(Screams from funfair)
(Distant boxing match)
Were you even wearing your helmet?
This one lad caught me by surprise, that's all.
Don't they have anything better to do than pick fights and start trouble?
Not really, Dottie, no.
- Ow! - Sorry.
That's why we started the gymnasium.
To keep the gangs off the streets.
Well, it doesn't seem to be working.
- Good morning! - Morning, miss.
Another hard night with your Wayward Boys, Hugh.
The Woolpackers and Portsiders were scuffling again last night, miss.
Are you still on secondment to the Terrible Ten?
Ah, no.
Not since that mishap a week ago.
Mishap?
A policeman was stabbed in a gang melee!
And according to this, Constable Fry died of his injuries last night.
These gangs killed a policeman and you have them in your gymnasium?
Fronting each other in a boxing ring has to be an improvement.
You encourage them to fight?
- Miss. - Oh!
Pugilism, properly taught, can be a noble art, Dot.
The Inspector has telephoned, Constable.
He requires you on the St. Kilda foreshore.
A murder, apparently.
- Back on duty, sir. - Good.
Do you recognise him?
Kevin Bradley. He runs the Woolpackers gang.
Only me. I gave Hugh a lift.
Dot was concerned he shouldn't be travelling on the tram with a head injury.
Is that flour?
Looks like he was stabbed during the brawl last night.
You were there, Collins. Any theories?
None of them had any knives, sir. Not as far as I could see.
These gangs have got it in for each other and if this lad was top dog of the Woolpackers...
But I didn't see Kevin Bradley there at all, sir.
So, what do you think took place, Collins?
There's a lot of anger, in the force, I mean, about Constable Fry getting stabbed.
Kevin Bradley's the obvious ringleader to target.
Are you suggesting police retaliation?
Would it hurt to ask the Special Unit to ask a few questions, sir?
Don't pursue that line of investigation. That's an order.
- Yes, sir. - Now, go down to the gymnasium
and take some statements from the lads.
Yes, sir.
This poor boy's seen a few fights.
Perhaps we should talk with his boss.
Never seen the lad before.
It's more than likely he attended your boxing tent last night, Mr. Biggs.
Well, so do a lot of people.
Big Arthur's Boxing Troupe puts on a bloody good show.
Your fighters take on challengers. This lad had a reputation as a brawler.
Well, then you should be looking at the gang, shouldn't you?
- Tell 'em, lovey. - Well, it's true.
They've been at each other hammer and tongs since that big blue last week.
- And you are? - This is Mrs. Big Arthur.
More like the hired help than the little lady.
Twice those ratbags pulled down her clothesline.
Dragged all your smalls through the mud, didn't they?
So you maintain the first time you saw the deceased
was when your boxer Giorgos the Greek found him this morning.
That's right. Nothing more to say.
Giorgos won't be much help to you.
It's like Big Arthur said. Your dead blokes never fought in here.
You wanna know anything, Officer?
Don't ask him.
Nothing like the smell of fresh laundry.
Ah, eucalyptus. Kills the germs.
I was just looking for the ticket office.
Oh, you're out of luck.
The tent opens at five, if the cops let us.
Due to what happened to that poor boy, I assume.
Don't waste your sympathy on him, missus.
You knew him?
I knew his kind.
While these gangs have been bashing and brawling, decent folks stay away.
And yet, here I am.
You know, I wouldn't be surprised if it was the cops that did it.
- Really? - Yeah.
Well, one of their own gets done a week age.
Stands to reason they'd want revenge.
Too little too late, if you ask me.
There you are.
Why on earth aren't you investigating the Terrible Tenners over this gang death?
I assume you mean the Police Special Powers Unit?
Well, I don't mean the police choir.
That boy took a blade straight through the middle of a vital organ -
efficient, unambiguous, on the same night Constable Fry finally succumbed to his injuries.
Surely the second death was tit for tat for the first.
One dead police officer leads to one dead Woolpacker.
You're forgetting... one dead Portsider.
The same night Constable Fry was stabbed,
an Aboriginal boy was left on the steps of the Alfred Hospital.
Beaten to death. No name, no details.
- How do you know he was a Portsider? - No Aboriginals in the Woolpackers.
And he was covered in the same flour the rest of the Portsiders copped that night.
Tit for tat. Gang warfare.
In any case, accusing my fellow police officers will be the last place I go.
So you need to be careful. But I don't.
What's the address of this gymnasium?
One. One, one.
One, two.
One, two, duck.
Good job. Eyes up.
Real boxing is an art form, Dot.
It was part of the Olympics in Ancient Greece.
- The Olympics? - Yes, with rules and poetry and excitement.
- Long before everyone were a weapon. - One, two.
- Or clothes. - One.
Constable Collins!
Miss Fisher.
Dot!
What are you...?
The Inspector sent me to see how your statements were progressing,
and Dot was most curious about your gymnasium.
Sorry, Miss Fisher, but I don't think that you should be here.
Phryne Fisher. Dot and I were just admiring your technique, weren't we, Dot?
And you are...?
Tom. Tom Derrimut.
And are you a Portsider or a Woolpacker?
It was you, wasn't it? You went and finished him off?
- Hey! - You're dead, Derrimut!
- Hey, hey! - I didn't do it, OK?
- Freckles, you knew the rules! - What did you do after? Huh?
- You went and knifed him, ya mongrel! - Hey!
- That's enough! - You want some too, copper?
- I'll give ya a matching pair. - I'll ban you!
- I'm guessing Portsider, Woolpacker. - Murderer.
He had a go at Kevin last night.
Knocked him down and promised him more.
You said you were out of it.
Tom! Tom!
He came at me and I gave him one punch, that's all.
Liar.
Dust.
Flour. I'm a baker's apprentice.
Mate, if you saw him last night, I've got to take you in.
- But I didn't do anything. - Then you've got nothing to worry about.
You lock him up and chuck away the key!
- Or we're coming after you, copper. - Don't you dare threaten Hugh Collins!
He's worth ten of you!
It don't matter what a copper's worth when he's up against the Woolpackers.
- Does it, lads? OTHERS: Yeah.
Come on, fellas. Let's go.
I don't know what came over me, miss. I'm sure Hugh doesn't need me defending him.
Nonsense.
Beside every good man is a good woman, and she must always be ready to step in front.
So, running battles going on for weeks.
And last night another brawl on the foreshore between the Woolpackers
and your mob, the Portsiders.
- They're not my mob. - Since when?
Constable Collins, was this young man running with the Portsiders
during the brawl last week?
The one where Constable Fry was stabbed?
- Well? - You know I was.
But I got out of the Portsiders that night. It's too much trouble.
I just want to work and earn money.
So why would Kevin Bradley come after you if you were out of it?
I dunno.
He's not right in the head.
- So why did he come after you? - Look, I don't know!
I was on the beach. He came up, he started pushing me around so I lashed out.
Just one punch.
Then I turned my back and I walked away, like you taught me to.
Who were you with, on the beach?
Names, Derrimut. Names.
Come on, Tom. They're not in trouble.
They just need to back up your story.
You know, you should be looking at your own, not me.
That Tenner died last night.
Next thing, Bradley's dead too.
Can I go now?
Perhaps it's got nothing to do with the gangs, sir...
Kevin Bradley was stabbed, so let's find that knife.
And don't let your friendship get in the way of solving a crime, Collins.
Why didn't you tell me a policeman was stabbed that night at the big brawl?
It's my duty, Dottie. I don't want you to worry.
I'm stronger than you think, Hugh Collins.
I have been taken hostage by Latvians, woken by armed intruders,
almost fed into a giant factory machine
and nearly every day of my life I'm trapped inside a speeding motor car with Miss Fisher.
My whole job is a worry.
- You don't know the full story. - Then tell me.
The Woolpacker boys were heckling the Salvos
and it all would have blown over, but then the Portsiders turned up.
Tom was trying to stop the fight, but he got dragged into it.
- (Glass smashing) - Go!
Constable Fry could be tough, but he didn't deserve to die.
He chased one of them down an alleyway and...never came back out.
Fry had four little ones, Dottie.
It's more kids without a dad.
How awful.
Because of your dad, you know how that feels.
I've just got to do my job, Dot.
It's dirty fighting that kills people.
(Screams from funfair)
I can't bear the sound of those screams, Miss.
But it's the great scenic railway, Dot.
- They're screams of joy. - I'd faint before I got any joy.
Why don't I look for clues at the crime scene while you talk with the hawkers?
I'll meet you back here.
(Clears throat) Excuse me, sir.
Would you mind if I ask you a few questions? It's about last night. Mr...?
...Ice-Cream Man.
9pm is...
(Low conversation)
All I want you to do is keep an eye on him. Is that too much to ask?
- What are you saying? - What am I saying?
I'm saying you've gotta make sure he keeps his bloody mouth shut.
He's not stupid. He said nothing!
Well, I tell you what. If he does, he's not welcome back here
and you can kiss your extra earnings goodbye.
And if you don't have him back,
I'll be the one talking to the cops about what goes on here.
(Cries out)
It is not like a lady to listen to other's conversations.
And I see that you are a lady.
I was looking for you, of course.
Giorgos, the Greek.
I have something for you.
Here, take this.
Come tomorrow night.
You will see more...of me.
Much more, I hope.
Er...Jack!
You might want to look on the top right-hand corner of the green tent.
Do you or any of your fighters own this?
Last time I saw one of those, it was stuck in my best mate, in the trenches, so...no.
Big Arthur has given you the nod for another month.
Another month?
Why do I have to keep fighting now that Bradley's dead?
The Delahunty boy, he's taken over from where Bradley left off.
He wants paying now or he's going to tell them about Dan.
Bastard. He saw it.
He knows Dan did nothing!
Ah, Dot. Any leads?
Never mind, we have a murder weapon. That's a good start
And that lady looks like she could use a friendly ear.
You said this was about my son. What about him?
Dot and I are friends with Hugh Collins,
the police constable who's been teaching Tom to box.
Oh. Tom, yeah.
Constable Collins is concerned about your son in relation to the death of Kevin Bradley.
My boy never...
I'm sure the police will eventually get to the bottom of Bradley's death.
- But... - The cops don't like our kind.
They'll find whatever they want to find.
But I will not see my son go to jail for something he didn't do.
Tom seems like a good lad.
He is...like his father.
A fine Boonwurrung man.
Tom's all I have left now.
The war?
His lungs gave out, from the gas.
I married again, a whitefella.
And then welfare came and took my younger son.
Said he'd be better off.
Look, I know Tom's done his fair share of strife, but he's out of that now.
But is there something else?
Something you're not telling me?
Does Tom need money for any reason?
(Scoffs) Everyone needs money.
But please, keep out of this.
This is between me and my son... and Big Arthur.
Good day.
Keep your eyes up.
You promised me you'd stay away from the gangs, but you were fighting again.
Just last night with Bradley.
I was fending him off, OK?
He's a bully boy! He makes no sense.
Why don't you believe me? I thought you were my mate.
(Ding)
End of round, gentlemen.
If there's something you're not telling me... or you're afraid...
We can help you, Tom.
- Freckles Delahunty. - What about him?
There was a fight going on over who runs the Woolpackers,
between Bradley and Freckles.
He's taken over the gang now.
Perhaps you should tell Hugh why you've been boxing at Big Arthur's tent.
- Who told you that? - Your mother.
She implied you were doing it for the money.
Big Arthur's? Mate, that's no place for an amateur.
It's my business, all right? You're not my old man.
DOT: Those boys may not have a father, Hugh, but they have you.
What, um... what happened to your Dad, Hugh?
You said it was an accident?
We...
Uh, we caught the tram into town to have my dad's boots mended
at the cobbler's near Flinders Street.
I know the place.
When we were walking past the pub,
we saw these two diggers having a go at each other.
This massive bloke was hammering this little fella,
and so my dad stepped in, just to break it up.
But he...
...he got pummelled instead.
He fell back and he...
...cracked his head on the gutter.
Then the police came running and...they took me away...
...without my dad.
There he is, Dottie.
He looks lovely...just like you.
Are Bradley's clothes in here?
Freckles Delahunty.
Yeah, I assume that's not what his mother calls him.
Seems he was vying to become top dog in the Woolpackers.
How did you manage to get inside gossip
from one of St. Kilda's most notorious street gangs?
Tom Derrimut told Hugh at the gymnasium.
Also, this Freckles person works in a bakery.
Explains where they get all the flour.
Your mystery boy, the one who was dumped at the hospital,
- he was covered in flour too, wasn't he? - Yes, that's right.
It's looking more and more the Portsiders avenged this boy's death...
...by killing Kevin Bradley.
- Do you recognise him? - Yes.
But I just can't remember where from.
Ow!
A pin!
I'll have it arrested immediately.
Look at this.
Pound notes. He's been robbed.
It'd take a brave thief to rob Kevin Bradley.
- Or a very stupid one. - Mm.
Is that confirmation on the murder weapon?
The Coroner's certain this is the blade that killed Kevin Bradley.
No-one's son deserves that.
Let's see what Mr. Freckles says about it.
Nothing better than an afternoon by the seaside.
Except for a thrilling ride on the scenic railway. Dot refuses to come with me.
I don't blame her.
Don't tell me you're scared too.
- Is that a challenge? - If it makes it more enticing.
Hey, missus! That's my spot.
Freckles Delahunty. Inspector Jack Robinson.
I think it's time we had a chat.
This weapon made the wound in your mate's chest.
- So? It wasn't me. - No?
- You want to be top dog of the Woolpackers. - Doesn't mean I killed him.
Where were you last night? After the brawl on the beachfront?
I went home to my mum. She kept my dinner warm, you ask her.
I will.
Excuse me for saying so, Mr. Delahunty, but you don't seem very bereaved.
If Kevin Bradley was your friend, don't you want to know who murdered him?
I know who it was. Tom Derrimut. The mongrel.
We hear that Kevin Bradley is a bit of a tricky character.
- What do you mean? - Short-tempered. Unpredictable.
You just had to know how to handle him, that's all.
Can I go?
Yes, Mr. Delahunty. You're free to go now.
Our victim intimidated friends and enemies alike.
If Kevin Bradley is that irrational,
maybe somebody had to defend themselves against him.
I think we should have Mac take a look at his body.
Given up on the living, has she?
See you first thing.
Mmm, definite deterioration of the brain.
- What did you say his background was? - Kevin Bradley?
- Gang leader, fighter, thug. - And boxer, I'd say.
These kind of injuries are caused by repeated blows to the head.
Boxer, rather than street fighter?
More likely to happen in the ring.
And these type of injuries to the brain do not happen overnight.
So Big Arthur lied when he said he didn't know him.
So shall I just put this brain back where I found it?
Tom Derrimut. What can you tell me about him?
And in case the answer's "Not much", we know he's been fighting here.
Yeah, a couple of times, as a challenger.
But anyone can do that.
Did he ever fight Kevin Bradley?
Who?
- Um... - Give over playing the fool, Arthur. He knows.
Bradley boxed here a few times, but only as challenger. Same as Tom.
Never against each other. I never have challengers fight against each other.
It's always gotta be one of them versus my troupe.
I've spoken to your troupe.
I have statements from them all except- what do you call him, the Black Belter.
Where's he?
Wish I knew. He just took off. Left me in the lurch.
- Local lad? - No, no, we picked him up out Heathcote way.
- What's his real name? - Jimmy.
Didn't have a surname.
Maybe you never bothered to learn it.
If he turns up again, I want to know.
Rightio.
- Can you tell me how to track him down? - It's like Arthur said, he's gone Walkabout.
Let's assume that there's something underhand going on in Big Arthur's boxing tent,
apart from honest betting.
What would it be?
Flat gloves, bare-knuckle fights, taking dives, long odds,
ring-ins and house stacking, I imagine.
I boxed during my youth in the AIF.
Thank you, Mr. Butler.
All of which sound like they lead us back to one thing.
BOTH: Betting.
Kevin Bradley had money pinned to the inside of his jacket. Proceeds, perhaps?
Must have had a windfall.
This should see you through an evening of discreet investigation.
Unfortunately I'm already known to the boxing troupe,
but I'm sure you two can mingle without attracting too much attention.
We'll do our best.
It is not profit I'm after. It's information.
Care to go along, Mr. Butler? Perhaps a flutter?
Oh, thank you, miss, but no.
It's all Greek to me, and I have silverware to polish.
- Two pounds on the Greek, you reckon? - Solid as the Colosseum.
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome, welcome, one and all!
Here you are at the world-famous Big Arthur Biggs' Boxing Troupe!
Don't be shy.
Move forward, don't be scared.
Are you all after a little bit of action?
- Yeah! - Yeah!
This afternoon if you'd like to partake inside, you will see the magnificent Black Belter.
Oh, yes! We call him the Black Belter, taking on challenger Helter Skelter.
Look at the skills...
So who should I put my money on, Bert?
The only winners here are the touts and Big Arthur.
As we suspected.
They've put their Black Belter up against the toughest challenger they can find.
Everyone thinks the kid'll lose, so the punters bet against him.
And Big Arthur pays the challenger to take a dive.
Interesting, especially as Tom Derrimut doesn't look anything like the advertised Black Belter.
Dot, sing out if you see anyone follow me.
At Big Arthur Biggs' Boxing Troupe, we have got a show and a half to show you.
Come in and see what we do in our big tent. Ooh, it's full of dust, it's full of roughness...
Ladies and gentlemen, I'll tell you something right now.
When we get the Black Belter in the ring against one of you people
who will be a fine challenger, I'm sure,
we're all going to have some fun, we're all going to have a roar.
Do you feel like having a good time, ladies and gentlemen?
CORA: You're bleeding me dry! FRECKLES: It's not my problem.
- I've got nothing to give! - I need my money.
I need my money. I'm in charge of the gang now.
It's all we've got.
Too bad. You know the price.
That arrangement was with your dead mate, Bradley.
It still stands.
I'll make it up to you next fight, I promise.
Yeah, you'd better. Or else I talk about Dan.
Not only is there illegal betting going on, the boxing matches are fixed.
Challengers make more money if they take a dive.
And Dot spotted something suspicious too. Dot?
Well...yesterday a boy jostled me near the rotunda
and then scavenged some small change after I'd interviewed the Happy Ice-Cream Man.
Very bad manners.
And then today, whilst I was waiting for Miss Fisher,
I saw him again near the boxing tents, up to no good.
And?
Oh, and worse than that, this time. I saw him lurking.
Really?
I saw him try to empty his pockets for one of the boxers.
- The boxer was Tom Derrimut. - Correct. But he wasn't having any of it.
Which is strange, considering Cora suggested that Tom needed money.
- Do you have a physical description? - Yes, of course.
I did take special note.
And I asked around about your dead Portsider, the boy who was dumped at the hospital.
According to my colleague, it was an odd one.
Someone had tried to cover up his injuries.
Clearly he was battered to death. The powder on his face couldn't hide that.
That's not powder, that's flour.
The Portsiders had flour bombs hurled at them by the Woolpackers.
But...it's not flour.
It's washing soda, according to my colleague.
- Are you sure? - Well, she said it seemed odd, too.
Said it smelled of eucalyptus.
Just like Mrs. Big Arthur's laundry powder.
Now I know where I've seen this face before.
- You had no right to paint over my Jimmy! - Put the hammer down, and I'll explain all!
(Arguing continues)
I need him healthy enough to talk with me.
- You just keep her away from me. - I've got a better idea.
- You come with me for questioning. - About what?
You want to deal with her or me, hmm?
This is not over yet.
- Calm down, lovey! Just calm down. - He had no right. He had no right!
They make a lovely couple, don't they?
She is like his siren.
Beautiful but dangerous.
Like you.
I'm only dangerous in the wrong hands.
You coming, Miss Fisher?
Now, a young man died in the hospital,
not because he was a Portsider but because he was one of your boxers.
He was beaten half to death in the ring, wasn't he?
What's she doing here?
I'm a friend of Cora Derrimut's.
Look, I don't know nothing about no Abo kid dying in hospital.
I don't think anybody mentioned his being Aboriginal.
Now, the truth, or I'll charge you with obstructing an investigation.
Ohh.
Jimmy got hurt in the ring. Bad.
So you tried to make it look like he was mixed up with the gangs.
By decorating him with your wife's washing soda.
I knew they'd look after him. I...didn't think he'd go ahead and die.
How did Tom come to replace him?
He'd fought as a challenger. He did all right.
When he came back for more, I asked him about fighting regular.
He jumped at the chance. Said he needed the money.
So who beat this boy up? Jimmy? Who was his challenger?
It was Kevin Bradley, wasn't it?
I thought he was ready to go it with a big gun,
so I took a challenge from someone who was bigger.
Yes, I'm sure the crowd loves a mismatch.
Stirs up the betting.
If blokes want to have a little bet between themselves, that's their business.
This...this Bradley bugger, you know, he was a lot bigger than Jimmy.
Jimmy got in with a right, knocked him down. You know, he went crazy.
- If I'd have known he was a bloody lunatic... - So Kevin Bradley killed one of your fighters.
He wouldn't exactly be your favourite person, would he?
So we've got Bradley, who killed the original Black Belter...inside Biggs' tent.
- You have a very neat hand, Hugh. - Thank you, miss.
Perhaps you could give the Inspector some lessons.
Here we are.
I thought you weren't going down the dead policeman track.
I wasn't, but I was just going through Constable Fry's autopsy file and I found this.
"Lacerations consistent with a distinctive serrated blade."
And consistent with Kevin Bradley's lacerations. Same murder weapon? It has to be!
And presumably the same murderer.
Look at this. Do you have your magnifying glass?
Is this an Australian bayonet?
No, German. Most likely souvenired by an Australian soldier and brought back home.
It's rough, but it looks like an animal.
Is it...a rat?
A mouse?
It has a curled tail.
It's a possum.
That's not very German.
Cora's husband went to war. Will.
- William. Wilfred? - Did he come back?
He did but he'd been gassed, so he died of lung damage.
Cora's first husband.
- Do you have Tom's file? - Mm.
(Clears throat) Thomas James Derrimut: mother Cora, father...
...Wallet.
Wallet? That's an unusual name.
Or just a misspelling of Walter.
Or perhaps it's Aboriginal.
I bet you a ride on the great scenic railway that Wallet means possum.
Possum Derrimut. Tom has spoken about him.
- Bring Tom in. And his mother. - Yes, sir.
Sir, Tom Derrimut's here, and Mrs. Derrimut.
Tom, stop!
Let me pass!
He had a bicycle, sir, and I think I know where he's going.
- Take the car, then. - Yes, sir.
Announcing next, who'll be the one to swelter with the Black Belter?
Who will brave the ring and make all the ladies sing?
We are looking for a likely challenger, a young fella to don the gloves.
Here! My mate will.
We have a challenger, ladies and gentlemen!
Fight begins in ten minutes.
Why'd you run? Now my boss thinks you did it.
Does it matter if I did or I didn't?
- You lot have made up your minds anyway. - The bayonet. Was it your dad's?
- Hey! I went in to bat for you! - I didn't ask you to!
I've gotta take you in, Tom, to the station.
- After the fight. - No. Now!
No, I have to do this!
Just let me have this one fight and then I'll do whatever you want.
All right, but I'm sticking close.
Delahunty's mate... he's big and vicious, but he's slow.
He's a brawler.
So keep on your feet, keep moving.
In and out, in and out.
There's a lot of flab there.
You giving me fight advice?
That's what trainers do. Don't they?
Thanks, but I think I can handle brawlers.
- Betting on yourself now, Tom? - It's the only way out.
Go all in on one last fight, fair and square.
There's no such thing as fair and square in there.
That great hulk will kill you if you give him the chance.
See this money?
I made it all in the ring.
That's how I know I can do it.
I can beat him. When this is done, I'll walk away, I promise.
There's our escapee.
The boy from the bush, the brilliant Black Belter!
(Cheering)
The challenger.
The Woolpackers!
- He's going to kill him. - And I'll put up my own wager.
40 quid, winner takes all.
Yeah, I'll have some of that.
After a short intermission.
- Are you mad? It'll be like Jimmy all over again. - Ohh!
You want to sleep outside my van like a dog for the rest of your life?
No, my lovey.
That's why I painted over the banner. To spare your feelings, you know.
You won't have to look at poor dead Jimmy's face every day.
- Look, I'm sick about what happened. - Then don't risk it happening again.
- He'll kill him! - I'm with her.
That challenger is twice Tom's size and more.
- Out of here, missus. This is a private area. - No, she sees it. We all do.
The lad'll get slaughtered.
Look...it can't always be about the money.
Look, I'll sort it, OK?
I'll sort it. I'll find a way, all right?
Trust me.
Come on.
(Laughs) Are you enjoying yourself?
- We will have a drink, after. - Lovely.
Call on me later.
Look, one punch, hit the sawdust, all over, OK?
I'll cover your 40 quid for you.
No, I can hold my own with him.
I've knocked down blokes as big.
No, you haven't. They took a fall because I told 'em to.
- They got paid. - Come on, what are you waiting for?
Look, I'll cover your money, OK? Just take a fall.
I'll settle this on my own terms.
- Yeah! - (Cheering)
(Bell dings)
Ladies and gentlemen, for a purse of 40 pounds...
The Woolpacker bloke has gloved up,
but Freckles has slipped him a fistful of fishing weights.
The young bloke's going to get smashed.
Hey, hey, hey! That'll be enough of that.
Miss Fisher! Miss Fisher! Dottie, you shouldn't watch this.
We have to stop it, Hugh. Freckles doctored the gloves.
That's it, that's it, mate!
Whoa!
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!
No headbutts!
(Crowd cries out)
Call it off now, or I will.
- I can't! - It only takes one telephone call to raid you.
- Call it off! - That's it! We're stopping this one!
The kid's not well. All your bets will be refunded.
- Come here! BIG ARTHUR: Hold your horses, everyone.
- You'll get your fight. We'll work something out. - Sit down.
All right, all right, listen!
If everyone's happy, I'll finish the fight for the lad.
Hugh!
Dot, Hugh knows boxing.
Give me some flat gloves.
- And tell him to ditch the lead weights. - This'll be good.
Now, watch his right. And he's a headbutter.
Tell me this wasn't your idea.
This is Hugh's fight.
You're dead, copper. Dead.
Come here, come here.
No. No, you can't have it!
Come on, lovey, Tom's in no danger now.
I can make a motza betting against the copper.
No! This money's mine.
It's for Jimmy's headstone and you're not having it!
Oh!
(Shouts of encouragement)
Knock his block off, Hugh!
Ooh!
Come on!
- (Cheering) - Bravo, Hugh!
Get up!
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!
40 pounds, 40 pounds.
Here you are.
- Get up! - You deserved it.
- On your way. - (Laughter)
Well done.
Time to come to the station.
And when you're recovered, Collins,
perhaps you could arrest Freckles Delahunty for extortion.
It'd be my pleasure, sir.
Oi! Let's go!
- No, don't take him! - Dan! Dan!
- No! - Let go!
I want to confess! I've been trying to make it right.
I think it's time we heard Dan's version of events.
The bond of brothers.
Dan always wanted to be just like Tom.
When the welfare came and took him, he said he'll be back.
He ran away from the welfare.
And I couldn't send him back to school, could I? I knew that they'd take him back.
He started running around with the Portsiders because Tom did,
and that brawl... he couldn't tell the cops what happened.
You can see that, can't you?
What'd you have over Tom Derrimut?
It was over his brother.
CONSTABLE FRY: Come back here! You!
Right! I've got you, you little...
Run!
Right!
Get off me!
Aaargh! Aargh!
FRECKLES: I saw how it happened. The copper fell, then Kevin arrived.
I told Kevin it was an accident.
All he saw was that kid stabbing a copper in the back.
And his brother would pay good money if he wanted us to forget it.
(Sighs) And he kept asking for more and I knew it was never going to end.
The price just went up.
But you weren't the only one who wanted Kevin Bradley dead...were you?
(Knock at door)
One murder solved.
And I think I can help you with another. Kevin Bradley's jacket.
- Was this from...? - Not quite.
A mother needs to protect her child...
...but only another mother knows how far she would go.
(Sobbing)
Come on, buck up, lovey. It's getting too hot here.
Best we out and run before the coppers do something about the betting.
It's a little too late for that.
Art restoration, Mrs. Big Arthur?
It's not going to bring him back.
No. Is that what made you so angry at your husband?
Jimmy was more than part of the troupe, you know.
He was my boy.
We found him out back of beyond, you know. Good fighter.
But he had no-one.
So you took him in?
Arthur, he only saw the boy's talent, but I was...like his mum.
That's what he said.
Me, barren as the Nullarbor, like somebody's mum.
He loved me.
And now he's dead.
Kevin Bradley went mad, that's all, love.
Jimmy's death was a terrible accident.
Is that why you killed Kevin Bradley?
No, no, no... She...she's not herself!
She doesn't know what she's yabbering on about. Lovey!
Oh, you should have heard him.
The price just went up. Your Tom thinks he can chuck his weight around?
He belted me one, all because of his half-caste little brother.
So, unless you want his brother dead, or sent back...
- This is never gonna end, is it? - It's up to me, isn't it?
Not any more, cos if no-one's around to tell the tale, Dan's safe!
He'll go back to welfare.
- Ow! - (Grunts)
(Squelch)
Go, run! Your sons need you!
I took the money to pay for Jimmy's grave.
I was going to move the body but the pubs were out.
And do you know...
...that night, I slept like a baby.
First time since Jimmy died.
I've got no regrets.
And then you must take hold of the arms...
Yes. And then the knee to the throat.
Ooh, but do not choke.
Yes.
Perfect. You see how good this pose is for overcoming.
Now, hold number 15.
Now perhaps for a more relaxed pose?
No, no!
Never from below the waist.
Or disqualification.
You lose.
I'm very gracious in defeat.
Oh!
I show you, the art of the mind, with the body.
Why don't you show me here? On the bed?
First you must watch.
Then you learn.
Hold number 16.
(Sighs)
(Knock at door)
MR. BUTLER: Pardon, miss. If you're feeling up to it, the Inspector is downstairs.
Yes! Tell him I'll be down immediately.
Miss Fisher.
I believe I owe you a ride on the great scenic railway.
So Wallet means?
Possum. You win.
Oh! How can I resist a man who pays his debts?
I wouldn't bother with the hat.
♪ PARK LANE ORCHESTRA: I Don't Want Nobody But You
♪ I ain't got nobody and I don't want nobody but you
♪ I'd have my hands full of trouble if I started to double-cross you
♪ I ain't gonna trifle and I don't wanna trifle, that's true
♪ I know if you start to run around then I'll start to run around too
♪ So if you see me talking to anyone, walking with anyone now
♪ Believe me, it's strictly business, and how
♪ And I can tell you that I don't do to others
♪ What I don't want the others to do
♪ No, no, I ain't got nobody and I don't want nobody but you. ♪
(Screaming)