All language subtitles for My life is murder S04E05 En Pointe

- Hey, you. Yes, you. No, you―

No, you don't. No feeding the
swans. There are signs everywhere.

- I wasn't feeding the swans.
I'm just admiring them.

- It's bad for them.
Malnutrition, obesity, disease;

not to mention the
pollution in the lake.
- I'm well aware of that.

- Are you? Are you aware of what
I have to pull out of this lake
every single week?

I've got a shed full of it ―
plastic bottles, car tyres.

I found an ironing board in there
last week. An ironing board.

- Now, I don't like ironing either,
but that's going too far.

- An Exercycle, several mattresses ―
you name it, it's been dumped in the
lake.

- Then I commend you on
doing a very difficult,

but very necessary, job.
- Well, I appreciate that.

Now hand over the bread.

- Oh, no.
- I'm not having you feed the
swans the second I turn my back.

- I wasn't going to.
- No, you're not, because
I'm gonna take that bread.

- I don't think so.

Sorry I'm late, guys.
Someone fell in the duck pond.

- What, and you had to rescue them?
- Yeah, let's go with that version.

- See ya, bro.
- See ya.

- You might have heard of this one.

One pretty ballerina, Isabel Fray.

- Oh, looks like she's dancing
Swan Lake. Oh, that's uncanny.

- You know about ballet?

- Don't look so surprised, Harry.
I've got many strings to my bow.

- Strange you should mention bows.

- Why?
- Isabel was found
with two arrows in her back,

at Pilkington Dance Academy,
six weeks ago.

- It's really poetic.
- I don't get it. Why is it poetic?

- Because in Swan Lake, the handsome
prince nearly shoots the swan,

who is really the
beautiful Princess Odette.

And only true love can save
her from the bad spell.

Wasn't there some other
dancer in the frame?
- There was ―

Damon Kennedy.
- Oh, our handsome prince.

Yeah, definitely got good form.
- Oh, keep your mind on the job.

- Ballet form, you grub.
why is he main suspect?

- Because the night
Isabel was killed,

Damon sent her a text to meet
up for an unscheduled rehearsal.

- Rehearsal for what?
- Some sort of big audition she had.

Around 7.30, Isabel
was at the Academy.

She posted some selfies
around the same time.

- So, obviously, you checked
the recently deleted photos.

- Yeah, we did ― nothing there.

We think that she was busy posting
when whoever it was arrived.

- And a swan will never
turn back into a princess.

- No.
- OK, why haven't
you arrested Damon?

- Because he denies
sending the texts.

He's got a solid-ish alibi.

He was with another
dancer at a hotel.

- Oh. The plot thickens.

- The lovely Penelope. She's also
a lead dancer at Pilkington.

She and Damon were seen arriving
at the hotel around 6pm.

And then they didn't check out
till the next morning, so...

- So you're stuck?
- Mm.

- Give me that file.
- Really? That was easy.

- Well, it's ballet, Harry.
And a man in tights.

Captions by Faith Hamblyn.

Captions were made with
the support of NZ On Air.

www.able.co.nz
Copyright Able 2024.

- The victim, Isabel,
didn't have a job.

She lived with her dad
in the family mansion.

- Look, she was too busy to have
a job. I mean, look at this ―

she's skiing, surfing,
pottery classes.

- Oh, and don't forget ballet.

Did you know she was preparing for
a really big audition for a London
dance company at the time she died?

- Yeah, just reading about that now.

- You know, in terms of
premeditation, this case
is a big one.

Poor old Odette didn't
stand a chance.

- You mean Isabel?

- No. Odette is the
princess in Swan Lake.

- Oh, and I was supposed
to know that ― how?
- You're as bad as Harry.

Anyway, the point is, the
police never found the bow.

The arrows are traced to an archery
club back west, where Damon and
Isabel both took lessons.

- Oh, come on, tell me why Harry
hasn't arrested this guy, again.

- Little thing called an alibi.

Plus, Damon was injured
at the time ―

these two fingers
were all bunged up.
- Yeah, confirmed via medical report.

It's convenient timing, though.
- Yes, it is,

but do you think it would be
possible to shoot a bow well,

or at all, with these
two fingers missing?

- I'll find out. I always wanted
to give archery a go,

ever since I watched
The Hunger Games.

Ooh, actually, do you wanna
come with me? It could be fun.
- No. You go.

I need to find out if this ballerina
has any other enemies.

- I'm, uh... I'm Caitlin,
Isabel's sister.

- I'm very sorry for your loss.
- Thanks. Yeah.

It's, uh... It's been a bit much.

- No doubt. I thought that Isabel
lived here alone with her father.

- Well, she did, but he,
uh... he has dementia.

Izzy used to take care of him,

and now, here I am.

But, uh, he keeps asking for her,

and I've told him, but he...

he can't retain that
kind of information.

You know.
- It must be so hard.

- Yeah. The first few
times, I reminded him,

but it was like he was...

hearing it for the first time.

And now I just say, um...
just say she's out ―

can't bear to break his
heart over and over again.

So, please, tell me you're
here to make my day ― you've...

you've made an arrest?
- Well, we're working on it.

I'm a fresh pair of eyes,
in case the police missed anything.

- Well, they appear to have missed
the fact that Damon Kennedy messaged
my sister,

lured her to the studio late at
night and put two arrows in her
back.

- Right.

Can you tell me why Damon
would want to hurt Isabel?

- I mean, I wouldn't have
a clue ― I never met him.

- Was there anyone else in Isabel's
life who was giving her trouble?

- Everyone loved Izzy.

Uh, to be honest,
I haven't been around much.

- Because?
- I, uh, have my own business.

You know, it's been a
real juggle. And, yes,

I probably should have checked
in on Izzy and Dad more, but I...

I didn't realise how hard it
was for her here with Dad.

- Isabel! Izzy!
- Oh my God.

- Hey, uh, I'm gonna try to get
closure for you and for Isabel.

- Thank you. I'd like that.

- Excuse me.
- Mm-hm. Yeah.

- Hello?
- Oh, hi.

I was just looking to see if there
was a bell or anything to let you
know I'm here, but...

Ding-dong.

- How can I help you?
- Oh, look, I'm keen
to do some archery.

- Hmm. Any experience?
- None, but tons of enthusiasm.

I wanna embrace my inner―
- ...Katniss.

- Well, who doesn't
love the Hunger Games?

- So, we focus mostly
on target archery,

but we encourage our athletes
to try field archery too.

- Great.
- We shoot compound
and recurve bows,

and we cater for juniors, seniors,

beginners and advanced athletes.

- What kind of bow would
shoot these arrows?

- Probably more of
a recurve bow. Why?

- I just like the look of them.
- Well, you're not gonna
to start on a recurve.

Sure, beginners are drawn to them,
because they wanna be Robin Hood
or...

Katniss, but no.

- OK, recurve equals harder.

But could I have a go anyway?

I promise I'm not just
a Hunger Games stan. Who knows ―

you could be looking at
your next Olympic archer.

- OK, so, you wanna get your upper
body, there, into position.
- Hey.

- Ooh! I didn't actually mean to
do that, but it was good, right?

I mean, I almost hit it.
- No.

No, that was not good.

What are you doing?

- Would someone like you be able
to shoot without using these two
fingers?

- Why would I want to?
- For fun.

- Is this about the old story,

about the English taunting their
enemies in the Hundred Years' War?

If we catch you,
we will cut off your fingers,

so you will no longer be
able to draw your bow.

- That's where that
gesture came from?

- No, it's a myth.
- Oh.

So you can't properly shoot
without using your two...?

- Hey, stop! Stop, stop!
- Ooh!

Oops.

So the bad news is I'm not allowed
back at the archery club

unless I take a basic
health and safety course.

But the good news is I didn't
hit anything sentient.

- So Damon would have to
be a really skilled archer,

to shoot Isabel with only
three working fingers?

- Yeah, it's harder than it
looks to shoot with all five.

Plus, I found out the shooter would
have used a traditional bow, which
is more difficult.

- But we know he took lessons.
- A beginner's course,
yeah, with Isabel.

But that's only six lessons.
- All right, we've gotta get in

and take a good look at
that club booking system.

- Easy ― once I'm allowed back.
- Here we are ―
Pilkington Dance Academy.

- Bad flashbacks?
- No, my ballet mistress
was warm and fuzzy.

- Aw.
- Yeah, not at all like the
cliche of a nasty old spinster,

with a tight bun,
yelling at everyone.
- Hmm.

- What is wrong with you today,
Damon? Focus, please.

And again. Encore.

Damon, focus.

Lift. What is that?

Oh. Where are you
today? That will do. Go on.

You've embarrassed yourself enough.
Our prime
suspect is a bit stressed.

- What have you done to your bun,
Grace? No, not you ― the other
Grace.

Grace P or... F.

Dismissed. Mia, lead them out.

Tippy toes. Tippy toes.
Shoulders down.

- Cynthia Pilkington?
Hi. I'm, uh, Alexa Crowe.

- This is a private rehearsal.
- Oh, we're here to
enrol in a class.

- We don't have recreational classes
for adults, only for children.

- Yeah, but no, for my kid.
- I have one vacancy
in my under-6 class.

- Perfect. Because Grace is 5.

- Oh, please. Not another Grace.

- It's a very popular name.

- There were three Madisons
in my class in high school.

- So can we take a look around?
- No. You can't;

you can enrol online.
And just so you know,

my academy is not the place for
dabblers who just want to have fun.

- No. Heaven help the kid
who just wants to have fun.

My Grace ― serious
as a heart attack.

- Online. Goodbye.

Goodbye.

- Really? You gonna put Chowder in
a tutu and hope nobody notices the
whiskers?

- Hey, if anyone can pull off
having a fake kid, it's me.

I can't wait to see that.

- Loving the props.
- Oh, yes, I fit right in.

Whereas you look like the weirdo
in the ballet class with no kid.

- How can you say that to
Grace's favourite auntie?

Fair.
- Enough chat. Time for work.

Come to position, please.

First position. Bras bas.

Tendu. Arms at second.

No, no, no, no, no! Vanessa.

Everyone turn around. Vanessa.

Have a look at what she's doing.
Parfait, me petite.

Uh, Delilah.

Is that tomato sauce
I see on your leotard?

Mothers, what have
I said about junk food ―

no, no, no.

Read the newsletter.

- In this day and age? Really?
- First position.

Bras bas. Tendu.

Arms at second. Ah!
Parfait, mes cheries!

- Oh, hi. Something tells
me I'm in the wrong room.

- You are.
- I saw you dancing yesterday.

You're so talented. Have you and
your partner been together long?

- Uh, since we were pre-schoolers.

Girls' bathroom ― down the hall.

- Thanks.

- Oh, sorry. Bathroom?
- Uh, it's my dressing room.

- Actually, while I'm
here. My name's Alexa,

and I'm helping the police with
their enquiries into Isabel Fray's
death.

Can I ask you a few questions?
- No, sorry.

- I'm sure you're just as keen as
I am to find out who really killed
her.

- Apparently, you people
think my friend Damon did it.

- Well, it was quite a lot of
evidence against him, you know?

Text messages on his phone;
a couple of arrows in her back,

and he had taken an archery course.

- He was doing that for a dance
piece with Isabel. It was her idea.

- Oh, so they spent quite
a lot of time together?

- Not really. She gave up after two
lessons ― said it ruined her nails,

and then Damon broke his fingers.

- Medical report said he
slammed them in a car door.

- If you already know,
why are you asking me?

- Yeah, you volunteered
it ― I didn't ask.

- Damon didn't do anything, OK?

He didn't message her or
come here that night ―

he was with me.
- In a hotel.

- Teaching at 6 ―
stayed there all night.

- What was the occasion ―
you know, fancy hotel?

Or do you and Damon
do that all the time?

- It was... our anniversary.

- Which one?
- Four.

Are we done now?

- Nice talking to you, Penelope.

- What's with the lunchbox?
I don't remember saying

this place was a BYO.

- Oh, it's Grace's.
- Yeah, don't ask.

- Just be grateful that I didn't
send an actual child to that
school of horrors.

- I don't wanna know.
- Fair call.
- Hey, Harry.

- Hi. All right.

So, this Damon Kennedy ―
are we barking up the right tree?

- Well, we know that he and Penelope
were not telling the truth about why
they were at the hotel.

- Oh, you noticed that too?
They're not sleeping together.
- Totally not.

- Childhood friends.
No bang, bang.
- They told you that?

- No. Didn't have to.
It's just a vibe.

So Damon and Penelope were
definitely lying about why
they went to the hotel,

but they did check in at 6pm.

- So if they weren't there for bang,
bang, what were they there for?

- An alibi. Two, actually.
- Ah.

So you think Damon―
- BOTH: ...didn't do it alone.

- OK. Room 402.

- Every time I'm in a hotel,
I keep thinking about the killers

who might be lurking
in the corridors.

- It's a dark and musty place,
your mind, isn't it?

- You have no idea.

- Oh, here they are. 6.03pm.

- OK. And Damon sent a text at...

6.17, 'Do you want another
rehearsal tonight?'

She replies she can't. He says,...

'Come on, we really need it.' And
she gives in and says, 'I'll meet
you at 7.'

- Yeah, see, but check this out.
They're ordering room service,

at 6.21pm, according to the receipt.

Side salad, pina colada,
sparkling water, chicken wrap,

cheeseburger.
- Why are they ordering food when
they're heading out to kill Isabel?

- Yeah. And also,
how did they get out?

I mean, I'm assuming that
Room 402 is on the fourth floor.

And look, nobody goes in
or out of that hotel room,

until 10 o'clock the next morning.

- There's no mention of any other
way down from the fourth floor ―

there's no open windows,
there's no fire escape.

But, by jingoes, they look guilty.

Oh, perfect.
- Can we take the little soaps?
I love the little soaps.

- No, the environment
doesn't. Cover for me,

would you?

Uh-huh.
- You know, we could have just
asked reception to let us in.

- See how long that line was?
- Non-opening windows,

and quite the drop.

Interconnecting rooms,
so they rented both rooms,

went out and back in again
through the one next door?

- I'm leaning towards
not having left at all.
- Hmm.

- Would you look at that?
Cheeseburger comes with
fries and gravy.

- Yum.
- Yeah, but not when you're
one of Cynthia's dancers ―

I mean, fries are a punishable
offence, even if you're 5 years old.

- Body-shaming bag.
- And you add a pina colada,
what have you got?

- A room-service receipt
that doesn't make much sense.

- Unless Penelope and Damon
had a visitor from next door.

Question is, who?

And I want a room
with a sweeping view.

- We have city-view rooms
or harbour-view rooms.

- Well, I wanna see the Opera House.
- Which Opera House is that?

- Theopera house ― iconic,

down by the water?
- Sydney Opera House?

You can't see that from New Zealand.

We have a Harbour Bridge.

- I prefer a mountain range.
- Sometimes,

you can see dolphins
in the harbour ―

they're quite far away,
but if you squint.

- I quite like dolphins, actually.
- So you'll take the
harbour-view room?

- I'm gonna think about it, but I
wanna commend you on being excellent
at your job.

- You're welcome.

- Again, we could have just
asked to see their bookings,

but it wouldn't have been
anywhere near as much fun.

So, who was staying in the
room next to our dancers?

- Mr B von Rothbart stayed one night,
paid in cash, didn't order any room―

- Baron Von Rothbart?

- What, who's the Baron?
Oh, it's a fake name, isn't it?

Some character from a book I haven't
read or a movie I haven't seen.

- Baron Von Rothbart is the
evil magician in Swan Lake,

otherwise known as Mr Cheeseburger
and Pina Colada.

- No luck yet?
- I'm going right back now,

because apparently the Baron
had an early check-in.

Oh, OK. Here comes someone.

- What's with the costume?
- Either someone's pranking us or...

- Wait. Pause.

Just zoom in by the boot.

Is that a cane?
- It could be.

- Cynthia.

Why would Cynthia
wanna get rid of Isabel?

And if all three of them
were in it together,

why go to the trouble
of meeting in a hotel?

- Hold the bus ―
leaving at 8 o'clock.

Gotcha.
- If he left the hotel
room at 8 o'clock,

Isabel was killed
half an hour earlier.

- Unless Harry's team
got the timing wrong.
- How long was he out for?

- Stand by.

Do you think that Damon
and Penelope hired a hitman?

- Well, maybe, but first time
I've heard of a hitman in a cape.

- Well, he used a bow and arrow ―
maybe being theatrical is his thing.

All right, here he comes.
20 past midnight.

- Where were you all those hours,
Mr Baron Von Mystery Man?

- Hmm. We know that he was
connected to Damon and Penelope.

- Send me a picture of his face ―

I love a good game of join the dots.

- Five, six, seven, eight.

Plie and straight. No, no, no, no!

Do you want to be in this class
or not? Everyone, look at Vanessa.

Vanessa. Perfect.

That's what I want.

Way to turn Vanessa
into a little monster.

Know what I'm saying?

Are you
Vanessa's mum? Yeah.

Good work

Oh, hey. Hey, Penelope.

Hi. Where's Damon?

- Not here. And he doesn't need
anyone else bothering him, and
neither do I.

- Oh, well, hang on.
I was just gonna take a sec.

Who's this?
- I've never seen him before.

- Cos he was staying in the
hotel room next to yours

the night that Isabel was murdered ―

you know, the one with
the interconnecting door?

-I don't know him. OK?

Oh, I think you do.

- Find anything out about the Baron?
- No,

but I'm guessing you did.
- Oh, babe, I only created a

whole little dossier
on Mr Augustus Burns.

- Is that even a real name?
- Yeah, it is.

I ran our image through a
facial-recognition programme, and
even though it was a little rough,

I got a match confirmed via a tiny
dip into immigration and border
control.

- So I guess Mr Burns
is not from around here.

- Nope. He's American.

Arrived in New Zealand on
the morning of the murder,

Checked into the hotel
early, as we know,

and probably had a little nap.

- And then a burger
with some dancers?

- Mm-hm. And guess what
Augustus does for a living.

- Hitman.

Oh.

Dance Academy. So the meeting was
ballet-related. Why all the secrecy?

- I'm gathering CCTV
footage from the network,

as we speak.

And what about you?
- Penelope lied to me today,

so I'm gonna be on her tail.

And I don't think it'd be very
nice to have me on your tail.

Hey.
- No, I'm on my way somewhere.

- And I'll let you go
as soon as you tell me ―

who is Augustus Burns
to you and Damon?

I know you know him.
We had a
meeting with him,

but I can't talk about it here.

- Where did he go for 3.5 hours
on the night that you guys met?

- A karaoke bar.
- By himself?

It's his thing ―
I don't know. Can I go now?

- Are you bailing on
Cynthia, Penelope ―

moving to the US to start dancing―?

- Oh, my God, can you stop?

- You're so frightened of
cane-tapping old Cynthia

finding out that you're leaving?

What do you
think she's gonna do?

What do you
think? Look at Isabel.

She was auditioning for London,
and Cynthia was oh, so supportive.

Wait.
You think Cynthia killed Isabel?

And I really
don't want to be next,

so, please, don't talk to me again.

- What Penelope says checks out ―

Augustus Burns is
living his best life,

at Bar of the Stars Karaoke Club.

- For 3.5 hours straight?
- He's having a good time in
a city where no one knows him.

I just wish there were sound.
- I don't get it.

If Penelope and Damon were moving to
Philadelphia, why go to the trouble
of killing Isabel?

Why not just leave?

Any update on the mystery
text from Damon's phone?

- Not yet.
- I guess it doesn't matter ―

it's not like he sent
them. But whoever did,

what kind of technical skills
would they have to have?
- Well, SIM jacking is a thing.

Somebody sends a spyware
programme via SMS,

the user opens it, and suddenly,
they've got a little parasite
living in their phone,

looking at messages,
listening to calls.

- I guess the moral of the
story is don't open every text.

- Well, even simpler, the attacker
can just call up your mobile provider

and have your number
transferred to their SIM.
- What?

- Yeah.
- Without answering security
questions, that'd be hard.

- Well, not if your social
media's an open book.

- All right. Trawl through Damon's.

Make sure he hasn't been bandying
his mother's maiden name around.

- OK. Poor Isabel.

She was so graceful.
- Meh, not really ― very average.

- Mean.
- Seriously. Check
it out. Bad posture.

Poor head placement, not listening
to the music ― goes on.

- To a layperson, she's good.
- Well, Cynthia's not a layperson.

So why would she think that
Isabel would stand a chance

of getting into a
London ballet company?

I've asked and asked if
you want to talk anywhere but here.

- Just relax. Cynthia's
taking the junior class.

Plus, she thinks I'm a
dance mum, so you're safe.

- It's OK, Damon. Alexa is leaving.

- Would you say that Cynthia
was particularly tech savvy?

- She runs the Academy's website,

social-media accounts ― she knows
her way around the computer.

- That's good.
- Is that it?
- So, if Cynthia killed Isabel,

why would she frame you, Damon?
- I have no idea.

- She didn't have suspicions
about the move to Philadelphia?

- No. We've been too careful.

- Just one more thing.
I've seen videos of Isabel dancing ―

not very good. And come on,
you can be honest with me ―

saying she was an average
dancer is being kind.

How come she got a chance
at London and you didn't?

- One of life's great mysteries.

- Pennie's a hundred times
the dancer Isabel was.

- Yeah, agreed. Anyone can see it.

Why couldn't Cynthia?

- Cynthia's taught us
since we were kids.

She was scary then ―
she's scarier now.

But with Isabel, she was different ―

she let her get away with...

I was gonna say murder.

- Almost like Isabel had
something over Cynthia.

- So you believe me now? She had
something to do with what happened.

- I'll get back to you on that.

- Ruby, who did your ballet
bun? Your fatheragain?

Did he watch a YouTube tutorial?

Vanessa.

News just in ―

Damon's phone was definitely
hijacked by a third-party app;

he didn't send those text messages.
- Can you tell who did?

- Not without the hijacker's device.

Cynthia's phone?
- Grace took it. She's very naughty.

- Aw, when I was a kid, I had an
imaginary friend to blame things
on too.

I'll check it out when I get back.
- From?

- The archery club has
finally let me go back.

- Ooh, hey. Take a look
at the booking system ―

see if Cynthia ever
took lessons there.

- You sure you know
all the safety rules?

- Did I not get every single
question right, Curtis?

I'm ready.

- OK. Looking good.

- Did you ever have a Cynthia
Pilkington come and practice here?

- Who?
- A mean-looking
woman with a tight bun.

She runs a ballet academy,
possibly had a cane.

- No, I never met her. There was a
woman here from a ballet school,

though. She was about
to do Swan Lake. Yeah.
- Yeah, that'd be Isabel Fray.

- Yeah, that was her. She was
really good. Hey. Down. Oi.

- Sorry. I was told that Isabel
didn't finish the course.

- Oh, the guy didn't finish ―
he'd bailed before I started here,

but Isabel carried on. She even
did a couple of extra lessons.

Then she just stopped coming.

- Well, because she died.
You must have heard about it.
- No.

- Someone is killed with a bow and
arrow, and the archery guy doesn't
hear about it?

- Will you please watch where
you are pointing that thing?

- Sorry.

It was all right.

- So, Isabel did finish
the archery course?

- According to my new
best friend, Curtis.

Well, I say best friend, but
he is slightly scared of me.

- Why would Damon and Penelope
say that she dropped out?

- Well, maybe they didn't
know that she carried on.

I don't get the feeling that
they were especially close.

Right.

- Who the heck's that?

Why, Cynthia. To what
do we owe this pleasure?

- I want my phone back, now.

- Yeah, I guess I did
accidentally pick it up, huh?

- Just like youaccidentally
found yourself in my office.

Little Vanessa saw you
coming out of there.

- Ah, so, teacher's
pet and a nark, huh?
- Sorry about the misunderstanding.

- Thank you. Oh,...

is Grace home?

- Yeah.
- No.

- I thought so. I cross-referenced
the enrolments. There is no Grace.

- Oh, there are at
least three Graces.

But no Grace Crowe.

What sort of twisted game are you
playing? What is wrong with you?

- Look, I just don't like bullies,
all right? And those kids are
little.

- If they don't like it,
they don't have to be there.

And if I see you at
my academy ever again,

I will call the police.

You're a thief
and a liar. Stay away.

- Well, I've been called worse.
- Yeah, that was
relatively tame, considering.

- And one has to ask, why didn't she
go to the police in the first place?

- Hmm.

- So, you enrolled a fake child
and turned up to a ballet class?

- She even had props.

- I think I'm finally
lost for words.

- Took Cynthia three lessons
to figure it out, so...
- Wow. You're a genius.

- And it got me into Cynthia
and the school's statement,

so I'm with you ― genius.

- That's why I married her.
- Ooh, this is interesting.

- Please tell me you found that
third-party SIM-jacking app.

- No, but looking at
the academy's accounts,

here are Isabel's class fees.

See here and here?

- $2000, $2000...

and another $2000 from...

Ian Fray.
- Hmm.
- That's Isabel's dad.

- With advanced dementia.
- What, do you think she'd
steal from her own father?

- Or Cynthia is and
Isabel found out.

- I think it's time
we cast a wider net.

- Thank you, girls.
That was excellent.

Thank
you, Mrs Pilkington.

- Did I not make myself
absolutely clear yesterday?

Iwillcall the police.
- Cynthia, I'm with the police.

I'm helping them with their inquiries
into the murder of Isabel Fray.

Rubbish.

What sort of police officer would
invent a child, and then steal
from the tutor?

- One who retired a few years ago
and does things a little differently.

Now, why were you letting a very
average dancer like Isabel Fray

audition for a big
London dance company?

Now, either you can't spot talent,

or it has something to do with
the huge amounts of money that
Isabel's father,

Ian, was giving your academy.

- There is nothing illegal,
or even immoral,

about receiving generous donations.

- Donations or bribes?

- Excuse me?
- We both know that you
have an excellent reputation,

despite the bullying
of small children.

And we both know that
Isabel Fray couldn't dance.

- All right, all right.

Things haven't been easy.

My academy has been in financial
trouble for quite some time ―

rising overheads,
falling enrolments.

Isabel... offered a way out.

- Well, things must have been tough,

if you'd put your name on the line
for a dancer who's nowhere near
international level.

- I never imagined it would go that
far. I thought she'd give up ― move
on to the next thing.

- Well, what gave you that idea?
- Her sister said so.

She found out about
the father's gifts.

She came to see me.

- And she was angry about the money?

- No, not at all.
She agreed it was harmless enough,

to humour Isabel's dream
until she tired of it.

- Harmless?

Isabel ended up dead.

- I may not have been happy going
along with that ridiculous farce,

but I had nothing to do with
that poor deluded girl's death.

Isabel didn't deserve
what happened to her.

And I don't deserve
to lose my academy.

- Now things are still difficult?
- It's improving.

Isabel's family is donating
a generous scholarship,

in honour of her memory.

- It's good of them.

This is your dad?

- On one of his good days.
See, he's even smiling.

- You're doing a marvellous job.

Thanks.

Isabel always had him wrapped
around her little finger.

- Mm.
- So, yes, it concerned me,

that Cynthia was taking advantage
of her desperation to be a star.

- And Isabel was taking advantage
of your dad's illness?

- Oh, even if he wasn't ill,

he still would have given
that money to the school.

Izzy would have asked, he would have
said yes ― that's the way it always
was.

- Right.

Is this, uh, Queenstown?
- Uh, Ruapehu.

Actually, we have
a ski chalet there.

- Looks like skiing was
a passion you both shared.

- Ever since we were kids.

Shall we?

- So, I hear you're donating a
scholarship to the ballet academy.

- The Isabel Fray Memorial.
I'm presenting it tonight.
- Aw. That's nice.

So you don't hold
anything against Cynthia, huh?
- Why ― should I?

You don't think Cynthia had
something to do with my sister
dying?

- No, no, no, she... she wouldn't
have any reason to get rid of a
cash cow, right?

- So then we're back to Damon, who
sent her those messages that night.

I mean, how hard can it be, Alexa?
- Well, actually,

the messages weren't
sent from his phone.

- The police got that wrong?

- His phone was hijacked
by a third-party app.

But digital forensics are
working to track the app,

so that should point us
in the right direction.
- Well, good.

- Yeah. Really good.
- Oh, sorry.

Oh, I should get this. Um, still
looking for a caregiver for Dad.

- Yeah, sure. Of course.
I'll see myself out.

OK.

- Izzy? Is that you?

- Oh. Ian. No.
I'm, uh... I'm Alexa Crowe.

- It's time for our walk.

- Well, I'll get, uh, Caitlin for―

- I want Isabel. Where is the girl?

Izzy!
- Is everything. OK, Dad?

- Isabel was gonna
take me for a walk.

- I can do that.
- To the lake.

- Wherever you wanna go.

Thanks, Alexa.
- Sure. Nice to meet you, Ian.

See you again, eh?

- You're the older one.

- That's right. It's Caitlin, Dad.

- Can we feed the swans?

- How's the deep dive
going into Ian's accounts?

Any other big fantasies
he's financing?

- Well, the family trust owns
their home, a house on Waiheke,

a large yacht. Oh, and they just
purchased a ski chalet at the
mountain.

- Just purchased ―
haven't they always had one?

Caitlin said they went skiing,
even as kids, religiously.

- Well, maybe they stayed in lodges.

Oh, this is interesting.
When Ian was diagnosed,

she got power of attorney.
- Caitlin?

- No, Isabel.

- Not Caitlin, the more
responsible, older one?
- No, it's definitely Isabel.

And look at how much cash went in
just after she took over. She must
have sold off somethingmassive.

- Could they have another property
that she could have flicked off?

- I'll see what I can find out.
- Oh.

I think I might know what it was.

- Are you gonna share?
Where are you off to now?

- I'm going for a walk.

- Excuse me. Excuse me.
No feeding the...

Itisyou.

- Hi. Um, I brought this for you.

You know, I wanted to make up for
that unfortunate accident last week,

and to thank you for
all the hard work you do,

hauling trash out of the lake.

Thank you.

- There was a mannequin
in there the other day.
- No!

- Full size. Gave me a hell of a
fright when I grabbed that thing
by the hand.

- I bet.

What do you do with all this stuff
afterwards? Do you, like, stash it
someplace?

- Not the mannequin ― gave me
the heebie-jeebies, you know,

just staring at me.

But everything else, yes ― until I
can get the powers that be to come
and take it away.

- Can I take a look?

- Sure.

Madison.
- I showed the archery instructor
the pictures of Isabel.

I may have traumatised him.
We forget that normal people
aren't used to autopsy pics.

- And?
- He'd never seen
Isabel Fray before in his life.

But you knew that
already, didn't you?

- Thanks, Mads.

Caitlin, you off to
the family ski chalet?

- I, uh, finally found
a caregiver for Dad.

I think I deserve a little
break after everything.

- Well, it's a lovely ski chalet.
- It is. We're lucky to have it.

- Lucky? I dunno ― you paid a
good whack for it, didn't you?

To get it back after Isabel sold it.

- It was a silly decision she made.

I told you what she was like ―
an adorable flake.

- An adorable flake with power of
attorney over your father's affairs ―

gosh, that had to hurt.

- Isabel was dad's main caregiver.

It made sense.

- But she sold the
family ski chalet ―

I mean, your happy place.

You only got her back after she died.

- My sister had just...

I saw that the chalet was back
on the market, and I, um...

and I bought it.
- Now, that's a lie.

You see, I talked to
the people who bought it.

And they said that you
actively sought them out,

offered them a lot of money to, uh,

buy it privately.

- What is this about, Alexa? What
are you doing, wasting your time
here,

when you haven't even caught the
person that killed my sister?

- Oh, I think I have.

And we both know it.

I'mmeant to have shot my sister,

with a bow and arrow, of all things?

- I know.

See, Isabel did lessons, but Damon
said she never finished the course.

- Sounds about right.
- And the archery instructor, Curtis,

he was new to the club.

Which was handy for you.

You took over your sister's
abandoned classes,

and no one knew that
you'd ever been there.

Curtis says you're
quite talented at archery.

Isabel was blowing all this money on

her endless fantasies, even bribing
a ballet company for a fancy audition

when she wasn't that good.

- I don't care about money.

In case you haven't noticed,
we have plenty of it.

- Yeah, it's not about money.

It's about resentment.

Deep resentment.

Years of watching your father indulge
every silly dream your sister had,

while you worked hard, held things
together after your mother died,

when he got sick.

And then Isabel,
that flighty fantasist,

convinced your father to
hand over the reins to her

and not to you.

- Really, Alexa,
this is the best you can do?

- Almost. Stay with me,...

because this...

really helps.

Bet you never thought
you'd see this again.

Unfortunately for you,
the park ranger's really,

really precious about
what goes into his pond.

So that night, you used the
third-party app you'd researched

to hijack Damon's phone

and get Isabel to the studio.

You said you'd watch your dad, but
you also knew he wouldn't notice
if you slipped out for a bit.

And he certainly wouldn't remember.

You must have really hated
her, your own sister.

You shot her in the back ― twice.

And left her there to die.

You went to Swan Lake.

You dropped this into the pond,

and you went home to Daddy.

- She was selfish.

She took and took and took.

She sold our ski chalet.
I don't even know why.

She did ridiculous things
over and over again,

and everybody loved her for it.

I ― I was the boring one ―

everyone said so.
What about my success?

I started a business.
I actually achieved something,

and all they could talk about
was her ― cute little Lizzie,
with her...

her ballet and her deejaying...

and her marathon running
and her surfing.

God, you have no idea
what it was like.

- Well, something tells me you're not
gonna be the boring one any more,

Caitlin.

Let's see what you got, Katniss.

- The bull's-eye. Here we go.

Argh!
- Ooh. Do you have
something in your eye or...?

- It's actually really hard, Harry.
- Is it?
- Yeah.

- Giz a go.
- All right.

You made it look really hard.

OK. It's all about your stance
and making sure that you...

You're kidding me, right?

- She's totally done this before.
- Yeah.

- No, not for decades.

- Oh!
- OK.
- Oh I really hate you.

- But I return hate with love.
- Oh, did you hear that?
She said she loves me.

- That was the L-word.
She says she loves me.

My turn, my turn, my turn.
- All right.
- Do it.

- See what this guy's got.
- OK. Talk me through this,
Madison. Stance, right?

Stance.

- What?!
- Whoo! And it hits the bullseye
too! That was really quite good.

Not bad.

- There's a certain joy in
delivering parcels and letters
that people really want.

The moment when the recipient
receives it, the expression
on their face.

I mean, it makes all
the road rage worth...

- Your mum's getting married?
- Got married two weeks ago.

- Wait. You didn't go.
- Good noticing.

- Come on. What, are you gonna
make me guess what your problem is?

- I'm a businesswoman ― I kill
the competition, not people.

- No, no, that's not
good. That's rude.
- No!

Translated?

- No!