All language subtitles for Miss.Fishers.Murder.Mysteries.S02E04.Deadweight.NFm..CC.en

(carnival music)

(screams)

(screams)

Were you even

wearing your helmet?

This one lad caught me

by surprise, that's all.

Don't they have

anything better to do

than pick fights

and start trouble?

Not really, Dottie, no.

Ow! That's why we started

the gymnasium.

To keep the gangs

off the streets.

It doesn't seem to be working.

- Good morning.

- Morning, miss.

Another hard night

with your wayward boys, Hugh?

The Woolpackers and Portsiders

were scuffling again last night.

Are you still on secondment

to the Terrible Ten?

Uh... no. Not since that mishap

a week ago.

Mishap?! A policeman was stabbed

in a gang melee.

And Constable Fry

died of his injuries last night.

These gangs killed a policeman

and you have them

in your gymnasium?

Fronting each other in a boxing

ring has to be an improvement.

You encourage them to fight?

- Miss.

- Oh!

Pugilism properly taught

can be a noble art, Dot.

The Inspector has telephoned,

Constable.

He requires you

on the St Kilda foreshore.

A murder, apparently.

Back on duty, sir.

Good. Do you recognize him?

Kevin Bradley.

He runs the Woolpackers gang.

Only me. I gave Hugh a lift.

He shouldn't be traveling

on the tram with a head injury.

Is that flour?

Looks like he was stabbed

during the brawl last night.

You were there, Collins.

Any theories?

None of them had any knives

as far as I could see.

These gangs have

got it in for each other.

If this lad was top dog

of the Woolpackers...

I didn't see Kevin Bradley there

at all, sir.

So what do you think took place,

Collins?

There's a lot of anger,

in the force, I mean,

about Constable Fry

getting stabbed.

Kevin Bradley's the obvious

ringleader to target.

Are you suggesting

police retaliation?

Would it hurt to ask the special

unit a few questions?

You are not to pursue

that line of investigation.

Yes, sir.

Now go down to the gymnasium

and take some statements

from the lads.

Yes, sir.

This poor boy

has seen a few fights.

Perhaps we should

talk with his boss.

Never seen the lad before.

It's likely he attended

your boxing tent last night,

Mr Biggs.

Well, so do a lot of people.

Big Arthur's Boxing Troupe

puts on a bloody good show.

The fighters

take on challengers.

This lad had

a reputation as a brawler.

You should be looking

at the gang, shouldn't you.

- Tell them, lovey.

- It's true.

They've been at each other

since that big blue last week.

- And you are...?

- This is Mrs Big Arthur.

More the hired help

than the little lady.

Twice those ratbags

pulled down our clothes line.

Dragged all your smalls

through the mud, didn't they.

So you maintain the first time

you saw the deceased

was when your boxer

Giorgios the Greek

found him this morning.

That's right.

Nothing more to say.

Giorgios won't be

much help to you.

It's like Big Arthur said.

Your dead bloke's

never fought in here.

You want to know anything,

Officer,

don't ask him.

Nothing like the smell

of fresh laundry.

Eucalyptus. Kills the germs.

I was just looking

for the ticket office.

You're out of luck.

The tent opens at five

if the cops let us.

Due to what happened

to that poor boy, I assume.

Don't waste your sympathy

on him, missus.

- You knew him?

- I knew his kind.

While those gangs

have been bashing and brawling,

decent folks stay away.

And yet here I am.

You know,

I wouldn't be surprised

if it was the cops

that did it.

- Really?

- Yeah.

One of their own gets done

a week ago.

It stands to reason

they want revenge.

Too little too late

if you ask me.

There you are.

Why on earth

aren't you investigating

the Terrible Tenners

over this gang death?

I assume you mean

the Police Special Powers Unit.

Well, I don't mean

the police choir.

That boy took a blade

straight through a vital organ.

Efficient, unambiguous,

on the same night Constable Fry

succumbed to his injuries.

Surely the second death

was tit-for-tat for the first.

One dead police officer

leads to one dead Woolpacker.

You're forgetting

one dead Portsider.

The same night

Constable Fry was stabbed,

an aboriginal boy was left

on the steps

of the Alfred Hospital.

Beaten to death.

No name, no details.

- He was a Portsider?

- No aboriginal Woolpackers.

And he was covered

in the same flour

the rest of the Portsiders

copped that night.

Tit for tat. Gang warfare.

In any case, accusing

my fellow police officers

will be the last place I go.

So you need to be careful.

But I don't.

What's the address

of this gymnasium?

One. One-one.

One-two. One-two duck.

Good job. Eyes up.

Real boxing is an art form, Dot.

It was part of the Olympics

in Ancient Greece.

The Olympics?

Yes, with rules and poetry

and excitement.

Long before everyone

wore a weapon.

Or clothes.

Constable Collins!

Miss Fisher! Dot!

What are you...

The Inspector sent me

to see how your statements were

and Dot was most curious

about your gymnasium.

Sorry, Miss Fisher, but I don't

think that you should be here.

Phryne Fisher. Dot and I were

just admiring your... technique.

Weren't we, Dot?

And you are...?

Tom. Tom Derrimut.

And are you

a Portsider or a Woolpacker?

It was you, wasn't it.

You went and finished him off!

You're dead, Derrimut!

- I didn't do it!

- Hey! That's enough!

- Freckles, you know the rules!

- What did you do after? Huh?

You went and knifed him,

you mongrel!

- Hey! That's enough!

- You want some too?

- I'll give you a matching pair.

- I'll ban you.

I'm guessing Portsider,

Woolpacker.

Murderer. He had a go

at Kevin last night.

Knocked him down

and promised him more.

You said you were out of it.

Tom. Tom!

He came at me and I gave him

one punch, that's all.

Liar.

- Dust.

- Flour.

I'm a baker's apprentice.

Mate, if you saw him last night,

I've got to take you in.

I didn't do anything.

Then you've got nothing

to worry about.

You lock him up

and chuck away the key.

Or we're coming after you.

Don't you dare

threaten Hugh Collins.

He's worth ten of you.

It don't matter

what a copper's worth

when he's up against

the Woolpackers.

- Does it, lads?

- (murmurs of assent)

I don't know what came over me.

Hugh doesn't need me

defending him.

Nonsense. Beside every good man

is a good woman.

And she must always be ready

to step in front.

So, running battles

going on for weeks,

and last night another brawl

on the foreshore

between the Woolpackers

and your mob, the Portsiders.

- They're not my mob.

- JACK: Since when?

Constable Collins,

was this young man

running with the Portsiders

during the brawl last week?

The one where

Constable Fry was stabbed.

- Well?

- You know I was.

But I got out of the Portsiders

that night.

It's too much trouble. I just

want to work and earn money.

So why would Kevin Bradley come

after you if you were out of it?

I don't know.

He's not right in the head.

- So why did he come after you?

- Look, I don't know!

I was on the beach, he came up,

he started pushing me around,

so I lashed out.

Just one punch, then I turned

my back and I walked away.

Like you taught me to.

Who were you with?

On the beach.

- Names, Derrimut, names.

- Come on, Tom.

They're not in trouble. They

just need to back up your story.

You know, you should be

looking at your own.

Not me.

That Tenner died last night,

next thing Bradley's dead too.

TOM: Can I go now?

Perhaps it's got

nothing to do with the gangs.

Kevin Bradley was stabbed

so let's find that knife.

And don't let your friendship

get in the way of

solving a crime, Collins.

Why didn't you tell me

a policeman was stabbed

that night?

It's my duty, Dottie.

I don't want you to worry.

I'm stronger than you think,

Hugh Collins.

I've been taken hostage

by Latvians,

woken by armed intruders,

almost fed into

a giant factory machine

and nearly every day of my life

I'm trapped inside a speeding

motor car with Miss Fisher.

My whole job is a worry.

You don't know the full story.

Then tell me.

The Woolpacker boys

were heckling the Salvos,

and it all

would have blown over,

but the Portsiders turned up.

Tom was trying

to stop the fight.

But he got dragged into it.

Constable Fry could be tough

but he didn't deserve to die.

He chased one of them

down an alleyway and...

never came back out.

Fry had four little ones,

Dottie.

It's more kids without a dad.

How awful.

Because of your dad,

you know how that feels.

I've just got to do my job, Dot.

It's dirty fighting

that kills people.

(screams)

I can't bear the sound

of those screams, miss.

But it's a great scenic railway!

They're screams of joy!

DOT: I'd faint

before I got any joy.

Why don't I look for clues

at the crime scene

while you talk with the hawkers.

I'll meet you back here.

Ahem. Excuse me, sir.

Would you mind if I asked you a

few questions about last night?

Mr.... Ice Cream Man.

9pm is...

BIG ARTHUR: All I want you

to do is keep an eye on him.

Is that too much to ask?

CORA: What are you saying?

BIG ARTHUR: I'm saying

you've got to make sure

he keeps his bloody mouth shut!

CORA: He's not stupid!

He said nothing!

If he does

he's not welcome back here.

And you can kiss

your extra earnings goodbye.

And if you don't have him back

I'll be the one talking to the

cops about what goes on here.

(screams)

It is not like a lady

to listen

to others' conversations.

And I see that you are a lady.

I was... looking for you,

of course.

Giorgios the Greek.

I have something for you.

Here. Take this.

Come tomorrow night.

You will see more... of me.

Much more, I hope.

(laughs) Jack!

Uh...

Look on the top right-hand

corner of the green tent.

Do you or any of your fighters

own this?

Last time I saw one of those

it was stuck in my best mate

in the trenches.

So no.

Big Arthur has given you the nod

for another month.

Another month?!

Why do I have to keep fighting

now that Bradley's dead?

The Delahunty boy.

He's taken over from where

Bradley left off.

He wants paying now or he's

going to tell them about Dan.

He saw it.

He knows Dan did nothing.

Ah, Dot. Any leads?

Never mind. We have a murder

weapon. That's a good start.

That lady looks like

she could use a friendly ear.

You said this was about my son.

What about him?

Dot and I are friends

with Hugh Collins.

The police constable

who's been teaching Tom to box.

Oh. Tom. Yeah.

Constable Collins

is concerned about your son

in relation to the death

of Kevin Bradley.

- My boy--

- I'm sure the police

will eventually get to

the bottom of Bradley's death.

The cops don't like our kind.

They'll find

whatever they want to find.

But I will not see my son go to

jail for something he didn't do.

Tom seems like a good lad.

He is.

Like his father.

A fine Boon Wurrung man.

Tom's all I have left now.

The war?

His lungs gave out from the gas.

I married again. A whitefella.

And then welfare came

and took my younger son.

Said he'd be better off.

Look, I know Tom's done

his fair share of strife.

But he's out of that now.

But is there something else?

Something you're not telling me?

Does Tom need money

for any reason?

Everyone needs money.

But please keep out of this.

This is between me and my son.

And Big Arthur.

Good day.

Keep your eyes up.

You promised me

you'd stay away from the gangs

but you were fighting again.

Just last night with Bradley.

I was fending him off, OK?

He's a bully boy.

He makes no sense.

Why don't you believe me?

I thought you were my mate.

- (rings bell)

- End of round, gentlemen.

If there's something

you're not telling me...

...or you're afraid...

PHRYNE: We can help you, Tom.

Freckles Delahunty.

What about him?

There was a fight going on

over who runs the Woolpackers.

Between Bradley and Freckles.

He's taken over the gang now.

Perhaps you should tell Hugh

why you've been boxing

at Big Arthur's tent.

- Who told you that?

- Your mother.

She implied you were doing it

for the money.

Big Arthur's?! Mate,

that's no place for an amateur!

It's my business, alright?

You're not my old man.

DOT: Those boys may not have a

father, Hugh, but they have you.

What um... What happened

to your dad, Hugh?

You said it was an accident?

We uh...

We caught the tram into town

to have my dad's boots mended

at the cobblers

near Flinders Street.

I know the place.

When we were

walking past the pub

we saw these two diggers

having a go at each other.

This massive bloke

was hammering this little fella.

And so my dad stepped in.

Just to break it up.

But he...

He got pummeled instead.

He fell back and he...

cracked his head on the gutter.

Then the police came running

and um...

they took me away.

Without my dad.

There he is, Dottie.

He looks lovely.

Just like you.

PHRYNE:

Are Bradley's clothes in here?

Freckles Delahunty.

I assume that's not

what his mother calls him.

It seems he was vying to become

top dog in the Woolpackers.

How did you manage

to get inside gossip

from one of St Kilda's

most notorious street gangs?

Tom Derrimut told Hugh

at the gymnasium.

Also, this Freckles person

works in a bakery.

That explains

where they get all the flour.

Your mystery boy, the one

who was dumped at the hospital.

- He was covered in flour too.

- Yes, that's right.

It's looking more and more

like the Portsiders

avenged this boy's death

by killing Kevin Bradley.

- Do you recognize him?

- Yes.

But I can't remember where from.

Ow!

A pin.

I'll have it

arrested immediately.

Look at this.

Pound notes. He's been robbed.

Take a brave thief

to rob Kevin Bradley.

Or a very stupid one.

Is that confirmation

on the murder weapon?

The coroner's certain

this is the blade

that killed Kevin Bradley.

PHRYNE:

No-one's son deserves that.

Let's see what

Mr Freckles says about it.

JACK: Nothing better than

an afternoon by the seaside.

Except for a thrilling ride

on the scenic railway.

- Dot refuses to come with me.

- I don't blame her.

Don't tell me you're scared too.

- Is that a challenge?

- If it makes it more enticing.

Hey, missus. That's my spot.

Freckles Delahunty.

Inspector Jack Robinson.

I think it's time we had a chat.

This weapon made the wound

in your mate's chest.

- So? It wasn't me.

- No? You want to be top dog.

- Doesn't mean I killed him.

- Where were you last night?

- After the brawl.

- I went home to my mum.

- Kept my dinner warm. Ask her.

- I will.

Excuse me for saying so, but

you don't seem very bereaved.

If Kevin was your friend,

don't you want to know

who murdered him?

I know who it was.

Tom Derrimut. The mongrel.

We hear that Kevin Bradley

is a bit of a tricky character.

- What do you mean?

- Short-tempered. Unpredictable.

You just had to know

how to handle him.

Can I go?

Yes, Mr Delahunty.

You're free to go now.

Our victim intimidated

friends and enemies alike.

If Kevin Bradley

is that irrational,

maybe somebody had to defend

themselves against him.

I think we should have Mac

take a look at his body.

Given up on the living, has she?

See you first thing.

Hm. Definite deterioration

of the brain.

What did you say

his background was?

Kevin Bradley?

Gang leader, fighter, thug.

And boxer, I'd say.

These kind of injuries

are caused

by repeated blows

to the head.

Boxer rather than

street fighter?

More likely it happened

in the ring.

And these type of injuries

to the brain

do not happen overnight.

So Big Arthur lied

when he said he didn't know him.

So shall I just put this brain

back where I found it?

JACK: Tom Derrimut.

What can you tell me about him?

And in case

the answer's, "Not much,"

we know he's been fighting here.

BIG ARTHUR: Yeah, a couple

of times as a challenger.

- But anyone can do that.

- Did he fight Kevin Bradley?

Who?

Give over playing the fool,

Arthur. He knows.

He boxed here a few times but

only as challenger. Same as Tom.

BIG ARTHUR:

Never against each other.

I never have challengers

fight each other.

It's always got to be

one of them versus my troupe.

I've spoken to your troupe and

have statements from them all

except, what do you call him,

the Black Belter?

Where's he?

Wish I knew. He just took off.

Left me in the lurch.

- Local lad?

- No, no, no.

We picked him up near Heathcote.

- What's his real name?

- Jimmy.

Didn't have a surname.

Maybe you never bothered

to learn it.

If he turns up again,

I want to know.

Rightio.

Can you tell me

how to track him down?

It's like Arthur said.

He's gone walkabout.

Let's assume that there's

something underhand going on

in Big Arthur's boxing tent.

Apart from honest betting.

What would it be?

Flat gloves,

bare knuckle fights,

taking dives, long odds,

ring-ins and house stacking,

I imagine.

I boxed during my youth

in the AIF.

Thank you, Mr Butler.

- Which leads back to one thing.

- BOTH: Betting.

Kevin Bradley had money

pinned to his jacket.

- Proceeds, perhaps?

- Must have had a windfall.

This should see you through

an evening

of discreet investigation.

Unfortunately I'm already known

to the boxing troupe

but I'm sure you two can mingle

without attracting

too much attention.

- We'll do our best.

- It is not profit I'm after.

It's information.

Care to go along, Mr Butler?

Perhaps a flutter?

Oh, thank you, miss, but no.

It's all Greek to me.

And I have silverware to polish.

- Two pounds on the Greek?

- Solid as the Coliseum.

Good afternoon,

ladies and gentlemen!

Welcome, welcome, one and all!

Here you are at the world famous

Big Arthur Biggs' Boxing Troupe!

Don't be shy. Move forward.

Don't be scared.

Are you all after

a little bit of action?

This afternoon, if you'd like

to partake inside,

you will see

the magnificent Black Belter -

oh, yes,

we call him the Black Belter -

take our challenger

Helter Skelter.

Who should I put my money on,

Bert?

The only winners here

are the touts and Big Arthur.

As we suspected.

They put their Black Belter

up against the toughest

challenger they can find.

Everyone thinks

the kid will lose

so the punters

bet against him.

And Big Arthur pays

the challenger to take a dive.

Interesting.

Especially as Tom Derrimut

doesn't look anything like

the advertised Black Belter.

Dot, sing out

if you see anyone follow me.

...Biggs' Boxing Troupe. We have

got a show and a half for you.

Come in and see

what we do in our big tent.

Ooh, it's full of dust!

It's full of roughness!

It's full of pain!

Ladies and gentlemen, I'll

tell you something right now,

when we get

the Black Belter in the ring,

against one of you people,

who will be a fine challenger,

we're all

going to have some fun.

We're all going to have a roar.

You feel like having a good

time, ladies and gentlemen?

CORA: You're bleeding me dry!

FRECKLES: Not my problem.

- CORA: I've got nothing.

- FRECKLES: I need my money.

I need my money.

I'm in charge of the gang now.

It's all we've got.

Too bad. You know the price.

That arrangement

was with your dead mate Bradley.

It still stands.

I'll make it up to you

next fight. I promise.

Yeah, you better.

Or else I talk.

About Dan.

Not only is there

illegal betting going on,

the boxing matches are fixed.

Challengers make more money

if they take a dive.

And Dot spotted

something suspicious too. Dot?

Well...

Yesterday a boy jostled me

near the rotunda

and then scavenged

some small change

after I'd interviewed

the Ice Cream Man.

Very bad manners.

Then today,

whilst I was waiting,

I saw him again

near the boxing tents,

up to no good.

And?

Oh, and worse than that

this time.

- I saw him lurking.

- Really?

I saw him try to empty his

pockets for one of the boxers.

- The boxer was Tom Derrimut.

- But he wasn't having it.

Which is strange, as Cora

suggested Tom needed money.

- Do you have a description?

- Yes, of course.

I did take special note.

And I asked around

about your dead Portsider.

The boy who was dumped

at the hospital.

According to my colleague

it was an odd one.

Someone had tried

to cover up his injuries.

Clearly

he was battered to death.

The powder on his face

couldn't hide that.

That's not powder, that's flour.

The Portsiders had flour bombs

hurled at them

by the Woolpackers.

But it's not flour.

It's washing soda,

according to my colleague.

- Are you sure?

- She said it seemed odd too.

Said it smelled of eucalyptus.

Like Mrs Big Arthur's

laundry powder.

Now I know where

I've seen this face before.

MRS BIG ARTHUR: You had no right

to paint over my Jimmy!

Put the hammer down, lovey,

and I'll explain.

(all shout)

I need him healthy enough

to talk with me.

- Keep her away from me.

- Come with me for questioning.

- About what?

- Want to deal with her or me?

- This is not over yet!

- Calm down, lovey!

He had no right!

They make a lovely couple,

don't they?

She is like a siren.

Beautiful but dangerous.

Like you.

I'm only dangerous

in the wrong hands.

You coming, Miss Fisher?

Now, a young man died

in the hospital,

not because he was a Portsider

but because

he was one of your boxers.

He was beaten half to death

in the ring, wasn't he.

What's she doing here?

I'm a friend of Cora Derrimut's.

Look, I don't know nothing about

no abo kid dying in hospital.

I don't think anybody mentioned

his being aboriginal.

Now the truth.

Or I'll charge you with

obstructing an investigation.

Oh.

Jimmy got hurt in the ring.

Bad.

So you tried

to make it look like

he was mixed up with the gangs.

By decorating him

with your wife's washing soda.

I knew they'd look after him.

I didn't think

he'd go ahead and die.

How did Tom come to replace him?

He'd fought as a challenger.

He did alright.

He came back and I asked him

about fighting regular.

He jumped at the chance.

Said he needed the money.

Who beat this boy up? Jimmy.

Who was his challenger?

It was Kevin Bradley, wasn't it.

I thought he was ready

to go it with a big gun.

So I took a challenge

from someone who was bigger.

Yes, I'm sure the crowd loves a

mismatch. Stirs up the betting.

If blokes want to have

a little bet between themselves,

that's their business.

This Bradley bugger, you know,

he was a lot bigger than Jimmy.

Jimmy got him with a right,

knocked him down. He went crazy.

If I'd have known

he was a bloody lunatic--

So Kevin Bradley killed

one of your fighters.

He wouldn't exactly be

your favorite person, would he?

HUGH: So we've got Bradley,

who killed

the original Black Belter,

inside Biggs' tent.

- You have a very neat hand.

- Thank you, miss.

Perhaps you could give

the Inspector some lessons.

Here we are.

I thought you weren't going down

the dead policeman track.

I wasn't, but I went through

Constable Fry's autopsy file

and I found this.

Lacerations consistent with

a distinctive serrated blade.

And consistent with

Kevin Bradley's lacerations.

- Same murder weapon?

- It has to be.

And presumably

the same murderer.

Look at this. Do you have

your magnifying glass?

Is this an Australian bayonet?

No, German,

most likely souvenired

by an Australian soldier

and brought back home.

It's rough

but it looks like an animal.

Is it a rat?

A mouse?

It has a curled tail.

It's a possum.

That's not very German.

Cora's husband went to war.

Will.

William. Wilfred.

- Did he come back?

- He did but he'd been gassed.

He died of lung damage.

Cora's first husband.

- Do you have Tom's file?

- Mm.

Thomas James Derrimut.

Mother Cora, father...

- Wallet.

- Wallet. That's unusual.

Or just a misspelling of Walter.

Or perhaps it's Aboriginal.

I bet you a ride

on the great scenic railway

that Wallet means possum.

Possum Derrimut.

Tom's spoken about him.

Bring Tom in. And his mother.

Yes, sir.

Sir, Tom Derrimut's here.

And Mrs Derrimut.

Tom, stop! Let me pass!

He had a bicycle, sir.

But I know where he's going.

- Take the car then.

- Yes, sir.

Announcing next,

who'll be the one to swelter

with the Black Belter?

Who will brave the ring

and make all the ladies sing?

We are looking for

a likely challenger,

a young fella to don the gloves.

Yeah. My mate will.

We have a challenger,

ladies and gentlemen!

Fight begins in ten minutes!

Why did you run?

Now my boss thinks you did it.

Does it matter

if I did or I didn't?

You've made up your minds

anyway.

The bayonet. Was it your dad's?

- Hey! I went in to bat for you!

- I didn't ask you to!

I've got to take you in, Tom.

To the station.

- After the fight.

- No, now.

No! I have to do this!

Just let me have this one fight

and then I'll do

whatever you want.

Alright but I'm sticking close.

Delahunty's mate.

He's big and vicious.

But he's slow. He's a brawler.

So keep on your feet.

Keep moving.

In and out. In and out.

There's a lot of flab there.

- You're giving me fight advice?

- That's what trainers do.

Don't they?

TOM: Thanks. But I think

I can handle brawlers.

HUGH: Betting on yourself now?

It's the only way out.

Go all in on one last fight.

Fair and square.

There's no such thing

as fair and square in there.

That great hulk will kill you

if you give him the chance.

See this money?

I made it all in the ring.

That's how I know I can do it.

I can beat him.

When this is done,

I'll walk away.

I promise.

There's our escapee.

BIG ARTHUR:

The boy from the bush!

The brilliant Black Belter!

The challenger!

The Woolpackers!

He's going to kill him!

And I put up my own wager.

Forty quid, winner takes all.

I'll have some of that.

After a short intermission!

Are you mad? It'll be like Jimmy

all over again.

You want to sleep

outside my van like a dog

for the rest of your life?

No, my lovey!

That's why I painted

over the banner!

To spare your feelings!

You won't have to look

at Jimmy's face every day.

Look, I'm sick

about what happened!

Don't risk it happening again!

He'll kill him!

I'm with her. That challenger

is twice Tom's size and more.

Out of here.

This is a private area.

No! She sees it! We all do!

The lad will get slaughtered!

It can't always be

about the money!

Look, I'll sort it, OK?

I'll sort it. I'll find a way.

Alright? Trust me.

Come on.

Are you enjoying yourself?

We will have a drink after.

Lovely.

Call on me later.

Look, one punch,

hit the sawdust, all over.

OK? I'll cover

your 40 quid for you.

No. I can hold my own with him.

I've knocked down blokes as big.

No, you haven't. They took

a fall because I told them to.

- They got paid!

- What are you waiting for?

I'll cover your money, OK?

Just take a fall.

I'll settle this

on my own terms.

(cheering)

(bell)

Ladies and gentlemen!

For a purse of 40 pounds...

The Woolpacker bloke

is gloved up,

but Freckles has slipped him

a fist full of fishing weights.

The young bloke's

gonna get smashed.

Hey, hey, hey!

There'll be enough of that!

Miss Fisher! Dottie.

You shouldn't watch this.

We have to stop it, Hugh.

Freckles doctored the gloves.

That's it! That's it, mate!

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

- Call it off now or I will.

- I can't!

It only takes one telephone call

to raid you. Call it off!

That's it!

We're stopping this one!

The kid's not well.

All your bets will be refunded.

- Come here!

- Hold your horses, everyone.

You'll get your fight.

We'll work something out.

- Hey, hey, hey!

- Alright, alright, listen!

If everyone's happy, I'll finish

the fight for the lad.

Hugh!

Dot, Hugh knows boxing.

Give me some flat gloves.

And tell him to ditch

the lead weights.

This will be good.

Now watch his right.

And he's a head-butter.

Tell me this wasn't your idea.

PHRYNE: This is Hugh's fight.

You're dead, copper. Dead.

Come here. Come here.

(cheering and applause)

- Come on.

- No, you can't have it!

Come on, lovey.

Tom's in no danger now.

I can make a motza

betting against the copper.

No! This money's mine.

It's for Jimmy's headstone

and you're not having it!

Knock his block off, Hugh!

Bravo, Hugh!

Get up!

Ladies and gentlemen,

we have a winner!

Forty pounds! Forty pounds!

Here.

Well done.

Time to come to the station.

And when you've recovered,

perhaps you could arrest

Freckles for extortion.

It'd be my pleasure, sir.

Oi. Let's go.

- No! Don't take him!

- Dan! Dan!

- Let go.

- No!

I want to confess! I've been

trying to make it right!

I think it's time we heard

Dan's version of events.

The bond of brothers.

Dan always wanted to be

just like Tom.

When the welfare

came and took him

he said he'd be back.

He ran away from the welfare.

And I couldn't send him

back to school, could I?

I knew that

they'd take him back.

He started running around

with the Portsiders

because Tom did.

And that brawl...

He couldn't tell the cops

what happened.

You can see that, can't you?

What did you have over

Tom Derrimut?

It was over his brother.

Come back here!

You!

Right! I got you, you little...

FRECKLES: I saw how it happened.

The copper fell.

Then Kevin arrived.

I told Kevin

it was an accident.

What he saw was that kid

stabbing a copper in the back.

And his brother

would pay good money

if he wanted us to forget it.

(sighs)

And he kept asking for more.

And I knew

it was never going to end.

The price just went up.

But you weren't the only one

who wanted Kevin Bradley dead.

Were you?

One murder solved.

And I think I can help you

with another.

Kevin Bradley's jacket.

- Was this from...

- Not quite.

A mother needs

to protect her child.

But only another mother knows

how far she would go.

(sobbing)

Come on. Buck up, lovey.

It's getting too hot here.

Best we go before the coppers

do something about the betting.

It's a little too late for that.

Art restoration, Mrs Big Arthur.

It's not going to

bring him back.

No.

Is that what made you so angry

at your husband?

Jimmy was more than

part of the troupe, you know.

He was my boy.

We found him out the back of

beyond. You know, good fighter.

But he had no-one.

So you took him in.

Arthur only saw the boy's talent

but I was... like his mum.

That's what he said.

Me. Barren as the Nullarbor.

Like somebody's mum.

He loved me.

And now he's dead.

Kevin Bradley went mad,

that's all, love.

Jimmy's death

was a terrible accident.

Is that why you killed

Kevin Bradley?

No.

No, no, no, she's not herself.

She doesn't know what

she's yabbering on about. Lovey?

You should have heard him.

The price just went up.

Your Tom thinks he can

chuck his weight around?

He belted me one, all because of

his half-caste little brother.

So unless you want his brother

dead or sent back...

This is never going to end,

is it?

- It's up to me, isn't it.

- Not any more.

Cos if no-one's around

to tell the tale...

Dan's safe!

He'll go back to welfare.

Go! Run! Your sons need you!

I took the money

to pay for Jimmy's grave.

I was gonna move the body

but the pubs were out.

And do you know...

that night I slept like a baby.

First time since Jimmy died.

I've got no regrets.

And then you must

take hold of the arms...

yes...

and then the knee

to the throat...

Ooh. But do not choke.

Yes. How perfect.

You see how good this pose is

for overcoming.

Now hold number 15.

Now perhaps for

a more relaxed pose.

No! No.

Never from below the waist.

Or disqualification.

- You lose.

- I'm very gracious in defeat.

I show you the art of the mind

with the body.

Why don't you show me here?

On the bed?

First you much watch.

Then you learn.

Hold number 16.

(knocking)

BUTLER: Pardon, miss.

If you're feeling up to it,

the Inspector is downstairs.

Yes! Tell him

I'll be down immediately.

Miss Fisher. I owe you a ride

on the great scenic railway.

- So Wallet means...

- Possum.

You win.

How can I resist

a man who pays his debts?

I wouldn't bother with the hat.

♪ I ain't got nobody and

I don't want nobody but you ♪