Smoke and Mirrors The Doctor Blake Mysteries

THUNDER RUMBLES

Evening, sir, ma'am.

Got a light?

Yes, of course.

May I have my lighter back, please?

Course. Just take it.

Come on, old man!

The deceased is Noel Ashford, mid-50s.

Witnesses say he fell from the Colonists', about 9:30.

Well after closing time.

My guess is he's had a few too many.

Cause of death? Oh...impact.

Injuries? I'd say a broken skull.

That's very good, Dr Lawson.

What did you find on him?

Ah, just these.

Right.

Cec, my dear chap, are you all right?

-I will be, sir, thank you.

-Good.

This is probably the last thing you need right now,

-but do you mind taking me up to the balcony?

-Certainly, sir.

I checked the premises thoroughly before I locked up, sir.

Mr Ashford wasn't even a member. He resigned last year.

Financial difficulties, I heard.

Cec, why don't you take a seat? Catch your breath.

I'll take a look.

He must have fallen from about here.

-Certainly hitting a car from this height could kill you.

-Why here?

Oh, that's a good question, Cec.

Perhaps he had a particular sentimental attachment to the club,

I don't know.

I'd like to find out a little bit more about our Mr Ashford.

Noel Gregory Ashford, member number 471.

Joined the club in 1935, he became the club snooker champion in 1947.

He drank whisky sour.

That's very impressive, Cec.

A few weeks ago, you were in here with a lady friend.

Joy McDonald.

Very sorry about what happened.

Thank you, Cec.

So am I.

Please.

That's my husband.

Noel Ashford.

We were going to go to the theatre tomorrow.

I don't understand.

I am sorry, Mrs Ashford.

Come on, Mum.

Nice family.

Why kill yourself?

Waiting for him to respond may take a while.

Bruising around the eyes.

Some facial abrasions.

He landed on his back?

Yes. Not too many external injuries by the looks.

But this contour is unusual, isn't it?

Dipping at the hips, bulging at the upper and lower abdomen.

Let's take a look at his legs, eh?

Ah. Extensive scarring to the knees.

He's made a right mess of that at some point.

PHONE BUZZES

I forgot we had a phone.

It's only used for emergencies.

Alice Harvey.

It's a hit and run. Constable Michael Martin.

Michael? Michael, it's Dr Blake. Can you hear me?

His breathing's normal.

He's unconscious. We need to get him straight to emergency.

-What happened?

-Heading out to Neerena

and following up a disturbance out at Clayton Shaw's farm

and Mick was changing his flat

and this bloody truck just comes flying round the corner

and must have lost it on the wet road.

-Get a good look at the driver?

-Nah.

Nah, but it was a... was a standard delivery truck.

It had some kind of brand painted on the side.

Right, we'll start at Learmonth Road and continue to work south.

We'll find this mongrel if it takes all night.

Hey, pull up.

No plates.

Still warm.

This is definitely the one.

Rego sticker's been peeled off.

Doesn't matter. I know exactly who this belongs to.

SIREN WAILS

Leon Woods, are you the owner of the Ballarat Apple Farm?

You know I am, Matthew.

-Where were you at half past 11 last night?

-Asleep.

Anyone who can vouch for you?

The missus. And what's this about?

My officer was knocked down by one of your delivery trucks last night.

We found it abandoned in an empty lot this morning.

Well, that's not possible. Me other truck is locked up in me garage.

So how come the engine on the one we found this morning was still warm?

-Anyone else have keys to your garage?

-Only me.

The drivers always return the keys when they're done.

So only you could have been driving this truck last night.

Which I didn't, because I was asleep.

Look, I can take you down to me property.

-My truck will still be there.

-That's a good idea.

Give your keys to Davis. Come with me to the station.

-What, I don't get to go home?

-No!

Your name was printed all over the truck that knocked down my officer!

-Morning.

-Morning.

Anything in the paper about Noel Ashford?

No. No, too late for the early edition.

I don't understand how he could possibly do that to his family.

Maybe he was depressed.

That doesn't make it right, Mattie.

No, not right, but at least understandable.

Hilary buried her first husband. Her daughter was devastated.

If anyone should be suffering from depression, it's those two.

-That's a lovely jumper, by the way, Jean.

-Oh, thank you.

Knit one, purl one.

Well, there's a little more to it than that, Mattie.

I wouldn't know, I never learned.

Right.

This evening, I'm teaching you.

PHONE RINGS

Ah.

Blakes' residence.

Yes, I'll tell him right away.

You're wanted at the morgue.

I wanted to show you these grazes on the face, around the ears.

They haven't changed in colour since presenting last night.

How could a person graze both ears

and the tip of his nose at the same time?

It doesn't fit with what we know of the impact.

You have an alternative theory?

I don't think it's bruising at all.

It's frostbite.

Frostbite?

All right. Let's open him up.

Where's the heart?

Down here.

And here, it's ripped.

Displaced organs. Spleen, heart.

The liver's been torn.

It's almost in his pelvis.

Certainly explains that unusual contour we noticed earlier.

Tell me what you see.

I have never seen anything like this.

I have.

Soldiers.

Soldiers whose parachutes have failed to open.

They end up looking very much like this.

Mr Ashford did not fall from the Colonists' Club balcony.

Close him up.

-What are you suggesting?

-Well, now just hear me out.

There's physical evidence of frostbite on the ears and nose

and massive internal injuries.

-This may be a stretch...

-Usually is.

..but the injuries are consistent with a fall from a place

much higher than any building in Ballarat and much colder.

-Meaning what?

-Perhaps he fell from a plane flying overhead.

An outrageous notion, certainly.

But one thing I do know is this -

the organs were extensively displaced.

-Wouldn't the body be in worse condition?

-Not necessarily.

You see, skin is packed with proteins

that can stretch many times their length.

So the body's falling through the air,

it reaches a certain velocity and hits the car.

-Easy!

-Sorry. The car takes much of the impact.

The skin - the skin resumes its shape.

But the real damage, the real damage has occurred internally.

A plane?

I cannot think of another explanation.

Sir. Sir.

I got a call from the hospital.

Martin's conscious.

But he doesn't remember anything.

Course he doesn't. I'll go and visit him later. What else?

Well, uh, Leon Woods was telling the truth.

His other truck's locked up at his property now.

-How can that be?

-How many trucks does he own?

-Two.

-How many are you saying there are now?

-Three.

-What am I meant to do with those?

-Well, they're from Leon Woods.

I don't know. Evidence?

I think you'll find it's bribery. No-one eat the apples.

Now, listen...this is the truck that hit Constable Martin?

Definitely.

-Definitely?

-Yeah.

Right. One of Leon's apples...

-Blake.

-Just bear with me.

I want to show you something.

A little bit of science.

I'll try not to mess up your desk.

There we are.

The star of the apple always has five points.

-The star of the apple?

-Yes. Look.

The picture of the apple on the side of that truck has four.

Not the kind of mistake an apple connoisseur like Leon would make.

That truck has nothing to do with the Ballarat Apple Farm.

It has nothing to do with Leon Woods.

Someone went to the trouble

of painting a copy of the Ballarat Apple Farm logo

on the side of that truck, albeit slightly inaccurately.

It suggests they were trying to hide whatever it was

they were transporting, and I can tell you both this,

it wasn't apples. It might also explain

why they failed to stop after hitting the young constable.

Try not to spill any of your theories about planes just yet.

Mrs Ashford.

This is everything your husband had on him.

He was only able to wear that once.

I bought it for him a few days ago.

There's also his wallet and some tobacco.

You can keep the tobacco. He didn't smoke.

Oh, and, uh...

I thought he was looking forward to it.

Mrs Ashford, I... I'm sorry, but I'm curious.

If your husband didn't smoke, why would he have tobacco on him?

I don't know. It probably belonged to one of the pilots.

Pilots?

He was president of the flying club.

They all smoked. Except Noel.

May I?

Of course.

Is there anything else you need?

No. Thank you.

Davis, head out to the local flying club.

Actually, I could go with Charlie, brief him on the way,

-save you some time.

-Good idea. You might learn something.

Come on, Charlie.

Good morning, ma'am.

Uh, I'm Senior Constable Davis. This is Dr Blake.

-Morning.

-Beatrice Ryan. I'm the secretary for the flying club.

We just need a moment of your time, if that's all right.

Course. What can I help you with?

Oh, just a routine follow-up at the moment.

Um...were any flights scheduled here last night?

They don't usually fly at night.

Right.

And how many pilots do you have here?

Just two now.

Mr Townsend and Mr Dankworth.

You see, we're a training facility. There's no courses on at the moment

so the pilots are using the spare time to maintain the planes.

Lovely.

And you're here of an evening?

No, I only work during the day.

Right.

I'd just like to double check that no flights left here last night.

Of course. We can take a look at the logbooks if you like.

See, each pilot has their own logbook

and there's one for each plane.

The Cessna 310 is the only plane in operation at the moment.

We record the date, the time, the hours flown,

the location to and from.

Right.

Uh...as you can see, the Cessna wasn't flown last night.

So this plane, the Cessna, it was flown five days ago.

-That's right.

-And if we wanted to speak to those two pilots?

Oh, they're on the tarmac right now.

Oh, tremendous. Thank you so much for your help.

Let me give you a hand.

Um, just over there, thank you.

You see, those picture frames, they need urgent attention.

The wood, it wears away if it isn't polished correctly.

I didn't know that.

Well, sometimes I wonder if people notice they've been cleaned at all.

I think people notice.

That logbook.

All the entries were written in pencil.

Makes it fairly easy to adjust any information if need be.

And, yes, Charlie, she's a very attractive young woman.

I imagine this has all been quite a shock for her.

Well, lucky she met me, then.

Yes, I suppose so.

It has got a few gremlins. Might need a bit more trim.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

I'm Senior Constable Davis. This is Doctor Blake.

I'd like to ask you a few questions about this plane.

Copper and a doctor. Aren't we lucky(?)

What are your names?

Lyle Townsend.

Hugh Dankworth.

Has this plane been flown in the last 24 hours?

Are you second-guessing the logbooks you just inspected?

I'm assuming that's what you were doing in our office.

Did you fly this plane last night?

You won't get a different answer from him,

unless you ask a different question.

We're looking into Noel Ashford's death,

trying to ascertain exactly what happened last night.

He threw himself from the Colonists', didn't he?

Well, we're investigating all possibilities.

Last time it was flown it was, what, five days ago?

Look, I'm sure Beatrice has already told you that.

And where were you blokes last night at around half past nine?

We went into town for a few beers.

We were walking home around about that time.

We've got a plane to get back in the air. Excuse us, gents.

I'd like to apologise for not being much help last night, sir.

Well, I hope you don't blame yourself for what happened.

Well, what happens in this club is my responsibility.

Well...between you and me, I don't think he fell from here.

Sir?

I think he fell from a plane. I don't know why, I don't know how.

I didn't hear anything, although there was a storm last night.

The pilots at the air strip?

They swear no plane went up.

Cec, that tobacco you were smoking last night. May I see it?

-Has sir taken up smoking?

-Oh... I smoke very occasionally, Cec.

Mrs Beazley does not approve.

Hmm, fairly popular, is it?

Well, it's very high quality.

And it's also quite inexpensive at the moment.

Black market tobacco usually is.

We found an identical pouch on Noel Ashford.

-But Mr Ashford...

-Didn't smoke, I know.

So why did he have it on him? Where did he get it?

Clearly he didn't buy it from a shop.

Is sir asking for my supplier?

And if I was?

With respect, sir, I don't think the members would be too happy

if their favourite tobacco supplier was shut down.

Your loyalty is admirable.

Ah, sir could do with a haircut.

Possibly...High Street.

HORSE RACING COMMENTARY ON RADIO

What're you looking for?

A trim, thank you.

Quarter inch off the sides.

-Tapered?

-Rounded.

Haven't seen you in here before.

First time.

Fancy suit. Doctor?

-Lawyer? Copper?

-Doctor.

-Mm.

Well, Doctor, you've had your hair cut recently,

so what are you really in here for?

I smoke.

-How many pouches?

-Two.

Why didn't you just say so?

Tell me. Say I wanted more. A lot more.

Heavy smoker, are we?

How quickly can you get it in?

Five hours, give or take.

Please, keep the change.

-Thanks.

-Thank you.

You look like you have some news.

I've just been to see the local barber, Willard Baxter.

That's hardly a front page headline.

I purchased illegal tobacco from the man,

for research purposes, of course.

He has boxes of it in his storeroom,

and I think it's the same tobacco Noel had on him.

Charlie found traces of tobacco in that truck.

So, Willard Baxter is bringing chop-chop into town.

Why doesn't that surprise me?

And I asked him if he could get me some more. A lot more.

He said he could, in around five hours.

Well, hang on, the nearest tobacco farm is Myrtleford.

Ballarat to Myrtleford,

well, a round trip in a car's nine hours at least.

-He's not driving it in.

-Ohh!

-He's flying it in.

Baxter's definitely connected to the flying club.

Those boxes in his storeroom have the same stamp on the side.

So Baxter gets a truck and makes it look like he's transporting apples

and hits a police officer in the process.

Get in touch with military records. See if we can find anything on...

Yeah, Lyle Townsend and Hugh Dankworth. Will do.

Dankworth...

Let's bring them in. Pay Baxter a visit while we're at it.

Lawson, before you drag Baxter in,

we should find out which pilot is handing the tobacco over.

Whoever that is may also be responsible for Noel's death.

Baxter's not going anywhere.

In the meantime, we can go straight to the source

and potentially solve all three crimes -

your hit and run, the tobacco operation, and Noel's murder.

Right.

-Ladies.

-Hello, Doctor.

-Beatrice, nice to see you.

Miss Ashford, how are you?

Oh, I'm all right, thank you.

And it's Miss Alexander, by the way. Noel was my stepfather.

I do beg your pardon.

Still, I imagine it must be difficult,

gathering Noel's things together.

Beatrice has been helping me.

She's... She's been very kind.

Is there anything you need?

Well, as a matter of fact,

one of the pilots and I share a mutual acquaintance

and I was hoping to introduce myself properly.

Oh, good timing. That'll be them now.

Oh, how wonderful.

Well, um...I'll leave you to it.

More questions, Doctor?

Ha. Actually, I came to see Hugh.

I, uh, was just wondering how your brother was doing.

Bryan, isn't it?

Yes. What's it to you?

Your brother and I met in Singapore a few years back. Malay Peninsula.

By the time they brought him to me,

nearly every bone in his body was broken.

-You're that doctor?

-Yes!

Thanks to you, my brother celebrated his 40th birthday last week.

Wonderful. Wonderful.

Uh, you served in Sungai Petani?

-Yes.

-Ahh.

-453 Squadron.

-453.

You flew air support for the ground troops when the Japanese invaded.

You know about the ground troops?

I was there.

Join us for a drink inside?

-I would love to.

-Come on.

Told my brother to join the RAAF, too.

There's less injuries, but he wouldn't listen.

-Wanted to get his hands dirty.

-His loss.

Trouble coordinating your socks?

You need a woman in your life, Danksy.

-Maybe I don't want anyone telling me what to do.

-Ahh!

-Who'd want that?

-Ah, here she is.

-Excuse me, I'll just get rid of a few of these.

-Great girl.

-Yes. Yes.

So, you, um, still fly whenever you want?

Yeah, we do.

A Cessna 310 hardly matches the thrill of a Brewster Buffalo,

but, you know, it gets us up there.

The Brewster Buffalo was a bugger of a plane. Bloody death trap!

True, but it kept you on your toes.

It rained last night, I see.

Hasn't rained for two weeks.

We talking about the weather now, Doc?

Well, I just thought you'd be interested to know

someone took the Cessna up last night.

There's fresh mud on the tyres.

Noel Ashford go up with you?

Noel wasn't with us.

It was just a quick flight.

Got to get your adrenaline pumping somehow.

Does anyone else know about this?

Those planes are for training. We could lose our licence.

It also makes you suspects.

We were back by half past seven.

I think this drink is over.

Yes, of course.

Gentlemen.

That's right. And pull it across. Pull that...

-That's it.

-I'm sorry, Jean.

I don't see the appeal. This is really quite difficult.

-You're thinking too hard about it.

-What am I supposed to do?

Well, sometimes knitting's best done thinking about something else,

or talking about something else.

Ah. I've just been out to the flying club.

I still can't believe that poor man fell from a plane.

The pilots admitted taking a plane up last night,

but it doesn't seem right that they were involved

in Noel Ashford's death. I mean, these men are ex-RAAF pilots.

These days, for them, flying means escape, freedom.

And I don't think they'd ever want to jeopardise that.

So why would they be lying?

Red and green.

Hugh Dankworth is colour-blind?

I'm fairly sure.

They both admitted flying that night.

Of course with fresh mud on the tyres of the Cessna,

they could hardly deny it.

So perhaps Noel Ashford found out, confiscated Dankworth's licence.

Gives Dankworth motive.

I suppose throwing him out of a plane

-and trying to cover his tracks seemed like an option.

-Now, hang on.

I'm not saying Dankworth was responsible,

just that, well, he may be linked somehow.

Oh, he seems responsible all right.

We just need to know when they took that plane

and how far they travelled.

Sorry to have called you out here tonight.

-Anything I can do, Constable.

-It's Charlie.

-Charlie.

Now that is where Dankworth would have had some real trouble.

The red and green warning lights.

-And this is a training school?

-Mm.

So...what are we looking at here, Blake?

-Are you all right?

-Yeah, I just want to get this over and done with.

-Do I sense a fear of flying?

-No, you don't.

-Oh.

How does someone get pushed out of a plane like this?

I have no idea.

But looking here, the hours on the tachometer are different.

The entry in the logbook said...

-Yeah, yeah, it was 1831.

-Yes.

And here we have 1835.

Four hours difference.

And I'd say enough room for cargo, too.

Yes, indeed.

-Right, we finished?

-You want to hop out?

-Yes, please.

Hugh, clearly your being colour-blind

never diminished your desire to fly.

My uncle ran the pilot school when I was in training.

He let me through. By the time I signed up for the RAAF,

they were so desperate for pilots...

I'm guessing the red and green warning lights

would have been something of an issue.

You can see what's red or green by the position of the light.

Did Noel Ashford find out and threaten to cancel your licence?

No, I made sure he never found out.

By killing him?

-Of course not!

-Why don't you tell us more about last night,

and that plane you took for a ride?

Lyle and I went up about six o'clock, after we closed the club.

Starting at base, we travelled four miles east towards Egerton.

You didn't fly over the town centre?

No.

We got back to the flying club about half past seven,

headed back to town, had a few drinks

and then walked home about half past nine.

Noel wasn't with us.

And you didn't drive a truck that night, either?

A truck? No.

I'm being detained, am I?

What for, being colour-blind?

For lying in an official police statement. That a good enough start?

What?

If Noel Ashford did find out about your eyesight,

I think that might give you a reason to want to keep him quiet.

Now, someone pushed him out of that plane.

And it wasn't me. I told you the truth.

Well, not at first. Come on, Hugh.

If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here.

So tell me, how have you managed to keep flying?

Lyle's the only one who knows about my eyesight.

And he's always with me when I fly.

-Any other teaching I do is on the ground.

-What about Ashford?

I made sure I never went up with him.

He would have reported me for sure.

But you flew during the war. How on earth did you manage that?

They needed all the pilots they could get.

And as long as my co-pilot was on the ball, I was all right.

You blokes have got no idea.

Spoken like a true serviceman.

People talk about the war as if it was something terrible,

and of course it was. Just not for me.

I got to fly all these incredible machines all over the place.

Best bloody years of my life.

Quite.

Lawson, he's adamant Ashford wasn't up in the plane with them.

They were back by half past seven, long before Noel fell.

Dankworth flew a plane and Noel Ashford was tossed out of one.

You don't seem convinced.

Oh, they're just trying to relive their glory days.

I can't see them killing a fellow ex-serviceman in order to do that.

-Boss?

-Yes.

-Uh, Clayton Shaw wants to talk to you in person.

He's got a complaint about how slack the police have been

in getting back to him.

Well, did you tell him a copper was knocked over

-on the way to his place?

-I did.

And he said the next time someone flies a plane over his farm

-and spooks his cows, he'll shoot them down.

-Over his farm?

-What time?

-Right around six o'clock.

But then again at around half past nine.

-Twice?

-Mm.

Dankworth didn't mention that, did he?

Follow up on the other farms and see what they have to say.

Well, actually, do you mind if it waits till tomorrow?

I, um...I'm meant to be knocking off pretty soon.

Got plans, have we?

-Oh, fair enough. First thing tomorrow.

-Thanks, boss.

Still reckon the pilots are trying to relive their glory days?

The plane flew twice that night.

Oh, you can carve, Lucien.

It was the second flight that Noel Ashford fell from.

So the pilots went from the flying club and flew over the town centre?

-Lucien?

-Ah, thank you.

Um, Jean, just give me a moment.

Now, let's say the chicken is the flying club.

Now, let's say the salt is Lydiard Street

where poor Noel Ashford was found.

-And the jug, the jug can...

-That's a gravy boat.

-I do beg your pardon.

The gravy boat is the plane.

Now, where does...what's his name, Clayton Shaw, live?

-Neerena.

-Where's that?

And the pilots said they flew east from the flying club.

-That means they didn't cross the town centre.

-Well, they had to.

Mattie!

So Clayton said that there was one plane at six, back and forth,

and then another plane at half past nine.

The pilots said they were back at base by half past seven.

That still doesn't explain the flight over Ballarat

when they were nowhere near it.

-I'm sorry, but the flying club is getting cold.

-Yes.

-Lucien.

Now, that is a sour cream gravy.

And the other one is a home-made tomato sauce.

Shall we?

Jean.

This wasn't simply a case of two flights.

There were two separate planes.

We could have gone to the pictures,

but this really is the best view of the Ballarat night sky.

It's as if you can see every single star there is.

This isn't just a part-time job for you, is it?

No.

My brother was RAAF.

He never made it home.

The pilots here, they wear the same cologne that he used to.

Makes me feel as if he's still close by.

I'm sorry, Beatrice.

Well, you owe me a story now.

I call my mum every day.

I've got younger brothers, too.

They're much younger.

And Mum's kind of struggling without me there.

And your dad?

No.

I tell you, I love the work here, and I'm good at it.

But...I don't really know anyone, and they don't trust me,

and that makes it really hard.

So why are you here?

Oh, they're promoting me after this.

That's why.

Because you're right.

This is the best view in Ballarat.

-Really?

-Really.

CAR APPROACHING

You have got to be joking me.

-Doc.

-Charlie.

Sorry to interrupt. This can't wait.

Now, you said there were two flights that night.

There were in fact two different planes.

-For God's sake!

-But there's just the one plane in operation, Doctor.

Yes, the Cessna.

I think we should start looking at the other planes, too.

-How many are there?

-A few, but none of the others can get off the ground.

Right. Perhaps we should start by looking in that hangar over there.

Doc, can't this wait till the morning?

I'm afraid not, Charlie. Now come on.

Sorry.

What is it?

That is a Beechcraft 18.

As far as I know, it hasn't been flown for months.

Charlie, may I, um...?

Hasn't been flown for months, you say?

How do you explain fresh mud on the tyres?

I really have no idea.

We found that inside the Beechcraft.

Noel Ashford was wearing a jacket that night.

This thread comes from that very jacket.

It's the plane he fell from.

So, one or both of those pilots were in that plane with Noel Ashford.

And it stunk of tobacco.

And you're convinced that Hugh couldn't have flown it by himself?

-Oh, highly unlikely.

-Which means Lyle Townsend is our man.

PHONE RINGS

Hello, Police Station.

Have a look at this. It's from the War Office.

It's Lyle Townsend's service record.

My goodness.

-Yes.

-Dishonourably discharged for running contraband in 1947.

So Lyle Townsend is the one

who's handing over tobacco to our barber friend.

Now if it's all right with you,

we'll go and pay Willard Baxter a visit right now.

Ah, Doc, that was Cec Drury.

You're needed urgently down at the Colonists'.

Right. Mind if I, um...?

Well, you will anyway.

Davis.

Sarah.

I just wanted to know what he was feeling when he did it.

Look, it's hard to know why people do what they do.

You're wondering what to say to make me feel better, aren't you?

Not at all. There's nothing I can say. I can tell you,

the police are investigating your stepfather's death.

What's to investigate?

He may not have fallen from here.

I believe he fell from one of his planes

and perhaps.... perhaps was the victim of foul play.

We found a blue thread matching his jacket in one of the planes.

OK, that makes sense. He was always working on the Beechcraft.

Your mother said the jacket was brand-new,

that he'd only worn it once, the night he died.

What, are you saying one of the pilots did this?

The police are going to search the flying club tomorrow morning.

Thoroughly.

Hopefully they'll get to the truth.

Come on.

What's all this stuff doing on my table?

Whoever flew tobacco into Ballarat

was also responsible for Noel Ashford's death,

and wore one of these headsets.

Now, it appears they were coming from Myrtleford.

The police are closing in on Lyle Townsend, and, of course,

thanks to me, they already have their hands on Hugh Dankworth.

-And you're not convinced either of them did it?

-No, frankly I'm not.

-Mattie, can you try this on?

-Mm-hm.

Oh, yes!

-Do I have to give it back?

-Yes, you do.

Mattie, just while you're here,

would you mind terribly if I just tried these on you?

Wait, how do you tighten it?

-Like this.

-Yes, wonderful.

Could you take them off carefully for me?

Thank you. Now, look here.

This headset is as small as the ones we just adjusted for Mattie.

There you are.

Now it's making sense.

Afternoon.

Willard Baxter.

Don't coppers have their own barbers?

Oh, the lad needs a shave.

I hear that you've been selling tobacco without a licence.

Yeah, well, I usually don't get interrogated by my customers.

Hm. Well, you are now.

In relation to charges of illegal tobacco possession,

a suspected hit and run, and severely injuring a police officer.

I'm not obliged to do or say anything.

You forgot to mention that bit.

You know it off by heart.

You still have to say it.

Senior Constable Davis, please let the record state

I have read Mr Baxter his rights.

Sir.

Now, when my officer got knocked over,

I wanted to find the bloke and I wanted to slit his throat.

Yeah, I know the feeling.

You drive cheap tobacco from Ballarat air strip.

You hope that no-one will notice.

You get an old truck, paint it a fake brand.

Everyone knows that Leon Woods' trucks use the same route.

Who's going to notice one more truck? You hope that it'll keep that way

until you knock over Constable Martin two nights ago,

you fail to stop and render assistance.

Sounds like you're guessing.

I've got uniforms turning your place upside down.

I'm guessing they'll find the set of keys to match that truck.

So maybe I drove a truck now and again.

To bring in tobacco?

Yeah.

I might go easier on you if you tell me who you get the chop-chop from.

We both know you're not going to make it easy on me.

Last chance! Who's your contact at the flying club?

Myrtleford and back.

That's a fair trip, isn't it?

How long were you able to hide the extra use of fuel?

Noel was searching inside the cabin, wasn't he?

Just like me.

He found a pouch of tobacco and he put it in his pocket.

He realised he'd found his contraband runner.

And then he...he stowed away up the back of the plane...

..intending to catch you in the act.

But you weren't flying the plane, were you, Beatrice?

And that's why you're in the co-pilot's seat.

That's right, isn't it?

ENGINES START

Plan on throwing me out of the plane, too?

Sarah, what are you doing?

You can't be serious. Stop the plane.

Everybody out!

Watch your head.

James Alexander was my real father.

He loved planes, and he loved me.

He taught me how to fly.

How long have you been flying in illegal tobacco?

Years. It was my dad's idea.

Must have made you both a fair amount of money.

It wasn't about the money. It was for the thrill of it.

And I loved being with him.

Sarah, how did he die?

He and Noel took a plane up together.

Noel was supposed to have repaired it,

but it wasn't ready...

..and it crashed on the runway.

And Noel survived and Dad didn't.

And a few months later, he was married to my mother.

He wanted me to call him Dad.

The night that Noel Ashford died, he was in the plane when you took off.

Yeah, he'd become suspicious.

Beatrice worked the books,

but he had noticed that there was some fuel unaccounted for.

So he watched us and he stowed away in the back.

Why didn't he talk to you about it?

Because he wanted to catch me out.

And the door blew open when we hit turbulence

and Beatrice took over and I went back and I found him there.

What happened?

Well, he called me a stupid girl.

He said I was just as bad as my father,

and I slapped him.

Then the plane banked.

There was a storm that night.

His knee gave way and the door was open.

You're not trying to tell me it was an accident.

He fell against the door, didn't he?

We found a thread from the jacket he was wearing.

Yeah, he grabbed on to the doorframe and he expected me to help him.

But I didn't...

..because he thought I was just a silly girl.

It's still murder, Miss Alexander.

Yeah, well, I miss my dad.

Why?

I needed the money.

The bank won't give loans to women.

I can't afford to buy a car. I can't afford to buy a home.

-What's fair about that?

-You can work, Beatrice.

And I do. But it's not enough.

Look, I found out what Sarah was doing.

She offered to bring me in on it.

I didn't know she'd kill anyone.

And you thought by going out with me, you could keep an eye on me?

Well, I never thought we'd get on so well.

It was just one date.

You wanted to see me, boss?

I did.

What the hell do you think you were doing?

Whatever it is you have to say, you can say it in front of the Doc.

Answer me.

I don't know, sir.

That woman was the subject of an investigation,

and she played you like a bloody violin.

But it's not the first time, though, is it?

A few weeks ago, you gave crucial information

to a man that turned out to be the perpetrator.

You nearly derailed the entire investigation.

And God knows what information

you're reporting back to your superiors in Melbourne!

Would you like my resignation, sir?

No.

I want you right here, where I can keep an eye on you.

Get out.

Sir.

Well, remind me never to get on the wrong side of you.

-It's a bit late for that, don't you think?

-Fair point.

Can you trust him?

Mm.

Doctor?

Oh, thank you, Jean.

You know, it's a wonder. People still manage to surprise me.

You talking about those two girls?

Actually, no, I was thinking of you two.

Sitting here, working away like this.

And there's something menacing about those knitting needles,

-the way they dart in and out.

-Nonsense, Lucien.

-Slide around.

It's actually very relaxing, isn't it, Mattie?

-Not yet.

-Soon.

Anyhow, isn't it just knit one, purl one?

There's a lot more to it than that.

Just ignore him.

Besides, I think he's become a little alarmed.

Something about a conspiracy of women, perhaps.

Remind me never to underestimate either of you two.