All language subtitles for S02E05 Murder a la Mode

You. We need to talk.

I know what you've been doing.
I know everything. The game is up.

(Groans)

(Whimpers)

(Chokes)

Paper!

What do you think?

It's magnificent.

- Miss Fisher?
- Oh. Thank you.

I like this dress even better now.

Miss Williams?

- Thank you.
- Ah, Mademoiselle Fisher, I do apologise.

We've been trying to finish a ball gown
for Lady Archdale.

Ah, 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.

Oh, fox. Nothing like it.

In a very beautifully cut suit, Dot.

Very smart.

(Woman screams)

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

Call the police.

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 all right?

I'm having trouble breathing.

Aubrey?

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.
- Hm.

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 colour. 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.

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 jewellery when she arrived?

Er... 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 colour were they?

I'm not certain,
but I know they picked up on her frock.

I was pressing it
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.

Ah.

Some lovely lingerie, but not a pearl in sight.

Excuse me, Constable.

Oh.

It's elegant with a twist, wouldn't you say?

Hm? Sorry?

No, 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.

Ohh!

- You might need me, Collins.
- Sorry, sir.

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.

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.

- (Click)
- No!

Just testing.

Mrs. Wilde and her husband
were on the sofa in the lounge.

I could tell you that, Inspector.

But I'd 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.

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 surprised your gloomy photographs

replaced some of our
glorious colour 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.

That's highly inappropriate for you
to be discussing the state of our business,

in the midst of this tragedy.

Wait, Madame.

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 go now, please, 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.

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.

It looks like the pleats were the problem.

Ohh!

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.

Oi.

You 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. 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?

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's likely to know their worth.
It's probably the motive for murder.

If someone wanted to steal pearls, they wouldn't
need to murder someone with a hairclip 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 bits that wafted when she moved...
when it moved, when the dress moved.

That doesn't mean I didn't like your suit.

What colour was my blouse?

Your blouse that...

I wore underneath my suit. What colour was it?

Mm. It was...

...like a...

I think I'll wait for Miss Fisher in the car.

Dottie, I...

(Door opens and closes)

Frances was demanding I dismiss Genevieve.

Your house model?

Genevieve Lemaire has French heritage

and has modelled 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.

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.

Oh.

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?

Huh. 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 modelling...

...which surprised me considering he had
no reservations about the age of his wife.

Lady Archdale's ball gown.

If you don't allow Madame Fleuri to reopen,
it may never be realised.

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.

Oh, yeah.

- This 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.

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.

The touch of soft fox...

...the slither of a satin skin.

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 the 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.

Ah, sir. The cancelled cheque
in Mrs. Wilde's handbag.

Was the bank any help?

Yes, they told me it was issued
to a real estate agent in Fitzroy.

He wasn't very happy
when the bank refused to honour 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 cheque.

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 er...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.

You're not happy with the suit?

Oh, no, the suit is perfectly lovely.

So, what, 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 an silk instead.

Perhaps something for day wear,
not too showy, just...

- More a la mode, perhaps.
- Modern?

You mean a dress with gimmicks
that wax and wane?

A woman must know her style.

Style is what endures, and your style,
Miss Williams...

...is a suit.

- Only me.
- Miss Fisher, I'm sorry.

I...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.

(Clears throat)

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.

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.

Maybe 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 Cruise Salon of Beauty.

It's an awful business.

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 FIeuri's salon, Mrs. Tippet?

Oh...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 jewellery

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 Cruise.

I'm one of their oldest customers.

So I haven't telephoned to 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 realise 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 prét-a-porter salon.

Aubrey and I planned
to become business partners.

Did you know Mrs. Wilde
had cancelled Aubrey's cheque?

- Did either of you confront her?
- No.

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 you were going to spend
significant amounts of her money...

That was a joint cheque 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.

All right!

All right. Yes, all right.

I was in the sewing room
when my wife was murdered.

- And I have a witness.
- Who?

FIeuri'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?

(Gasps)

What's wrong with you, mate?

- Here, let me give you a hand.
- I didn't see you!

Thank you.

- Are you OK?
- I...I think so.

- Your packages.
- Thank you.

Oh, I didn't... I didn't see you.

- I'm sorry.
- That's all right.

You were meant to follow Violet
to the post office to see where she sent it.

- You weren't meant to steal the package.
- It fell into our laps.

Well, it evidently 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 er...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.

Yes.

There are three of them, all the same.

These are exact copies of our design,
with modernisations 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 under lock and key and I keep
the patterns at my home. This is all a disaster.

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.

Your car is waiting, Madame.

Madame Fleuri,
do you know a Mr. and Mrs. Mex?

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?

Must be.

Thank you.

So... What's your favourite 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 favourite.

So I go to all that trouble,
and you like me best in a maids 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.

(Thudding from inside the room)

(Clattering)

(Footsteps, door closes)

(Footsteps on stairs)

(Door handle rattles)

(Car engine, tyres screech)

Is that who I think it is?

Afraid so, sir.

Oh. 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.

What's going on?
Why do you need to question Renee again?

It's all right, 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?

- With your own sister?
- 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.

But Frances was always going to favour you.

Mesdames, please.

Violet is gone. How can 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.

Rosebuds.

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?

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.

Here, 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 Galeries Molyneux.

Those dresses are our second sample range.

Seems Galeries Molyneux
were very happy with the first

and were 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.

- 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 Cruise 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 jewellery.

I think we might have a closer look
at Salon Fleuris disgruntled clients.

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 of them 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 sawed Lady Granger.

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.

Well, 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.

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 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: Where did you send Dot and Mr. Butler?
- (Drink poured)

Daylesford, of course.
I always lie as little as possible.

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.

- Er... 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.

(Continues ringing)

- So, what else do you have in there?
- I should put you on rations.

(Window opened)

Visitors.

JACK: I'm going after them.
- I'll take the back stairs.

(Gasps)

(Groans)

(Both cry out)

(Door handle rattles)

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.

All you needed was a way to smuggle
such distinctive jewellery out of the country.

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 had happened to Frances.

What kind of greed leads
to the killing of two innocent women?

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.

You. The game is up.

(Groans)

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.

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.

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.

(Mumbles)

But...I will always love the glamour
and attention of Salon Fleuri.

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.

Thank you so much for coming.

(Chatter)

(Laughter)

Wearing the first piece
in our forthcoming pret-a-porter range -

an affordable evening gown
for the modern young woman -

Miss Dorothy Williams.

LADIES: Oh! Oh!

(Low conversation)

- What do you think, Collins?
- 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.

(Light applause)

How gloriously modern.

Oh, yes, at House de Fleuri,
we aim to be "tres moderne".

And next, in a classically elegant
couture-designed gown, Miss Phryne Fisher.

(Gasps of admiration)

LADIES: Oh!

(Low conversation)

(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.

Nightcap?

Perhaps another time.

At a less dangerous hour...

in a less...lethal dress.

♪ JIMMY JOHNSON & HIS ORCHESTRA:
You've Got To Be Modernistic

♪ When you start to play modernistic

♪ Don't be getting too theoristic

♪ Just keep it up realistic

♪ Cos it's the one and the only rhythm

♪ If you wanna be modernistic

♪ Why you gotta be optimistic

♪ Next you're gonna be characteristic

♪ Modernistic, that's all

♪ Because it's the one and the only rhythm

♪ And next you're gonna be characteristic

♪ Modernistic, that's all

♪ Modernistic

♪ That's all. ♪