if you used the towel in
your golf bag to clean that ball...

.. well, that'd be enough.

Alec, sometimes fathers
need their sons' help,

even when they won't admit it.

Dad never...

I told him we could work things out
with Reynolds, that I could help.

Sometimes, Doctor, the older generation

don't know when they're
in over their head.

Edward, everything alright?

Yes, everything's perfectly
fine, isn't it, Edward?

Patrick, here. You two should have a game.

Clear the air. What do you think?

Er, Charlie?

- You don't give up, do you?
- I'm afraid not.

Alright. You ready?

Ballarat Police arrested a man

in relation to the murder
of Mr Terry Reynolds

of Little Street in East Ballarat...

'The suspect was apprehended at
Wendouree Golf Club last night

during a private gala and has
since been transferred to Melbourne

where he will be held before
facing court next month.'

And then it gets rather
colourful, after that.

Do you mind if I, er, have a look?

No, no.

I'm extremely busy at the moment
so if this is about the article...

No, it's not. It's about the
Herald, you know, in Melbourne.

Right. What about them?

They've been asking a lot of questions

about the events leading
up to Terry's death,

how he got the job here,
his role at The Courier,

his... well, his, er... his work habits.

They even think you may have been
involved in whatever Terry was up to.

I see.

- And what do you think?
- Me?

I think whatever Terry was
up to was small potatoes.

I don't think Edward Tyneman
would stoop to that level.

Did you tell them that?

No.

I haven't told them anything.

At least, not yet.

Fine. Harvey Treloar gets his job back.

And you can work the police beat
but your work better be good.

Oh, don't worry. It will be.

Diet and exercise are very important.

Yes. Till next time.

- That's the last one?
- Yes. Nothing till one o'clock.

Right.

Jean, I really should thank you again.

- Without you last night, I...
- Don't.

We can't do this.

Not anymore.

Yes. I'm sorry.

Of course, you're...
you're absolutely right.

I wish I wasn't but there it is.

It's not fair on Mei Lin.

And it's not fair on me.

I should go.

Yes, you should.

I was afraid it would be you.

Well, aren't you going to invite me in?