(EXCITING ORCHESTRAL MUSIC)
MAN 1: Pull over! Pull over!
- MAN 2: What are you doing? - MAN 1: I got this, mate.
Oh, bloody hell, Bomber, not now!
We've got to go!
MAN 2: Let's go! Come on!
BOMBER: Go, go, go, go! Go!
(SIGHS)
(EXCITING ORCHESTRAL MUSIC CONTINUES)
(ENGINE BACKFIRES AND REVS SPORADICALLY)
(LOUD POP, FIZZING)
Not now.
(ENGINE BACKFIRES AND REVS SPORADICALLY)
(ENGINE TAPS REPEATEDLY)
Don't.
Goddamn it!
(RACE CALLER ON P.A.) And it looks like Miss Beryl Routledge
will win this stage of the RA Trials.
Second will be Clive Hildebrand,
with Trevor McKenzie a distant third.
(SPECTATORS APPLAUD)
MAN 3: Congratulations, Miss Routledge.
Thank you very much, Mr Jones.
Hello, Ballarat!
(ENGINE PATTERS)
-(ENGINE BACKFIRES) - Ooh.
Oh, this'll be interesting.
You're making it hard for me, Trev.
Oh, come on, Jonesy!
Mate, I can fix a lot of things, but I can't fix this.
You've dropped in the rankings.
Below who?
And what are you grinning at?
I keep telling you, Trev, it's your fuel intake, mate.
And how the hell would you know that?
You been fiddling with it, have you?
That'd be right.
This whole bloody thing is rigged!
- You alright, Errol? - Yeah.
What was all that about?
It's nothing.
Errol.
Errol!
(LOW, PENSIVE MUSIC)
WOMAN: Clive Hildebrand?
You're still the best.
JOURNALIST 1: You have a name for your car?
BERYL: A name? Well, no.
But perhaps you'd like to name her.
JOURNALIST 1: Just here if I could, Miss Routledge.
Thank you. Beautiful.
JOURNALIST 2: Do you think you can win the next leg?
BERYL: I certainly hope so.
- TREVOR: Watch out! - Mr McKenzie!
MAN: Come on, McKenzie!
BERYL: My apologies, gentlemen.
(ENGINE STARTS)
- WOMAN: Oh! -(WOMEN SCREAM)
TREVOR: Bloody hell.
(THEME MUSIC)
(KEYS JINGLE)
Hello?
- Anyone... -(PHONE RINGS)
Jean?
Ned, I do beg your pardon.
What can I do for you?
(CAR APPROACHES)
(ENGINE BACKFIRES AND RUNS ROUGHLY)
- Good to see you, Bill. - Doc, you're back.
I am. Through here, is it?
There.
Matthew.
Well, welcome back.
- How are you? - Fine.
What have we got?
MATTHEW: Errol Moore,
mechanic and navigator for Clive Hildebrand.
Arrived in town yesterday with the Red Trial.
Sorry, I don't follow motor racing.
Is this their vehicle?
No, it's the rival's.
Not very sporting.
MATTHEW: The boy was dragged under McKenzie's car.
Well, I can tell you, he was dead before that.
These abrasions here were received post-mortem
and...and here...
MATTHEW: Petechiae.
Caused by asphyxiation.
So someone strangled him and put his body here?
More likely, a jack slipped
while he was working under the car.
And by the way, petechiae -
yes, an indicator of asphyxiation,
not always strangulation.
I'll keep that in mind.
A quiet sort, and a talented mechanic, apparently.
The boy's driver, Clive Hildebrand,
came second in yesterday's stage.
Right.
The question is, what was the lad
doing underneath someone else's car?
BILL: Sir, you remain outside. You remain outside!
MATTHEW: Let him through, Senior Sergeant!
Where is he?
Oh!
MATTHEW: Mr Hildebrand, I'm sorry.
JONES: Thank you all for coming.
It's my sad duty to announce the accidental death of Errol Moore.
Clive Hildebrand, Mr Moore's driver,
and our very own Ballarat legend,
joins me in offering our condolences
to Mr Moore's family.
In honour of Errol Moore,
the final leg of the Red Australia Trial
will be delayed until tomorrow.
And we'd like to thank the town of Ballarat
and the Ballarat 'Courier' for their hospitality.
But before I go,
can I just assure the motoring public of Australia
that the Red Trial will go on.
- Any questions? - JOURNALIST: Yes, is the...
He's a bit quick to jump to that conclusion.
JOURNALIST: ..the funeral of Errol Moore?
- JONES: Yes. - What?
- JONES: Any other questions? - Nothing, nothing.
Now, who was there when the body was found?
Trev came hurtling out.
He knew we were all standing there
and he drove his car straight at us.
When did he realise that there was a body under the car?
It was hard to tell.
Are you in the market, Doctor?
No, no, not really.
It's impressive, though. What model is it?
MAT THEW: Vanguard Phase II.
You haven't been following the race?
Uh...
You said that Trevor McKenzie drove his car at you. Why?
Because he's a bloody fool, would be my guess.
He dropped in the rankings yesterday.
Had a go at Errol straight after the race.
Miss Routledge! You're amazing.
You should see my navigator.
But then again, Trev fights with everyone.
And when was the last time that you saw Errol Moore?
When Trev was yelling at him.
Did you like Errol, Miss Routledge?
I'd never even spoken to him.
But he seemed like a lovely kid. Hell of a mechanic.
Clive was lucky. Always has been.
How's that exactly?
Well, Clive's a local hero, Doctor.
He won the first Red Trial.
I thought he'd retired.
So did we.
Hmm.
Thank you, Miss Routledge.
- Good luck. - Thank you.
Miss Routledge.
Are you honestly telling me that you had no idea who she was
or who Clive Hildebrand is?
Should I?
The Red Australia race
is the most famous motor rally in the country, Blake.
- Everyone's watching it. - Ah!
By the way, my niece is coming into town for a while.
Oh, lovely. Look forward to meeting her.
How was Adelaide?
Churchy.
(MISCHIEVOUS MUSIC)
ALICE: Traumatic asphyxiation.
Compression of the chest, broken ribs almost certainly.
Death would have taken...
A minute, maybe two.
Post-mortem soft tissue and skeletal damage.
Are you alright?
- Why do you ask? - You don't seem yourself.
You've barely said a word, to me or him.
I'm sure I'm just tired from my trip.
Compression line, probably from the chassis.
From that shape, I'd say it was a Holden or...
.a Phase I Vanguard.
Well spotted. It was in fact a Vanguard.
So, the jack slips, chassis comes down.
And here he is.
Here he is indeed.
Left hand...
...grease under the fingernails.
Hardly surprising.
Dragging injuries to the thighs, the back, the face.
Right hand...
Goodness me.
Two dislocated fingers.
Alice, look here.
The swelling on the joints.
Sustained before he died.
ALICE: Straightforward dislocation, really.
Easily realigned.
Still, there's something not quite right here.
Hang on a minute. Hang on.
Why aren't his ribs broken?
I thought you said the jack slipped.
It was a theory.
But there's no bruising or lacerations
to the rest of the chest.
No bones broken.
Alice, the car couldn't have fallen on him.
Paperweight?
If it is, it's a very ostentatious one.
It's also fully wound down.
I'm telling you, it didn't slip.
You should dust it for prints.
What about the autopsy?
Ah, two fingers dislocated pre-mortem
and no broken ribs.
Well, think about it.
A jack slips, car comes down on you,
by God it's going to break your ribs.
So they lowered the jack down on him while he was under the car.
But before he suffocated, he managed to grab them.
What about his fingers?
Now, what do we know about the owner of the car?
Errol used to be my mechanic,
and then he left to join the great Clive Hildebrand.
So he leaves you for Hildebrand, they win last year's race
and the next thing he's found dead underneath your car.
And what was he doing underneath there?
Was he sabotaging you?
Well, he certainly wasn't fixing it, was he?
Things have been stuffing up lately.
And here I was thinking it was just Bomber being slack.
And you never forgave Errol Moore for leaving your team.
Is that why you had a shouting match with him after the race?
Bomber told you that, did he?
Then maybe you should ask Bomber what he was doing.
Why don't you tell me what you were doing last night?
We were working on the car...together.
Bomber gave me the irrits so I left.
Next time I see the car, Errol's wedged underneath it.
You ask him about that.
BOMBER: Trevor tell you that, did he?
Well, did he also tell you that he was gonna have me bumped
to get Errol on the team?
That would have made you pretty angry, wouldn't it?
Well, did he tell you that Errol turned him down?
Mr McKenzie reckons that Errol Moore
might have tampered with your car.
What are your thoughts about that?
No idea.
Is it likely?
LUCIEN: Mr Denman...
...how did you get on with the deceased?
Yeah, fine.
Everyone loved Errol, didn't they?
LUCIEN: So, the driver and his mechanic
are at each other's throats.
Well?
Well, they both deserve each other.
Got nothing on either of them yet.
Matthew, this race...
Needs to be suspended for the duration of this inquiry.
And I'm not looking forward to making that call.
Senior Sergeant!
I need you to speak to the rest of the competitors.
Take Davis with you.
Ask them if they saw McKenzie or Denman last night between...
Ah, I'd estimate time of death was between 12 and 5am.
So, you heading home now?
I thought I might check up on Clive Hildebrand,
perhaps ask a few more questions.
Maybe you could apologise for not knowing who he was.
(STARTER MOTOR WHIRRS, CLUNKS)
Oh, come on, you old bugger.
(STARTER MOTOR WHIRRS, CLUNKS)
Enjoying this, are you, Dad?
(ENGINE STARTS, REVS SMOOTHLY)
Thank you.
CLIVE: I don't want it.
Listen to me, Clive. It's easy money.
I've already set everything up.
How many times do I have to tell you, Herb? I'm an amateur.
And I'm telling you, Clive, you don't have to be.
Just say yes.
Mr Hildebrand.
Afternoon, Doctor.
Know much about cars?
Very little, I'm afraid.
Errol knew everything about them.
"He was born in a garage," his old man used to say.
I understand he used to navigate for Mr McKenzie.
What made him join you?
Oh, I never knew.
I just thanked my lucky stars I had him.
Mr Hildebrand, tell me...
...what do you think he was doing under that car?
Well, somebody was messing with the cars.
Ours, Beryl's.
I reckon Errol was figuring out who it was.
Right.
You don't think perhaps he was responsible for the sabotage?
Not likely. He wasn't that sort of bloke.
Personally, I reckon you should take a look at Herb Jones.
Jones, the chap you were just talking to?
He runs the race, doesn't he?
Yeah, just an official.
Doubt if he'd know a lug nut from a walnut.
There's no telling who he's got
in his pocket working against me.
That sounds personal.
Yeah, well, Herb reckons there's no room
for the likes of me in the competition anymore.
Days of the amateur are over.
Ah.
Mr Hildebrand? Rose Anderson, Ballarat 'Courier'.
LUCIEN: Miss Anderson...
You're on the record saying the Red Australia Trials
have become increasingly commercialised.
Do you think there's still room in the competition
for non-professionals like yourself?
- No comment. - Mr Hildebrand, just a little...
Just...
I'd let him go, Miss Anderson.
Well done. You've learned my name.
I'm Doctor...
Lucien Blake, the police surgeon. I know who you are.
What are the police doing talking to Clive Hildebrand?
Passing on our condolences.
- What's the 'Courier' doing? - Our job.
- So Patrick hired you? - He did.
We're not talking about me, are we?
Do the police suspect foul play?
That would be a question for them.
Good afternoon, Miss Anderson.
Dr Blake, you know Mr Hildebrand
isn't the only one with concerns about Herb Jones.
Really?
And where did you hear this?
I couldn't possibly reveal my sources.
But you know what they say, Doctor.
You scratch my back...
JONES: The race is a huge business proposition.
MATTHEW: I'm aware of that, Mr Jones.
PATRICK TYNEMAN: Are further delays really necessary?
My paper has exclusives with the drivers...
This is a police investigation, Patrick,
and we need time to conduct it.
Don't worry, Patrick.
I assured the people of Australia
that the final leg would take place tomorrow, so...
Just like you told Clive Hildebrand
there was no longer any room for amateurs.
- MATTHEW: Blake. - Oh, here we go.
By the way, you need to rein in your journalists, Patrick.
One of them's been harassing Hildebrand.
Good! That's what we pay them for.
Look, I'm aware your investigation
takes priority,
but there are other considerations.
Such as?
Such as a considerable boost to the local economy,
the city's profile.
Yes, Patrick, I understand.
Thank you.
It would be churlish to mention
that little favour of mine, so I won't.
We'll leave you to it.
Mr Jones.
Some of the drivers believe your business interests
might be unduly influencing the race.
Any truth in that?
And you're accusing my reporters of harassment?
Just when I was about ready to tolerate you.
He makes a fair point.
What was that about a favour?
I'll get another cup of tea.
It's fair to say there's a certain amount of enthusiasm
for us to get a result.
So, where are we?
Bad blood between McKenzie and Moore.
Bad blood between McKenzie and Denman.
(SIGHS) Did anyone see either of them
after they finished working on the car?
No, people were drinking. Memories are hazy.
Oh, that Trevor McKenzie's
a hair-trigger idiot at the best of times
and the body was under his car when he was driving.
Either he's brilliantly clever
and he's pulling a double bluff, or...
MATTHEW: Doc, any theories?
Uh, or someone's framed him.
Right, you hold the fort here.
I'll take Davis back to the showgrounds.
We'll have another look through the garage.
What's wrong with you?
Nothing, Matthew.
I'm perfectly fine.
Really.
(SIGHS)
Do you ever wonder, Matthew,
what it is that drives us to do what we do?
Go home, get some rest.
You'll feel like a new man tomorrow.
Trust me.
- MATTIE: Lucien! - Mattie!
- You're home. - I arrived back this morning.
- Well, how's Jean? - Jean's well.
What do you mean, she's well?
I mean to all intents and purposes
she's in very good health.
So, Jean is quite well
and I'm just going to have to accept that
as a reasonable explanation
as to why you've been gone for over a week.
Exactly.
Should we at least have a drink to celebrate you being home?
Are you going to continue to bombard me with questions?
Well, I think I know when I'm not going to get an answer.
In that case, that would be lovely.
Thank you very much.
MATTIE: You met Beryl Routledge?
I wouldn't have picked you for a car enthusiast, Mattie.
Well, I'm not, usually.
But this is ordinary people driving ordinary cars
and they're racing right around the country.
Isn't that something?
TV REPORTER: This is Errol Moore, aged 20...
- MATTIE: So, the boy. - LUCIEN: Errol Moore.
- MATTIE: He was only 20? - Yes.
Ah, now, that's Clive Hildebrand.
...of Clive Hildebrand
was found dead beneath the chassis of a competitor's...
LUCIEN: Mm. And there's your Miss Routledge.
She's amazing.
Hmm, perhaps.
...postpone the continuation of the race temporarily...
LUCIEN: And there she is chatting with young Errol.
She told me she hadn't spoken with him.
Now, why would she lie?
(PENSIVE MUSIC)
(CLATTERING)
I'll go. You keep an eye out here.
Righto.
(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)
(DOOR THUDS)
(SHOUTS) Oi!
Open up!
(THUDDING)
CHARLIE: You right, boss?
- Did you see anyone? - No.
- What happened? -(TYRES SCREECH)
-(ENGINE REVS) - Charlie!
Ugh!
(GROANS)
Boss?
(MATTHEW PANTS)
Boss!
-(SCREAMS) - Keep still. Keep still.
Arggh! Arggh!
(GROANS)
Help!
(SCREAMS)
(SHOUTS) Help!
(SIREN WAILS)
(MATTHEW GROANS)
Dr Blake, Hugh Masterson, Orthopaedics.
- Where's Nicolson? - He's not answering his phone.
Right.
Cuts and abrasions, possible internals,
broken right femur, severe laceration above the knee.
MATTIE: It's OK. It's OK.
Almost there.
(MATTHEW SCREAMS)
Damage to the femoral artery.
We're lucky Charlie put a tourniquet on.
MASTERSON: The break appears to be compressing the artery,
cutting off the circulation to the lower limb.
We need to deal with the artery now.
- What is it? - I'm Orthopaedics.
You need a vascular surgeon for that.
We don't have a vascular surgeon, Hugh.
Please.
It's alright, Matthew. It's alright.
MASTERSON: Pulse?
(MATTHEW CONTINUES GRUNTING)
How long since the accident?
Um, half-hour or so.
OK.
We amputate.
Over 30 minutes, no circulation.
- The wound will be septic. - No, no, no, no, no.
We reset, put him under, fix the artery.
We're not prepped. We don't have a choice.
LUCIEN: I've seen breaks like this before.
- And I haven't. - Matthew, can you hear me?
This is going to hurt like hell, alright?
Assist Mattie.
I need you to hold him down.
Now, the idea is to get the bone back into place, yes?
So on my three I'm going to pull the leg back and lower.
(MATTHEW PANTS)
- One... -(MATTHEW GROANS)
...two, three.
(CRIES OUT)
- No, not quite. - Doctor!
Matthew, I'm sorry. We're have to go again, alright?
One, two...
-...three. - Arggh!
(CRIES OUT)
(BONES CRUNCH)
Yes, that's it.
Well done.
(GROANS)
(HYPERVENTILATES)
Anything?
Just wait. Wait, please.
Lucien.
I told you we should have amputated.
We've got a pulse.
You sure?
- Yes. -(LAUGHS)
Yes.
It's weak but we've got a pulse.
Well done, you two.
Now we need anaesthetic.
Get traction on this thing. You still need to operate.
Would you supervise the vascular procedure, Doctor?
Of course I will.
Jones.
It was Jones.
Alright, alright, Matthew. Calm down for me.
Well done.
Lucien?
I'm fine, Mattie.
Would you do something for me? Check on Charlie.
Yes.
Hey, well done.
Ah, Alice. Come on in.
I got the toxicology back for the man under the car.
There's nothing unusual in the bloodstream.
MATTHEW: What?
ALICE: Errol Moore's toxicology results.
They're completely clean. No drugs, no alcohol.
ALICE: How are you, Chief Superintendent?
Terrible.
I'll leave you to the doctor, then.
(QUIETLY) Thank you, Alice.
How's Charlie?
Ah, our Charlie.
Well, he's got three broken ribs, so I've sent him home.
Herbert Jones has been brought in for questioning.
We need to send someone back to the garage
to have a look around.
Well, I'll pass that on.
But in the meantime, you need to get some rest, eh?
Both legs are present, I see.
(MATTHEW CHUCKLES WRYLY)
Yes.
But...
...you've sustained a lot of damage, Matthew.
MATTHEW: Mm.
Still...
...thank you, Lucien.
BILL: Yesterday, when you saw Superintendent Lawson
and Sergeant Davis at the showground, why did you run?
I didn't run.
My apologies.
Chief superintendent sends his regards.
CHARLIE: Mr Jones maintains he'd left the showgrounds
before we were run down.
- Ah. - He also maintains that...
I didn't run anyone down
and I had nothing to do with Errol Moore.
So, why did you run away?
CHARLIE: Our records indicate you own a two-tone Vanguard,
registration HHE-585.
- Where is it? - Parked outside the showgrounds.
It's been there for days.
I'll suspend the interview for now.
If my men find any mark on that car,
anything at all that suggests
it was the one that ran us down at the showgrounds,
I will escort the doctor out of this room
and leave you in here with the senior sergeant...
...alone.
Last chance.
Charlie, I fancy a cuppa.
- Bill? - White with three, thanks, Doc.
LUCIEN: Good.
CHARLIE: I might join you, Blake.
LUCIEN: Excellent.
Alright.
Yes, I was driving the car.
I'm sorry, alright?
I didn't mean to run anyone down.
It was just an accident.
And what were you doing there? Why did you run from us?
I take money from manufacturers
to boost their vehicles up in the rankings.
And when that doesn't work,
you tamper with the cars from time to time.
CHARLIE: You saw two policemen there and you panicked...
I didn't see anyone.
I thought it was one of the other drivers,
and they would have killed me.
Is that what happened with young Errol?
No. I tried to pay the kid off to help me weeks ago.
And he turned you down.
The only one who'd go along with it was Bomber.
Bomber Denman.
Bill, we've got enough to charge him with the hit and run?
- You bet your arse we do. - Good.
Now someone needs to speak with Denman. I can do that.
I'm coming with you, Doc.
Charlie, if you're not going home, you should stay here.
Miss Anderson, what brings you here?
Police rounds, what do you think?
Excellent. Sergeant Davis, someone you should speak with.
- Cup of tea, miss? - Black, no sugar.
Uh, suspected burglary
and two cases of public drunkenness.
Also, Market Street will be closed to traffic tomorrow,
and that's about it.
And the investigation into Errol Moore's death?
I'm unable to comment about that right now.
Shame.
I heard there was an incident at the showgrounds last night.
That's subject to further investigation.
So the police ARE investigating?
We're pursuing a number of avenues of inquiry.
And you heard this from...
Are you sure that you're not able to tell me?
Pretty sure, yep.
Do you think that I might be able to speak
with Chief Superintendent Lawson, then?
He's unavailable at the moment.
Would you tell him that I was here, when he is available?
Of course.
It's been a pleasure.
Miss Anderson?
(INHALES SHARPLY)
The number at the desk,
so I can keep you posted on what's happening here,
when it's appropriate.
And why would you do that?
Because I was once new in town, foo.
Sergeant Davis.
Miss Anderson.
(ENGINE RUMBLES)
(MAN ON P.A.) Dot Wilson Brown
to the refreshment tent, please.
That's Dot Wilson Brown to the refreshment tent.
Mr Denman?
Herbert Jones sends his regards.
A number of people believe their cars have been sabotaged
throughout this race.
- They're paranoid. - Is that right?
When questioned, Mr Jones admitted
that it was, in fact, the two of you tampering with the cars.
He even suggested that you might be the one
who killed young Errol.
Well, he's a liar.
So why don't you go piss off? You got nothing.
I gather you like dynamite.
BOMBER: Hey...
I never have.
The impact it has on the human body,
the damage it wreaks on flesh and bone, it's horrible.
Now, you listen to me.
I don't have the patience today for your games.
Avery good friend of mine nearly died yesterday,
so you will tell me what I want to know.
What, if you think I had anything...
You were sabotaging cars.
Perhaps Clive and Errol's, yes?
Errol discovered the truth,
so you murdered him before anyone else could find out.
Is that what happened?
Come on, last chance.
Go on, why don't ya? You don't have the balls.
Time's ticking. Tell me what happened.
Alright. Look, alright, I...I didn't touch their car,
just that bitch Routledge and a few others.
I didn't do a thing to Errol.
- Did you kill him? - No.
You're absolutely sure?
I didn't do it, you crazy bastard!
Alright.
You're insane.
Yes, perhaps I am. I've been called worse.
Now, here's what's going to happen next, Bomber.
You're going to go to the police.
You're going to tell them
exactly what you just told me, yes?
Fine, yeah. Alright, I'll go.
Best stop this nonsense as well.
Your dynamite days are over.
Good afternoon, Mr Denman.
(INDISTINCT P.A. ANNOUNCEMENT)
(STARTER MOTOR CLUNKS)
Bloody hell.
(STARTER MOTOR CLUNKS)
Standards. They have their quirks.
Quirks indeed.
It has been the source of some frustration
over the years, I can tell you.
You're not thinking of selling, are you, Doctor?
(CAR DOOR CLOSES)
Well, let's see what she's got.
-(ENGINE STARTS) - Oh!
(ENGINE REVS POWERFULLY)
BERYL: Well, the brakes are in good nick. That's something.
Yes.
You lied to me, Miss Routledge.
Excuse me?
When you were first interviewed yesterday,
you lied about having never spoken with Errol Moore.
I must have forgotten.
You know what us women are like.
Now, if you're in the market for a new car,
is there a Mrs Blake?
What kind of motor would she want the good doctor to have?
Did you try this on with young Errol, Miss Routledge?
Is that why you didn't want us to know?
Yes, I spoke to Errol.
It's no secret - he's the best mechanic on the tour.
- I wanted him on my team. - Your team?
Didn't you want to show the world
"your team", comprised solely of women,
how they can beat the men?
I'm a pretty woman driving a car, Doctor.
The public finds that fascinating.
But I've had enough of women's magazine covers.
Now I want headlines for being the winner
of the next Red Trial.
Quite.
How did Errol respond to your offer?
He said no, stupid boy.
Did he say why?
Because next year he wanted to become a driver.
Enter the Red Australia himself.
I see. And you...
Wished him luck and told him I would wave to him
from the top of the podium in 12 months time.
Of course.
To your knowledge, did he tell anyone about his ambitions?
Well, I assume so.
He already had a car lined up and everything.
No sponsor, though.
Oh, no, he was going amateur all the way,
just like his bloody idol, Clive.
You don't approve?
Oh, Errol and Clive
take the whole noble amateur thing far too seriously.
It's not a mistake I intend to make.
I'm in this for the fame, and the money, of course.
Now, I think something simple for you.
Nothing too fast or ostentatious.
Anyway, shall we?
(ENGINE STARTS)
(ENGINE ROARS)
(GENTLE MUSIC)
- Mattie rang me. - Yes, he's...
-ls Matthew... -..alright.
It's going to be difficult.
- MASTERSON: Er, Doctor. - Dr Masterson?
I've been looking at the superintendent's X-rays.
Oh, honestly, I'm fine.
Anyone would think I'm some bloody invalid.
And I spoke to Hobart earlier.
(GRUNTS)
He said that, uh, Jones has confessed to running us down.
Yes.
But not to killing young Errol.
Now, I spoke to Mr Denman and, um...
(CLICKS FINGERS) ..Beryl Routledge?
Beryl Routledge? You didn't tell me that.
You know he had no idea who she was.
Oh, typical.
Do you think she's involved?
I don't know.
How is the leg?
Oh, well, still there. (CHUCKLES MOROSELY)
Do you think he knows?
Well, I'm not certain he's aware...
ALICE: Doctor!
- Mrs Beazley. - Hello.
I thought you should see these.
Most of the skin on Moore's back was scraped away post-mortem,
but these are from a patch of skin
remaining on his shoulder.
I think it's the imprint of the ground beneath the body.
Paving of some kind.
Well done, Alice.
(DOOR OPENS)
MATTIE: Jean!
Oh, Mattie, it's lovely to see you.
You too! Mwah!
It has been so quiet while you were gone.
I had to go to Melbourne for conversation.
Excuse me, you two. I just need to fetch my torch.
- Where are you going? - Back to the showgrounds.
I'm coming too.
Wait, I wanted to find out about Adelaide.
I'll tell you about it later.
I do love what you're doing with your hair.
I didn't know she'd been going down to Melbourne.
Yes, spending more time with the family, apparently.
LUCIEN: Right.
- JEAN: This is... - Trevor McKenzie's car.
Have you wedged something under the tyres?
- Just asking. - Of course I have.
Thank you.
(GROANS)
Now...
(GRUNTS)
What are you looking for now?
I don't know.
I've never really looked beneath the car before.
Just this one?
- Alright, any car. -(CHUCKLES)
Ooh.
So...tell me.
Our young Errol was found under here.
But this isn't his car.
The car was lowered directly onto his chest.
It left a corresponding compression mark.
You know that different cars have differently shaped chassis?
Well, yes, of course I do.
But some are similar.
Well, for example, the Vanguard and the...
The Holden.
So who drives one of those?
I have a pretty good idea.
What about the impression that the ground left
on the man's skin?
Not from here.
He died somewhere else, Jean.
I need you to find a phone box and call Bill Hobart for me.
(METAL CREAKS)
(GRUNTS)
(BROODING MUSIC)
(METAL CREAKS)
(FOOTSTEPS)
I wasn't lying when I said I didn't know much about cars,
but I do know medicine.
CLIVE: Do you know what it's like to be a hero, Doctor?
- To be an ordinary man... - Arggh!
...with ordinary people looking up to you?
Yes, look, the pressure I can only imagine.
Of course with Herbert and his business associates...
...snapping at your heels, it must be very stressful.
But look, it was Jones and Denman sabotaging your car.
Young Errol had nothing to do with it.
Please, he looked up to you. He worshipped you.
Errol told me he wanted to drive next year.
When I found him working under the car that night...
So you thought the worst and you killed him,
didn't you, Mr Hildebrand?
(LUCIEN GASPS)
- LUCIEN: Please! -(METAL CREAKS)
LUCIEN: Jean!
(APPROACHING SIREN WAILS)
Lucien!
Ugh!
That young man had done nothing wrong.
Not a damn thing.
You murdered him, you moved the body,
put it under McKenzie's car, and for what?
He betrayed me.
Betrayed you?
He didn't betray you. You were his hero.
BILL: Clive Hildebrand, I'm arresting you
for the murder of Errol John Moore.
Matthew. Patrick.
Hobart told me. Well done.
Yes.
Yes, um...
Matthew, look, there's...
...there's something...
I...I know.
(SIGHS)
My leg's never gonna heal properly.
I'll probably walk with a stick
or something equally humiliating.
(SIGHS)
They'll pension me off.
Yes.
Hmm.
Unless I can find a doctor who's willing to fudge my medicals.
- Ah. - (CHUCKLES)
Ah, don't worry. Not even you can sort this one out.
I'm sorry.
Boss.
- Miss Anderson? - Sergeant Davis.
I take it you've met my niece.
What's that?
Ah, report on Errol Moore.
Just leave it on the desk.
BILL: These are the things you asked for, boss.
(CLEARS THROAT) Thank you.
(MELANCHOLY MUSIC)
Well...
Gentlemen...
...it's been an honour.
(CLEARS THROAT)
Carry on.
(MELANCHOLY MUSIC CONTINUES)
Matthew.
So, have you remembered?
Why it is we do what we do?
Yes, I most certainly have.
Another time, eh?
A job for Rose at the 'Courier'.
That was Patrick's favour.
(CHUCKLES)
(ENGINE STARTS)
Well?
Ten miles to the gallon.
You don't think that's a little wasteful?
Well, what do other cars get?
You don't know?
(JEAN CHUCKLES)
Mmm.
Have you told anyone?
Who would I tell?
Patrick Tyneman?
Oh, Patrick... Uh...
Mmm.
Lucien, where's your car?
Finally traded it in.
This is my new one.
You do know the fuel consumption isn't great?
-(CHUCKLES) - So I've heard.
Fancy a spin?
Definitely.
Could I borrow it next time I go to Melbourne?
Not a chance.
Right.
(ENGINE STARTS)
MATTIE: Whoo!
LUCIEN: You wait till we get out on the road.
It's an absolute beaut. (TOOTS HORN)