All language subtitles for S02E06 Marked For Murder

(Water running)

(Rowdy conversation)

MAN: What a win!

Cheers!

Abbotsford, let's hear it for the lads!

(Cheering)

Hey, give us an autograph?

Get that into you, Vince.

What's happened to your Captain?
Still off the booze?

- Get down.
- (Barks)

- Coach.
- How are ya, mate?

Coach. Where's our captain?

I left him to lock up the sheds.

Still mucking around with his health remedies
and his bloody cold water treatments?

As long as it helps him with his game.

You're the vice captain.
You make sure they have a good time.

(Glass is tapped)

And the winner of the esteemed...

Call the bloody number, Bert!

Number 27.

(Groaning)

Hang on. That's me.

- Go at it, Frank!
- (Cheering)

Told you I could get it.

- Well done, Coach.
- Last drinks, lads, and no hoarding!

Right-o, you lot.

This isn't funny.

Which one of you jokers
has pinched my lucky hat?

It's not just a hat, Miss Fisher. It's Coach
Maclean's hat he wears to every game.

Miss Fisher, is it? Joe Maclean.

Any idea who might have taken your hat?

Someone who plugs for the opposition.

- West Melbourne.
- Come inside.

We'll have a chat.
I'll pull them out of fitness training.

They look fit enough to me.

Get the ball.

Bloody Harry forgot to lock it again.
You don't know how many times I've told him.

Superstitious lot, I'm afraid, footy players.

Harry!

- Don't touch him.
- But it's Harry the Hangman, the Team Captain!

It's those West Melbourne bastards did this.
I say we go and burn down their rooms!

West Melbourne finally took the Hangman
back into the fold. It's an evil bloody joke!

- He was hanged with a West scarf!
- There'll be no violence.

Anyone taking things into their own hands
will be arrested and charged.

- That means you, Pat O'Farrell.
- Yeah?

You probably barrack for West Melbourne,
Inspector!

- Abbotsford is my team as well, Mr. Johnson.
- And mine too.

So if you'd all like to go home,
we can get on with our investigation.

- Where is he?
- Celia, don't go in there.

Please tell me what happened.

Mrs. Harper? Inspector Robinson.

I think it's best if you go home
and we'll come by and speak with you privately.

Lads, take her home, would ya?

Harry wouldn't want her left alone.

Sort it out, copper, or we will.

A football ground, Miss Fisher?

The last place I'd expect to find you.

I watched my first match
from my father's shoulders, Jack.

- Collingwood supporter?
- Lapsed.

Since Collingwood versus Carlton, 1910.

1910? But your team won.

Admittedly, some of the worst fighting ever seen
on a football field. Is that what put you off?

You know me better than that, Jack.

Why exactly are you here, Miss Fisher?

- She's here to help recover my hat.
- Your lucky hat?

Stolen last night. That's a West Melbourne scarf.

They might as well have put up a sign.

I can understand the opposition
stealing a lucky charm, but murder?

That mob would do anything to see us go down.

Why are his wrists taped?

Injury.

Unusual to have both taped, though,
and there's bruising to the back of the head.

He copped a blow at training yesterday, sir,
from Barlow.

What about the soles of his feet?

What about them?

Well, you should take a closer look. It's strange.

You have your brief to get on with, Miss Fisher,
and I have mine.

Amazing what football does to a man.

Blisters. Some kind of burns.

Hey, Pat, here comes one of them.

Wests are only sour because we won the first
clash of the season. This is revenge, lads.

Heard the news?

- Rubbing your hands, are ya?
- Come on, just because I'm a Wests man.

You're a traitor
to the suburb you were born in, Cec.

But I'm a good son to my mum.

She was born at West Melbourne, so...

PHRYNE: Good morning!

- Didn't realise you were called in on this case.
- I called her in.

To find Coach Maclean's lucky hat.
One of your mob's stolen it.

We wouldn't stoop that low.
Besides, we were in our clubhouse all night.

Oh, yeah!

You two do realise I won't be taking sides?

Who would ya? You were born in Collingwood.

Gibbs.

- Neville.
- Hello, Joe.

Here to rub it in, are you?

No, I'm here to offer my condolences.

It's a damn tragedy.

Mr. Gibbs. Saved us a trip.

Perhaps you'd like to speak with us inside?

Certainly.

What a cheek!

Nev Gibbs? He's no stranger to tragedy, Bert.

- In what way?
- He's a widower.

Lost his wife when he started coaching West,
right?

Then a couple of years ago, his daughter dies.
He doesn't miss a beat.

We almost won the flag that year.

Not even close!

You said the hat was taken from the clubrooms.

Well, how could a West Melbourne fan
infiltrate without being noticed?

Good question, miss.

There was that kid hanging around,
asking for autographs.

I thought she looked suspicious.
Dressed like a boy.

Dressed like a boy?

Cheeky. About 16, 17.

Think it's our orange girl.

Where could we find this tomboy, Cec?

- If get my hands on her...
- If Bert lays a finger on her, I'll drop the case.

West Melbourne. Fruit market.

No, anyone could have used that,
not just one of us.

There are hundreds of them out there.

Still, Harry Harper doesn't have many friends
at West Melbourne, does he?

He deserted...

...moved on to another club.

Now, no one likes that.

But they wouldn't kill him for it.

Harper was a gifted player
but not everyone enjoyed his tactics.

Or his reputation.

He had an eye for the ladies, all right.

But why would someone from the West
use their own club scarf to kill him?

It would just bring grief and suspicion
on the whole club.

Cover of the crowd.

I'm still gonna want to talk to your blokes.

They're not going anywhere.
We've got a game to play.

But you might want to talk to Harper's
team-mates as well.

Plenty of people closer to home,
unlike your man here,

happy to have a go at Harper.

Now, I'll say g'day, gentlemen.

- I wasn't having a go, sir.
- We need to set aside our allegiances, Collins.

This is a murder enquiry, not a footy match.

Sir, your wife - your previous wife, sir.

Jack, we just heard. What a terrible thing.

Rosie. I thought you'd returned
to the West Melbourne fold.

Yes, Father would have loved that,

but unfortunately for him,
Sidney's a fervent Abbotsford man.

Another one.

Jack.

Harry Harper was a brilliant player.

He was a good bloke, too.

He worked in shipping, didn't he?

Managing one of my warehouses,
after he left West Melbourne.

Rosie and I have become quite close
to both the Harpers.

Celia must be shattered, poor thing.

Oh, and if you happen to see
our favourite deputy commissioner,

no need to mention we were here.

Father couldn't take any more antagonising.

Cheerio, now.

So Deputy Commissioner Sanderson's
a West Melbourne fan, sir?

Rabid, Collins. Life member.

We'll have to tread carefully.

MAN: Jonathan apples,
one shilling six pence a bushel.

Cabbages, cauliflowers...

Half a dozen oranges, please.

One more.

If you insist.

But you can keep the change.

Is that more than you were paid for the hat?

I don't have the faintest idea what...

Have you heard about Harry Harper?

Yeah, the Hangman?

What about him?

Found dead in the locker rooms last night.

Well, I never liked him.
He was a traitor to the West.

I think Abbotsford have enough
going against them

without the coach losing his lucky hat
as well, don't you?

And the police will be looking very closely
at everyone at the clubrooms last night,

especially anyone with a motive to knock off
Abbotsford's Captain.

Whatever you think I did, I did it for all of us that
love West Melbourne, not for a rotten pound.

I have a witness who can identify you.

If you don't cooperate,
I'll take you to the police myself.

If I tell you who it was, he'll kill me.

A description will do.

(Whistles)

All right, we're on.

That's right. Stan Baines took the Hangman
under his wing at West,

then as soon as he becomes their shining star,

the Hangman deserts his team-mates
and joins West's arch enemy, us.

- Because Gibbs never let him off his leash.
- It's the man's character.

Why do you think he was called The Hangman?

- The amount of time he could hang in the air.
- Or the heads he almost took off.

He was out for himself.

That's what made him so invincible in the field.
I think you're wrong...

Sir.

Sorry, sir.

Harper carried a guilty conscience.

That's why he went soft every time
he went up against his old team-mates.

That didn't stop him in the first game. Harper
and Baines had that punch on on the field,

and then Harper ripped through him
throughout the whole second half.

A feat Harry Harper won't be repeating.

I want to talk to his old team-mates.

Dark hair, big shoulders?
Could be half a dozen West Melbourne blokes.

Or Abbotsford blokes getting back
at Coach Maclean.

He was always blueing with his players.
Like Harry Harper.

He wasn't above the odd set-to
with his own coach.

You can't speak ill of the dead.
Players and coaches argue all the time.

Half time, boys.

Poppy? Another crumb?

Gold front tooth.

- Has to be him.
- Who?

Stan Baines.

Coach Gibbs dedicated the first match
of the season to the dear departed.

Harry thought we were trying
to put the wind up him.

- And were you?
- No.

Gibbs meant his kid who'd passed on...

Myra.

How did you feel about him leaving
West Melbourne?

Bloody angry.

But you know why I wouldn't rub him out?

I wanted to make my 300.

And I wanted my last day on the field
to be against Harry.

(Door opens)

Inspector, sorry to interrupt.

Stan Baines, Captain for West Melbourne.

Delighted to meet you.

Miss Fisher.

Lady Detective.

If I might have a word
about Joe Maclean's lucky hat?

Is this a joke?

Harry Harper's dead and you're worried
about his coach's flea-bitten old cap?

JACK: You're here about Harper's death.
Answer the questions.

Do you know a young woman called Poppy
Brown, West supporter, runs a fruit barrow?

Maybe.

She confessed to the theft
under heavy interrogation,

but she refused to name the man who paid her.

What is this?

She your fullback?

I like the sound of that.

- Excuse me, sir.
- Yes?

Deputy Commissioner Sanderson's here,
with Coach Gibbs.

Neville Gibbs telephoned me,
complaining of police harassment.

He tells me you've brought Stan Baines in.

Now, he can't be a suspect in this murder,
surely?

It seemed worth a chat with him, sir,
given the pair's history.

Have you turned up any hard evidence?

A West Melbourne scarf
was found at the crime scene.

I said hard evidence.
Anyone could have planted that.

But I can't rule out Baines yet.

Jack, Stan Baines is still a popular player
with West fans.

Now, if word gets out
that you are an Abbotsford man

and you are harassing him unnecessarily...

it's you who will be suspect.

We're not holding Baines, Mr. Gibbs.

He's told us what we need to know
and he's free to go.

- Good.
- For the moment.

- (Clamouring outside)
- Why'd you do it, Baines?

- Get off me, you bastard!
- Let him through!

Let them through!

We're down our best man, Gibbs,
but we'll fight back.

You're gonna pay for this, pal!

Stay back!

Bloody hell.

Stan Baines took it, you reckon?

Yeah, well, it doesn't surprise me.

- Bless you.
- Thank you.

Do you know why Harry Harper
left West Melbourne to come across to you?

Baines wouldn't let him spread his wings.

And Gibbs wasn't on top of a thing
because he'd had a bad trot.

First his wife died, then his kid,
one after the other.

So, moving to Abbotsford
solved all Harry Harper's problems?

Seems so.
He married Celia, won the captaincy.

Only got the willies
when we played West Melbourne

and he ended up one-on-one with Baines.

(Sneezes)

Bless you.

Thank you, Bert.

So what will happen now
that you've lost your captain?

- Vince Barlow will have to step up.
DOT: He's the vice captain.

He was full forward, in line for the captaincy,

before Harry Harper
moved across to Abbotsford.

Hugh, he's my beau, explained it all to me.

- Abbotsford man, is he?
- Very much, sir.

Yeah, well, you've chosen well.

Yeah, we'll have to shuffle a few of the lads,

but nothing's gonna fill the hole Harry's left.

Telephone, miss. The Inspector.

I'm off, anyway.

Come on, Scotty. Come on. Come on.

Thank you, for this.

And the tea.

And if you could tell the Inspector,
any developments, I'd appreciate a nod.

Of course.

Lucky I didn't tell him
you're a West Melbourne girl.

Until you hook up Hugh Collins, that is.

If Hugh marries me,
I don't see why I should convert.

No choice.
He'll want to take his kids to the game.

I'll divide them up, just like my mum did.

Girls for the West, and boys for Abbotsford.

It's people like you
who bring footy clubs down, Dottie!

(Clears throat)

I was just looking at his tattoo.

You've seen it before.

Well, my case is closed.

The hat is back where it belongs
and Coach Maclean is grateful.

Full marks. But it won't win me any points
with the Deputy Commissioner.

It's very bad luck that his daughter
found herself another Abbotsford man.

Sidney Fletcher won't be winning
any points with him, either.

Let's talk about Harry Harper's feet.

- The burns are third degree.
- Really?

- Which doesn't make any sense.
- No.

We got the water back up to full heat,
but even then it wasn't enough to burn skin.

And his feet were hanging off the ground.
It's a conundrum. What about cause of death?

We're still waiting on the full autopsy

but preliminary examination points
to strangulation, no broken neck.

But these marks indicate a rope.

If it was a rope that killed him,
how did he come to be hanging by a scarf?

Assuming we're dealing with a suicide,
Harper throws a rope...

- Yet to be found.
- ties it off at the tap,

climbs up, kicks the stool out...

hangs himself.

Badly. Slowly suffocating
instead of snapping his own spine.

Why was the hot water running?

That's odd.

Especially because Maclean's
big on cold water treatments all winter.

Toughens up the players.

Sounds hideous.

If he kicked out with his feet...

.turning the taps on by accident...

Or perhaps it was whoever it was
that swapped the rope for the scarf.

Someone strong enough to haul him up again.

Or smart enough to attach the scarf first,
then release the rope.

All right.

Manly strength versus womanly intelligence.

Who would want to make a suicide
look like a murder?

And why would Harry Harper,
a man at the peak of his football career,

want to Kill himself in the first place?

No, I don't believe it.

Harry had too much fight in him.

You're wrong.

Even if Harry Harper died by his own hand,
someone interfered with the body afterwards.

Why?

That's another mystery we're trying to solve.

What were you doing last night, Mr. Maclean?

Me?

Where were you?

I was here at the clubrooms, having a drink
with the lads after training, from about six.

Until when?

After ten,
after I gave up looking for my bloody hat!

And you are wasting your time!

Harry Harper was murdered
by West Melbourne.

And I will continue to interview people from both
clubs, Mr. Maclean, until I've solved this case.

Joe Maclean was at the clubrooms last night
but we still need to verify the times.

Bert was there. He could help.

Maclean was no help at all
with Harry Harper's state of mind?

Refuses to even entertain
the possibility of suicide.

- And I'm with him, sir.
- Collins...

Looks like I'll have to raise it
with Harper's widow.

You said she was staying with your...wife.

- Former...
- Your former...wife.

Yes.

And her fiancé.

Potentially awkward.

But then, what's awkward,
compared to dying naked in the shower

with the opposition's scarf around your throat?

Besides, you have me on your team.

♪ I'm looking over a four-leafed clover

♪ That I overlooked before

Whatever kind of shipping Mr. Fletcher
dabbles in must be doing very nicely.

Oh, it's Jack.

I thought it was Father.
It's that policeman's knock. It just...

We've come to speak with Mrs. Harper.

Oh.

And of course, Miss Fisher.

- Miss Sanderson.
- Please, call me Rosie.

Likewise. Phryne.

Is this a good time?

Yes. I've just come to help Sidney with
preparations for Harry's service this afternoon.

Please.

CELIA: I know that he struggled
after he left West Melbourne.

He was branded a traitor.

But after that, things improved.

Thanks to your help, Sidney.

I don't know what either of us
would have done without your support.

Don't be silly. Offering him a job
was the least I could do. Jack?

Miss Fisher?

Yes, I've always admired him
for his ability to play football

and surprisingly, a good head for business.

So Harry wasn't in any kind of financial trouble?

Not that I know of, though I'm...

I'm sure there were things
that Harry didn't share with me.

I'm sorry. Excuse me.

Oh, poor Celia.

Were Celia and Harry happy together,
do you think?

They'd only been married a couple of years.

I think they had a perfectly good marriage.

Celia said they were planning a cruise
to the continent at the end of the season.

- Sounds romantic.
- I thought so.

So this service you're holding today...

SIDNEY: Yes, it's for the team as much as Celia.

We just hope the newspapers will stay away.

Mm.

Jack? We know you want to solve this case.

I mean, we all want that.

But it would be so much easier for Celia
if there weren't a police presence.

Of course.

I assume you never took Rosie
on a continental cruise.

No, but I did take her to
Mrs. Moller's Holiday Cottages at Lorne.

Excellent choice.

Rosie seemed very quick to defend
Celia and Harry's marriage.

And what did Celia mean,
the things Harry never shared with her?

I'm sure you'll try and find out at his memorial
service while I keep my police presence away.

Don't sulk, Jack.
I'm sure the Deputy Commissioner's not invited.

Besides, you may need to visit a travel agent.

Where did you souvenir that?

Vince Barlow's locker.

Looks like somebody else
was planning a sea voyage.

Phryne Fisher.
I didn't know you were an Abbotsford supporter.

It's a fledgling interest.

What are you hoping to find here?

Vince Barlow seems very attentive.

If you're looking for a scarlet woman,
I think you'll find you'll be disappointed.

I'd never presume to judge a woman
on the basis of her morals.

I'm only trying to solve a murder case.

I thought you and Jack suspected suicide.

I don't think Harper's the type.

I'd have to agree with you there...

purely on a basis of intuition.

Intuition or observation.

Sometimes one becomes the other.

A gesture, a little too intimate?

You suspect Vincent of harming Harry?

People usually kill for love or money.

Celia did ask my advice.

About what?

Uh...divorce.

But I don't think she had any plans
on going through with it.

MAN: What's Baines doing?

What's Baines doing here?

I've come to pay my respects.

Despite everything, we were team-mates.

This is for Harry.

Mrs. Harper.

Get him out of here.

You have a bloody cheek turning up here.
You should not have come here!

Get out of my way!

You've got no shame.
Go before we throw you out!

Celia. Celia!

What is it you're accusing me of?

I don't know what else to think.

I would have waited.
I would have suffered for you.

But everything's different now.
This is my chance.

Get your hands off me!

Stanley! I thought it was you. We need to talk.

He's onto us.

Oi!

What are you doing here?

Bloody hypocrite. Your lot killed Harry.

This is Abbotsford's turf, mate.

You don't know the half of it, O'Farrell.

Come back and finish the fight, Baines!

Come on, you coward!

JACK: Did The Hangman know
you and Celia were lovers?

Harry was a useless husband,
and didn't give a damn about Celia.

He didn't give two hoots about the other women,
either.

All he cared about was the game, nothing else.

Not his team, not other people...
and certainly not his marriage.

You and Celia Harper have tickets booked
for the end of the season

on the Halcyon Sky cruise ship,

in adjoining cabins.

I checked with King and Co.

Celia was asking Harry for a divorce,
so there was no need to get him out of the way.

Vincent and I wouldn't have done
anything to disrupt the game.

Like go on a cruise together?

You have to understand.

Harry was too wrapped up in his own problems
to have any time for me.

He never got over
making the move to Abbotsford.

Wasn't it his decision?

He was only considering it.

And then Sidney Fletcher offered him that job
on the docks, with the house as well, and ...

A house?

But there's something else you should know.

- Something Harry said the night before he died.
- Go on.

(Door opens)

Where's Inspector Robinson?

I'll just tell him you're here,
Deputy Commissioner.

We need to settle things down
on the streets, Jack.

If we don't sort out this case before the match
on Saturday, we will have a riot on our hands.

Did you know Sidney Fletcher
bought the Harpers a house?

I have heard the rumours.

Then you must know
Harper worked for Fletcher.

If you have enough money,
you can buy anything you want.

So Fletcher bribed Harper to swap teams?

I didn't say that.

Have you charged Barlow yet?

At this point, he's only helping us with enquiries.

Then hold him overnight.

I'm not sure I can justify that.

Jack, at least if you've got someone in custody,
we can keep a lid on this unrest.

Just till the morning.

That is evidence and you are not police.

And may I suggest
that you make yourself scarce, Miss Fisher?

A suggestion's not the same as an order, is it?

Not in my book.

Does Mrs. Harper have an alibi
for the night her husband died?

Yes, and I just found out.

According to Celia, Harry refused to grant her
a divorce the night before he died.

Looks like Barlow's
spending the night with us after all.

The full coroner's report has just arrived, sir.

Strangulation, no surprise there.

Bruising.

Harper was struck with a blunt object
on the right side of the back of his head.

So it wasn't a training injury.

And there was bruising
under the tape on his wrists,

consistent with the bruising to his neck,

suggesting his hands were bound
with rope as well.

So he was murdered.

What I don't understand is,
why whoever did it removed the rope.

In favour of a scarf?

Whoever spent so much time knitting this
would be horrified by where it ended up.

Don't feel like helping out, Collins?
Do your bit for Abbotsford?

No, there's no point, sir.

Harper's gone, and his vice captain's locked up
for carrying on with his wife.

That was his motive, Collins,
not the reason we locked him up.

I just need you to know, sir,
I've burnt my footy scarf.

Miss Fisher said you were in training.

Oh, Dottie, no,
we're just giving Mr. Barlow some air.

Are you sure that's safe, Inspector...

letting an inmate out?

Well, he's outnumbered, three to one now.

I used to make this for my brothers
when they played Juniors.

Chicory with honey and pepper.

It's to fortify them.

They lost every game,
but they gave it their best shot.

- Every game?
- Yes, but that's the hardest thing, isn't it?

Staying true to your team
when everything's going wrong.

Just like you and the Inspector.

Make it count, Collins.

(Ringing tone)

(Telephone ringing)

Ah, Dot.

How's Hugh faring?

He might still have some Abbotsford spirit
left in him yet, miss.

(Sneezes)

Oh, bless you. Not a cold coming on?

No, I thought it was just that coach's dog
that set me off, but maybe. (Sniffs)

Dot, come here.

Take a sniff.

- I may have...
- Take a deep sniff.

(Sniffs)

Have you been petting him, miss?

- (Telephone rings)
- No.

I was...

Hello, Phryne Fisher speaking.

It's Stan Baines here.

I have a confession I need to make.

I'm at the West Melbourne club rooms.

I'm on my way.

That you, Miss Fisher?

(Gun clicks)

(Gunshot)

Now the West mob will be crying foul.

A telephone call, you said.

Baines was drunk.
Something about a confession.

A woman was waiting for Stan Baines when he
left the memorial service for Harry earlier today.

- Did she threaten him?
- No.

She wanted to talk to him. It seemed urgent.

But a bunch of Abbotsford rabble rousers
showed up...

- Miss.
- Sorry.

That noisy Irish fellow kicked up a fuss,
and Baines knocked him down.

Pat O'Farrell. Sounds like we need
to find him as well as this other woman.

Any idea how to track her down?

No, but she knew Stan Baines,
so we start with the West Melbourne camp.

Look at this.

Oh, two...nine...seven.

Number of games he played, sir?

No, no, but he played 298.

So we have a killer who can't count.

Stan Baines was still a suspect
for Harry Harper's death.

Perhaps someone else thought he did it, too.

Someone like Pat O'Farrell, sir?

If there was a confrontation, he's my first choice.

And then there's Celia Harper,
Joe Maclean, Vince Barlow.

Barlow's still at the station,
so he has a perfect alibi.

Oh, Christ.

Thanks for coming, Mr. Gibbs.
We can talk outside.

Poppy Brown.

Hugh!

Yes, miss?

I have an inkling where we can track down
this mystery friend of Stan Baines.

If I was gonna knock off a West player,
it'd be a young gun,

not a bloke who's on the way out.

Why don't you take a seat, Mr. O'Farrell?

Please, sit down.

Now, you have three times been ejected from
various grounds for incitement and menaces.

You did three months for bottling an umpire.

I'm passionate about the game.

Hm.

You were witnessed arguing with him yesterday
afternoon. Where were you last night?

Raising a glass to Harry.

Then a fight outside around 11, then
at the bloody hospital till two in the morning.

- We'll check with the medical staff.
- You do what you like.

You'll need another suspect.

Try one who owns a bloody gun.

Do you own a pistol?

I wouldn't know how to use one if I did.

A Lee Enfield rifle, maybe.

- Shot, was he, Baines?
- (Knock at door)

Excuse me, Inspector. Do you mind
if I ask Mr. Maclean a quick question?

Be my guest.

Is your dog moulting?

I'm sorry, Miss Fisher? What?

Unfortunately, my companion, Dorothy Williams,
has a terrible reaction to Scotty's hair.

Maybe she should just keep her distance.

She also had a terrible reaction to my gloves,

after I touched the West Melbourne scarf
that was tied around Harry Harper's neck.

Perhaps I... I just patted Scotty,
and then I touched that scarf.

You didn't go anywhere near that scarf
after Harper's body was found.

Did you murder him,
before you tied the scarf around his neck?

- No!
- You'd better explain, then.

One of the younger blokes
stole the scarf from West sheds.

I gave it to Scotty to sleep on.

So how did it end up
around Harry Harper's neck?

When I went to look for Harry, when he hadn't
turned up for the party, I found him.

Our club captain,
hanging by a rope in the shower stall.

I went to my office, got that scarf,

and swapped it with the rope.

I wanted West Melbourne to take the blame.

So you thought you'd covered up a suicide?

PHRYNE: Why should we believe you?

He left...

He left a note.

Pinned to the coat rack.

"I was a traitor to my team. This is all I deserve.

I am sorry for everything. Harry."

I couldn't have that come out that Harry had
killed himself because he left West Melbourne.

You said Harry used ice treatments
after training.

Yes. He did that day, too.

There was a chunk of ice left over the drain.

Ice can cause third degree burns, can't it,

if the contact is long enough?

So what gave you the idea?

An upset bowl of ice at Harry Harper's memorial.

So how will this establish the time of death,
miss?

The ice was almost gone when Maclean
found him around eight o'clock.

And the water was still running hot.

So we can work backwards to find out when

Harry was placed on the block of ice that burnt
his feet and eventually led to his death.

An hour and 15 minutes.

Which means Harper was forced onto the block
around 6:45pm.

So who had the opportunity then?

- Poppy Brown?
- You just missed her.

Ohh!

(Sighs)

Well, I'll just make do with you, then.

Tell me who this woman is standing next to you.

It's Mrs. Dangerfield.

And?

She used to be the club nurse.

Used to?

Yeah, before Myra Gibbs died.

Two years ago, Stan Baines telephoned me.

I delivered his first kid here,
and perhaps he thought I was discreet.

I had to be, at times.

Women would come to me for...all kinds of help.

If they were in trouble?

But it was too late
by the time they brought Myra to me.

She'd already tried to help herself...

...with a knitting needle,

and she was losing the bub.

- So what'd you do?
- I did what I could.

And I managed to stop the bleeding,

but I gave them strict instructions
to head for hospital if anything started up again.

I heard next morning
that she'd been rushed to hospital.

I couldn't come forward.

I couldn't even go to the poor lass's funeral.

(Sobs)

"July 29th."

(Sobs)

You were away from the West Melbourne party
for over an hour.

Well, that doesn't prove anything.

Your daughter died on July 29th, two years ago.

What's that got to do with it?

We thought the number carved
into Baines's forehead

was a mistaken tally of the games he'd played.

But it wasn't.

It was the date of your daughter's death -

29/7

This is all speculation.

No. No, it isn't.

You took two years to track down
Mrs. Dangerfield but we had more luck.

Myra's death wasn't from peritonitis, was it?

I gave Harry a chance to confess.

When you dedicated the match
to "the dear departed"?

Harry knew the game was up.

And he still didn't have the guts to front me.

Took it out on Baines instead.

So you made him write his goodbyes.

But you wanted something else from Harry,
didn't you?

Myra had told me
there were two blokes involved...

...before she died.

So you decided to force it out of him?

Harry must have told you
about Stan Baines' involvement.

Ah, eventually.

(Water running)

Said Baines told him to get shot of Myra
because she was in trouble.

Footy was what mattered.
Just the game, nothing else.

So you left Harry there?

Oh, I didn't care about him...about the game.

Nothing.

After what he did to my little girl.

Callous bastard!

You planned it to look like a suicide.

What'd you make of your team scarf
ending up around Harry's neck?

I thought it was ironic.

Myra knitted that scarf for me.

And Joe Maclean used it to cover up your deed.

Of course.

Who else but a coach would risk going to jail
for the sake of a lousy football team?

So then you went after Stan Baines.

In for a penny...

in for a pound.

(Cheering and clapping)

Come on!

- Go, Abbotsford!
- Go, Wests!

- (Chanting) Abbotsford!
- Go, Wests!

(Chanting continues)

- Abbotsford!
- Go, Wests!

- Abbotsford!
- Go, Wests!

You look dashing, Hugh.

Well, you don't want anyone confused
about who you barrack for.

And I used my best wool,
so you're not allowed to burn this one.

Just wanted to wish you luck.

I'm surprised the game's still going ahead.

The club presidencies met last night
to consider cancelling out of respect.

Father lost to Sidney.

Even my observational skills tell me
that this does not bode well.

Excuse me.

Do you think Rosie knows her fiancé bribed
Harry Harper to leave her father's team?

All's fair in love and football, Miss Fisher.

I'm glad you think so.

So, tell me, what kept you away from the game?

My mother.

After I was caught trying to sabotage Carlton's
newest recruit by smuggling him beer.

Always an unsuspecting man involved.

I was only ten at the time.

So this should be interesting.

At least last week
has levelled the playing field.

Two dead players, one coach locked up
for obstructing an investigation

and the other one charged with murder.

Anything could happen.

Even a Collingwood girl would have to stay
for a game like that.

So what do you think?

To humour an Abbotsford man.

(Whistle blows, cheering)

♪ My baby don't care for shows

♪ My baby don't care for clothes

♪ My baby just cares for me

♪ My baby don't care for

♪ Silks and laces

♪ My baby don't care for

♪ High-tone places

♪ My baby don't care for rings

♪ Or other expensive things

♪ She's sensible as can be

♪ My baby don't care who knows it

♪ My baby just cares for me