All language subtitles for The.Doctor.Blake.Mysteries.S04E01.The.Open.Road.1080p.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor

[lively instrumental music]

[Bomber] Pull over, pull over!

-What are you doing?
-I got this, mate.

Oh, bloody hell, Bomber, not now!

We gotta go!

Let's go, come on.

Go, go, go.

[engine groans and sputters]

Not now!

Don't!

Goddammit!

[Announcer] And it looks
like Miss Beryl Routledge

will win this stage of the RA Trial.

Second will be Clive Hildebrand,

with Trevor McKenzie a distant third.

[audience applauding]

[Herbert] Congratulations, Miss Routledge.

Thank you very much, Mr. Jones!

Hello, Ballarat!

-[engine bangs]
-Ooh!

This'll be interesting.

You're making it hard for me, Trev.

Oh, come on, Jonesy!

Mate, I can fix a lot of
things, but I can't fix this.

You've dropped in the rankings.

Below who?

And what are you grinning at?

I keep telling you, Trev,
it's your fuel intake, mate.

And how the hell would you know that?

You been fiddling with it, have you?

That'd be right.

This whole bloody thing is rigged!

-[sighs]
-You alright, Errol?

Good.

What was all that about?

It's nothing.

Errol.

Errol!

[mysterious instrumental music]

Clive Hildebrand?

[camera clicking]

You're still the best.

[somber instrumental music]

[Man] You have a name for your car?

A name for the car?

Well, no.

But perhaps you'd like to name her.

[chuckles]

[Reporter] Just here if
I could, Miss Routledge.

-Certainly.
-Thank you, beautiful.

[Reporter] Do you think
you can win the next leg?

I certainly think so.

-Watch out!
-Mr. McKenzie!

-Come on, McKenzie!
-My apologies, gentlemen.

-[screaming]
-[suspenseful music]

Bloody hell.

[dramatic instrumental music]

Hello?

Hello?

-Anyone...
-[phone ringing]

Jean?

Ned, I do beg your pardon.

What can I do for you?

Good to see you, Bill.

Doc, you're back.

I am.

Through here, is it?

There.

Matthew.

Well, welcome back.

How are you?

Fine.

What have we got?

[Matthew] Errol Moore,
mechanic and navigator

for Clive Hildebrand.

Arrived in town yesterday
with the Red Trial.

I'm sorry, I don't follow motor racing.

Is this their vehicle?

No, it's the rival's.

Not very sporting.

[Matthew] The boy was
dragged under McKenzie's car.

Well, I can tell you,
he was dead before that.

These abrasions here were
received post-mortem, and here.

Petechiae, caused by asphyxiation.

So, someone strangled him
and put his body here?

More likely, a jack slipped

while he was working under the car.

And, by the way, petechiae,

yes, an indicator of asphyxiation,
not always strangulation.

I'll keep that in mind.

A quiet sort, and a talented
mechanic, apparently.

The boy's driver, Clive Hildebrand,

came second in yesterday's stage.

Right.

Question is, what was the lad doing

underneath someone else's car?

[Bill] Sir, you're to remain outside.

You're to remain outside!

[Matthew] Let him
through, Senior Sergeant!

Where is he?

Oh!

[Matthew] Mr. Hildebrand, I'm sorry.

Thank you all for coming.

It's my sad duty to announce

the accidental death of Errol Moore.

Clive Hildebrand, Mr. Moore's driver,

and our very own Ballarat legend,

joins me in offering our
condolences to Mr. Moore's family.

In honor of Errol Moore, the final leg

of the Red Australia Trial
will be delayed until tomorrow.

And we'd like to thank
the town of Ballarat

and the Ballarat Courier
for their hospitality.

But before I go, can I just
assure the motoring public

of Australia that the
Red Trial will go on.

Any questions?

-Yes, is the--
-He's a bit quick

to jump to that conclusion.

-The funeral of Errol Moore?
-Yes.

What?

-Any other questions?
-Nothing, nothing.

Now, who was there when
the body was found?

Trev came hurtling out.

He knew we were all standing there

and he drove his car straight at us.

When did he realize that there
was a body under the car?

It was hard to tell.

Are you in the market, Doctor?

No, no, not really.

It's impressive, though.

What model is it?

Vanguard Phase II.

You haven't been following the race?

Ah...

[Matthew] You said that Trevor McKenzie

drove his car at you.

Why?

Because he's a bloody
fool, would be my guess.

He dropped in the rankings yesterday.

Had a go at Errol straight after the race.

Miss Routledge!

You're amazing.

You should see my navigator.

But, then again, Trev
fights with everyone.

And when was the last time
that you saw Errol Moore?

When Trev was yelling at him.

Did you like Errol, Miss Routledge?

I'd never even spoken to him.

But he seemed like a lovely kid.

Helluva mechanic.

Clive was lucky, always has been.

How's that, exactly?

Well, Clive's a local hero, Doctor.

He won the first Red Trial.

I thought he'd retired.

So did we.

Thank you, Miss Routledge.

-Good luck.
-Thank you.

Miss Routledge.

Are you honestly telling me

that you have no idea who she was,

or who Clive Hildebrand is?

Should I?

The Red Australia race is
the most famous motor rally

in the country, Blake.

Everyone's watching it.

By the way, my niece is
coming into town for a while.

Oh, lovely.

Look forward to meeting her.

How was Adelaide?

Churchy.

[playful instrumental music]

Traumatic asphyxiation.

Compression of the chest,
broken ribs, almost certainly.

Death would have taken...

A minute, maybe two.

Post-mortem soft tissue
and skeletal damage.

Are you alright?

Why do you ask?

You don't seem yourself.

You've barely said a word, to me or him.

I'm sure I'm just tired from my trip.

Compression line,
probably from the chassis.

From that shape, I'd say it was a Holden.

Or a Phase I Vanguard.

Well-spotted.

It was, in fact, a Vanguard.

So, the jack slips, chassis comes down.

And here he is.

Here he is, indeed.

Left hand...

...grease under the fingernails.

Hardly surprising.

Dragging injuries to the
thighs, the back, the face.

Right hand...

Goodness me.

Two dislocated fingers.

Alice, look here.

Swelling on the joints.

Sustained before he died.

Straightforward dislocation, really.

Easily realigned.

Still, there's something
not quite right here.

Hang on a minute.

Hang on.

Why aren't his ribs broken?

I thought you said the jack slipped.

It was a theory.

But there's no bruising or lacerations

to the rest of the chest.

No bones broken.

Alice, the car couldn't
have fallen on him.

Paperweight?

If it is, it's a very ostentatious one.

It's also fully wound down.

I'm telling you, it didn't slip.

You should dust it for prints.

What about the autopsy?

Ah, two fingers dislocated
pre-mortem, and no broken ribs.

Well, think about it.

A jack slips, car comes down on you,

by God, it's going to break your ribs.

So they lowered the jack down on him

while he was under the car.

But before he suffocated,
he managed to grab them.

What about his fingers?

Now, what do we know about
the owner of the car?

Errol used to be my
mechanic, and then he left,

to join the great Clive Hildebrand.

So, he leaves you for Hildebrand,

they win last year's
race, and the next thing,

he's found dead underneath your car.

And what was he doing underneath there?

Was he sabotaging you?

Well, he certainly
wasn't fixing it, was he?

Things have been stuffing up lately.

And here I was, thinking it
was just Bomber being slack.

And you never forgave Errol
Moore for leaving your team.

Is that why you had a shouting match

with him after the race?

Bomber told you that, did he?

Then maybe you should ask
Bomber what he was doing.

Why don't you tell me what
you were doing last night?

We were working on the car, together!

Bomber gave me the irrits, so I left.

Next time I see the car,
Errol's wedged underneath it.

You ask him about that.

Trevor tell you that, did he?

Well, did he also tell you that
he was gonna have me bumped

to get Errol on the team?

That would've made you
pretty angry, wouldn't it?

Well, did he tell ya that
Errol turned him down?

Mr. McKenzie reckons that Errol Moore

might've tampered with your car.

What are your thoughts about that?

No idea.

Is it likely?

Mr. Denman...

...how did you get on with the deceased?

Yeah, fine.

Everyone loved Errol, didn't they?

[Lucien] So, the driver and his mechanic

are at each other's throats.

Well?

Oh, they both deserve each other.

Got nothing on either of them yet.

Matthew, this race...

Needs to be suspended for
the duration of this inquiry.

And I'm not looking forward
to making that call.

Senior Sergeant?

I need you to speak to the
rest of the competitors.

Take Davis with you.

Ask them if they saw McKenzie

or Denman last night between...

Ah, I'd estimate time of death

was between 12 and five a.m.

So, you heading home now?

I thought I might check
up on Clive Hildebrand,

perhaps ask a few more questions.

Maybe you could apologize
for not knowing who he was.

[playful instrumental music]

Oh, come on, you old bugger.

[engine sputtering]

Enjoying this, are you, Dad?

Thank you.

[Clive] I don't want it.

Listen to me, Clive.

It's easy money.

I've already set everything up.

How many times do I
have to tell you, Herb?

I'm an amateur.

And I'm telling you, Clive,
you don't have to be.

Just say yes.

-Mr. Hildebrand.
-Afternoon, Doctor.

You know much about cars?

Very little, I'm afraid.

Errol knew everything about them.

He was born in a garage,
his old man used to say.

I understand he used to
navigate for Mr. McKenzie.

What made him join you?

Oh, I never knew.

I just thanked my lucky stars I had him.

Mr. Hildebrand, tell me,

what do you think he was
doing under that car?

Well, somebody was messing with the cars.

Ours, Beryl's.

I reckon Errol was
figuring out who it was.

Right.

You don't think perhaps

he was responsible for the sabotage?

Not likely.

He wasn't that sort of bloke.

Personally, I reckon you should
take a look at Herb Jones.

Jones, the chap you were just talking to?

He runs the race, doesn't he?

Yeah, just an official.

Doubt if he'd know a
lug nut from a walnut.

But there's no telling who he's got

in his pocket working against me.

That sounds personal.

Yeah, well, Herb reckons there's no room

for the likes of me in
the competition anymore.

Days of the amateur are over.

Ah.

Mr. Hildebrand?

Rose Anderson, Ballarat Courier.

-Miss Anderson--
-You're on the record

as saying that the Red Australia Trials

have become increasingly commercialized.

As the winner of the very first race,

do you think there's still room

in the competition for
non-professionals like yourself?

-No comment.
-Mr. Hildebrand,

-just a little--
-I'd let him go.

Miss Anderson.

Well done, you've learned my name.

-I'm Dr.--
-Lucien Blake,

the police surgeon.

I know who you are.

What are the police doing,
talking to Clive Hildebrand?

Passing on our condolences.

-What's the Courier doing?
-Our job.

-So, Patrick hired you?
-He did.

We're not talking about me, are we?

Do the police suspect foul play?

That would be a question for them.

Good afternoon, Miss Anderson.

Dr. Blake, you know Mr.
Hildebrand isn't the only one

with concerns about Herb Jones?

Really?

And where did you hear this?

I couldn't possibly reveal my sources.

But you know what they say,
Doctor, you scratch my back...

[Herb] The race is

a huge business
proposition, Superintendent.

[Matthew] I am aware of that, Mr. Jones.

Are further delays really necessary?

My paper has exclusives
with the drivers...

This is a police investigation, Patrick,

and we need time to conduct it.

Don't worry, Patrick,

I assured the people of Australia

that the final leg would
take place tomorrow, so...

Just like you told Clive Hildebrand

there was no longer any room for amateurs.

-Blake.
-Oh, here we go.

By the way,

you need to reign in your
journalists, Patrick.

One of them's been harassing Hildebrand.

Good, that's what we pay them for.

Look, I'm aware your
investigation takes priority,

but there are other considerations.

Such as?

Such as a considerable
boost to the local economy,

the city's profile.

Yes, Patrick, I understand.

Thank you.

It would be churlish to mention
that little favor of mine,

so I won't.

We'll leave you to it.

Mr. Jones.

Some of the drivers believe
your business interests

might be unduly influencing the race.

Any truth in that?

-No.
-And you're accusing

my reporters of harassment?

Just when I was about
ready to tolerate you.

He makes a fair point.

What was that about a favor?

Might get another cup of tea.

It's fair to say there's a
certain amount of enthusiasm

for us to get a result, so, where are we?

Bad blood between McKenzie and Moore.

Bad blood between McKenzie and Denman.

[sighs] Did anyone see either of them

after they finished working on the car?

No, people were drinking.

Memories are hazy.

Trevor McKenzie's a hair-trigger idiot

at the best of times,

and the body was under his
car when he was driving.

Either he's brilliantly clever

and he's pulling a double bluff, or...

[mysterious instrumental music]

Doc, any theories?

Ah, or someone's framed him.

Right, you hold the fort here.

I'll take Davis back to the showgrounds.

We'll have another look
through the garage.

What's wrong with you?

Nothing, Matthew.

I'm perfectly fine.

Really.

[sighing]

Do you ever wonder, Matthew,

what it is that drives
us to do what we do?

Go home, get some rest.

You'll feel like a new
man tomorrow, trust me.

-Lucien!
-Mattie!

You're home.

Yes, I arrived back this morning.

-Well, how's Jean?
-Jean's well.

What do you mean, she's well?

I mean, to all intents and purposes,

she's in very good health.

So Jean is quite well and
I'm just going to have

to accept that as a reasonable explanation

as to why you've been
gone for over a week.

Exactly.

Should we at least have a drink,

to celebrate you being home?

Are you going to continue to
bombard me with questions?

Well, I think I know when I'm
not going to get an answer.

In that case, that would be lovely.

Thank you very much.

[Mattie] You met Beryl Routledge?

[Lucien] I wouldn't have picked you

for a car enthusiast, Mattie.

Well, I'm not, usually.

But this is ordinary people
driving ordinary cars,

and they're racing right
around the country,

isn't that something?

[Reporter] The deceased
is Errol Moore, age 20...

-So, the boy--
-Errol Moore.

-He was only 20?
-Yes.

[Reporter] Ballarat stage of the rally

at Western Victoria.

[Lucien] Ah, now, that's Clive Hildebrand.

[Reporter] The driver of Clive
Hildebrand was found dead

beneath the chassis of--

[Lucien] Mm, and there's
your Miss Routledge.

She's amazing.

Eh, perhaps.

[Reporter] To postpone the continuation

of the race temporarily.

And there she is,
chatting with young Errol.

She told me she hadn't spoken with him.

Now, why would she lie?

[mysterious instrumental music]

I'll go.

You keep an eye out here.

Righto.

[mysterious instrumental music]

[door slamming]

Oi!

Open up!

[crashing]

[dramatic instrumental music]

-You alright, boss?
-Did you see anyone?

No.

What happened?

-[engine revving]
-[tires screeching]

Boss.

[groaning]

Boss!

[screaming]

Keep still, keep still.

Help!

[screaming]

Help!

[siren blaring]

[groaning]

Dr. Blake.

Hugh Masterson, Orthopedics.

Where's Nicolson?

He's not answering his phone.

Right.

Cuts and abrasions, possible internals,

broken right femur, severe
laceration above the knee.

It's okay, it's okay.

[groaning]

Almost there.

Damage to the femoral artery.

Lucky Charlie put a tourniquet on.

The break appears to be
compressing the artery,

cutting off circulation to the lower limb.

We need to deal with the artery now.

What is it?

I'm Orthopedics.

You need a vascular surgeon for that.

We don't have a vascular surgeon, Hugh.

Please.

It's alright, Matthew.

-It's alright.
-Pulse?

How long since the accident?

Um, half an hour or so.

We amputate.

Over 30 minutes, no circulation,
the wound will be septic.

No, no, no, no, no.

We reset, put him under, fix the artery.

We're not prepped.

We don't have a choice.

[Lucien] I've seen
breaks like this before.

-And I haven't.
-Matthew, can you hear me?

This is going to hurt like hell, alright?

Assist Mattie.

I need you to hold him down.

Now, the idea is to get the
bone back into place, yes?

So, on my three, I'm going to
pull the leg back, and lower.

One, two, three.

[screaming]

-No, not quite.
-Doctor!

Matthew, I'm sorry.

We're going to have to go again.

Alright?

One, two, three.

[screaming]

Yes, that's it.

Well done.

Anything?

Just wait.

Wait, please.

Lucien.

I told you we should have amputated.

We've got a pulse.

You're sure?

Yes, yes.

It's weak, but we've got a pulse.

Well done, you two.

Now, we need anesthetic.

We get traction on this thing.

You still need to operate.

Would you supervise the
vascular procedure, Doctor?

Of course I will.

Jones.

It was Jones!

Alright, alright.

Matthew, calm down for me.

Calm down for me.

Well done.

Lucien?

I'm fine, Mattie.

Would you do something for me?

Check on Charlie.

Yes.

Hey, well done.

[gentle instrumental music]

Ah, Alice.

Come on in.

I got the toxicology back
for the man under the car.

There's nothing unusual
in the bloodstream.

[Matthew] What?

Errol Moore's toxicology results.

They're completely clean.

No drugs, no alcohol.

How are you, Chief Superintendent?

Terrible.

I'll leave you to the doctor, then.

Thank you, Alice.

How's Charlie?

Ah, our Charlie.

Well, he's got three broken
ribs, so I've sent him home.

Herbert Jones has been
brought in for questioning.

We need to send someone back

to the garage to have a look around.

Well, I'll pass that on,

but in the meantime, you
need to get some rest, eh?

Both legs are present, I see.

[chuckles] Yes.

Yes, but you've sustained
a lot of damage, Matthew.

Still.

Thank you, Lucien.

[somber instrumental music]

Yesterday, when you saw
Superintendent Lawson

and Sergeant Davis at the
showground, why did you run?

I didn't run.

My apologies.

The Chief Superintendent
sends his regards.

Mr. Jones maintains he'd
left the showgrounds

before we were run down.

Ah.

He also maintains that--

I didn't run anyone down,

and I had nothing to do with Errol Moore.

So why did you run away?

Our records indicate you
own a two-tone Vanguard,

registration HHE-585.

Where is it?

Parked outside the showgrounds.

It's been there for days.

I'll suspend the interview for now.

If my men find any mark on that car,

anything at all that suggests

it was the one that ran us
down at the showgrounds,

I will escort the doctor out of this room

and leave you in here
with the Senior Sergeant.

Alone.

Last chance.

Charlie, I fancy a cuppa.

-Bill?
-White with three,

-thanks, Doc.
-Good.

-I might join you, Blake.
-Excellent.

[tense instrumental music]

Alright.

Alright.

Yes, I was driving the car.

I'm sorry, alright?

I didn't mean to run anyone down.

It was just an accident.

Then what were you doing there?

Why did you run from us?

I take money from manufacturers

to boost their vehicles
up in the rankings.

And when that doesn't work,

you tamper with the
cars from time to time.

[Charlie] You saw two policemen
there, and you panicked.

I didn't see anyone!

I thought it was one of the other drivers.

And if they'd found me
they would have killed me.

Is that what happened with young Errol?

No.

I tried to pay the kid
off to help me weeks ago.

And he turned you down.

The only one who'd go
along with it was Bomber.

Bomber Denman.

And, Bill, we've got enough

to charge him with the hit and run?

You bet your arse we do.

Good.

Now, someone needs to speak with Denman.

I can do that.

I'm coming with you, Doc.

Charlie, if you're not going home,

you should stay here.

Miss Anderson, what brings you here?

Police rounds, what do you think?

Excellent.

Sergeant Davis, someone
you should speak with.

-Cup of tea, Miss?
-Black, no sugar.

Suspected burglary and two
cases of public drunkenness.

Also, Market Street will be
closed to traffic tomorrow,

and that's about it.

And the investigation
into Errol Moore's death?

I'm unable to comment
about that right now.

Shame.

I heard there was an incident
at the showgrounds last night.

That's subject to further investigation.

So the police are investigating?

We're pursuing a number
of avenues of inquiry.

And you heard this from...?

Are you sure that you're
not able to tell me?

Pretty sure, yep.

Do you think that I might be able to speak

with Chief Superintendent Lawson, then?

He's unavailable at the moment.

Would you tell him that I was
here, when he is available?

Of course.

It's been a pleasure.

Miss Anderson?

The number at the desk,
so I can keep you posted

on what's happening here,
when it's appropriate.

And why would you do that?

Because I was once new in town too.

Sergeant Davis.

Miss Anderson.

[Announcer] Scott Wilson Brown

to the refreshment tent, please?

That's Scott Wilson Brown
to the refreshment tent.

Mr. Denman?

Herbert Jones sends his regards.

A number of people believe
their cars have been sabotaged

throughout this race.

-They're paranoid.
-Is that right?

When questioned, Mr. Jones
admitted that it was, in fact,

the two of you tampering with the cars.

He even suggested that
you might be the one

who killed young Errol.

Well, he's a liar.

So why don't you go piss off?

You got nothing.

I gather you like dynamite.

Hey.

I never have.

The impact it has on the human body,

the damage it wreaks on flesh
and bone, it's horrible.

Now, you listen to me.

I don't have the patience
today for your games.

A very good friend of mine
nearly died yesterday,

so you will tell me what I want to know.

What?

If you think I had anything--

You were sabotaging cars.

Perhaps Clive and Errol's, yes?

Errol discovered the
truth, so you murdered him

before anyone else could find out.

Is that what happened?

Come on, last chance.

Go on, why don't ya?

Go on.

You don't have the balls.

Time's ticking.

Tell me what happened.

Alright, look, alright,

I didn't touch their car,

just that bitch Routledge
and a few others.

I didn't do a thing to Errol!

-Did you kill him?
-No.

You're absolutely sure?

I didn't do it, you crazy bastard!

Alright.

You're insane.

Yes, perhaps I am.

I've been called worse.

Now, here's what's going
to happen next, Bomber.

You're going to go to the police.

You're going to tell them
exactly what you just told me.

Yes?

Yeah, fine, alright, I'll go.

Best stop this nonsense as well.

Your dynamite days are over.

Good afternoon, Mr. Denman.

[engine sputtering]

Bloody hell.

[engine sputtering]

Standards, they have their quirks.

Quirks, indeed.

It has been the source of some
frustration over the years,

I can tell you.

You're not thinking of
selling, are you, Doctor?

Well, let's see what she's got.

[lively instrumental music]

Well, the brakes are in good nick.

That's something.

Yes.

You lied to me, Miss Routledge.

Excuse me?

When you were first interviewed yesterday,

you lied about having never
spoken with Errol Moore.

I must have forgotten.

You know what us women are like.

Now, if you're in the
market for a new car.

Is there a Mrs. Blake?

What kind of motor would she
want the good doctor to have?

Did you try this on with
young Errol, Miss Routledge?

Is that why you didn't want us to know?

Yes, I spoke to Errol.

It's no secret, he's the
best mechanic on the tour.

I wanted him on my team.

Your team?

Didn't you want to show
the world that your team,

comprised solely of women,
how they could beat the men?

I'm a pretty woman driving a car, Doctor.

The public finds that fascinating.

But I've had enough of
women's magazine covers.

Now I want headlines for being the winner

-of the next Red Trial.
-Quite.

How did Errol respond to your offer?

He said no, stupid boy.

Did he say why?

Because next year, he
wanted to become a driver.

Enter the Red Australia himself.

I see.

And you...

Wished him luck, and told
him I would wave to him

from the top of the
podium in 12 months' time.

Of course.

To your knowledge, did he tell
anyone about his ambitions?

Well, I assume so.

He already had a car
lined up and everything.

No sponsor, though.

Oh, no, he was going amateur all the way,

just like his bloody idol, Clive.

You don't approve.

Errol and Clive take the
whole noble amateur thing

far too seriously.

It's not a mistake I intend to make.

I'm in this for the fame,
and the money, of course.

Now, I think something simple for you.

Nothing too fast or ostentatious.

Anyway, shall we?

[gentle instrumental music]

Mattie rang me.

-Yes, he's--
-Is Matthew--

He's alright.

It's going to be difficult.

-Doctor.
-Dr. Masterson.

I've been looking at the
Superintendent's X-rays.

Oh, honestly, I'm fine.

Anyone would think I'm
some bloody invalid.

I spoke to Hobart earlier.

He said that Jones has
confessed to running us down.

Yes, but not to killing young Errol.

Now, I spoke to Mr. Denman
and Beryl Routledge.

Beryl Routledge?

You didn't tell me that!

Oh, he has no idea who she was.

Ah, typical.

Do you think she's involved?

I don't know.

How is the leg?

Oh, well, still there.

[chuckles]

Do you think he knows?

Well, I'm not certain he's aware...

Doctor!

-Mrs. Beazley.
-Hello.

I thought you should see these.

Most of the skin on Moore's back

was scraped away post-mortem,

but these are from a patch of skin

remaining on his shoulder.

I think it's the imprint

of the ground beneath the body.

Paving of some kind.

Well done, Alice.

[gasps] Jean!

Oh, Mattie, it's lovely to see you.

You too!

It has been so quiet while you were gone.

I had to go to Melbourne for conversation.

Excuse me, you two.

I just need to fetch my torch.

Where are you going?

Back to the showgrounds.

I'm coming too.

Wait, I wanted to find out about Adelaide.

I'll tell you about it later.

I do love what you're
doing with your hair.

I didn't know she'd been
going down to Melbourne.

Yes, spending more time
with the family, apparently.

-Right.
-This is...?

Er, Trevor McKenzie's car.

Have you wedged something under the tires?

Just asking!

Of course I have.

Thank you.

[grunting] Now.

What are you looking for now?

Oh, I don't know.

I've never really looked
beneath the car before.

Just this one?

Alright, any car.

So, tell me.

Our young Errol was found under here.

But this isn't his car.

The car was lowered
directly onto his chest.

It left a corresponding compression mark.

You know that different cars

have differently shaped chassis?

Well, yes, of course I do.

But some are similar.

Well, for example, the Vanguard and the...

The Holden.

So, who drives one of those?

I have a pretty good idea.

What about the impression

that the ground left on the man's skin?

Not from here.

He died somewhere else, Jean.

I need you to find a phone box
and call Bill Hobart for me.

[mysterious instrumental music]

You know, I wasn't lying when I said

I didn't know much about cars.

But I do know medicine.

[Clive] You know what it's
like to be a hero, Doctor?

To be an ordinary man

with ordinary people looking up to you?

Yes, look, the pressure,
I can only imagine.

Of course, with Herbert

and his business associates
snapping at your heels,

it must be very stressful.

But look, it was Jones and
Denman sabotaging your car.

Young Errol had nothing to do with it.

Please, he looked up to you.

He worshiped you!

Errol told me he wanted
to drive next year.

When I found him working
under the car that night, I--

So you thought the worst
and you killed him,

didn't you, Mr. Hildebrand?

Please!

-Lucien!
-[sirens blaring]

That young man had done nothing
wrong, not a damn thing.

You murdered him, you moved the body,

put it under McKenzie's car, and for what?

He betrayed me.

Betrayed you?

He didn't betray you.

You were his hero.

Clive Hildebrand, I'm arresting you

for the murder of Errol John Moore.

Matthew, Patrick.

Hobart told me.

Well done.

Yes.

Yes, um...

Matthew, look, there's...

-There's something...
-I know, I know.

[sighs]

My leg's never gonna heal properly.

I'll probably walk with a stick,

or something equally humiliating.

They'll pension me off.

Yes.

Unless I can find a doctor

who's willing to fudge my medical.

-[Patrick chuckles]
-Ah.

Ah, don't worry.

Not even you can sort this one out.

I'm sorry.

Boss.

-Miss Anderson?
-Sergeant Davis.

I take it you've met my niece.

What's that?

Ah, report on Errol Moore.

Just leave it on the desk.

These are the things you asked for, Boss.

Thank you.

Well, gentlemen,

it's been an honor.

[clears throat]

Carry on.

[somber instrumental music]

Matthew.

So, have you remembered?

Why it is we do what we do?

Yes, I most certainly have.

Another time, eh?

A job for Rose at the Courier.

That was Patrick's favor.

[lively instrumental music]

Well?

10 miles to the gallon.

You don't think that's a little wasteful?

What do other cars get?

You don't know?

[chuckles]

Have you told anyone?

Who would I tell?

-Patrick Tyneman?
-Oh, Patrick.

Lucien, where's your car?

Finally traded it in.

This is my new one.

You do know the fuel
consumption isn't great?

[chuckles]

So I've heard.

Fancy a spin?

Definitely.

Could I borrow it next
time I go to Melbourne?

Not a chance.

Right.

You wait till you get out on the road.

It's an absolute beaut.

[mysterious instrumental music]