The Open Road The Doctor Blake Mysteries

Pull over! Pull over!

-What are you doing?

-I got this, mate.

Oh, bloody hell, Bomber, not now! We gotta go!

Let's go. Come on!

Go, go, go, go! Go!

ENGINE SPLUTTERS

Not now!

Don't!

Goddammit!

And it looks like Miss Beryl Routledge

will win this stage of the RA Trial.

Second will be Clive Hildebrand,

with Trevor McKenzie a distant third.

APPLAUSE

Congratulations, Miss Routledge.

Thank you very much, Mr Jones! Hello, Ballarat!

Ooh!

This'll be interesting.

You're making it hard for me, Trev.

Oh, come on, Jonesy!

Mate, I can fix a lot of things, but I can't fix this.

You've dropped in the rankings.

Below who?

And what are you grinning at?

I keep telling you, Trev, it's your fuel intake, mate.

And how the hell would you know that?

You been fiddling with it, have you?

That'd be right. This whole bloody thing is rigged!

You all right, Errol?

-Yeah.

-What was all that about?

It's nothing.

Errol.

Errol!

Clive Hildebrand?

You're still the best.

You have a name for your car?

A name for the car? Well, no.

But perhaps you'd like to name her.

Just here if I could, Miss Routledge.

-Certainly.

-Thank you. Beautiful.

Do you think you can win the next leg?

I certainly think so.

-Watch out!

-Mr McKenzie!

-Come on, McKenzie!

-My apologies, gentlemen.

THEY SCREAM

Bloody hell.

Hello?

Hello?

Anyone...

PHONE RINGS

Jean?

Ned, I do beg your pardon. What can I do for you?

-Good to see you, Bill.

-Doc! You're back.

I am. Through here, is it?

There.

-Matthew.

-Well, welcome back.

-How are you?

-Fine.

What have we got?

Errol Moore, mechanic and navigator for Clive Hildebrand.

Arrived in town yesterday with the Red Trial.

I'm sorry, I don't follow motor racing.

Is this their vehicle?

No, it's the rival's.

Not very sporting.

The boy was dragged under McKenzie's car.

Well, I can tell you, he was dead before that.

These abrasions here were received postmortem,

and... and here...

Petechiae. Caused by asphyxiation.

So, someone strangled him and put his body here?

More likely,

a jack slipped while he was working under the car.

And, by the way, petechiae -

yes, an indicator of asphyxiation, not always strangulation.

I'll keep that in mind.

A quiet sort,

and a talented mechanic, apparently.

The boy's driver, Clive Hildebrand, came second in yesterday's stage.

Right.

Question is, what was the lad doing underneath someone else's car?

Sir, you're to remain outside. You're to remain outside!

-Let him through, Senior Sergeant!

-Where is he?

-Oh!

-Mr Hildebrand, I'm sorry.

Thank you all for coming.

It's my sad duty to announce the accidental death of Errol Moore.

Clive Hildebrand, Mr Moore's driver,

and our very own Ballarat legend,

joins me in offering our condolences to Mr Moore's family.

In honour of Errol Moore,

the final leg of the Red Australia Trial

will be delayed until tomorrow.

And we'd like to thank the town of Ballarat

and the Ballarat Courier for their hospitality.

But before I go, can I just assure the motoring public of Australia

that the Red Trial will go on.

-Any questions?

-Yes, is the...

He's a bit quick to jump to that conclusion.

-...the funeral of Errol Moore?

-Yes.

-What?

-Any other questions?

Nothing, nothing. Now, who was there when the body was found?

Trev came hurtling out.

He knew we were all standing there and he drove his car straight at us.

When did he realise that there was a body under the car?

It was hard to tell.

Are you in the market, Doctor?

No, no, not really.

It's impressive, though. What model is it?

-Vanguard Phase II.

-You haven't been following the race?

Ah...

You said that Trevor McKenzie drove his car at you. Why?

Because he's a bloody fool, would be my guess.

He dropped in the rankings yesterday.

Had a go at Errol straight after the race.

Miss Routledge! You're amazing!

You should see my navigator!

But, then again, Trev fights with everyone.

And when was the last time that you saw Errol Moore?

When Trev was yelling at him.

Did you like Errol, Miss Routledge?

I'd never even spoken to him.

But he seemed like a lovely kid. Hell of a mechanic.

Clive was lucky. Always has been.

-How's that, exactly?

-Well, Clive's a local hero, Doctor.

-He won the first Red Trial.

-I thought he'd retired.

So did we.

Thank you, Miss Routledge. Good luck.

Thank you.

Miss Routledge.

Are you honestly telling me that you have no idea who she was,

or who Clive Hildebrand is?

Should I?

The Red Australia race is the most famous motor rally

in the country, Blake. Everyone's watching it.

By the way, my niece is coming into town for a while.

Oh, lovely. Look forward to meeting her.

How was Adelaide?

Churchy.

Traumatic asphyxiation.

Compression of the chest, broken ribs, almost certainly.

Death would have taken...

A minute, maybe two.

Postmortem soft tissue and skeletal damage.

Are you all right?

-Why do you ask?

-You don't seem yourself.

You've barely said a word, to me or him.

I'm sure I'm just tired from my trip.

Compression line, probably from the chassis.

From that shape, I'd say it was a Holden.

Or...

..a Phase I Vanguard.

Well-spotted. It was, in fact, a Vanguard.

So, the jack slips, chassis comes down.

And here he is.

Here he is, indeed.

Left hand...

..grease under the fingernails.

Hardly surprising.

Dragging injuries to the thighs, the back, the face.

Right hand...

Goodness me.

Two dislocated fingers.

Alice, look here.

Swelling on the joints.

Sustained before he died.

Straightforward dislocation, really. Easily realigned.

Still, there's something not quite right here.

Hang on a minute. Hang on.

Why aren't his ribs broken?

-I thought you said the jack slipped.

-It was a theory.

But there's no bruising or lacerations

to the rest of the chest.

No bones broken.

Alice, the car couldn't have fallen on him.

Paperweight?

If it is, it's a very ostentatious one.

It's also fully wound down. I'm telling you, it didn't slip.

-You should dust it for prints.

-What about the autopsy?

Ah, two fingers dislocated pre-mortem, and no broken ribs.

Well, think about it.

A jack slips, car comes down on you,

by God, it's going to break your ribs.

So they lowered the jack down on him while he was under the car?

But before he suffocated, he managed to grab them.

What about his fingers?

Now, what do we know about the owner of the car?

Errol used to be my mechanic,

and then he left, to join the great Clive Hildebrand.

So, he leaves you for Hildebrand, they win last year's race,

and the next thing, he's found dead underneath your car.

And what was he doing underneath there?

Was he sabotaging you?

Well, he certainly wasn't fixing it, was he?

Things have been stuffing up lately.

And here I was, thinking it was just Bomber being slack.

And you never forgave Errol Moore for leaving your team.

Is that why you had a shouting match with him after the race?

Bomber told you that, did he?

Then maybe you should ask Bomber what he was doing.

Why don't you tell me what you were doing last night?

We were working on the car, together!

Bomber gave me the irrits, so I left.

Next time I see the car, Errol's wedged underneath it.

You ask him about that.

Trevor tell you that, did he?

Well, did he also tell you

that he was going to have me bumped to get Errol on the team?

That would've made you pretty angry, wouldn't it?

Well, did he tell you

that Errol turned him down?

Mr McKenzie reckons that Errol Moore might've tampered with your car.

What are your thoughts about that?

No idea.

Is it likely?

Mr Denman...

..how did you get on with the deceased?

Yeah, fine.

Everyone loved Errol, didn't they?

So, the driver and his mechanic are at each other's throats.

Well?

Oh, they both deserve each other.

Got nothing on either of them yet.

Matthew, this race...

Needs to be suspended for the duration of this inquiry.

And I'm not looking forward to making that call.

Senior Sergeant?

I need you to speak to the rest of the competitors.

Take Davis with you.

Ask them if they saw McKenzie or Denman last night between...

Ah, I'd estimate time of death was between 12 and 5am.

So, you heading home now?

I thought I might check up on Clive Hildebrand,

perhaps ask a few more questions.

Maybe you could apologise for not knowing who he was.

ENGINE FAILS TO START

ENGINE CUTS OUT

Enjoying this, are you, Dad?

ENGINE STARTS

Thank you.

I don't want it.

Listen to me, Clive. It's easy money.

I've already set everything up.

How many times do I have to tell you, Herb? I'm an amateur.

And I'm telling you, Clive, you don't have to be.

Just say yes.

-Mr Hildebrand!

-Afternoon, Doctor.

-You know much about cars?

-Very little, I'm afraid.

Errol knew everything about them.

"He was born in a garage," his old man used to say.

I understand he used to navigate for Mr McKenzie.

-What made him join you?

-Oh, I never knew.

I just thanked my lucky stars I had him.

Mr Hildebrand, tell me...

..what do you think he was doing under that car?

Well, somebody was messing with the cars.

Ours, Beryl's.

I reckon Errol was figuring out who it was.

Right.

You don't think perhaps...

he was responsible for the sabotage?

Not likely. He wasn't that sort of bloke.

Personally, I reckon you should take a look at Herb Jones.

Jones, the chap you were just talking to?

-He runs the race, doesn't he?

-Yeah, just an official.

Doubt if he'd know a lug nut from a walnut.

But there's no telling who he's got in his pocket working against me.

That sounds personal.

Yeah, well, Herb reckons

there's no room for the likes of me in the competition any more.

Days of the amateur are over.

-Ah.

-Mr Hildebrand?

-Rose Anderson, Ballarat Courier.

-Miss Anderson...

You're on the record as saying that the Red Australia Trials

have become increasingly commercialised.

As the winner of the very first race,

do you think there's still room in the competition

-for non-professionals?

-No comment.

Mr Hildebrand, just a little, um...

I'd let him go...

Miss Anderson.

Well done, you've learned my name.

-I'm Dr...

-Lucien Blake, the police surgeon.

I know who you are.

What are the police doing, talking to Clive Hildebrand?

Passing on our condolences. What's the Courier doing?

-Our job.

-So, Patrick hired you?

He did. We're not talking about me, are we?

Do the police suspect foul play?

That would be a question for them. Good afternoon, Miss Anderson.

Dr Blake, you know Mr Hildebrand isn't the only one

with concerns about Herb Jones?

Really?

And where did you hear this?

I couldn't possibly reveal my sources.

But you know what they say, Doctor -

you scratch my back...

The race is a huge business proposition, Superintendent.

I am aware of that, Mr Jones.

Are further delays really necessary?

My paper has exclusives with the drivers...

This is a police investigation, Patrick,

and we need time to conduct it.

Don't worry, Patrick, I assured the people of Australia

that the final leg would take place tomorrow, so...

Just like you told Clive Hildebrand

there was no longer any room for amateurs.

-Blake.

-Oh, here we go.

By the way, you need to reign in your journalists, Patrick.

One of them's been harassing Hildebrand.

Good! That's what we pay them for.

Look, I'm aware your investigation takes priority,

but there are other considerations.

Such as?

Such as a considerable boost to the local economy, the city's profile.

Yes, Patrick, I understand. Thank you.

It would be churlish to mention that little favour of mine,

so I won't.

We'll leave you to it.

Mr Jones.

Some of the drivers believe

your "business interests" might be unduly influencing the race.

-Any truth in that?

-No...

And you're accusing my reporters of harassment?

Just when I was about ready to tolerate you.

He makes a fair point.

What was that about a favour?

Might get another cup of tea.

It's fair to say there's a certain amount of enthusiasm

for us to get a result, so, where are we?

Bad blood between McKenzie and Moore.

Bad blood between McKenzie and Denman.

Did anyone see either of them

after they finished working on the car?

No, people were drinking. Memories are hazy.

Trevor McKenzie's a hair-trigger idiot at the best of times,

and the body was under his car when he was driving.

Either he's brilliantly clever and he's pulling a double bluff,

or...

Doc, any theories?

Er... or someone's framed him.

Right, you hold the fort here.

I'll take Davis back to the showgrounds.

We'll have another look through the garage.

What's wrong with you?

Nothing, Matthew.

I'm perfectly fine.

Really.

Do you ever wonder, Matthew,

what it is that drives us to do what we do?

Go home, get some rest.

You'll feel like a new man tomorrow, trust me.

-Lucien!

-Mattie!

-You're home!

-Yes, I arrived back this morning.

-Well, how's Jean?

-Jean's well.

What do you mean, she's well?

I mean, to all intents and purposes, she's in very good health.

So, Jean is quite well

and I'm just going to have to accept that as a reasonable explanation

as to why you've been gone for over a week.

Exactly.

Should we at least have a drink, to celebrate you being home?

Are you going to continue to bombard me with questions?

Well, I think I know when I'm not going to get an answer.

In that case, that would be lovely. Thank you very much.

You met Beryl Routledge?!

I wouldn't have picked you for a car enthusiast, Mattie.

Well, I'm not, usually.

But this is ordinary people driving ordinary cars,

and they're racing right around the country. Isn't that something?

-TV SOUND:

-'The deceased is Errol Moore, age 20...'

-So, the boy...

-Errol Moore.

-He was only 20?

-Yes.

'..Ballarat stage of the rally at Western Victoria.'

Ah, now, that's Clive Hildebrand.

'..Clive Hildebrand, whilst found dead beneath the chassis of...'

Mm, and there's your Miss Routledge.

She's amazing.

Eh, perhaps.

'..to postpone the continuation of the race temporarily...'

And there she is, chatting with young Errol.

She told me she hadn't spoken with him.

Now, why would she lie?

I'll go. You keep an eye out here.

Righto.

DOOR BANGS SHUT

Oi!

Open up!

-You all right, boss?

-Did you see anyone?

No. What happened?

TYRES SCREECH

Charlie!

Boss!

-Boss!

-HE CRIES OUT

Keep still. Keep still.

Help!

HELP!

SIRENS WAIL

Dr Blake. Hugh Masterson, Orthopaedics.

-Where's Nicolson?

-He's not answering his phone.

Right.

Cuts and abrasions, possible internals,

broken right femur, severe laceration above the knee.

It's OK. It's OK.

Almost there.

HE GRUNTS

-Damage to the femoral artery.

-Lucky Charlie put a tourniquet on.

The break appears to be compressing the artery,

cutting off circulation to the lower limb.

We need to deal with the artery now.

-What is it?

-I'm Orthopaedics.

You need a vascular surgeon for that.

We don't have a vascular surgeon, Hugh. Please.

It's all right, Matthew. It's all right.

Pulse?

-How long since the accident?

-Um, half an hour or so.

We amputate.

Over 30 minutes, no circulation, the wound will be septic.

No, no, no, no, no. We reset, put him under, fix the artery.

We're not prepped. We don't have a choice.

-I've seen breaks like this before.

-And I haven't.

Matthew, can you hear me? This is going to hurt like hell, all right?

Assist Mattie. I need you to hold him down.

Now, the idea is to get the bone back into place, yes?

So, on my three, I'm going to pull the leg back, and lower.

One...

two, three.

HE SCREAMS No, not quite.

-Doctor!

-Matthew, I'm sorry.

We're going to have to go again.

All right? One, two...

HE SCREAMS

Yes, that's it. Well done.

Anything?

Just wait. Wait, please.

Lucien.

I told you we should have amputated.

We've got a pulse.

You're sure?

Yes. Yes!

It's weak, but we've got a pulse. Well done, you two.

Now, we need anaesthetic.

We get traction on this thing. You still need to operate.

Would you supervise the vascular procedure, Doctor?

Of course I will.

Jones. It was Jones!

All right, all right. Matthew, calm down for me.

Calm down for me.

Well done.

Lucien?

I'm fine, Mattie. Would you do something for me?

-Check on Charlie.

-Yes.

Hey, well done.

Ah, Alice. Come on in.

I got the toxicology back for the man under the car.

There's nothing unusual in the bloodstream.

What?

Errol Moore's toxicology results.

They're completely clean. No drugs, no alcohol.

How are you, Chief Superintendent?

Terrible.

I'll leave you to the doctor, then.

Thank you, Alice.

How's Charlie?

Ah, our Charlie.

Well, he's got three broken ribs, so I've sent him home.

Herbert Jones has been brought in for questioning.

We need to send someone back to the garage to have a look around.

Well, I'll pass that on,

but in the meantime, you need to get some rest, eh?

Both legs are present, I see.

Yes.

Yes.

But...

you've sustained a lot of damage, Matthew.

Still.

Thank you, Lucien.

Yesterday, when you saw

Superintendent Lawson and Sergeant Davis at the showground,

-why did you run?

-I didn't run.

My apologies.

The Chief Superintendent sends his regards.

Mr Jones maintains he'd left the showgrounds

before we were run down.

-Ah.

-He also maintains that...

I didn't run anyone down,

and I had nothing to do with Errol Moore.

So why did you run away?

Our records indicate you own a two-toned Vanguard,

registration HHE-585.

-Where is it?

-Parked outside the showgrounds.

It's been there for days.

I'll suspend the interview for now.

If my men find any mark on that car,

anything at all that suggests

it was the one that ran us down at the showgrounds,

I will escort the doctor out of this room

and leave you in here with the Senior Sergeant.

Alone.

Last chance.

Charlie, I fancy a cuppa. Bill?

-White with three, thanks, Doc.

-Good.

-I might join you, Blake.

-Excellent.

All right.

All right. Yes, I was driving the car. I'm sorry, all right?

I didn't mean to run anyone down. It was just an accident.

Then what were you doing there? Why did you run from us?

I take money from manufacturers

to boost their vehicles up in the rankings.

And when that doesn't work,

you tamper with the cars from time to time.

You saw two policemen there, and you panicked...

I didn't see anyone! I thought it was one of the other drivers,

and if they'd found me they would have killed me.

Is that what happened with young Errol?

No. I tried to pay the kid off to help me weeks ago.

And he turned you down.

The only one who'd go along with it was Bomber.

Bomber Denman.

And, Bill, we've got enough to charge him with the hit-and-run?

-You bet your arse we do.

-Good.

Now, someone needs to speak with Denman.

-I can do that.

-I'm coming with you, Doc.

Charlie, if you're not going home, you should stay here.

Miss Anderson, what brings you here?

-Police rounds, what do you think?

-Excellent.

Sergeant Davis, someone you should speak with.

-Cup of tea, Miss?

-Black, no sugar.

Er, suspected burglary and two cases of public drunkenness.

Also, Market Street will be closed to traffic tomorrow,

and that's about it.

And the investigation into Errol Moore's death?

I'm unable to comment about that right now.

Shame.

I heard there was an incident at the showgrounds last night.

That's subject to further investigation.

So the police are investigating?

We're pursuing a number of avenues of inquiry.

And you heard this from...?

Are you sure that you're not able to tell me?

Pretty sure, yep.

Do you think that I might be able to speak

with Chief Superintendent Lawson, then?

He's unavailable at the moment.

Would you tell him that I was here, when he is available?

Of course.

It's been a pleasure.

Miss Anderson?

The number at the desk,

so I can keep you posted on what's happening here,

when it's appropriate.

And why would you do that?

Because I was once new in town too.

Sergeant Davis.

Miss Anderson.

'Scott Wilson Brown to the refreshment tent, please?

'That's Scott Wilson Brown to the refreshment tent.'

Mr Denman?

Herbert Jones sends his regards.

A number of people believe their cars have been sabotaged

throughout this race.

-They're paranoid.

-Is that right?

When questioned,

Mr Jones admitted

that it was, in fact, the two of you tampering with the cars.

He even suggested

that you might be the one who killed young Errol.

Well...

he's a liar.

You got nothing.

-I gather you like dynamite.

-Hey...

I never have.

The impact it has on the human body,

the damage it wreaks on flesh and bone,

it's horrible.

Now, you listen to me.

I don't have the patience today for your games.

A very good friend of mine nearly died yesterday,

so you will tell me what I want to know.

-What? If you think I had anything...

-You were sabotaging cars.

Perhaps Clive and Errol's, yes?

Errol discovered the truth,

so you murdered him before anyone else could find out.

Is that what happened?

Come on, last chance.

Go on, why don't ya? Go on. You don't have the balls.

Time's ticking. Tell me what happened.

All right, look, all right, I... I didn't touch their car,

just Routledge and a few others.

-I didn't do a thing to Errol!

-Did you kill him?

-No.

-You're absolutely sure?

I didn't do it, you crazy bastard!

All right.

You're insane.

Yes, perhaps I am.

I've been called worse.

Now, here's what's going to happen next... Bomber.

You're going to go to the police.

You're going to tell them exactly what you just told me.

Yes?

Yeah, fine, all right, I'll go.

Best stop this nonsense as well. Your dynamite days are over.

Good afternoon, Mr Denman.

CAR FAILS TO START

Standards. They have their quirks.

Quirks, indeed.

It has been the source of some frustration

over the years, I can tell you.

You're not thinking of selling, are you, Doctor?

Well, let's see what she's got.

ENGINE STARTS

Ah!

Well, the brakes are in good nick. That's something.

Yes.

You lied to me, Miss Routledge.

Excuse me?

When you were first interviewed yesterday,

you lied about having never spoken with Errol Moore.

I must have forgotten.

You know what us women are like.

Now, if you're in the market for a new car...

is there a Mrs Blake?

What kind of motor would she want the good doctor to have?

Did you try this on with young Errol, Miss Routledge?

Is that why you didn't want us to know?

Yes, I spoke to Errol.

It's no secret, he's the best mechanic on the tour.

-I wanted him on my team.

-Your team?

Didn't you want to show the world

that your team, comprised solely of women,

how they could beat the men?

I'm a pretty woman driving a car, Doctor.

The public finds that fascinating.

But I've had enough of women's magazine covers.

Now I want headlines for being the winner of the next Red Trial.

Quite.

How did Errol respond to your offer?

He said no, stupid boy.

Did he say why?

Because next year, he wanted to become a driver.

Enter the Red Australia himself.

I see. And you...

Wished him luck,

and told him I would wave to him from the top of the podium

in 12 months' time.

Of course.

To your knowledge, did he tell anyone about his ambitions?

Well, I assume so. He already had a car lined up and everything.

No sponsor, though.

Oh, no, he was going amateur all the way,

just like his bloody idol, Clive.

You don't approve.

Errol and Clive take the whole noble amateur thing

far too seriously.

It's not a mistake I intend to make.

I'm in this for the fame, and the money, of course.

Now, I think something simple for you.

Nothing too fast or ostentatious.

Anyway, shall we?

-Mattie rang me.

-Yes, he's...

-Is Matthew...?

-..all right.

-It's going to be difficult.

-Er, Doctor.

Dr Masterson.

I've been looking at the Superintendent's X-rays.

Oh, honestly...

..I'm fine.

Anyone would think I'm some bloody invalid.

I spoke to Hobart earlier.

He said that Jones has confessed to running us down.

Yes, but not to killing young Errol.

Now, I spoke to Mr Denman and...

..er, Beryl Routledge.

Beryl Routledge? You didn't tell me that!

Oh, he has no idea who she was.

Ah, typical.

-Do you think she's involved?

-I don't know.

How is the leg?

Oh, well, still there.

Do you think he knows?

Well, I'm not certain he's aware...

Doctor!

-Mrs Beazley.

-Hello.

I thought you should see these.

Most of the skin on Moore's back was scraped away postmortem,

but these are from a patch of skin remaining on his shoulder.

I think it's the imprint of the ground beneath the body.

Paving of some kind.

Well done, Alice.

Jean!

Oh, Mattie, it's lovely to see you.

You too!

It has been so quiet while you were gone.

I had to go to Melbourne for conversation.

Excuse me, you two. I just need to fetch my torch.

-Where are you going?

-Back to the showgrounds.

I'm coming too.

Wait, I wanted to find out about Adelaide.

I'll tell you about it later.

I do love what you're doing with your hair.

I didn't know she'd been going down to Melbourne.

Yes, spending more time with the family, apparently.

-Right.

-This is...?

Er, Trevor McKenzie's car.

Have you wedged something under the tyres?

-Just asking!

-Of course I have.

Thank you.

Now...

What are you looking for now?

Oh, I don't know.

I've never really looked beneath the car before.

Just this one?

All right, any car.

So...

tell me.

-Our young Errol was found under here.

-But this isn't his car.

The car was lowered directly onto his chest.

It left a corresponding compression mark.

You know that different cars have differently shaped chassis?

Well, yes, of course I do.

But some are similar.

Well, for example, the Vanguard and the...

The Holden. So, who drives one of those?

I have a pretty good idea.

What about the impression that the ground left on the man's skin?

Not from here.

He died somewhere else, Jean.

I need you to find a phone box and call Bill Hobart for me.

You know, I wasn't lying when I said I didn't know much about cars,

but I do know medicine.

You know what it's like to be a hero, Doctor?

To be an ordinary man with ordinary people looking up to you?

Yes, look, the pressure, I can only imagine.

Of course, with Herbert and his business associates

snapping at your heels, it must be very stressful.

But look, it was Jones and Denman sabotaging your car.

Young Errol had nothing to do with it.

Please, he looked up to you. He worshipped you!

Errol told me he wanted to drive next year.

When I found him working under the car that night, I...

So you thought the worst

and you killed him, didn't you, Mr Hildebrand?

Please!

Lucien!

SIRENS WAIL

That young man had done nothing wrong, not a damn thing.

You murdered him, you moved the body,

put it under McKenzie's car, and for what?

He betrayed me.

Betrayed you?

He didn't betray you. You were his hero.

Clive Hildebrand, I'm arresting you for the murder of Errol John Moore.

Matthew. Patrick.

Hobart told me. Well done.

Yes.

Yes, um...

Matthew, look, there's...

-There's something...

-I know, I know.

My leg's never going to heal properly.

I'll probably walk with a stick, or something equally humiliating.

They'll pension me off.

Yes.

Unless I can find a doctor who's willing to fudge my medical.

Ah. THEY CHUCKLE

Ah, don't worry. Not even you can sort this one out.

I'm sorry.

Boss.

-Miss Anderson?

-Sergeant Davis.

I take it you've met my niece.

-What's that?

-Ah, report on Errol Moore.

Just leave it on the desk.

These are the things you asked for, Boss.

Thank you.

Well...

..gentlemen...

..it's been an honour.

Carry on.

Matthew.

So, have you remembered?

Why it is we do what we do?

Yes, I most certainly have.

Another time, eh?

A job for Rose at the Courier.

That was Patrick's favour.

Well?

Ten miles to the gallon. You don't think that's a little wasteful?

-What do other cars get?

-You don't know?

SHE CHUCKLES

-Have you told anyone?

-Who would I tell?

-Patrick Tyneman?

-Oh, Patrick...

Lucien, where's your car?

Finally traded it in. This is my new one.

You do know the fuel consumption isn't great?

So I've heard.

-Fancy a spin?

-Definitely.

Could I borrow it next time I go to Melbourne?

Not a chance.

Right.

You wait till you get out on the road.

It's an absolute beaut.

HORN BEEPS