Original subtitles

Ma'am, I think it's Trent Latham.

Trent!

- Vanessa! No! No! - Trent!

We've recruited an interstate detective to lead the case.

Detective Eddie Redcliffe is my name. I am from Darwin.

Who is the psycho with the 25-page rap sheet?

That is Gavin Latham,

Trent Latham's brother and business partner.

What happened to your windscreen, Gavin?

- Who's that? - That's Trent.

Looks like our brothers took a little trip together.

Time of death was between 3 and 4am.

No foreign DNA on the body.

What's the deal with that forensic pathologist?

"Lingua amputo."

Five years ago, Deadloch's mayor, Rod Dixon,

washed up dead on the same beach as Trent Latham.

Comin' through!

Who was that woman with Dulcie?

- The detective? - He's a woman?

Vanessa! Stop right there!

Lingua amputo.

Sexy, don't they all realise

we moved to Deadloch specifically for work-life balance?

Well, I just don't think that the...

murderer, or Commissioner Hastings...

care about our choir schedule, love.

Oh, I have to go.

I think I'm still upset you lied to me about Detective Redcliffe, you know?

Yeah, and as I said, I omitted some information

because I was worried about how it'd make you feel.

- Where's my... - The front door.

- Right. - I felt triggered.

And you have communicated that thoroughly, love,

and, again, I really apologise.

- For lying to me? - Well, for...

Yep. Mm.

OK.

- OK. - OK.

So let's just reset.

This whole investigation

has just got absolutely nothing to do with our lives here,

and I will parent my emotions and you'll do your work.

Oh, great! Great.

Your emotional work.

Yep, OK. That's... good too. I just...

I do really want to keep talking about this, Cath...

- Me too. - ...but I... I have to go.

- 'Course. - OK.

Yeah, I'll chat to you in the car.

Alright. OK.

So Margaret called. She wants the bales no more than 3m apart.

Has Amanda Palmer arrived?

- Yep. - She has? OK.

So the murders haven't deterred her...

TAMMY: Is it just me, or does no-one care that

two dudes are fully dead?

I know.

I saw a yoga class on the beach this morning,

right where you tripped over Trent's dead dick.

Ugh...

- We should go to his funeral. - Why?

He kicked you off the footy team the moment you turned 14

because you weren't a boy.

You hate him.

I don't hold grudges. I go with love.

You just want to go in case a footy recruiter rocks up.

Yeah, 'cause this town is cooked, brah.

And I'm gonna get out, via my banana.

You're allergic to bananas.

Oh, it's a type of kick, M.

Fuck.

Autopsy of Gavin Latham commencing now.

Time of death approximately 28 hours ago...

Oh, sorry, sorry. Senior Sergeant Detective Collins just texted.

She said that Detective Redcliffe

told her that the autopsy started in half an hour.

Yeah, well, boo-hoo for her. Crack on, Smartwatch.

Very similar to the brother.

There's no foreign DNA on the body. He's been completely cleaned.

- Wow! - Ah, excuse me, babe.

- The hyoid was broken. - Mm-hm?

Same sort of ligature was used to strangle him.

- You see these bruises here? - Mm-hm.

- Detective! - They're full of blood.

You said the autopsy started at nine.

Oh, well, the early bird catches the crim.

OK, let's get back to it, can we?

James, how long was Gavin's body on the beach?

Nup. What about the Latham brothers' tox report?

What are we talking? Fuck-ton of drugs?

You reckon some fucking local dealer bumped 'em off?

Well, we won't found out who killed him until we found out how it happened.

Now, the bodies were transported by boat.

Oh, you and your fucking boats!

OK, Collins, in answer to your question...

the minimal amount of pooled blood

suggests the body hadn't been lying on the beach long,

which actually suggests the killer...

Oh, just one second. One second.

Well, if we're all attending to personal matters...

Hey, no, answer me, mate.

...at your make-up trial tomorrow, babe,

just make sure the lady doesn't go OTT.

You've already reeled me in.

There's no need to be impressing anyone else.

Hey. Oi! Smartwatch!

What about his fucking toxicology report?

Yeah, it's still pending, Detective. The liver's damaged, though.

But from what? Drugs? Hey? Which ones?

Ah, T-B-C.

Well, T-B-have a fucking guess.

OK, what type of knife was used to cut out his tongue, James?

How was his tongue removed?

With difficulty, I'd say.

See these ragged marks on the throat? They're from a serrated blade.

But these ones on the cheek, they're more dagger-like.

- So the killer... - Ugh.

Can we just have a modicum of decorum in here, please...

Can you just keep going, James? Thank you. Just keep going.

I surmise the killer used two knives to cut out the tongue.

Which tracks: the tongue is actually the strongest muscle in the human body.

- It's not, James. - Yeah, yeah, just wind it up, mate.

The jaw and teeth have been chipped...

- Ooh. - Babe!

Sorry, Sven, I can't really talk right n...

Copy that, Sven.

They've found Gavin's ute at the old sawmill.

Dulce, forensics are headed to the sawmill.

They'll meet you there, OK?

Copy that, Sven.

The sawmill used to be the main source of employment in the town.

After he died, Margaret Carruthers' husband, Rod Dixon,

left it to local businessman, Phil McGangus.

Margaret has bankrolled the Feastival.

She also has a popular line of gourmet food products, Margaret's Table...

Why can't Big Eyes drive me anymore?

I'd rather hear her bang on about that knob-jockey boyfriend.

Sorry, fiancé.

Because I'm on this case, and I can drive us,

so here we find ourselves.

And I think it's relevant because Rod Dixon was the mayor.

On the beach. With the missing tongue.

Oh, you're not still going on about that, are ya?

Yes, I am, because fur seals don't eat human flesh.

I think it's worth reinterrogating how the tongue was removed.

No, no, no. OK?

Enough of your fucking Miss Marble's Midwinter Murder Theories, mate.

The Latham brothers were up their scrotes in drugs.

Someone's making an example of them. Who's... Who's the local drug dealer?

Joan.

OK, so this Joan, what is she?

Is she like a Judy Moran crime matriarch?

She sells under-the-counter hash gummies

at the local farmers' market every second Sunday of the month.

- OK, well, it's bigger than Joan. - Mm-hm.

Town like this, probably some kingpin running drugs with boats

and he's gone under your radar because he is a man and you are a...

you know.

You can just stay in the car and keep the heater going, if you like.

Yeah, I could, couldn't I?

The ground's still wet from the storm two nights ago.

We actually had 25mm of rain in under an hour.

Fuck, really?

Keep me posted.

Ah, look at this big-boy toy.

Any sign of the tongue?

Ignore her. What about blood?

- Any other evidence? - Mm-mm.

Yeah, it's probably 'cause of the storm.

We actually had 25mm of rain in under an hour.

Yeah, she's gone. She's gone.

- Well, well, well. - I...

Good morning, Phil.

Let me know if you find anything.

Shane's got two women working the case, has he?

Brave man.

The Commissioner and I are good mates from our footy days.

I'll let him know how you girls are going.

Yeah, please. Yeah, you do that.

So Gavin and Trent used to work out here at the sawmill, didn't they?

Everyone used to work at the sawmill

before your lot took root, hmm?

Any idea what Gavin was doing out here the night he died?

Absolutely no idea.

Oi!

Can I help you there, sweetheart?

Yeah, what's all that shit? In there?

Well, that's my personal property.

- Oh, yeah? - Uh.

And where were you two nights ago, Mr... McGangus, was it?

I was with Mike Nugent at the footy club, planning Trent's wake.

Now I've got to plan another one because two of me mates are dead.

It's no good, is it, Phil?

And can this, ah, Mark, corrobor...

...corrlob... corroba...

Can Mike corroborate that, Phil?

Well, I wouldn't have said it if he couldn't.

What about you, Jimmy? Where were you two nights ago?

I was at the Doorbell till closing.

- She was there too. - That's irrelevant.

Were the Lathams involved in drugs?

Not that I'm aware.

- Are you involved in drugs? - Not that I'm aware.

I'd like to take a look in that sawmill, Phil.

Would you? You know what you need for that.

- A warrant. - Eyes.

Mm, yeah, is that alright with you, Inspectress?

Yeah, 'course. Is it OK with you, Phil, if you eat my dick?

Shane's gonna love this.

Good. That was good.

So, up in Darwin, do you lot threaten all interviewees with fellatio,

or just the ones that are grieving?

Let's go.

You want to tell me where?

Fuck! Trent's wife!

Vajazzle.

Agh!

It's Margaret's Feastival, Gez,

and her name looks like "Maggot".

Maggot Carruthers.

Oh, gosh, I feel like such a dingo.

It's OK, babe. I know it's just a mistake.

Detective, what are you doing?

But, obviously, fix it, or I'm revoking your volunteer privileges.

Dulcie!

Is this the drug-cunt brothers' gym, is it?

Well it's Gavin and Trent Latham's gym, yes.

Detective, in light of the Phil McGangus debacle,

I'd like to take the lead on the interview with Vanessa myself.

This is my town and Vanessa and I have a relationship.

Oh, yeah, what's that relationship like?

You and your inner-city lezzo mates

narrowly avoiding getting hate-crimed by Vanessa's lot?

Ah, well, obviously Deadloch isn't perfect...

It's Satan's fucking snow globe!

I think that right now, Vanessa would appreciate a familiar face,

in a pair of actual shoes.

Dulcie!

Mate, I am the lead detective, OK?

You are a day-rate cop who's used to solving great mysteries like

"My Hat Is Missing", and "I Shot My Dog".

So, hipso facto, I'll be doing the interviewing, OK?

- Dulcie? - Yes?

What you pulled at the parade last night cannot happen again, OK?

OK, well, I didn't kill him myself, Aleyna.

I mean it. No more of this dead body nonsense.

You know how hard Margaret and I have worked at this Feastival?

It's given me IBS.

Detective! Aleyna, I do want to, and I will...

My colon is shredded, Dulcie. Shredded!

We found the Pro-Bro ute this morning.

Pretty... Pretty schmick rig.

Yeah, must be worth a bit of coin.

Got me thinking, you know?

How could Trent and Gavin afford a souped-up ute like that when...

that gym downstairs is emptier than an arsehole after breakfast?

- Was it drugs, Vanessa? - Detective.

Was it drugs?

You know, started with 'roids, peptides, Molly, then, bang!

Half of Deadloch are just sticking Special K right up the dick hole.

- Is that it, Vanessa? - I... I am...

- Is that it, huh? - I'm deeply sorry about this.

- I don't like you. - OK.

We know you threw the plate at his head, didn't you, Vanessa?

No, Trent threw the plate at her!

It ricocheted off the marble accent tray and hit him in the head.

And we know about the affair.

- Mm, we've seen the dick pics. - Detective.

How long have you and Gav been smashing meat?

No, Mum kept telling Uncle Gavin to stop sending her photos,

but he just kept sending them.

See? Look at her phone for yourself.

- Oh, good one. - I'm not even sure if they're his.

They have watermarks.

I never wanted his penises.

Ah... Who are you?

Are you her dad, are ya?

No, I'm Greg, from Grey Lady Funerals.

Ah, Vanessa, Rod Dixon was their boss at the sawmill. Were they on good terms?

What the fuck do you think you're doing?

Just a second, Vanessa. This question is relevant.

- My fuzzy brown arse it is. - It absolutely is.

More relevant than anything out of your mouth this morning.

- I'll tell you what is a relevant... - Rod.

Yeah. Yes, Vanessa.

He was president of the mayor.

He was...

President of the football club, and the mayor. Thank you, Vanessa.

- Lesbian. - OK.

Everything was good until Mr Dixon died,

then his wife shut the sawmill down.

I see.

Mum said it was part of God's plan, because if they hadn't lost their jobs,

then the three of them would have never opened the Beast Factory.

Three?

Yeah. Phil's a part-owner.

Really? Well, isn't that fascinating.

And what percentage of... of that did he own?

I don't know. I'm 17.

Phil's a majority owner of the Beast Factory.

He co-owns Pro-Bro protein powder.

He owns Vanessa and Trent's place upstairs.

Well, that's fucking cosy, isn't it?

And, of course, the old sawmill site.

Oh, gee, Sarge,

I wonder where he's getting all the cash for all these purchases?

If Phil was running drugs, we would know about it.

The money's probably from his fishing business. He owns a trawler.

Well, there's a fucking mystery murder boat

you've been banging on about, it's Phil the drug king's boat!

Phil's boat was not used in the murder.

The harbour surveillance footage from the night Trent died

comes from Phil's boat, Detective.

It was parked at the harbour all night.

It's moored, ma'am. Sorry.

OK, then he's got some associate, you know?

A dodgy fuck who's got a boat

and he carts the bodies and the drugs around.

You are over-simplifying this.

What the fuck is Father Time doing up here?

I told you that Rod Dixon's death

might be connected to Trent and Gavin's.

There is no connection, OK?

And if you mention the seal tongue again,

I swear to God I'm gonna cunt-punch you so hard

you're gonna double as a hand puppet.

Dulce, I've got Cath on the phone. She says it's important.

Well, did she try my mobile?

Yes, but your coverage is terrible.

Right.

Bullshit.

Hi, love.

Sexy, you've got to get a new mobile carrier. Your coverage is terrible.

I'm picking up tickets to Helena Papatonis...

Oh, love, I really can't see a show right now.

No, I know. I gave your tickets to Nadiyah.

Textbook Skye, making her new girlfriend

move to a town where the poor thing knows no-one.

- So depressing. - Right, yeah.

Fucking knew it!

Amphetamines, uppers, downers, tranqs, steroids, peptides, shrooms.

The Latham brother's tox report

reads like a fucking dark web shopping cart.

And I bet my right tit McGangus and those Latham boys

are storing drugs at that fucking sawmill

in that banana-guava flavoured Pro-Bro shit.

Maybe that's why Gavin was out there the night he died, ma'am?

Yeah, he was moving the product.

The Latham boys did the dirty on him and that's why Phil killed them.

I need to search that sawmill.

You! How are you getting on with that warrant?

Warrant? I didn't know that was in my column.

Oh, fucking small town fucking...

Nadiyah just told me

the detective has to move out of the Bush Wolf tomorrow.

Her room's been put up for the Feastival.

OK. Alright.

The earlier she can check out, the better,

just so Nads has got time to give it a clean.

It looks like a Tracey Emin installation, apparently.

Big Eyes, grab your keys.

Oh, um, I've actually got my wedding make-up trial today.

- Cancel it. - OK.

Don't stress about it, I'll find the detective somewhere to stay.

I'll take it off your plate and I'll put it on my plate.

Oh, thank you. Thanks, love, that's great.

Speaking of plates, I really want to go down on you tonight.

Oh, OK.

'Cause, you know, when we work through conflict, I get horny.

Shouldn't we wait for Senior Sergeant Collins, ma'am?

Nup.

You, get her onto Phil McNugget's alibi.

- Yep. - We're going bush.

- Oh, actually that's Dulcie's jacket. - Who?

- I do have to go right now, love. - OK.

OK, sexy, I love you. Bye!

Hi, Virginia. Now, I need to organise a warrant.

So, what's the go there?

Is there a county sheriff that I call, or is it a PDF...

Where'd she go?

Ah, she didn't say, but she wants you to verify Phil's alibi, please.

- Oh, she does, does she? - Mm-hm.

Where's my jacket?

Come on Phil, you puffed-up fuck-hole. Show yourself.

I can't believe I'm on a stakeout!

It's so aggressively policey.

So did you always want to be a female detective?

It's pretty cool. There aren't many women in forensic science, either.

That's what I originally studied. James was my lecturer, actually...

- Too much talking. - Yep!

That might be Senior Sergeant Collins.

Should we tell her what we're doing?

Nah, I'll text her.

Yeah, nah, it's Eddie. Ah, yeah, nah, leave us a message.

Phil McGangus said that

you were with him the night that Gavin died.

Is that correct, Mike?

Yeah. We were organising the music for Trent's wake.

- Mm-hm. - A lot of Tool.

It's what he would have wanted.

Excuse me, I'm looking for Helena Papatonis. Is that you?

Ah, no, I'm a cop.

Yeah, the performance is over the road.

Oh.

Can't believe the Latham boys are both dead.

25 blokes graduated my year at Deadloch High.

Now there's only a few left.

Really? Why?

Suicide. Drugs.

Oh, there was one drink-driving accident wiped about seven of them.

They were in a boat.

On the roof.

Was that all you wanted to ask me?

Yeah. that was my only job for the whole day. Thank you, Mike.

Actually, no, Mike, there is something else.

You were still on the force

when Rod Dixon's body was found, weren't you?

Yeah, that was my last day.

Put a bit of a dampener on my farewell drinks.

Why aren't there any photos in the case file?

- Sven, it's me. - Hey.

I need you to have a hunt around for any old station cameras lying about.

I'm looking for some photos of Rod Dixon's body.

Apparently the old station sergeant

used to let them take the camera home on the weekends.

OK.

And any instructions from the detective as to my next steps?

- Ah, nope. Nothing yet. - Nothing!

- OK, perfect. - OK. Cheers, Dulce. Bye.

Cath. Cath, when does this finish?

It's Endurance Art, Nadiyah. No-one knows.

Ugh, wow.

OK.

Um, I have a lot of people checking into the Bush Wolf today, though.

Shhh!

Sorry.

Dulcie!

Sorry Margaret, I didn't mean to interrupt your Feastival meeting.

It's fine, it's fine. Here we are.

Thank you, darling.

- Thank you. - Vanilla dust?

Ah, no, thanks, darling, Margaret, I'm working.

It's sugar, darling. It's not methamphetamines. Mm-hm.

So, here is the artwork for your book launch.

God, I look like a psychopath!

Well, we can change it. We'll change it.

No, no, it's fine, darling. It's fine, it's fine.

Your semi-freddo is melting, hmm?

I actually do have a few questions for Margaret...

No, Dulcie, I was here first. This is my turn.

Aleyna, I want you to go outside and start walking.

And then I want you to keep walking

until your shoulders stop grazing your ears.

You're very stressed.

I am stressed, Margaret. My colon is red-raw.

I'm sorry if that's too much information,

but you just remind me a lot of my mother.

- Except more motherly. - Yeah.

- And white. - Good. Off you pop.

Aleyna!

Slower.

Now, Dulce, how can I help?

It's about Rod.

If you've come to tell me he's dead, you're a bit late.

It's just a formality with...

beach-based... deaths.

Was Rod alone on the boat the night he drowned?

Yes. I mean, normally he went fishing with his friend Sam...

Sam O'Dwyer?

Yes, but that night he was alone, and, um...

weather was terrible, and he just... he just...

fell in.

- No life-jacket, of course. - Mmm.

- Men! - Yeah.

So, what are your thoughts?

I'm just... I'm not at liberty to discuss the case, Margaret, sorry.

I meant the semi-freddo.

- Oh! - It's for the dessert line.

Right. Mmm. Sorry. It's good.

It is just awful though, isn't it?

- It's maybe a little gritty. - I meant the murders.

Right. No, the murders. They are very bad.

So, did you see Rod's body?

Ah, no, no.

- The police recommended against it. - Mm-hm.

You know, because of what Kevin the Seal did to him.

- But Claire saw him. - Claire?

Yeah, Claire found Rod when she was walking her groodle.

She did a painting of him. Tried to give it to me.

Hmm.

I tried to give it to Margaret, but she didn't want it.

Really? I can't...

Yeah, but I mean, you've seen the Carruthers Estate.

I don't think Margaret's much into modern art.

Yeah, yeah, that... that's the reason.

My therapist thought that painting Rod might help me process the experience.

It didn't. I mean, I ended up taking Valium.

I left my therapist. I mean, she was terrible.

Also, we kept sleeping together.

Oh, what? It's medicinal, Dulce.

Mm-hm. Do you have a prescription?

Claire, what's that mark?

Oh, that's red wine.

Oh, bum. I thought it was something else.

Hey, how is Cath going at Helena Papatonis?

It was so boring I had to leave.

Ma'am!

- Ugh. - Ma'am!

- Oh! - Sorry!

- Fuck! - Phil's loading Pro-Bro boxes!

Oh, fuck. We're on, we're on. Follow them.

- No lights! - Sorry, ma'am!

Sorry. That was a rock, I think.

Gosh, it's dark.

What is this place?

This is Deadloch Lake,

which translates to "Deadlake Lake", which is weird.

Also it’s not even a lake, because it connects to the sea...

- Shh! - Yes, sorry, I'm nervous.

Now why would you be dumping all this product

if you had nothing to hide, eh?

Fucking knew it! He's a sneaky fucker.

Brr...

Is it cold, ma'am?

Yeah! Me muff's frozen over!

Got it!

So Dulce, I found you a bunch of old station cameras

that might have the Rod Dixon crime scene piccy-dicks on them.

Oh, great.

Yeah, but there's no chargers for them.

So...

That's that, I guess. Dead end.

Ah, no, no, not a dead end, Sven.

You go to the shops, you get on Gumtree,

you post on the Deadloch Police Facebook page

and you track down some chargers.

Any word from the detective?

Ah, yeah, Abby just got onto me.

Apparently they are on a stakeout.

What?

And they got a Pro-Bro sample, so that's great.

Ah, no. Nup, not great, Sven.

The woman does not have a warrant.

OK, bye Dulce. Ta-ta, see ya.

Sexy, you picked me up!

Yes, I did, I did. I picked you up.

Um, how was the endurance art?

Oh, God, I hated it.

It was amazing.

I found somewhere for the detective to stay.

I'll sort it out, though. Don't you stress about it.

You know I love it. Let's go.

I could piss for three hours.

Speaking of which, did you know we got 25mm in under an hour

the other night? Huh.

Oh, fuck.

What the fuck! Stalker!

- I... - How'd you get in here?

You let me in five minutes ago, then you fell asleep again.

- I'm fully nude. - Mmm. Yeah, I am very aware.

So Mike confirmed Phil's alibi.

OK, well, ta for the big update, Sergeant.

Feel free to bugger off now if you want.

No, I wanted to collect you personally, actually,

to avoid yesterday's miscommunication.

I think yesterday went really well, actually.

Oh, oh, right.

Yeah, you know good teamwork is sometimes, you know,

not working together, ever.

Your warrant to search the sawmill came through this morning

and it was rejected by the Commissioner,

possibly because you told his... his good friend Phil McGangus

to eat some of your penis.

Fuck, really? I'll have to think of another plan, then.

Oh, I know about the stakeout, Detective,

and that w... that was just so incredibly risky.

You don't know Phil.

If he knew that you had followed him, he would sue your pants off.

Big risks reap big rewards, like those astronaut monkeys.

Yeah, they died in a fireball, but they got to see space, didn't they?

I want to exhume Rod Dixon's body.

Oh, fuck a dead dick!

I'd want Forensics to check for similarities

between the Latham brothers and Rod Dixon.

Trent's funeral's at 10am.

The excavator is already at the cemetery.

We could do it discreetly this afternoon after everybody's left.

Now, obviously there won't be any soft tissue left on the body

but we could check for damage to the hyoid and the oral cavity...

You're like a fucking dog with a boner, aren't you? I said no.

Now, there is a fuck-ton of paperwork

that you need to do for Commissioner What's-his-dick.

So I suggest you run along to the station

so I can wash my skanky old lady fanny and go have a poke around.

No. No. You can't... Who are you poking? No more.

None of your beeswax.

- Stop the poking. Be careful... - Have a little poke.

Is that my jacket?

- Nup. - That is absolutely my...

Ow!

Th...

Stuff her.

Ah, yeah, well, I have Margaret's permission

to exhume Rod's body, James.

Just now.

Well, I know that there won't be any soft tissue left on the body

but we will be able to see if the hyoid is crushed

and if there's any knife wounds in the oral cavity, won't we?

Yeah, just what I thought.

OK. Alright, thanks. Gotta go. Bye.

Oh my...

Sven!

- Sven! - Yeah, over here!

OK, station camera update.

So I did five click-and-collects,

raided the Buy-Sell-Swap Facebook page,

I met a guy from Gumtree on a clifftop,

side bar: thought I was gonna die.

Now, 22 hours later, I haven't slept,

my vision's pixelated...

...but I have chargers for all the cameras.

Great. I need you to stop all that and head out to Margaret's

to pick up some forms.

- Senior Sergeant Collins... - Dulcie!

Because of you, 16 people from Gumtree have my private number!

- Oh, hey, Ted, yeah. - I'm a cop, Dulcie!

- Thank you for calling me back. - I am very afraid right now!

Sergeant, I've tried bulldozing the English ivy

at the entrance of the station.

It cannot be killed.

Ah, no, Ted, I need you to excavate a coffin for me.

- Ted? - Alright.

But if anyone arkses any questions, I want involved, OK?

I'm police, Ted.

Alright. Tomorrow afternoon...

Yeah, yep, that would work.

- No, I can't do tomorrow afternoon. - OK.

Can't do tomorrow morning, this morning...

No, not this morning, Ted.

Obviously, it's Trent Latham's funeral this morning.

How about tomorrow?

Yeah, nah, yeah, I reckon I can make that work.

OK.

But are you sure you don't want to do it at night?

Less chance of being caught.

Yes, like I said, Ted, I am police.

Ted?

Detective Redcliffe wants to get this sample tested for drugs, babe.

She wants a rush on it.

Abby, I'm due on Hell's Tits at 10.

Oh, fine, you win. I'll do it.

I'll give it to Kate. She's finally back from maternity leave. Jesus.

Oh, Hell's Tits is gonna be intense, babe.

Thank God, too. I need a challenge. This job is dull as dog shit, right?

Hundred Ks, filthy headwinds, 14% gradient,

I'm gonna burn through calories on those hairpins.

It's a good thing I got that 12-speed 105 cassette.

Just gives me smoother...

Detective Redcliffe?

- Plus I can fine-tune everything to suit the terrain... - Yep, coming now, Ma'am.

...so my energy costs are gonna be way lower.

Oh, hey, speaking of, can you pop down and get me some tropical gels...

Babe?

♪ Lightning crashes ♪

♪ A new mother cries ♪

♪ Her placenta falls to the floor ♪

♪ The angel opens her eyes ♪

♪ The confusion sets in ♪

♪ Before the doctor ♪

♪ Can even close the door...

OK boys, drop. Give us 20.

Who are all these people?

Men from the footy club, boys he coached.

That's the Steves.

Carnage Bay cops Trent used to play footy with.

And those men doing push-ups are from the Beast Factory.

♪ Forces pulling from the centre of the Earth again ♪

♪ I can feel it, oh ♪

♪ I can feel it...

What the fuck! Fucking Christ, Ted!

Abby.

Ah, slow down. What's the detective done now?

What?

- You said this morning. - I said not this morning, Ted!

Oh, my... It is... It is not even the right grave, Ted!

It's OK. I'll start again.

No, no, no! No, just wait till everybody's left, for God's sake.

You responsible for this?

Phil, I, uh... I assure you this was not intentional...

Maybe his is typical of the disrespect

that us old sons and daughters of Deadloch have endured

since you and your kind infested our town.

OK, OK, I'm not exactly sure what you mean by "my kind", Phil,

but I can assure you that I... I take my duty to all Deadloch residents

- incredibly seriously... - OK, well...

Tell that to Mary Avery, whose coffin just got gored by a Caterpillar.

OK? You're a fucking disgrace.

Alright, move out folks!

Beer's on tap at the club. Shandies for the ladies.

Greg! Take Nessie.

- Vanessa, I am so sorry... - You keep away from us!

Absolutely, yeah. I will... I will do that. Sorry. Um...

Sorry. Uh...

Sorry for your loss and I, uh...

What a wonderful turnout, huh?

Steve. Steve.

Detective, where are you going?

To the wake, to have a sandwich and a poke around.

- No, absolutely not. I'm coming. - To do what?

Sit Trent's corpse in your lap and sing "Islands In The Stream"?

Stay here. Clean up your mess.

Oh, no, babe, did you bonk on Hell's Tits?

No, I didn't bonk, I was in exceptional form.

I had to cut it short because of Collins

and her batshit request to dig up Rod Dixon's coffin.

Hey, babe, you know the knife patterns in Gavin's mouth?

- Yeah, babe, um... - Do you think...?

I'm working here, OK? OK?

Collins, is that it?

Nope. No.

A mistake was made.

- Unbelievable. - Mm-hm.

OK mate, let's try digging up the right grave.

Oh, did Detective Redcliffe ask for

any other groceries to be delivered here first?

Ah, no, just a slab of Coke and chicken Twisties. That's it.

- Oh, wow. - Whoa.

OK. Yeah, it's messy.

Lucky there's two of us.

Um, I am going to have to leave after an hour

to get ready for the menu launch.

What do you need to do? You're 30. You look like a Fenty model.

No, it's just, this is Tom's t-shirt and I'm not wearing a bra and...

Well, I'm going to deal with all the heavy stuff,

given you might be pregnant.

Oh, did Skye tell you about our IVF?

Yeah, she tells me everything.

I was her first girlfriend, when she was 20.

I broke her heart. Didn't I tell you that?

Oh, no, no. You've told me, many times.

Oh, there's piss all over the floor in here.

Tom, it's so fucking weird

that Sam O'Dwyer is your Grandpa.

I mean, like, I never met him.

Oi, Tammy, what are you even fucking doing here?

You're fucking not even fucking part of the club anymore.

Once a Devil always a Devil, you dickturd.

Also, sorry for your loss.

Come on, let's go.

Tammy, I thought you said we were going to a party.

You're in the country now, Tom. This counts as a party.

What'd you do when you lived in Sydney?

Just go to plays and shit?

Well, actually my mum's ex, two exes ago,

she took me to swing dancing once and...

Shut up! There he is.

See that white bloke with the brown hair?

They're all white dudes around here.

He's that footy recruiter, M. That's Luke Caddy.

Here.

Watch a future AFLW star get her big break.

- Can I come? - No!

Luke! Tammy Hanson.

Former Deadloch Devil's centre half-forward.

Sergeant Collins, I've got a bone to pick with you.

Ken, I'm really sorry about before...

The starlings are back in my trees.

- Right. - Right above the bins.

Oi! Toilets! Who's this?

That's a fishing rod.

Not the fucking ocean angler.

Did your fontanelle not close over, mate?

Who is the bloke next to Phil and the Lathams?

That's Sam. Sam O'Dwyer.

Sam...

And is this Sam one of your bosses' business associates?

Yeah, kinda. No!

O'Dwyer?

Not married to that chef O'Dwyer that runs the Bush Pig?

No, that's not his wife. That's a lesbian.

That's his daughter.

So who is his wife?

Bakery Vic.

She's from the bakery.

Which one of these blokes is Sam?

- Nah, he's not here. - Why not?

- Oi, Jimmy! - Yeah, I didn't even say nothin'!

Go change the keg, you useless fuck.

This is a private event, Inspectress.

You and your girlfriend, well, you're not welcome, OK?

So how's about you get your nose out of matters that don't concern you,

and fuck off out of my club?

I became a St Drogo's altar boy in 1963.

- Uh-huh. - That's right.

- Father Donald's time. - Mmm.

I shouldn't be surprised if someone took a match to that church one day.

- What? - Oh, yes.

Oh, Ken, we will circle back to this.

- I just... - You're welcome.

Um...

I have to go. Um...

Have you sold many knives lately, Adele?

Yeah, heaps.

'Cause there's a sale on.

Do you want a bag?

Yeah, that might be a good idea.

Oh, crap.

Hi, Michelle. Sorry, I forgot our make-up appointment.

I was buying a bunch of knives.

Coming now.

Can you...?

Thanks, Vic.

Hello, there. Can I help you, love?

- Are you Bakery Vic? - Yeah, I suppose.

Sam O'Dwyer's wife?

- Yes, that's right. - Mm.

Why wasn't he at the funeral?

Did him and Trent have a bust up?

Sorry, who are you?

Is he a "fisherman" like his mate McGangus, huh?

I think you must be confused...

Are him and Phil running a drug racket?

- What? - Come on, what are they moving?

Bricks? Krokodil?

- That stuff'll just eat your... - There you are!

- Oh, fuck me up! - Ah, Vic, I am very sorry

for anything that she did to you or your premises.

What'd you do to her?

Nothing, we were just having a little chit-chat.

So, where are you hiding your husband, huh?

One of these fake walls?

- Detective! - Oh! Nuts!

- I am deeply sorry about this. - That's solid.

You wouldn't hide him in there, no.

- What, is he in the ceiling? - Detective, get out. That is enough, Detective!

- Get outside now. - Argh!

I'm very sorry, Vic.

Sam O'Dwyer is not here. He shot through on Victoria years ago.

Fucking toilets! I'm gonna piss in his open mouth!

You know his family have never actually gotten over it, Detective,

and it's almost as if, had you included me today,

I could have told you that.

Instead, you retraumatised Victoria O'Dwyer

while she was serving finger buns.

This is not your town, Detective,

and you need to show more consideration for the people here.

Oh, that's a... that's a bit rich,

coming from the Senior Sergeant that tit-fucked that funeral this morning.

I've never...

That was a miscommunication, a genuine one!

And if Rod Dixon's hyoid bone is broken,

then it proves his death is connected to the Lathams'.

No, enough, OK?

You are lucky that I don't care about you enough

to report you to Hastings for that shit you tried to pull this morning.

- You're a liability. - Oh, I'm a liability?

Yeah, how are you going with the case, Detective?

'Cause I'm really fascinated to see

who else you think is involved in this trans-Tasman drug ring.

Is Kevin the harbour seal in on it, maybe?

Fuck up, mate!

Go back to the station. Do that work I gave you.

No! You will not shake me off, Detective.

And not just because I have a duty to the victims,

not just because this is my town

and I have memorised the street plan,

but because, Detective Redcliffe, I am your partner.

And I know that's my jacket.

- You are not my partner. - I am.

It is deeply unfortunate, but it is the truth.

I don't need a new partner.

Here, have your jacket.

Smells like a lavender bush pissed on it.

Shit.

Ugh.

Hi. How's it going?

Yeah, uh, g'day, Holly, it's um...

it's me again.

Ah...

Yeah, look, I haven't heard back from you about the barbecue.

Um...

But, actually, something's come up down here,

so I don't reckon I'm gonna...

get back in time.

So...

uh, you might need to get someone...

to bring the chops, you know,

in case you were relying on me to bring... bring the chops.

But, ah, you know, I'll be back up north soon, and...

you know, we can all have a little catch up.

Have a chat about Bush, or whatever.

So, yeah!

Ah, you're good, and I'm good, the case is going good.

So, yeah, that's...

So, anyway. Um, OK.

Big Eyes, what you got for me?

Hi, ma'am, the Pro-Bro powder analysis is through.

Fucking McGangus!

Yo, yo, this is Dr James King. Leave it at the beep.

James, it is Senior Sergeant Collins.

Any word on Rod Dixon's autopsy? I am here, waiting for your call.

Oh, my God.

Oh, fuck me!

OK, kick it back. Set up a mark for me.

I don't know what that means.

I told Luke Caddy that I was part of a killer girls' squad,

so don't embarrass, me, yeah?

Any of you guys want a gummy?

Nadiyah got them from the market for me.

No, brah, I can't do that shit anymore. I'm going pro.

Dude, they're made with weed.

What?

I've eaten, like, 15 of these!

We know. We thought you were just prepping for your mum's launch.

We should go to that, actually.

Look at that! Straight through the sticks!

Wait! What do I do?

Am I gonna die?

Guys!

Oi, McCuntus.

Do your tree-necked mates know

their big-boy powder's cut with strawberry jelly crystals

and pet-grade powdered milk?

Yeah?

Well, that got you choking on your Pissfiddich, didn't it?

Listen here,

I'm not going to be in this dick-sore of a town for very long,

but I promise you, you fraudulent fuck,

while I am here,

I'm gonna dig into your shonky businesses

and staple-gun your nut-sack to a fucking wall.

Vanessa, enough with "Lightning Crashes". For fuck's sake!

That's a fucking sloop.

Who owns this boat?

Hey, Sergeant Horsehair, where's the footage?

- What? - The footage.

- What footage? What... - The brothers. The biffo.

- What footage? - The fight. Press play!

- Come on! Come on. - Do not touch things!

Give me a little bit of space.

Oh, now you want some fucking space, do ya?

Look. Look. Look at that boat. Look at that boat.

Same sloop, different paint job.

- Whose boat is it? - That is Sam O'Dwyer's boat.

- No, that can't be right. - Yeah.

I'm sure that went missing...

- The fuck? - Oh, sorry don't mind me.

Don't mind me!

Just taking a nap, 'cause I was up all night.

Finger limes, from Margaret.

Who's that? Collins?

Rod Dixon.

His mouth has the same markings as the Lathams,

and ligature markings around the neck.

Fuck me sideways, Collins.

No, that must be a mistake.

What?

Sam O'Dwyer went missing five days after Rod Dixon's body was found.

Well, that's why he shot through, isn't it?

He necked your mate Dixon, and then he did a runner.

I'm sorry, was that the acknowledgement that I was right about Rod Dixon?

'Cause that was very quick and quiet, and I think I missed it.

Well, you know, actually, I was right too. I, ah...

Forgot my pillow.

Yeah, I saw that picture of Sam O'Dwyer and I was, like,

"That man is pure evil."

Uh-huh.

Oh, my God! There's somebody there.

There's somebody there. Oh!

That's gotta be him.

And he's watching them.

Sam O'Dwyer is fucking back, baby.

Sorry, we will let you get back to the launch in a sec.

Yeah, I need to get to the bakery.

Mum, it's my launch!

I'm going to make sandwiches for everyone, Skye.

The food in there's tiny.

It's tiny because it's fucking hors d'oeuvres, Mum.

Sorry, just circling back, we just have some questions about Sam.

Do you know what happened to his boat, the Loch Nessie?

Well we thought he took it with him, didn't we love?

Yeah.

Dad loved that boat. It was a Bass Strait yawl?

- Uh-huh. - A sloop.

Um, and... and where did he park the sloop?

He moored it near our shack at the lake.

Mate, what's this all about?

- We're just making some enquiries... - We think Sam's back.

- No... - What?

No, we're just making some routine enquiries,

- ...trying to establish a possible... - We reckon he's involved in these murders

that have been going on. It's probably a vendetta.

Sam got wind that Trent, Gavin and Phil

were using the gym as a cover for drugs so,

he learnt Mandarin.

Sailed the seas on the Loch Nessie, became their Asian connection,

then when that all turned to shit,

he came back and just fucking necked them, you know?

Sorry, that is her theory, not mine.

Now, he's the boss of what we're all calling the Deadcunt drug ring...

Ah, no, we're not. Absolutely have not signed off on that name.

Sorry, you're saying that Dad might have killed these men?

No, we're just trying to establish a possible pattern at the moment.

Oh, 100%, yeah. - We have no...

- Excuse me. - What?

The detective has run away a little with that...

Hello, hello. Sorry. Excuse me!

Hello, hi. Sorry. Sorry to interrupt this very intense conversation but,

guests are starting to arrive and I look like this.

Sorry, we'll let you go.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Get amongst it.

Safest spot for you. Plenty of witnesses.

Um, Detective, I took the liberty of packing up your room,

given you didn't actually check out.

Oh, ripper! Those are my undies?

Yes, yep.

Uh, I found them in the kettle.

Thanks for choosing the Bush Wolf.

Where are you going?

To the harbour office, mate, to see if anyone's seen that boat.

Sam's probably been hiding out on it in between murders.

Oh, my God, why do you just shout everything?

Can you just shush?

The harbour office is shut for the day.

But if Sam's transporting bodies by boat

then it makes more sense if he'd park it elsewhere.

OK. Get those Carnage Bay cops to check the moorings up the coast...

Yeah, they are all drunk at Trent's wake.

Fucking small towns!

Well what about O'Dwyer's old haunts?

His house, his workplace?

This is it. You are standing in his old house and workplace.

It'd be too risky for him to show his face anywhere else in town.

We'll start a full search in the morning.

Well what the shit am I supposed to do in the meantime?

Hey.

Ah, Tom. This is Tom, my godson.

Spanish croquettes?

- I don't... - Seriously, they're so good.

The Happy Plum's perfect, Dulce.

We're not going to be the only ones who can see past the fire damage.

So were Gavin and Trent's deaths linked, Dulcie?

- I can't discuss the case, Aleyna... - She doesn't really want to talk about it.

Because, you know it'd be good if they were.

Yeah, it'd be clean, Dulcie.

It'd be easy to wrap it up in, what, like, a couple of days?

You could wrap it up in a couple of days.

- Let's talk about something else. - I reckon it's drugs.

Is it drugs? Dulcie, is it drugs?

Is Joan involved?

- What's Doppelbock? - I don't know.

Ugh...

Eugh.

- Ray! Hi! - Hi all.

Dulce, didn't expect to see you here tonight with the...

Is, um, the detective here too?

Oh, my God, the detective digging up that grave,

the complaints I had to deal with afterwards!

Yeah, don't let her do it again, OK, Dulce? She's insane.

- Mm-hm. - And the smell of the woman!

It's like an old block of parmesan lost in a foot...

Eddie, hi. I'm Cath, I'm Dulcie's wife.

I was at the beach last night. I... I shot Kevin with a tranquiliser.

How do I know you?

- Have we fucked? - Oh...

- No, I saw you at the bakery today. - Hmm.

Righto, well, I'm...

I'm off the clock so...

are you driving me to my new digs?

No, Ray can take you, can't you Ray?

Yep. Sure, Cath. Happy to.

...involved objects

commonly used to inflict sharp-force trauma injuries.

Her findings were as follows.

A round objects like a spear may produce a circular stab wound.

Stabbing with a fork produces clusters of two to three wounds,

depending upon the number of prongs on the fork.

A screwdriver produces a slit-like stab

with squared ends and abraded margins.

If a single-edged knife is used,

the surface wound will be triangular or wedge-shaped

and one angle will be sharp,

the other rounded, blunt or squared off.

A round, blunt-pointed object such as a pointed stick or metal rod

may produce a circular surface wound

with inverted, ragged and bruised edges.

Foreign material, such as dirt, rust or splinters may be found.

The blunter the tip of the object, the coarser...

Hey, babe, I don't think the killer used two knives.

I think he used one knife with two blades.

Yeah, yeah, sorry, sorry. Coming now.

Oh, fuck my fanny, it's cold!

Oh, so, lights are here.

Found the heating.

I know the owners. That's why I know my way around.

We're not together, though.

I'm not with anyone.

Yeah, picked the wrong town to find true love.

A lot of lesbians.

Lot of lesbians.

And I love lesbians. My best mate, Skye, she's a lesbian.

You've got Cath who's a lesbian, Dulcie, obviously, is a lesbian,

and Skye, that's Nadiyah, lesbian.

A lot of the choir, also...

...lesbians.

So, Detective, um, how long are you here for, do you reckon?

I don't know. Might stick around for a bit.

Become a white witch.

Really?

- Nuh. - No.

I'm out of here the moment Sam O'Dwyer is in cuffs.

Oh. Right.

OK. Ah...

I am off to bed.

Yep.

OK, um... I will go.

So, there's keys. Light.

You gave it a nudge.

- Pretty solid, huh? - I...

Sorry I'm late. What are you two talking about?

James was just telling me about a double-bladed knife theory of his.

If the blade had two edges,

it would account for the two markings in the oral cavity.

- Mm-hm. - It's surprisingly solid.

And, uh... Thanks, babe. I took a quick look at Rod Dixon this afternoon.

As we both suspected, his hyoid was crushed.

Right, well, uh, thank you for only waiting six hours to tell me, James.

Mm-hm. That is not... pet nat. That's... something else.

Do you want to take that back?

The shack today was like a tip.

Old food, beer cans, piss all over the toilet floor.

If I didn't know any better,

I would have thought some man lived out there.

Sorry, I wasn't listening. What shack?

Vic's shack, babe.

Detective Redcliffe needed a place to stay

and the shack was just sitting there, so I thought why not?

Actually, the lights were on in there when I went for a run last week.

"Olive tamponade"?

Ugh!

Alright, friends, please welcome the person responsible for tonight,

chef Skye O'Dwyer.

Thanks, Aleyna, and welcome, everyone, to my baby,

the Bush Wolf.

I'm so proud of what my family, Nadiyah, Tom,

yeah, there they are there,

have helped a former little bush rat to create.

The Bush Wolf, the Feastival and all of us here tonight,

we're breathing new life into my little home town.

Good things are going to happen here. I can feel it.

Shame!

Shame!

Vanessa?

Deadloch is in mourning.

Two kings of this town are dead,

and none of you give a frig.

This is Sam O'Dwyer's joint.

Hey! Hey!

You...

Oh, fuck!

Hey! Hey, Sam!

I know it's you!

Hey, give it up!

I'm police!

Fucking speedy cocksucker!

Look at you, stuffing your chubby gobs...

with your chubby food and your chubby wines.

Where's your respect?

- Mum, it's time to go... - No, let me go.

- And you... - Vanessa...

...waltzing back here

with your tattoos and your fiancée and your son,

like you're a different you.

But I remember you.

Fuck!

Oh, cunt!

And if your father could see all of this, he'd be custard.

Dis... custard.

Vanessa, now is not the time...

Don't you tell me what to do, you lesbian.

Dyke! Butch!

Oof!

Fuck!

Fuck.

Dulcie, whose boat is that?

That's Sam O'Dwyer's boat.

Fuck! Ugh!

Agh!

Sam!