Original subtitles

(door creaks)

You. We need to talk.

I know what you've been doing.

I know everything.

The game is up.

(grunts)

(whimpers)

(groans)

(necklace tightens)

(jazz music)

Paper!

BOY: Paper!

What do you think?

It's magnificent.

WOMAN: Miss Fisher?

Thank you. I like this dress

even better now.

Miss Williams?

Thank you.

Ah, Mademoiselle Fisher,

I do apologize.

We've been trying to finish

a ball gown for Lady Archdale.

(gasps) Magnifique!

Perhaps if the slip underneath

were a little more daring?

Not at all. The slip is placed

perfectly beneath the fabric,

and the balance is superb.

Ah, very sensible choice,

my dear.

You can be married or buried

in a quality suit.

Perfect.

Excuse me, Miss Williams?

Would you mind?

I'm having trouble

with this last button.

Of course.

- There you go.

- Thank you.

Wow.

Fox. Nothing like it.

In a very beautifully cut suit,

Dot.

Very smart.

(woman screams)

It's... it's Mrs Wilde!

Call the police.

WOMAN: Frances Wilde

was a dear friend.

Not to mention

one of our most loyal clients

and our main investor.

Genevieve, would you please

fetch some smelling salts

- for Madame?

- Oh, of course.

Sir, are you alright?

I'm having trouble breathing.

Aubrey?

MAN: I should have

checked on her.

She was only gone

for five minutes.

Mr Wilde's in shock.

Here, put your head forward.

I take it you're

a regular patron here.

If I went anywhere else,

Madame Fleuri would kill me,

figuratively speaking.

The fellow out there.

Is that the victim's son?

Husband, Jack.

Caused quite a stir.

Mmm.

A hairpin.

Clearly not premeditated.

But convenient.

Not many victims come equipped

with their own murder weapon.

And a single pearl.

Only one side bloodstained.

Dropped after the murder.

Look at the color. Aubergine.

Probably highly valuable.

Treasure of an oyster.

"He kissed the last of

many doubled kisses,

this Orient pearl".

Not even Mark Antony

would want to kiss this one.

No.

Thank you.

No pearls on the victim.

Nor anywhere else

that I can see. Poor Frances.

Was there anyone else in the

salon when the body was found?

I checked the rear door. Locked.

And anyone entering

or leaving the salon

would have been noticed.

So assuming the time of death

was after your arrival,

whoever killed Mrs Wilde

may still be here.

MAN: Did you see anyone

suspicious outside the salon?

The victim's bag

was still on the sofa, sir.

Thank you.

Madame Fleuri, do you remember

if Mrs Wilde was wearing

any jewelry when she arrived?

Uh... she had on a salon gown

when I sat her down to approve

the forthcoming catalogue.

Violet, lock that catalogue away

again for me, will you please?

I think Mrs Wilde

was wearing pearls.

- What color were they?

- I'm not certain,

but I know they picked up

on her frock.

I pressed it for her while she

looked through the catalogue.

Yes, they were

a shade of purple.

I'm afraid I'll have to

ask everyone

to remain in the building

while we look over

the premises thoroughly.

We'll also have to search

the salon staff, Collins,

- including Mr Wilde.

- Search?

Yes. If you could please start

with Aubrey Wilde, Constable,

and if Miss Fisher

and Miss Williams

could assist us with the ladies.

Gladly. And you two

can draw straws

to see who searches Dot and me.

Some lovely lingerie,

but not a pearl in sight.

Excuse me, Constable.

It's elegant with a twist,

wouldn't you say?

Hmm, sorry?

Yeah, very... very nice.

You don't think it's too...

too sensible?

Yes, no,

I love the twisty parts.

That's a gorgeous shade of...

of brown.

Thank you, Constable.

Oh!

You might need me, Collins.

Sorry, Sir.

PHRYNE: Madame won't like being

closed during business hours.

But, Miss, I thought

the Inspector and Hugh

wanted us at the station.

They've got enough

to keep them busy for now, Dot.

(whispers)

You must keep your gloves on.

Clearly Mrs Wilde's glass.

Take a look around for Aubrey's.

Dot, come here for a moment.

Take a seat.

Hope you're not going to take

my photograph, Miss.

- (camera clicks)

- No!

Just testing.

Mrs Wilde and her husband

were on the sofa in the lounge.

I could tell you that,

Inspector.

But I sent Genevieve off

to change outfits

because my camera had jammed,

so I'm afraid I was preoccupied.

I'm the one who invited Frances

to the salon this morning

to approve the catalogue.

WOMAN: I do remember

hearing Aubrey query

whether some of the designs

were too conservative.

And what would Aubrey know

about designs?

Frances was delighted

with the entire catalogue.

Madame...

Though very surprised

that your gloomy photographs

replaced our glorious

illustrations.

If you'd just like to

wait outside...

If Frances was so delighted,

what were you two arguing about?

That had nothing to do

with the collection.

Then perhaps it was about

our dwindling clientele.

It's highly inappropriate

for you to be discussing

the state of our business,

in the midst of this tragedy.

Wait, Madam.

Did you have an argument

with Frances Wilde?

It was a business discussion,

that's all.

No lipstick.

Aubrey's champagne glass?

Wonderful.

Can we please go now, Miss?

Don't be a spoilsport, Dot.

We haven't done the sewing room

yet, and that's your forte.

We need to telephone

Cec and Bert.

VIOLET: I served the champagne,

first to Mr and Mrs Wilde,

and then to Miss Fisher

and Miss Williams.

Then what did you do?

I'd left the iron on to heat up,

so I headed back to

the sewing room

to press Mrs Wilde's frock

for her.

The pleating

wasn't sitting right.

So to your knowledge,

Mr Wilde remained in the lounge

for the ten minutes between

serving him the champagne

and when Genevieve screamed?

Yes, that's right.

Well, he always accompanied

Mrs Wilde to the salon,

though I'm not sure how much

notice she took of his opinions.

This must be

Lady Archdale's ball gown.

No wonder

it was holding everything up.

Violet didn't get very far

pressing Mrs Wilde's frock.

Not that it matters now.

Looks like the pleats

were the problem.

(exclaims)

It's stone cold.

So she never even heated it up.

What do you mean?

Well, it wouldn't cool down that

fast, a heavy iron like that.

So whatever Violet Hopkins

was busy with during the murder,

it wasn't Mrs Wilde's frock.

Perhaps we should leave this bit

out of our

police statements, Dot.

Miss.

"To our prosperous future, GM."

Interesting timing.

And who is GM?

Perhaps a satisfied customer?

It's an odd thing to write

to a couturier.

BERT: Oi.

Need us for a job, Miss?

Two jobs now. Hold this.

But that's confidential.

I'd like you to find out

from the florist

who ordered these flowers.

If anyone queries,

you just say Madame Fleuri

wants to thank the sender. And

I need these plates developed.

No worries.

- That one's not bad.

- Oh, it's underwear.

The term is lingerie,

and it's the way to

a woman's heart,

once you've found your way

to the rest of her, that is.

Don't you two have work to do?

HUGH: Miss Fisher's right,

you know.

Even a single one of these

is worth a thousand pounds.

Mrs Wilde was a wealthy lady.

Whoever stole them is

likely to know their worth.

It's probably the motive

for murder.

Surely if someone wanted

to steal a string of pearls

they wouldn't need

to murder someone to do it.

And this wasn't

premeditated murder.

This was spur of the moment.

Aren't you becoming

the detective?

Did I say I wanted to be

a detective?

No.

Is something the matter, Dottie?

Is it the tea?

No.

Well, yes, actually.

You didn't like my suit.

Or you were just too busy

looking at Genevieve

to pay me any attention.

Oh, no, Dottie, I...

I wasn't looking at her

as much as I was

looking at her suit.

Not her suit, her dress.

It had these little bits

that... that sparkled on it

when it...

when it hit the light.

- Really?

- Yes.

And these other bits

that wafted when she moved...

When it moved.

When the dress moved.

That doesn't mean

I didn't like your suit.

What color was my blouse?

Your blouse that...

I wore underneath my suit.

What color was it?

Mm. It... was...

...like a...

I think I'll wait

for Miss Fisher in the car.

Dottie, I...

(door closes)

Frances was demanding

I dismiss Genevieve.

Your house model?

Genevieve Lemaire

has French heritage

and has modeled for the

best fashion houses in Paris.

She was head model

for La Lune Boutique

before she agreed to join us,

and we are very fortunate

to have her.

JACK: Did Mrs Wilde say

why she wanted her dismissed?

She claimed Genevieve

had designs

on her philandering husband,

which is absolute nonsense.

The Inspector informs me

that your argument

became quite... passionate.

When I refused

to dismiss Genevieve,

Frances started on

about other concerns.

It was insulting.

I became angry.

And yes, I slapped her.

What kind of concerns?

After pointing out her

financial stake in the salon,

she questioned

the time and trouble

we devote to our clients.

And then she threatened

to sack me,

from my own salon.

Mr Wilde? She suspected

he and I of having an affair?

Have you any idea why,

Miss Lemaire?

Probably because he was

a blatant gold digger

and completely untrustworthy,

but...

Mr Wilde, he barely spoke to me.

And everybody knows

I have a boyfriend in Paris.

Did you have much to do

with Mrs Wilde?

She was very generous when

I first arrived in Melbourne,

and I'm sure mostly because

of my French connections.

And more recently?

She seemed more aloof.

Changed her mind about using me

for a gala parade on Oaks Day,

last race season.

I can see why now.

Did it upset you?

(chuckles) Of course.

But I blamed her husband.

Why do you say that?

When I began at the salon,

Mr Wilde told Violet

that he thought I was

too old for modeling,

which surprised me considering

he had no reservations

about the age of his wife.

PHRYNE: Lady Archdale's

ball gown.

If you don't allow

Madame Fleuri to reopen,

it may never be realized.

Now that would be a crime,

wouldn't it?

Aubrey Wilde's doctor

seems to think his turn

was only heart palpitations

due to shock.

Perhaps someone else

at the salon

was making his heart beat

a little faster.

It's unlikely Frances

imagined the whole thing.

What, and this affair is motive

enough to do his wife in?

If she found out and planned to

divorce him from her fortune.

What about Madame Fleuri's

inclination towards violence?

She's not violent, she's French.

Half-French.

Genevieve had reason

to resent both the Wildes,

and Violet lied about

whatever she was up to

- in the sewing room.

- What about the sister?

Renee is definitely

hiding something.

The camera wasn't jammed at all,

as far as I could see.

The cracked plate that

she told you she removed

was perfectly fine, apart

from my own portrait of Dot.

Yeah.

There's tension between

the Fleuri sisters?

They have spats all the time.

Simone believes in classical

fashion, custom design.

Renee is on the side

of progress.

Modern reproductions.

Pret a porter.

Ready to... to carry?

Close. Ready to wear.

Ah, my wartime French

never made the distinction.

Well, in the world of

haute couture,

it translates

as "certain death".

But murdering Frances Wilde

wouldn't make financial sense

for either of the

Fleuri sisters, would it?

No.

But stealing her priceless

pearl necklace would.

Stunning, isn't it?

They'll see you coming.

That's what my mother

always said

when my sister wore anything

too showy.

PHRYNE: Surely that's

a good thing.

If nothing else,

to avoid a collision.

Well, I wouldn't want to go

completely unnoticed,

but I wouldn't want to attract

too much attention, either.

Doesn't that depend on whose

attention you're attracting?

I suppose so.

Dot... a woman should dress

first and foremost

for her own pleasure.

Having grown up

in second hand flannels,

there is nothing quite so divine

as the feel of silk underwear.

(laughs)

The touch of soft fox,

the slither of a satin skirt.

If these things

happen to appeal to men,

well, that really is

a side issue.

So, tomorrow we're going to

the House of Fleuri

to order you a ravishing and

utterly frivolous evening gown.

Oh no, Miss,

I couldn't possibly...

It's not a gift, Dot.

It's an order.

We need a pretext

to return that catalogue

and do some further

investigating.

And I've decided, you're it.

So you remained

in the salon lounge

the whole time

your wife was absent?

Yes. Where else would I go?

Oh, your champagne glass ended

up in the corridor, Mr Wilde.

Why don't you just tell me what

you're angling at, Inspector?

Madame Fleuri said

your wife suspected you

of having an affair

with one of her staff.

Well that's not only insulting,

that's preposterous.

You think I killed my wife

because of that?

If I wanted to do that,

Inspector,

surely I could push her

down some stairs or poison her.

Why would I risk murdering her

in a salon powder room?

Can you think of a reason

why anyone else from the salon

would want to harm Mrs Wilde?

Had she fallen out with anyone?

No more than usual.

She was a strong minded woman.

She had her opinions.

HUGH: Ah, sir. The cancelled

check in Mrs Wilde's handbag.

- Was the bank any help?

- Yes, they told me

it was issued to

a real estate agent in Fitzroy

who wasn't very happy when

the bank refused to honor it.

What was it for?

A deposit on an apartment.

Royal Astor Court.

Sold to the Wildes one week ago.

Well, I must say I was surprised

when the bank called and said

they'd cancelled the check.

His wife, apparently.

She seemed quite taken

with the place until then.

Did you hear anything

from Mr Wilde about it?

Not a peep.

Did he say

what the apartment was for?

I assumed it was a first home

for him and his wife.

They did insist on one

on street level, though.

Lovely building.

Bay windows, tall ceilings.

Mrs Wilde.

Can you describe her for me?

Very... very easy on the eye.

Thank you, Mr Hargreaves,

but it would help if you were

a little more specific.

Good morning, Miss Lemaire.

Miss Williams would like

another appointment.

Of course.

I'm sure we can find somewhere.

That is a lovely frock,

Miss Lemaire.

You're so lucky to wear

such beautiful clothes,

even if they're not yours.

Yes. Like being

a walking dressmaker's dummy.

No! No, all I meant was

everything looks lovely on you.

Everything looks perfect.

That's my job. It's all show.

Now if you'd like to

come through,

I'll check if Madame Fleuri

can see you now.

MADAME FLEURI:

You're not happy with the suit?

Oh no,

the suit is perfectly lovely.

So what do you need,

evening wear?

Perhaps something full length?

More glamorous,

in a satin or a silk?

Oh no, I don't go to...

things like that,

and I wouldn't want

anything extravagant.

The fabric doesn't need to

be expensive.

We could use art silk instead.

Perhaps something for day wear,

not too showy, just more...

More a la mode, perhaps.

Modern? You mean a dress with

gimmicks that wax and wane?

A woman must known her style.

Style is what endures, and

your style, Miss Williams...

...is a suit.

Only me.

Miss Fisher, I'm sorry.

I must have fallen asleep.

Is that why you hadn't ironed

Frances Wilde's frock yesterday?

You told Inspector Robinson

you'd heated the iron,

but... I don't think

that was true.

I don't want Madame Fleuri to

worry that I'm falling behind,

but I've been working

long hours.

It's been very busy

lately.

And yet Renee Fleuri said

business was dwindling.

But just one frock

can be so time consuming.

I've been trying to finish

the beading on this ball gown.

Yes, lovely work,

very intricate.

And I suppose you have

postal orders to fill.

Oh, yes, I still have to make

this afternoon's mail

for Mrs Norton's day dress.

Is there something

I can do for you, Madame?

No, no. Just...

clearing up my confusion.

Don't take it personally, Dot.

You know what sisters

can be like.

Add fashion to the mix,

and it's diabolical.

- (woman laughs)

- Now, I need Cec and Bert

to follow Violet to

the post office this afternoon.

She was behaving

very suspiciously

about a large parcel.

There was no one with

the initials GM in the book,

but I did find a pile of

unpaid bills

and a number of

very lucrative clients

with their names struck out.

So the salon is definitely

losing business.

Perhaps those clients

had their reasons.

And I would like to find out

what they are.

Looking over this list,

I'm afraid our best chance

of finding out

will involve a long afternoon at

the Melba Kruse Salon of Beauty.

WOMAN: It's an awful business.

Well, at least Frances

won't have to worry

about keeping up with that

dashing young husband of hers.

That is some consolation.

Did you see a lot of

the Wildes, Mrs Carlyon?

Oh, not in the last six months.

I was denied an appointment

one too many times.

I suspect it was my attitude

to the younger Fleuri.

All her new ideas just seemed

like excuses for skimping to me,

so I took my business elsewhere.

If you ask me,

I'd say Renee was touting

for financial support.

I'm not sure

what she had in mind,

but it made my daughter and I

very uneasy.

When was the last time

you visited Madame Fleuri's

salon, Mrs Tippet?

Well, not since

my lemon silk charmeuse dress.

In September, Madame Fleuri was

abroad so we couldn't get in.

Oh, it was a terrible month

for us.

A robbery,

crack in the swimming pool.

Then, Deirdre and I

both were left

with nothing decent

to wear to Ladies' Day.

I was having Madame make me

a gown to go with some jewelry

my husband had given me

for our silver anniversary,

then I lost the necklace.

I couldn't bring myself

to tell Rupert.

Such beautiful sapphires.

So you cancelled the gown?

Of course. But when I tried

to make an appointment

for an alternative outfit,

they couldn't fit me in.

Me, Melba Kruse.

I'm one of

their oldest customers.

So I haven't telephoned them

since.

I was under the impression

you called me here

for a dress fitting

for Miss Williams.

We thought it would be

more discreet

to have this discussion here.

Just answer the question,

Miss Fleuri.

Inspector, I am passionate about

my designs.

But I would not play mistress

to a man like Aubrey

in order to realize them.

The Inspector has evidence that

Aubrey tried to buy an apartment

with a woman of

your exact description.

House of Fleuri

is meant to be a partnership.

But Frances was loyal to my

sister. They were old friends.

Aubrey understood my ideas.

JACK: Go on.

He was buying the apartment

so I could set up

my own pret a porter salon.

Aubrey and I planned to

become business partners.

Did you know Mrs Wilde

had cancelled Aubrey's check?

JACK: Did either of you

confront her?

No.

JACK: In the ten minutes

leading up to Mrs Wilde's death,

are you certain you both

remained in the lounge area?

I told you, I was

preoccupied with my camera.

There was nothing wrong

with that camera, Renee.

After Aubrey told me the

apartment had fallen through,

I... I became too upset

to do anything much.

And Mr Wilde?

I don't believe

he killed his wife.

But yes, he...

he left the lounge.

I don't know where he went.

I don't have time for this.

I have funeral arrangements

to attend to.

Right now, Mr Wilde,

you have some very

serious questions to answer.

The fact that you

deceived your wife

about your business

arrangements,

the fact that you

were going to spend

significant amounts of

her money...

That was a joint check account.

I did nothing illegal.

But your wife

had just thwarted your plans.

I tried to reason with her.

I was doing it for both of us.

And you have no witness

as to where you were

- at the time of her death.

- AUBREY: Alright!

Alright. Yes, alright.

I was in the sewing room

when my wife was murdered.

- And I have a witness.

- Who?

Fleuri's head seamstress,

Violet Hopkins.

It was a mere dalliance,

nothing more.

Which means I have an alibi.

It also means you both have

a motive for murder.

Do you really think

that I would kill my wife

for a girl like Violet?

- (brakes screech)

- (gasps)

What's wrong with you, mate?

- Let me give you a hand.

- Thank you.

- You OK?

- VIOLET: I... I think so.

- Your packages.

- Thank you.

I didn't even see you.

- I'm sorry.

- VIOLET: That's alright.

You were meant to follow Violet

to the post office

to see where she was sending it,

not to steal the package.

It fell into our laps.

Well, it definitely

fell somewhere.

It's completely smudged.

I can't make out a thing.

- Well, that wasn't our fault.

- Yeah, not completely.

- Hello.

- G'day, Miss.

Found out about those flowers

for you. Ordered by telegram.

Well done.

Yeah, the girl in the florist

told us who it was.

Here, I wrote it down for you.

Gary and Molly Nex.

Maybe regulars

at that saloon place.

Salon, Bert.

I've met most of them and Nex

doesn't seem to ring a bell.

And that parcel

you wanted us to track?

Oh. You... intercepted the mail.

Even better.

Well, this doesn't look like

Mrs Norton's day dress to me.

But it does look

almost exactly like

one of those evening dresses

in that confidential catalogue.

If this is a G at the beginning,

and that's an M,

perhaps it's our

mystery flower senders.

I'll dry it out and see if I can

brush off some of that dirt.

Meanwhile, I think we need a

private word with Madame Fleuri.

There are three of them,

all the same.

These are exact copies of

our design,

with modernizations

in very poor taste.

But these dresses

have not even been made yet.

How could this happen?

Perhaps one of your staff?

- Never.

- You trust them all?

Of course. The designs

are all under lock and key

and I keep the patterns

at my home.

Oh, this is all a disaster.

MADAME FLEURI: And word is out.

Lady Archdale has just cancelled

the order for her ball gown

and others have already

fallen away.

And now this sabotage.

And none of this explains

what happened to poor Frances.

I am sure that we'll get to

the bottom of it.

I'll inform the police

first thing in the morning.

BUTLER: Your car is waiting,

Madame.

Madame Fleuri,

do you know a Mr and Mrs Nex?

They sent some flowers

to your salon?

Oh, I've never heard of them,

but at least somebody's

happy with us.

There's no point

upsetting Madame Fleuri

before we know the full story.

But how do the copied dresses

tie in with Mrs Wilde's murder?

I'm not sure, Dot. But Violet

has obviously been moonlighting,

so I think this calls for

some nocturnal investigation.

(knock at door)

Your blouse was pink, Dottie,

and I do pay attention to you.

Sit down

and I'll pour you some cocoa.

Miss Fisher having

an early night?

DOT: Must be.

Thank you.

So... What's your favorite

outfit then, of mine?

The one you like the most?

I like everything you wear,

Dottie,

because you wear it.

Just pick one.

If I had to pick,

the day we met.

What you wore then.

The day we met?

That's my favorite.

So I go to all that trouble,

and you like me best

in a maid's uniform?

Yes. No. No.

You're confusing me.

Miss Fisher's right

about one thing.

Dressing to please a man

is definitely beside the point.

(banging sounds)

(banging and scraping sounds)

(gasps)

(clunking sound)

(door closes, footsteps running)

(car engine stars,

tires screech)

Is that who I think it is?

Afraid so, Sir.

Evening.

Whoever it was

was extremely agile,

remarkably efficient, lethal,

and almost a match for me.

Almost?

They didn't stop me.

Well, you're still guilty

of breaking into the salon,

and the theft of one bolt of

peacock and floral print cotton

worth one hundred pounds.

I'm happy to pay for the fabric.

Luckily, it's my style.

Poor Violet.

She obviously knew

whoever was with her,

but she didn't see it coming.

Neither did Frances Wilde.

Our killer is no amateur.

How do you know

it's the same killer?

Because they knew exactly

where to come back to

to retrieve Frances Wilde's

missing pearls,

buried in a bowl of potpourri

in the sewing room.

Except...

...they missed one.

The head wound from the iron

wasn't lethal.

The Coroner's report says the

victim was smothered to death.

In a bowl of beads.

So these dresses

that mysteriously turned up

at your back door,

do you think Violet

was manufacturing them?

It's not called

manufacturing, Jack.

Violet was a dressmaker,

but yes.

And it looks as if

she was getting paid generously

for her work,

judging by these additional

amounts on top of her wages.

Madame Fleuri

will be devastated.

Unless Madame Fleuri

caught her in the act.

From what I heard last night,

Violet had a partner in crime.

Who?

The dresses weren't

exact copies.

They had certain refinements

of style,

which suggest

a more modern approach.

MADAME FLEURI: What's going on?

Why do you need to

question Renee again?

It's alright, Madame.

The police just need

to go over some details.

Simone will find out,

so she may as well know.

Know what?

I was seeking Aubrey's help

to establish my own salon.

You would set up in competition

with the House of Fleuri?

MADAME FLEURI:

With your own sister?

RENEE: What choice did I have?

You never let me have my way

with my designs.

There is one of my designs

in our entire new catalogue.

Well, there is reason for that.

Yes, and it's you.

I want to make

beautiful garments

for women

who can't afford couture.

Aubrey understood.

RENEE: But Frances was

always going to favor you.

GENEVIEVE: Mesdames, please.

Violet is gone.

How could you argue like this?

I'll do whatever I can

to help find out

what happened to Violet.

I'll get my things.

If you could find my hat please,

Genevieve.

Jack, look at the floor,

under the camera.

PHRYNE: Rosebuds.

RENEE: Don't touch that,

Miss Fisher!

You'll expose the plate.

Frances's pearls.

Is my business the only thing

I should be worried about,

or do you have blood

on your hands?

If you need to ask, then you

are clearly not my sister.

Where did you get those?

PHRYNE: The parcel was waylaid

and ended up being delivered

to the police.

It had the initials GM

written on it,

like the mysterious

congratulatory flowers

that were delivered

to your salon.

Initials

that the florist told us

indicated Garry and Molly Nex.

Until you put that together

with Rue de la Paix.

You can just make it out if

you brush off some of the grime.

I'm sure you know the street.

One of the most

fashionable streets in Paris.

And home to the new

grand department stores,

including Galleries Molyneaux.

Those dresses

are our second sample range.

Seems Galleries Molyneaux

were very happy with the first

and about to place a full order.

Simone has no interest

in pret a porter,

so it was the only way

to finance a new salon.

So did Violet Hopkins

threaten to tell your sister?

No.

No, you can't think

that I'd hurt Violet.

I've laundered and dried these

as much as I can, Miss.

Well, at least enough to go back

into police custody.

Thank you, Dot.

If Frances Wilde

knew nothing about

the dresses Violet was making,

how was she found out?

Was that really worth

killing someone for?

That depends, Dot,

on how valuable the dresses are.

They're so sparkly.

They certainly are, Dot.

You'd almost think

they were real sapphires.

Melba Kruse said she lost

a sapphire necklace, didn't she?

And Mrs Tippet had a terrible

month because of a robbery.

I wonder what was stolen.

People usually steal jewelry.

I think we might have

a closer look

at Salon Fleuri's

disgruntled clients.

HUGH: Miss Fisher was right.

Mrs Carlyon was robbed as well.

All six clients from the salon

were robbed

over the last six months.

Whoever our jewel thief is,

looks like they have

- a professional pedigree.

- Yes, sir.

And in the six months previous

to the Melbourne robberies,

there was a string of

similar crimes

on the north shore in Sydney.

None with obvious sign

of break in,

all highly valuable

and distinctive pieces.

None of them have turned up

in pawnbrokers

or on the black market.

Interesting victims.

Gordon Walsh. The Standishes.

- Someone called Lady Grainger.

- Annabelle Grainger

is one of the most elegantly

dressed women in Sydney.

Whoever we're looking for

targets the fashionable

end of town.

And has outsmarted at least half

a dozen police investigations.

Ah, it's time they met

their match.

Is that you or me?

I know nothing gets past you,

Jack,

but I'm the one

who holds the bait.

Have I ever shown you

my Columbian emeralds?

The new lining is just enough

to pick up on the green

of the necklace.

Mmm. What do you think, Aubrey?

I know Frances

always trusted your taste.

Yes, it's fine.

I'm sorry,

I'm still not quite myself.

There's still a lot to sort out

with Frances's affairs.

I'm sure. But I do hope

you'll stay on as investor.

I know both the Fleuri sisters

would be most grateful.

And I'm sure it's what Frances

would have wanted.

Yes, you're right.

And your necklace looks divine.

Thank you.

We're all off to Daylesford for

the weekend to take the waters.

A special treat

for Dot and Mr Butler.

But I won't be needing emeralds,

so the coat can wait

until my return.

JACK: So where did you send

Dot and Mr Butler?

PHRYNE: Daylesford, of course.

I always lie

as little as possible.

- (sighs)

- It's after midnight.

How much longer

did you want to stay here?

Why?

Aren't you enjoying yourself?

Try some of Dot's cottage pie.

Do you have a fork?

You'll have to use your fingers.

(phone rings)

What if it's Collins?

It won't be.

It's them,

checking to see no one's home.

(phone ringing continues)

So what else

do you have in there?

I should put you on rations.

(window opens)

(whispers) Visitors.

JACK: I'm going after them.

PHRYNE: I'll take

the back stairs.

(gasps)

(both grunt)

(yells) Police!

Your robberies

were so coolly planned.

Finding jobs

in all the best salons,

so you could lay your eyes

on the clients' jewels

without anyone suspecting.

JACK: All you needed was

a way to smuggle

such distinctive jewelry

out of the country.

PHRYNE: How did you

persuade Violet to help you?

Did you threaten to tell Madame

that she was moonlighting

for Renee?

But in the end,

you couldn't trust her

to keep quiet about

what happened to Frances.

What kind of greed leads to the

killing of two innocent women?

PHRYNE: What about Frances

Wilde? Why did you kill her?

You think I'd kill someone

over a strand of pearls?

She said she knew everything.

FRANCES: You. The game is up.

PHRYNE: But she wasn't accusing

you of theft, was she?

She thought you were having

an affair with her husband.

As if I'd throw myself

at that fool.

JACK: Miss Lemaire,

you're under arrest.

Genevieve, real name Smith,

was an expert burglar.

She cased La Lune boutique

in Sydney

just like she cased

Salon Fleuri.

PHRYNE: She had all the jewels

intercepted at a port in Paris

by another paid lackey,

the so called boyfriend.

Not even French ancestry?

So... this is the end.

We will close down the salon.

You can't do that,

Madame Fleuri.

You have clients

who rely on you.

You have your sister.

Who was sneaking and scheming

behind my back.

Because you won't budge.

Not even an inch.

Most of our clients would no

more buy a garment off a rack

than jump off a cliff.

It would spell the end

of haute couture and good taste.

Madame Fleuri, I hope you

consider me a woman of taste.

Of course, Miss Fisher.

Then I have a confession

to make.

I like to wear

well cut trousers.

What's more, I have been known

to buy clothing

in department stores.

(exclaims)

PHRYNE: But I will always love

the glamour and attention

of Salon Fleuri.

PHRYNE: If you give

your sister her head,

she'll have no reason

to set up another salon.

How could we possibly continue?

Even if Aubrey

deigns to help us, my...

...my head seamstress is gone.

I have dozens of

unfinished garments.

I have lost

my most distinguished clients

and my house model

is headed for the noose.

Well... I'm sure we can solve

all those problems.

(jazz music, chatter)

RENEE: Wearing the first piece

in our forthcoming

pret a porter range,

an affordable evening gown

for the modern young woman,

Miss Dorothy Williams.

(applause)

What do you think, Collins?

HUGH: Pretty as a picture, sir.

Just between you and me though,

please, sir.

Decided it's safer to keep

my opinion to myself this time.

How gloriously modern.

Oh, yes, at House de Fleuri,

we aim to be tres modern.

And next, in a classically

elegant couture designed gown,

Miss Phryne Fisher.

(applause, women exclaim)

(knock at door)

The police photographer's

finished with your necklace.

Didn't suit his outfit?

I'll never again dismiss

the fashion world as frivolous.

It all looks harmless enough,

but you never know

what lurks beneath.

Usually lingerie.

Equally dangerous.

And just one dress

can be lethal.

Night cap?

Perhaps another time.

At a less dangerous hour,

in a less lethal dress.

(jazz music)