♪♪ The Twelve Days Of Christmas
♪ On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
♪ A partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
♪ Two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
♪ Three French hens ♪ Two turtle doves
♪ And a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
♪ Four calling birds ♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle doves
♪ And a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
♪ Five gold rings ♪ Five golden rings
♪ Four calling birds ♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle doves
♪ And a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
♪ Six geese a-laying
♪ Five gold rings ♪ Five golden rings
♪ Four calling birds ♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle doves ♪ And a partridge in a pear tree
- (Electrical fizzing) - Yee-aargh!
(Record crackles)
(Electrical fizzing)
Mac's a marvel on skis, aren't you, Mac?
I must be, if you're impressed.
She was once clocked going downhill at 30 miles an hour.
- Oh! 30? - You should try it, Aunt Prudence.
My own pace will be quite hectic enough, thank you.
What with organising Christmas in July, and finalising the sale of the mine.
Nicholas assures me he's got all the paperwork, but these things can be complicated.
Nicholas Mortimer was my late Uncle Edward's business partner.
- Junior. - Naturally.
What about you, Dot? Fancy a lesson?
Yes, but...where are the brakes?
Why on earth would you want to stop?
But meanwhile...the Alps are calling!
- Oh! - (Mac yodels)
PHRYNE: Here we are. AUNT PRUDENCE: Here we are.
AUNT PRUDENCE: Ooh, my word, it is cold.
(Bell rings)
AUNT PRUDENCE: Yoo-hoo! We've arrived!
(Thunder rumbles, wind whistles)
It's awfully quiet. There's usually someone here to greet the guests.
(Door opens)
- Ah, Nicholas. - Prudence, I'm so sorry.
Have you been here long?
This is my niece, Miss Phryne Fisher.
- How do you do? - Phryne, Nicholas Mortimer,
part owner of the Stanley Mine.
And this is my friend, Doctor MacMillan and my companion, Miss Dorothy Williams.
Yes, yes, welcome. I'm afraid you'll have to forgive us.
We're...we're rather in shock.
-Oh? - Len Fowler passed away this morning.
Oh!
Putting up the Christmas tree, keeled over, fell down the ladder.
Dear Lord! I'm so terribly sorry.
Our condolences.
We assume a heart attack but we can't get the doctor up until tomorrow,
So..We put his body in the cool store.
- Poor Len. How undignified. - (Door opens)
- Mrs. Stanley! - Oh, Chester!
- How is poor Birdie? - Shattered.
She thought Len was fighting fit. We all did.
- Phryne, you've already met Chester. - Of course.
You used to manage the mine for Uncle Edward?
Yes, before we had to shut things down.
My friend Doctor MacMillan is a physician.
Perhaps she could examine Mr. Fowler for you?
It might comfort Mrs. Fowler to know how he died.
Yes, yes, of course.
- I must go to her at once. - She's in her room.
Oh, thank you.
It's difficult to determine cause of death without full dissection.
Might not go down well with Len's wife.
Let's start with the extremities.
Holes in the soles of his slippers.
(Sniffs) Burn holes.
And a scorched finger.
Either Len Fowler was struck by lightning indoors, or he was electrocuted.
This is a holiday. Must you find murder everywhere?
Mac, you know very well murder finds me.
(Thunder rumbles)
- Ho ho ho! - Ooh!
Merry Christmas. Quentin Lynch, Mr. Mortimer's secretary.
- Miss Fisher? - No. No, I'm Dorothy.
- Oh. - We're so sorry about Mr. Fowler.
These seem rather inappropriate now.
Oh, thank you.
Oh, hello. You must be Miss Fisher.
-I am. - Quentin Lynch. How do you do?
Pleased to meet you.
These are very pretty lights. Little pears.
Yes, Vera Mortimer brought those back from Paris.
Oh, there seems to be one missing.
Ahh. Perhaps it er...came out somewhere?
Ah, found it.
Quentin, have you cleaned the guns for tomorrow's game shooting?
Ah, not yet, Mr. Mortimer. I'll do that now.
Good man. You'll find the key on my desk in the room.
Yes.
I hope you don't mind, Chester put your car in the garage, out of the weather.
- How thoughtful. - And he's put your luggage in your room.
Thank you.
Surprise, Monsieur!
Miss Jane! Goodness!
We weren't expecting you for days.
C'est moi.
- My ship left Marseilles early. - She telephoned us to pick her up.
Oh, Jane, the others have gone away.
They're celebrating Christmas in July in the mountains.
So much for my surprise.
We'd drive you up there, Janey, but the cab, she won't take those roads.
Look on the bright side. You won't have to see your aunty.
All's not lost. We can have our own Christmas in July.
Lovely, isn't it?
Mine had seven little swans, just like the carol.
Mrs. Fowler must have laid out the rooms just before Len...
Len Fowler's death wasn't all it seems, Dot.
While I have a chat to his wife, why don't you explore?
See if anything strikes you as...odd.
That won't be very hard, Miss.
I gave Birdie Fowler a tonic to help her sleep.
You didn't happen to ask her if she knew who might want to electrocute her husband?
I'll leave that delicate inquiry to you.
She'll be knocked out for a good few hours, though.
Never mind. I have other avenues to investigate in the meantime.
(Creaking)
Oh, Quentin.
Enigmatic, isn't she?
Hello again.
Like the Mona Lisa.
William Wordsworth, the most romantic of poets.
"She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair."
Very nice.
Well, um...
(Telephone rings)
Dottie. Thought you were up in the mountains.
What? In the cool room? Have the local police been called?
Well, no one seems to think it's a problem,
except for Miss Fisher, of course, who thinks it's a murder.
Murder? Miss Fisher's always right.
Except when she's wrong, like when she breaks the law
and...when someone more important is right.
Oh, Hugh, there's something about this place that scares me.
Anyway, we arrived safely here, so goodbye for now.
Hello there. Happy Christmas in July.
Christmas isn't happy...any time of the year.
- What was that all about? - Miss Fisher's gone on holiday again, sir.
- Oh. Anyone dead yet? - Only one so far, sir.
(Creaking)
Nicholas.
Hello there.
Perhaps you could recommend some reading material.
Oh, well...I don't know if you might like this.
- Wordsworth? It's a little too florid for my tastes. - (Laughs)
Yes, mine also. But my wife, Vera, adores him.
The...artwork not to your taste either?
That's a photograph of the miners.
I took it down because it upset Vera when we arrived.
These are the poor fellows who died in the Christmas Eve cave-in of 1919.
Len Fowler took the photograph, actually, just before he sent them down for their last shift.
He was our foreman.
Aunt Prudence never told me much about it.
That's Ernie Heppenstall, the union rep.
He was Quentin's uncle.
And beside him, Mitch Darcy, mine engineer.
He was Vera's first husband.
- Don't touch that. - Miss Fisher, meet my daughter, Isobel.
Stepdaughter.
Hello.
Is your mother back from her walk, Isobel?
I wouldn't tell you if she was.
I am sorry. I'm afraid this trip has rather stirred things up for everybody.
I'm sure Len Fowler's death can't have helped.
- Isobel said you'd gone hunting. - Vera, darling.
This is Prudence's niece, Miss Phryne Fisher.
Miss Fisher, I was looking forward to meeting you.
How awful the circumstances are so tragic.
None of us could foresee that.
I hope you'll join us for pre-dinner drinks. Nicholas and I.
- Yes. - Wonderful.
(Wind whistles, thunder crashes)
So do you think we'll be leaving early now, Doctor?
Not a hope in Hades.
Doctor MacMillan, Vera.
- A pleasure. - I hear you're a keen langlaufer?
-I am. - I'm afraid the weather may not cooperate.
Yes, they're about to close the road and the storm's here to stay.
I suspect we'll be snowed in by tomorrow.
- Snowed in? - It happens from time to time.
But we have plenty of supplies, and one another for company.
Birdie! Everyone, Mrs. Len Fowler.
I've brought stockings!
It's Christmas in July Eve, after all.
Dear Birdie, are you sure you should be up?
I will not lie staring at four walls. I have to keep busy.
Chester, will you fix the hole in the hen house tonight?
I saw another fox this morning.
AUNT PRUDENCE: Very beautiful.
- Who's Laurie? - Len always hung a stocking for poor Laurie.
He was...a little boy.
The mine's youngest victim.
A child died that day?
He begged his father to let him go with him for a Christmas treat.
I can assure you, if Edward had known that he was there, he would not have allowed it.
Neither would I.
Did nobody else survive the cave-in?
Please, Phryne! It's why Nicholas and I wish to sell the land and the mine,
to erase those dreadful memories.
Erase the memories? As if Isobel and I could ever forget Mitch.
Of course not. I'm so sorry...
If you didn't want to forget Dad, why did you marry Nicholas?
Isobel.
He's a good man.
Excuse me.
I hope you're satisfied, Phryne, with all your questions.
Aunt P!
I wish to sign the paperwork with Nicholas and Chester first thing in the morning.
Leave these poor people to their grief.
(Sighs)
(Sniffles) Oh.
(Telephone rings)
(Laughter)
Tu vois? C'était bénéfique, m'envoyer tout ça, n'cest-ce pas?
Let's send you to Istanbul next. I need to brush up on my Turkish.
I'm so sorry you're there all alone.
It's all right. Bert and Cec are keeping me entertained.
- Just a minute. CEC: Sore loser.
Hello, Miss?
I need you to go to Aunt P's house and find some documents for me.
Wait up, I'll write it down.
Anything relating to the cave-in at the Mount Alexandra Mine.
In particular, look for any references to Ernie Heppenstall, Len Fowler or Mitch...
(Thud and scream)
Miss Fisher? She hung up.
Oh, no! My goodness!
- She's gone. - Vera.
I saw Nicholas Mortimer with this book.
Miss, Quentin Lynch was reading it, too. He quoted from it.
This sculpture, it's...
It's Rodin's "The Kiss".
In this case, the kiss of death.
(Thudding on door)
I'll go. You tell the others.
(Thudding continues)
- Jack! - Miss Fisher.
- Nice of you to drop by. - Dot called.
- May we come in? - Of course.
- They closed the road behind us. - So we may be here longer than we'd planned.
Vera Mortimer.
So how does a sculpture just fall off a shelf?
It didn't.
Fishing line was threaded through a hole in the cover of this book...
...and then tied to the sculpture.
So when she took the book off the shelf,
it brought the sculpture down with it and inflicted a fatal blow to her head.
I don't understand it. I was doing some paperwork in my room. How could this happen?
Vera.
God Almighty.
You did it, didn't you?
- What? - You killed her, you bastard!
How dare you? What the hell are you talking about?
You're the one who can't be trusted!
Stop.
Maybe you should go check on your daughter, Mr. Mortimer.
- Outrageous! - Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.
Why did you accuse Nicholas Mortimer of murdering his wife?
He is not the benevolent man he pretends to be, Inspector.
And where were you when everyone else was in the parlour?
I was tired. I...I fell asleep in my room. Why would I want to kill Vera?
- I... - You what, hm?
How well did you know Vera Mortimer?
Vera and Quentin were lovers. This was in the back of the book.
"My Phantom of delight,
My soul cries this wretched night.
Leave him without further ado;
Or with broken heart I must leave you."
Mr. Wordsworth seems suddenly restrained.
So Vera Mortimer was lured to her death with this love poem?
And both Nicholas and Quentin knew it was in the Wordsworth book.
So either one of them could have set up the tripwire.
Nicholas could have found the poem and murdered Vera for revenge.
And Quentin murdered her because of...thwarted love.
That would do it, especially if it's been thwarted long enough.
(Storm crashing)
(Electrical fizzing)
(Wind howls)
The fuse box is in the basement, but there's no point.
Weather like this, the whole grid goes down.
(Clucking)
I can see to the generator in the morning, but for now, I suggest everyone retire early to bed.
(Hammering)
I don't want anyone taking chances, so lock your door.
But, Jack...if I lock my door, nobody could get in.
It's too great a risk, Miss Fisher. Lock it tight. Good night.
(Cockerel crows)
(Crowing and clucking)
What is it? What is all the palaver?
(Screams)
- Nicholas Mortimer. - The gun didn't leave much of his face.
I recognise the shoes.
Collins, go inside and take a statement from Mrs. Fowler and check on the other guests.
Yes, sir.
A St. Etienne revolver. An 1873 Chamelot-Delvigne.
Nicholas was going shooting this morning.
Quentin Lynch had the key to the gun cabinet.
Quentin's scarpered. His room's empty and his things are gone.
The gun came from here.
(Electrical fizzing)
At least the generator's working.
You're here. So why have your skis gone missing?
Quentin.
I'll bypass the local bloke and call the Jamieson Police.
The police will be able to send back-up.
- Jack. - Dear God!
Chester said the car engines have frozen over, so he can't have escaped by road.
We believe he escaped on skis. He could be halfway down the mountain by now.
I'm an experienced langlaufer, Inspector. Let me go and alert the Jamieson Police.
- I think I should go. - No, I don't want anyone in harm's way.
Conditions are treacherous out there.
At least with Quentin gone, nobody else is in danger.
And when the ice has thawed on the roads, we can widen our search.
We should try to stay busy. I'll put carols on. It'll distract us.
Izzie, do you want to help?
- Are you insane? - How can you celebrate?
Three people have died, including my mother.
And my rotten stepdad.
Miss Mortimer.
It's Miss Darcy. I'm going to my room.
♪ The Twelve Days Of Christmas
♪ On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
♪ A partridge in a pear tree
Turn that off!
♪ On the second day Of Christmas... - Mrs. Stanley, sorry.
Phryne, where did you put my briefcase? I need that paperwork signed.
- I believe it ended up in my room, Aunt P. - Well, what use is it there?
- Aunt Prudence, whatever's wrong? - I loathe that song.
But why did you bite poor Birdie's head off?
Because I've heard it more times than I care to. It haunts me.
Just stop...for a moment.
How does it haunt you?
It was that dreadful Christmas Eve. Edward and I were staying here, at the chalet.
(Distant singing)
(Distant singing continues)
Edward...
They're singing again.
I swear it. They're down there... singing The Twelve Days Of Christmas.
Listen.
(Singing has stopped)
Oh! I heard them, Edward.
They're alive, I know it.
Come on, come back to bed.
I'm sure it...it was my mind playing tricks, but...
Tell me.
I'm perfectly all right. Thank you.
(Exhales) No need for that.
(Wind howls)
How can you, when there are people lying dead all over, and under, the house?
- Izzie... - Isobel.
Someone has to pay the price, for all of it.
Isobel, you're in shock. Come here.
(Low chatter)
What exactly did you mean, "others haven't been punished"?
I don't know what you're talking about.
Isobel, Constable Collins and Miss Williams heard you say those exact words.
And you believe the kind of people that lurk behind doors to listen in?
Isobel, please. We're trying to prevent more murders.
It's too late to prevent my mother's.
No! You're all as greedy as each other. Leave me alone.
Isobel?
Huh! Look at all this money.
Isobel tried to hide it.
What's that?
"Five gold rings".
I found one similar beside my bed.
(Sniffs)
(High-pitched squeal)
What?
(High-pitched squeal)
(Screams)
(Clatter)
(Gasps for air)
Prudence! Prudence!
Oh, God, OK. I've got you.
Somebody pushed me.
Oh! Oh.
I thought I'd surely drown.
But...luckily I learned how to hold my breath as a little girl.
By sheer good fortune I kicked over a milk pail, and that's when Doctor MacMillan came and...
- (Sobs) - Thank God you're all right, Aunt P.
Oh, Phryne!
I was checking langlaufing conditions when I heard the clatter.
I thought I made it clear everyone should remain inside.
I'm a doctor. I save lives. I can't do nothing.
Well, you didn't see the culprit, did you?
He'd made himself scarce before I arrived.
No sign of anyone, sir, but I found this.
Quentin was wearing that. He's still here.
Why in God's name does he want me dead? What have I ever done to the wretched fellow?
You owned the mine where his uncle died.
But why now, a decade later? It doesn't make sense.
- Mrs. Stanley? - Oh.
Er... My powders. In the side pocket.
Aunt Prudence, where did you get this?
I found it on my pillow when we arrived.
We need to secure this place. I think I've just worked out how all these murders fit together.
Jack!
Jack. It's The Twelve Days of Christmas.
A partridge in a pear tree.
Len Fowler was found electrocuted under a tree that was hung with pear-shaped lights.
Those lights had been tampered with.
Then, I found these, in Nicholas and Vera's room.
Two turtle doves implies lovers.
Vera was killed with a book of love poetry and a statue named "The Kiss".
Three French hens.
There were three hens in the henhouse where we found Nicholas shot with a French revolver.
And four calling birds?
Aunt Prudence heard what she thought was an injured bird call four times,
and then she was forced, face down, into a birdbath.
So each victim receives an unsigned card and then they receive an untimely death.
- Which means he must be targeting... - Everyone.
I received nine ladies dancing.
- And what about Dottie? - Seven swans.
This gathering was arranged weeks ago.
Our killer knew that there were going to be ten guests and staff staying at the chalet.
Yes, but there are twelve days.
There are two police officers at Jamieson, but they couldn't get through.
Not even a criminal mastermind could control the weather.
Luckily you two arrived to make up the numbers.
- You didn't find cards in your rooms? - No.
Collins, check your coat.
12 drummers drumming.
Nothing.
Jack.
Ten lords a-leaping.
- I've got 11 pipers piping. - I've eight maids a-milking.
- He's going after us all one by one! - Five gold rings.
- I tried to warn you all and now it's too late. - It's not too late.
The house is secured from top to bottom. Just calm down.
But if he's killing us off one by one, I'm leaving.
- We must all leave. - The roads are frozen. So are the motor cars.
- I'll hike! - And risk being murdered?
What?
Quentin may have arranged us in neat numbers,
but I'm sure if he saw you, he wouldn't hesitate to kill out of sequence.
- Oh, my God. - We need to stay inside.
Especially you, Mrs. Stanley. No doubt he wants to finish the job.
- To kill me? - Yes.
Well, supposing he gets inside?
He won't. The chalet's been completely secured.
Everyone's inside and the doors and windows are completely locked.
Not everyone. Mac's missing.
(Murmuring)
So's my pistol.
Mac's an experienced outdoorswoman, Jack. She's only trying to help.
And risking our lives in the process? It's lunacy.
Jack.
Mac!
Oh, God!
Drink this. Have a drink.
(Groans) I'll live.
Ohh!
I'm afraid I lost your revolver.
Six geese a-laying.
- What happened? - I thought I'd go cross country to Jamieson.
I saw a sign. And then someone hit me from behind.
Miss Fisher? Miss Fisher.
Looks like fresh timber.
Couldn't be more than a couple of weeks old.
I thought the mine was closed ten years ago.
It was.
JACK: Someone's been down there recently. Who could it have been?
CHESTER: It must have been Quentin. - Why would Quentin reopen the mine?
Well, I have no idea.
Why would he suddenly start killing people to the theme of The Twelve Days Of Christmas?
It beggars belief.
What can you tell me about the cave-in?
I've never forgiven myself for not trusting my own opinion.
I didn't want the men to keep drilling...
But we were getting close to a new seam of gold
and I was issued with a report that said the mine was safe.
But it wasn't.
No.
I stay inside when it's cold like this. I get terrible chilblains...
Would Len have reopened the mine shaft? Or Nicholas?
Why are we talking about a mine shaft?
Shouldn't you be out there trying to find Quentin, before he kills us all?
Sorry.
With my Len gone and this madman on the loose, I can't think straight.
Why don't you ask Chester about the mine shaft?
The Inspector's with him now.
- What did you give Isobel earlier? - Nothing.
I should go to her. Poor thing, she's lost her mother and her step...
Birdie, did you give Isobel that money?
About six months ago.
Nicholas paid Len and I... to dig some new tunnels...
...to get to the gold seam another way.
Go on.
Well, last week...
we came across what was left of Mitch and Ernie Heppenstall and those other poor blokes.
Along with a letter in a tin.
"We are trapped down here.
Ernie tried to warn the boss the wall was unstable, but he refused to listen.
We've hauled young Laurie up to the top in the basket
to send word that we're still alive, and we're keeping our spirits up
by singing little Isobel's favourite Christmas song."
Did Laurie ever deliver his message?
All we heard was he'd died. Nothing about the rest of them being alive.
(Coughs)
BIRDIE: Later that night there was a second collapse.
It sounded like an explosion to me. And Len noticed some gelignite was missing.
Are you suggesting those men were murdered?
(Lightning crashes)
Did either of you ever inform my uncle?
No.
Len wasn't sure who was responsible.
He was...scared of losing his job.
I'm not proud of what we did. But we've been doing it tough.
Len threatened to tell Mrs. Stanley we'd found the gold seam
if Nicholas didn't let us take half for ourselves.
And then Isobel tried to blackmail him about the past with her letter.
That 200 pounds. Nicholas gave it to you?
Mother and I deserved that money.
Father died down there that day when he could have been saved.
Mitch Darcy and the other men lived through the first cave-in. You did hear singing.
(Exhales) I thought I was imagining things.
The first collapse trapped the miners.
But it was the second one, perhaps deliberate, which killed them and guaranteed their silence.
Did Uncle Edward ever mention young Laurie... delivering a message?
No, he certainly did not!
Edward might have had to rely on others to judge the condition in the mine,
but if the boy had said something to him, he would have told me.
Your uncle was a fine and decent man.
I'm sorry, Aunt P. I know you adored him.
But the mine was struggling and Uncle Edward had to keep things to schedule.
Maybe he became desperate.
(Dot screams)
Miss! Miss! It's Birdie!
I just found her!
Eight maids a-milking.
Birdie! No!
The cocoa was poisoned. He's inside the house.
Inside? We must get out!
- Miss, we have to go. - No, if we leave now we'll perish from exposure.
Collins, get a gun from the cabinet. Search the reading room from top to bottom.
Once you know it's safe get everybody inside and lock the door.
Come on.
And find Chester.
How the hell did he get inside?
(Distant singing)
Jack, the shafts. The tunnels must run under the house.
It's the only way Aunt Prudence could have heard the singing.
Aunt Prudence heard the singing in the kitchen, by the fire.
Somewhere just the other side of this wall.
Somewhere here.
Feel this.
- It's icy. - That's why the room's so cold.
(Creaks)
You should be in the reading room with the others.
It's not much more than a ventilation shaft, but it must be how Quentin's getting into the house.
There are other sets of keys around. Nicholas could have easily given Quentin access to them.
This one should unlock the hatch.
Jack. Look at Nicholas's shoes.
Blood.
Ahh... The toes have been cut off to fit into Nicholas's shoes.
This isn't Nicholas at all. It's Quentin Lynch.
So Nicholas is still alive.
And Quentin has been framed for the murders he didn't commit.
Go and stay with the others, and let Constable Collins know we're going into the tunnel.
(Water dripping)
JACK: Hip flask? - Refreshments.
Stay close.
Is that an order, Inspector, or are you just scared?
Only of you.
It's the new gold seam.
Miss Fisher, come back. It's a dead end.
- It could be a tr.. - (Thud)
Jack!
You won't get away with this, Nicholas.
I believe I already have.
- I'm dead, after all, aren't I? - Why did you decide to kill us all?
The gold belongs to me.
And you were prepared to murder 12 more people to hold onto it.
Well, in the unlikely event that you can't count, I haven't actually finished yet.
Nine ladies dancing.
One.
Police revolvers only hold six bullets.
Happily...I've come across another.
Nine.
(Groans)
I'm sure you've met Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.
AUNT PRUDENCE: Why?
Your husband robbed me when he closed the mine. I wasn't going to be robbed again.
I should have guessed. You've always been obsessed with the gold.
That's what started this whole damned tragedy.
You knew the quartz was unstable but you made them keep going, and the wall caved in.
It was an accident.
How could you send your own men into danger?
That was the least of his crimes.
He could have saved them, but he chose not to.
- What is it, Laurie? - (Coughs)
Get the doctor!
They're...alive.
What? What?
All of them.
Sssh. It's all right, boy.
- (Muffled cries) - It's all right.
- The doctor's on his way. - It's too late.
Did the poor lad say anything?
Not a word.
You left my dad there to...
There's no point, Isobel. The law will do more with him than you can.
So Edward knew nothing of the other miners?
He kept haranguing me about your hearing The Twelve Days Of Christmas.
So I stole some gelignite from Len Fowler and blew them up.
Poor Edward was so distressed that he closed the mine.
Thereby robbing you of the share of gold you thought was rightly yours.
It was mine!
When I finally found it again after all these years I was not going to be robbed again.
And so you hatched your plan.
Len. Birdie.
You had reasons to kill them all.
And you were afraid Isobel had told Vera, so you killed your own wife, too.
You employed Quentin because he looked alike.
So you could frame him for your own crimes and then disappear down into the mine tunnels.
Your Twelve Days Of Christmas was an exceptionally cruel jab at Aunt Prudence.
- And the rest of us? - For my own amusement.
♪ On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
♪ A partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
♪ Two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me...
- (Laughter) - Under the mistletoe. Kiss! Kiss!
- Ah..OK. - (Song continues)
(Laughter)
(Cheering)
Ah, dear Jane, it's so lovely to have you back.
Oh. Well, if you insist, Mr. Butler.
Tide's in, Mr. B. Just the way I like it.
- Thank you, Mr. B. - Cheers, Mrs. S.
Oh. Oh... Merry Christmas.
Aunt Prudence and Bert.
- Oh! - (Laughter)
I'll be in it if you will.
Whoa...
- Hey! - (Laughter)
I would have paid admission to see that.
Miss Fisher and the Inspector.
Oooh... Oooh...
I'm not sure that my kisses can be compelled by sprigs of parasitic greenery.
Hemiparasitic. Of the genus viscum.
I'll take your word for it.
(Laughs)
- I think it's time for another song. - Come on, Cec. Deck The Halls!
(Cec clears throat)
♪ Deck the halls with boughs of holly
♪ Fa-la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
♪ 'Tis the season to be jolly
♪ Fa-la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
♪ Don we now our gay apparel
♪ Fa-la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
♪ Troll the ancient Yuletide carol
♪ Fa-la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
HUGH: ♪ La, la! - Cheers.
ALL: Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.
PHRYNE: Merry Christmas, everyone.
♪ Silent Night
♪ Holy night
♪ All is calm, all is bright
♪ Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
♪ Holy Infant so tender and mild
♪ Sleep in heavenly peace
♪ Sleep in heavenly peace. ♪