A Difficult Lie The Doctor Blake Mysteries

Wouldn't want to leave it short.

No. Thanks for that, Frank.

And that would be...?

Terry Reynolds. He's a journalist.

Couldn't wait 30 seconds till we were off the green, mate?

I called "fore". Didn't I, Freddie?

Besides, no harm done.

Right, Clay?

Helluva shot! What do you think, Freddie?

-That's a gimme.

-If you say so, Mr Reynolds.

Well, pull your head out and go pick it up!

Not the sharpest tool.

Gentlemen.

That's it for me, lads. Lots to be done at the clubhouse.

Me too. Work beckons.

Thanks, fellas.

Now, Patrick, um,

wouldn't care to make the back nine a bit more interesting, would you?

Well, Frank, it's this for a tie or the drinks are on you.

Don't know about you but I'm feeling pretty thirsty.

Just keep smiling.

Oh... Get up!

Just pushed it to the right.

Huh! Safe.

Patrick!

-How's that egg?

-Lovely, thank you.

You should try the porridge, Lucien. It's really quite good.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

It's all right. It's just a little tea.

-You didn't burn yourself?

-Please don't tell Mr Finn.

He said we're to be extra nice to the Doctor's wife.

I won't. What's your name?

-Iris.

-My favourite flower.

There - our secret.

No-one can begrudge a woman her secrets, can they?

Quite.

-Doctor?

-Yes?

-A message for you from Mrs Beazley.

-Thank you.

Frank, what have we got?

Found him about an hour ago. Terry Reynolds. He's a, er...

Reporter for The Courier. Yes. I met him briefly a while back.

Checked for a pulse but he'd already gone.

The footsteps you can see here, they're mine.

Right. That area there, that's been raked.

Not by me.

I see.

Best have a look.

A blow to the head, obviously.

And possible fractured skull.

That ball?

That's mine.

-Any chance that I hit him?

-Well, it's not impossible.

Where are his clubs?

Right.

Well, as always, I'll know more, once I've conducted an autopsy.

Er, Frank? Can we have a word?

Clay.

That's, er, Clay Richardson, club president.

He was in our group this morning

but only played the first nine holes.

Just this way.

After Mr Reynolds finished his round, you lodged his scorecard at the clubhouse.

-Is that correct?

-Yes.

I think it was 10:15, maybe. I'm not 100% sure.

Mm-hm, 10:15. And did you see anyone else?

We were hoping, for now, you'd be able to keep this quiet.

We're carrying out a full investigation, Clay.

-Um, tell me, do you know Terry well?

-Oh, no, not well.

He hadn't been a member long.

He seemed a nice enough bloke over a beer or two.

Mr Richardson, if you don't mind,

when the Chief Superintendent found Terry Reynolds, you were...

Tending the practice fairways.

I don't understand. From what Patrick said, this was an accident.

Yes. Patrick, your relationship with Terry these days was...

Strictly professional. He didn't work for me. He worked for my son.

Whenever you're ready, Clay.

We're supposed to be having that bloody board meeting.

Excuse me, would you?

Frank, the Ballarat Open is only days away.

Ah! Yes, and it's your company sponsoring the tournament, Patrick.

And it has absolutely nothing to do with this.

I thought you might see quite a juicy story here.

Not my job anymore, Blake.

No, it's your son's, and Edward seems quite talented

at poking his nose where it doesn't belong

if he thinks it might sell more newspapers.

Frank, you'll have my report shortly. Patrick.

Dirt and grass stains to the heel of the hand.

No other defensive injuries.

Sand around and...

Yes.

..inside the mouth and airways.

You can see the pond fracture, the radiating lines here and here.

I'll know more once I've opened the skull.

-You've been busy. Anything else?

-I started toxicology.

There's faint traces of alcohol in the stomach.

You've done that without me?

Wasn't going to sit on my hands all day waiting for you, was I?

This bruising here...

Suggests that he was struck with something with rounded edges,

possibly spherical.

-We'll let it settle overnight?

-Yes.

The ball.

No traces of blood, no skin or tissue.

But you're still thinking murder.

Thing is, his caddy was the last person to see him alive.

And?

And, according to Charlie, they'd long since finished their round

so what was he doing there,

still on the course all alone?

Tell me, Freddie, Mr Reynolds, would he usually play on his own?

Most of the time, yeah.

He could rub his playing partners up the wrong way,

other members mostly.

Right.

And do you think... Ah, Charlie, how did you go?

-Find anything on the 18th?

-Er, no.

Just a MacGregor and a couple of Dunlops -

some old lost balls.

Those are some pretty flash clubs, Freddie. They yours?

Freddie?

Whose clubs are those?

Freddie, I need you to stop what you're doing now

and put the clubs down.

Freddie, stop!

Oh!

All right. Get up. We'll continue this down at the station. Let's go.

-You right, Charlie?

-Yep.

-Well, thank you, Mr, er...

-Richardson. Alec.

-Oh, yes, of course.

-What the bloody hell's going on?

Yes, they're Terry's clubs.

The police need those as evidence, Freddie, so why did you take them?

Because he owed me. That's why.

He didn't pay you, did he?

He never paid you. Sound about right?

How do you know?

I saw how he treated you on the course, Freddie.

But the clubs weren't enough, were they, Freddie?

You also took Terry Reynolds' wallet.

He owed you quite a sum of money

so you whacked him, took his money after he was dead.

-That's not... That's not true.

-Oh, my word, it's true.

You whacked him with a golf club and got caught red-handed

cleaning the murder weapon!

Son, this does not look good for you.

-Freddie, your arms...

-Roll up your sleeves now, son.

It's fine. Doesn't hurt.

Terry hit a ball into the drink this morning.

Threw a tantrum, chucked his three wood in the water hazard

and, normally... normally we stay well out of there.

Because of the leeches.

But he made you go in.

He wouldn't let me see to these until he finished his round.

Yes, I found him in the bunker but he'd already carked it.

Nothing I could do.

So I took his wallet and I raked the sand out behind me on the way out.

That is all I done.

Nothing else in his pockets, just a bunch of scorecards,

some spare tees and pencils.

If you wouldn't mind tending to the boy's arms and testing those clubs.

-I've got calls to make.

-Right you are.

-Frank...

-I'm a tad busy.

Freddie's our most popular caddie. He wouldn't do something like this.

We've heard reports suggesting

Freddie and Mr Reynolds hadn't been getting along.

The odd harsh word maybe but he only ever wanted Freddie to caddy for him

and Freddie never said no.

Well, what about other members?

Well, what happens on the course is supposed to stay on the course.

Reynolds nearly hit Lyall Phillips with a ball this morning

and they had a real belter of an argument last Thursday.

Thought he was going to knock Terry's block off.

Right.

And, Clay, um, Lyall Phillips was the other member of your foursome?

Yes.

Last week? That was nothing.

I'd caught Terry using the old leather wedge

out on the course a few times -

moving the ball to a better lie with his foot.

It was nothing serious.

That's not what we heard, Mr Phillips.

What's this about, anyway?

Terry Reynolds is dead.

Found on the golf course this morning

under what may be suspicious circumstances.

He's... Well, this isn't going to sound good, then.

Reynolds and I had been fighting.

He was suggesting that I gift him a fairly substantial sum of money.

And why would you do that, exactly?

Otherwise he was going to write more unfavourable articles

about the cricket club and about me.

About you?

He's the sports editor of The Courier.

And he's done this before.

Yeah, he said things like I doctored pictures,

paid opponents to throw games.

All bloody lies, of course.

Hey, get behind it. Elbow up.

And that's it, Mr Phillips?

It's not enough? How would you like it?

I mean, made to look like a cheat, like a liar

in front of everybody in Ballarat.

So you paid him to protect your reputation?

To protect my family, my wife and my daughter.

These articles, had you spoken to anyone about them?

Yeah, I spoke to Patrick and then to his son.

Right.

And what did Edward have to say?

I told him The Courier can write articles about whomever we wish.

That is our job, after all. Isn't that right, Alec?

-And you are?

-He's an old friend and my lawyer.

Thought it might be handy having him here, especially dealing with him.

You don't seem particularly, um, upset about Terry Reynolds.

It wouldn't do me any good to go to water, would it, Doctor?

What sort of example would I set for my staff?

I liked the man, for what it's worth.

He was very astute.

You call blackmailing Lyall Phillips astute?

That's quite an allegation, Sergeant.

I give my staff a fair amount of license to do their job

and Terry delivered.

By using his column to, shall we say, coerce money from the public?

As editor of the newspaper, that must concern you.

If you can find proof that Terry was doing anything illegal,

then, yes, it would concern me.

Yes. Of course.

Um, we'd like to look through your archives, if we may,

just to read some of Mr Reynolds' work.

Then Sergeant Davis can get a warrant.

That's correct, isn't it, Alec, from a legal perspective?

Now, er, if you don't mind...

-I got your message.

-I thought you'd want to see this.

The official cause of death is actually extradural haemorrhage.

Related to the skull fracture.

The fracture tears the artery here, just behind the temple.

Yes. So he's struck, falls, blacks out.

Yes.

And then, after some time... he'd have woken up.

-Woken up?

-Yes.

Before long, he would've become woozy again.

The bleed compressed his brain.

He'd be stumbling and slurring

until the pain and drowsiness overtook him

and he fell one last time.

So what you're saying is that it definitely wasn't my golf ball.

-Not your ball, no.

-Oh.

So murder, more than likely.

-Blood alcohol?

-Negligible.

One drink, two at the most.

I tell you what, though,

the death blow might not have happened at the bunker.

-So where, then?

-Absolutely no idea.

But he was alive when he went in.

You know, of course, Reynolds and Tyneman have had bad blood...

Yes. An incident last year. I'm aware.

-Patrick was with me all morning.

-Yes, but he and his boy, they...

They might know more than they're letting on.

I see.

So that was the reason for your visit to Edward this morning

and not the lovely photograph of you and your wife on page six?

We need to go back to The Courier and look at Reynolds' columns,

see if there was anyone else he may have been blackmailing.

Watch you don't cut yourself.

"Greco's tidy off-spin tweak has bamboozled the bland batsman."

Huh! I see what you mean about the quality of the man's writing.

Not a patch on the previous chap they had covering sport.

-Harvey Treloar.

-That's him.

I used to read his columns to your father.

He said he was the best sports writer he'd read since Percy Taylor.

-Is that right?

-Mm!

Oh.

Oh, do you mind, um, setting these?

Er, yes, yes, of course.

You know, Jean, Lyall Phillips was telling the truth.

There were a number of poison pen stories

written about the cricket club and then, about a month ago,

they stopped.

You know I saw the article about you and Mei Lin?

-How is she? Is she all right?

-Yes.

She's, um... she...

She wanted me to thank you again

for that lovely picnic basket you made up for her,

which reminds me, I still have a few tests I need to conduct.

Before you open the fridge, Jean, I should tell you...

Oh.

I think you've set one too many places.

Yes, I have. I'm sorry.

Um, I thought I might invite someone over for dinner.

I hope that was all right.

If I'd known in advance that you were coming...

-No, no. That was just fine.

-Thank you, Jean.

So you think Terry was murdered.

Off the record, quite possibly, yes.

That's what you were up to at the paper.

And, of course, these things, Charlie,

well, they're not blank at all, are they?

Why would they have been erased, do you think?

I have no idea.

Rose, I meant to ask you, though,

um, what was their reaction in the office to the news of Terry's death?

I wouldn't say anyone was heartbroken.

So he had enemies at work, then?

-A long list, starting with the Bear.

-Sorry? The Bear?

-Harvey Treloar.

-Interesting nickname.

As in "cuddly"?

No. Grumpy, the moody old bugger, and punchy too.

"Punchy" how, Miss Anderson?

Well, Sergeant, it's practically legend at the paper

the number of scraps Harvey got himself into over the years.

Right. Such as?

Like the time this full-back turns up to the paper

demanding to fight Harvey over...

-What happened?

-Harvey knocked two of his teeth out.

-With one punch.

-Oh!

Then spent the afternoon drinking and talking footy at the pub.

-What, and he only now gets sacked?

-Not even sacked.

Terry demoted him to the printing press.

Why would a man like that be demoted and not fired?

It's a tough job. 4:00am starts. Harvey would do well to pack it in.

No offence, Doctor,

but sometimes the older generation needs to be told when to step aside.

Oh...

I suppose this is about Terry Reynolds.

Killed by a rogue golf ball, Clay said. Is that right?

Well... Not entirely.

Mr Treloar, I saw you at the club not long after, um...

Oh, yeah.

It's been a while since I played a round or two

but they're still stuck with me on the board.

Are you qualified to work in here?

Does it look like I'm qualified?

I just whack things till they start working.

Mr Treloar - Harvey -

I imagine it must've been difficult for you, at your age,

to... to start over.

Harvey, you finished working yesterday morning at...?

Half-past nine, as always.

And turned up at the golf club for your board meeting after midday.

Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts in the meantime?

Nah.

It's a pity, though.

If I'd got there sooner, I might've seen it happen.

You think this is funny?

See this?

"Colac's Calamitous Cricketing Collapse"

by Terry Reynolds.

It's a bad bloody joke, is what it is.

You know, if you ask me...

..it's just a shame he wasn't hit by something larger.

When was the last time you saw or spoke to Terry Reynolds?

Er, a couple of weeks ago, maybe.

What did you two speak about?

He demanded all my old work, my notebooks,

all my research, everything.

Right. And you just, um... just gave them to him, did you?

He said it didn't belong to me, it belonged to the paper.

-What was in the notebooks?

-38 years worth of contacts.

And you expect me to believe

that all that inspired in you was a little professional jealousy?

Did you kill Terry Reynolds, Mr Treloar?

-Of course I didn't!

-Are you sure?

Pretty sure, yeah.

All right, Harvey, you're free to go.

But if there's something you're not telling me, I will find out.

Are we clear?

-Are we clear?

-We're clear.

Oh, I need to search Terry Reynolds' flat.

I've released the caddy. You can head over to The Courier.

-Er, no need, Superintendent.

-Mr Tyneman.

What can we do for you?

After your Sergeant's visit,

I had Miss Anderson perform a search of Terry Reynolds' desk.

And?

Mr Tyneman thought this might be useful to your investigation.

Harvey Treloar's old notebooks, a few photos, some hate mail.

We found them in a hidden compartment underneath a drawer.

As I said, if Terry has done anything untoward

I want to know about it.

Just want to be clear where we all stand.

I know. I know. The man can be an arse but at least now we have these.

What is it?

We may have a problem.

SMASHING

Lucien, what on Earth are you doing?

Um, well, I popped home to ask you a question and...

Well, you... you were out.

So you thought you'd murder all the dishes?

What happened to Mr Pig?

Hm? Mr Pig.

Yes, well, he was used to test for bruising and this, all of this,

is to test for skull fractures.

Look, I'm trying to determine a potential murder weapon.

-Is that what you wanted to ask me?

-No, as a matter of fact.

Um, look, Jean, here.

-That's shorthand.

-Yes.

I'm sorry. I've never had any need for it.

No, didn't think so.

-Ah. This? Hate mail.

-Really?

Addressed to Terry Reynolds

signed by a number of different people,

all with the same handwriting.

Hm!

You know, there was another article in this afternoon's edition

about the Chinese.

Have you spoken to Mei Lin?

I think you should visit and explain what's going on.

Yes, well, perhaps later I might. By the way, I should be home in time...

Lucien, you don't always need to change the topic of conversation.

Thank you, Jean.

-I should probably take...

-I'll do it.

I'll be home later.

Mei Lin, these... these articles, they...

Look, it's all about selling newspapers.

I wouldn't want to think that something like this

would make you feel unwelcome in anyway.

You worry too much about me.

If I've proven nothing else, it's that I'm survivor, yes?

Yes.

You're stronger than me. You always were.

This case you're working on, have you found the person responsible?

No, not yet.

There are several suspects,

all with their own reasons for wanting him dead.

It reminds me of something you used to say

about the men you worked with in Singapore.

"Cut the grass and..."

"And the snakes will come out."

You remember that?

I remember everything.

Goodness me. I should probably get going.

-And I was about to go for my walk.

-Will you be all right on your own?

I've already organised to meet Iris, my new friend.

I'm fine, Lucien.

All right.

-Sergeant Davis, you called?

-Yes.

I was just about to knock off.

Fancy a drink?

Another, if you'd be so kind, thank you, Cec.

Certainly, sir. A drink or a newspaper?

Cec, tell me, you much of a golfer?

Well, sir, my father used to say golf was a waste of good farmland.

-I see. So how often do you play?

-Twice a week, when I can.

Good for you.

-And, Cec?

-Yes?

-Thank you for the telephone call.

-Of course, sir.

Look, that's not the issue at the moment.

I have to agree with your father on this.

-OK, well, what are we going to do?

-Don't worry about what we'll do.

-But what's it worth to us?

-What are you doing? You don't...

Bit of an upstart, isn't he?

What's Blake doing staring at us?

Sounds like Harvey was onto something seriously strange at the golf club.

Strange how?

I want to be the one to write this story.

If we're going to work together, Sergeant Davis, I have certain terms.

Tell you what,

for all your help, I'll give you two free questions about the case.

Five questions.

Three each.

-Within reason, of course.

-Of course.

So do the police have any suspects in the Terry Reynolds murder as yet?

We've interviewed several suspects but there's no hard evidence as yet

to charge anyone.

Do those notes mention any names?

Oh, well, Richardson keeps popping up.

-Is that the president?

-Was that a question?

Nice try.

Any truth to the rumours of an altercation

between Reynolds and Richardson in the days leading up to his murder?

Clay Richardson? Well, not that I...

You've heard something from one of your sources, I'm guessing.

You're going to just take all this to Edward Tyneman, aren't you?

Of course I am. What a waste of a question.

How can you work for someone like that?

Do you know why I'm here in Ballarat?

I used to work for a paper in Collingwood, The Chronicle.

-I know it.

-I was there for almost three years.

Never got further than a secretarial role.

Then my editor offered me a chance to get my foot in the door

provided that I sleep with him.

I said no and then I hit him in the face with a dictionary.

He didn't take it well.

Made a few calls, I got blacklisted from every paper in Melbourne.

I've worked with all sorts, Charlie.

Edward Tyneman, yeah, he's different.

He's taken an interest in me.

Not like that.

-He's using you, Rose.

-And I am using him.

I'm not going to report to people

like the editor of The Chronicle forever.

I work for the likes of Edward Tyneman now

so that, in the future, I won't have to.

So... shall we get back to business?

-Alec? Fancy a game?

-I was just getting my coat.

Right.

I hope you don't mind me saying so but that looked a tad heated.

The local tennis squad want to rent some of our practice fairways,

convert them to grass courts.

-I think it's a good idea.

-Ah.

-But your father and the board don't.

-We need more revenue.

Dad needs my help, even if he'd never admit it.

What about you, Doctor? Any interest in becoming a fee-paying member?

Well, thank you, but no.

The only swing I'm familiar with comes from a big band!

Hey! Get your hand of my boy!

-Mr Richardson, Alec and I...

-Bloody busybody!

All right, Dad. Time to go home.

Evening.

There's been a report of a disturbance at Reynolds' place.

Speaking of which, I need to borrow you.

All right, son, there's nowhere to run.

You're looking for something. So are we.

So this is why you broke into Reynolds' place, more scorecards?

They're not scorecards.

Terry paid me to keep my ears open, write down every dirty little secret

these blokes might mention to one another.

And pass them on for a few quid each time, yes?

But why break in to find them?

Because... Terry always made me sign the cards.

He said if anyone found out what he was doing, I'd go down too.

Which explains why the ones we found on you yesterday

you'd already erased.

These are the secrets

of arguably some of the most important men in Ballarat.

It's all right, son.

It's all right.

The thing is, what secret is worth killing for?

-I haven't got time for this.

-It's true, Mr Phillips.

Terry Reynolds was blackmailing you but not about the cricket club.

Leave me alone.

Just answer the question, please, Mr Phillips.

Terry Reynolds dealt in secrets and he discovered yours, didn't he,

about your daughter, Claire?

-Does anyone else...

-Lyall, it's all right. No-one...

No-one else needs to know.

My Claire, she got herself in a bit of trouble

with one of the boys at school.

The baby's been adopted now and Claire's recovering

but Reynolds found out somehow.

He said he was going to tell one of the boys on the team,

maybe even the gossip columnist at the paper.

-Unless you paid him.

-She was 17, Doctor.

He would've ruined her life.

Sounds like you had every reason to...

..despise the man.

I wrote some angry letters to the paper, signed with different names.

I thought they'd give him the flick but Harvey -

remember how I told you I took him out for a drink

-the night Reynolds sent him packing?

-And?

And I remember Harvey saying that Terry would never see him coming.

-All because they were demoting him?

-They weren't just demoting him.

Mr Treloar?

Mr Treloar, we'd just like to speak with you for a minute.

Mr Treloar, we'd just like to speak with you.

Just leave me alone!

Harvey, please.

-Edward, what the blazes...

-Not now, Dad.

Everything's under control.

Thank you, Doctor. Now I have cause to fire the old fool.

Edward, please...

-You've known Harvey Treloar for...

-More than 30 years.

We started out together.

My father hired him.

And my son just fired him.

This was never about you sponsoring the Ballarat Open, was it?

You knew, sooner or later, all this would lead back to Edward

and I'm guessing you knew what Terry Reynolds was up to.

Of course I did.

But you were worried Edward was somehow involved.

I've tried being hard on him. We both saw how well that worked.

And I've tried helping him, I've tried encouraging him.

You look after your family above all else.

That's what my father taught me.

Yes.

Patrick, if he's done something wrong,

I... I can't protect him.

I know.

I can't protect him anymore either.

Thanks for the drink, Lucien.

Look, you have no alibi at the time of Terry Reynolds' murder

and we know you'd spoken seriously about harming the man!

-Am I wrong?

-You're a fool.

Am I wrong?

You're thicker than two planks, is what you are!

Harvey, please. Please try to remain calm.

I... I know this is difficult.

Chief Superintendent, do you think we're able to remove the handcuffs?

As a sign of good faith?

There we are.

Now, Harvey, if you didn't kill Terry Reynolds,

can you think of anyone else who may have wanted to?

Take your pick.

You know, in looking into this case, I read some of your writing.

Apparently my dear late father very much enjoyed your work,

your passion, years of dedication, your... your turn of phrase.

There was one in particular. Um...

Ah, yes.

"What the especially brutal local derby lacked in ambience...

"it more than made up for in ambulance."

Yeah, well, what of it?

You see, Harvey, I think it's that pride,

that love for what you do...

That's what Terry Reynolds and Edward Tyneman

took from you, isn't it?

They laughed at me.

Thought it was funny, sending me down there.

They tried to break me, get me to retire.

But you're not 65 yet, are you?

They said it made no difference,

that'd I'd be physically unfit to work the press.

Patrick's bloody son.

I thought he was a mate.

Yes, but Patrick's been cut-off from the newspaper.

He couldn't help you, not this time.

His boy said if... if I fought it,

his lawyer would leave me without a leg to stand on.

-And that made you angry.

-Of course it made me angry!

Starts out you're... you're too old for footy,

too old for boxing.

You can't keep up with the grandkids anymore.

Ah, it happens. Nothing you can do about it.

But for them to try to tell me I was too old to write,

to even try to take that from me...

No-one treats me like a doddering old fool!

And I won't have anyone laugh at me either, not now, not ever.

Boss? We've finished with the shorthand.

There's something you should see.

Well?

Now, Frank, please don't think I'm not enjoying being your caddy

but what are we doing back at the crime scene?

The shorthand indicated that Richardson may have been

guilty of misappropriating funds from the golf club.

You think Reynolds had him under the thumb too?

Well...

-Whoa, whoa!

-You're all right.

Thank you.

Frank, when you found Reynolds,

he was roughly where you're standing now, lying face-up, correct?

Yes. That's right.

Well, if he fell in from up here, and I'm sure he did,

why were there no marks in the sand showing where he tumbled down?

Well, Freddie Wilson said he raked.

Yes, around the body, after he stole Mr Reynolds' wallet,

but time would've been of the essence.

I think he would've raked his footprints to and from the body

but not the whole bunker, surely.

Hm...

It's none of your bloody business! I'll go to prison for this!

-What the hell are you doing?

-Hey, there's no need for that!

You're coming with me.

Don't worry, Dad.

-I'm coming with you.

-No, you're not, Alec.

As legal counsel, I have the right to accompany him.

Fine. Suit yourself.

Now, Clay, you've obviously been drinking so we can delay this

until we're both satisfied that you're sober.

No. No, get it over with.

Now, you're aware that The Courier was putting together a story on you?

-Phff! Reynolds.

-Not a first, though.

Harvey Treloar found out about everything that was going on

but he wasn't about to publish anything.

No. You see, he wouldn't do that to a mate.

Terry Reynolds, on the other hand,

well, he knew the club was in a bit of strife

and he knew you were responsible.

You don't have to answer that, Dad. It wasn't a question.

-We lost some money.

-You were embezzling funds.

Unless you have proof of that, Superintendent,

that's speculative nonsense.

I didn't embezzle a penny.

I just... made some bad decisions with the... the club's money.

And Terry knew, with the Ballarat Open only days away,

well, if the members found out...

This is absurd! Superintendent, I suggest we postpone...

Will you shut your mouth? Let me handle this!

You keep interrupting and I'll be interviewing you next.

Sit down.

Thank you.

The autopsy report shows a small amount of alcohol

in Reynolds' system when he died.

So you two have a beer at the clubhouse after his round, yes?

Yes.

You argued at the bar. Soon after, he was found dead.

Bottle to the temple is my guess, or something similar.

Superintendent, please...

Son, your father is a helluva nice bloke when he's sober

but forever looking for a fight when he's not.

You were the last person to see Reynolds alive

and no-one, no-one, can corroborate your story

of being on the practice fairway at the time of death!

No. No, that's right.

Oh, there you are. What are you doing, sitting in the dark?

Oh. Was I?

You know, if someone really wanted that man dead,

then doing the deed on a public golf course

still seems like a very strange choice to me.

It's obvious that you need to talk about this, Lucien,

and I'm not going anywhere until you do, so...

All right.

The police have arrested Clay Richardson

for Terry Reynolds' murder.

-But you don't think he did it.

-Oh...

Jean, what do you know about the man?

Well, Clay owned and ran a successful freight company

with his wife, till not very long ago.

His wife?

Bronwyn. She passed away a year or so ago. Lovely woman.

Right. And after she died...

He sold the company. Bronwyn handled the finances, from what I've heard.

I see.

Which might explain...

why he's now in trouble for embezzlement.

From the golf club? No, that doesn't sound right.

No?

"Embezzlement" suggests he knew what he was doing.

I think it's more likely that he just couldn't juggle club finances.

Right. Would he kill someone to keep that hidden, I wonder?

And then, of course, there's, um, er, Alec.

The son? Well, he's a lawyer, not an accountant.

Do you know, he very nearly decked me today.

Who? The father or the son? Richardson the elder.

He, um... Well, he'd had a few too many and...

Anyhow, his boy stepped in to stop him.

It's a shame. Some men just need to be saved from themselves.

What?

Of course.

-Alec!

-Doctor. What are you doing here?

-Fancy that game now?

-I'm actually quite busy.

Alec, it's your father, just a few questions I need to work through.

My father didn't murder Terry Reynolds, Doctor.

No. No, I don't think so either.

But your father's never had a head for figures, has he, Alec?

But you do.

The money from the tennis club,

that wasn't enough to cover what he'd lost.

Mind you, it was a start.

Now... Break?

Lovely.

Now, you organised to meet Terry Reynolds after he finished his round.

You didn't tell your father.

This was something you were determined to deal with...

on your own.

Now, you argued.

Push turned to shove and you struck him as hard as you could

with one of these

right here at the billiard table.

Phenolic resin, incredibly hard.

You thought you'd killed him.

In fact, you started cleaning up all the evidence.

But he got up and he went outside.

He staggered as far as the bunker and then he fell.

You followed him in, you rolled him over...

..and finished what you'd started.

Alec?

Is this man bothering you?

And then you rolled him over again onto his back

and then you raked the sand, hoping it would look...

Oh, goodness. ..like some unfortunate accident.

It's an interesting theory, Doctor, but it's all conjecture.

Yes, but if I went to the Colonists' Club

and checked the billiard tables

there'd be a ball missing, wouldn't there?

Of course, you'd have disposed of it by now.

However, if you used the towel in your golf bag to clean that ball...

..well, that'd be enough.

Alec, sometimes fathers need their sons' help,

even when they won't admit it.

Dad never...

I told him we could work things out with Reynolds, that I could help.

Sometimes, Doctor, the older generation

don't know when they're in over their head.

Edward, everything all right?

Yes, everything's perfectly fine, isn't it, Edward?

Patrick, here. You two should have a game.

Clear the air. What do you think?

Er, Charlie?

-You don't give up, do you?

-I'm afraid not.

All right. You ready?

Ballarat Police arrested a man

in relation to the murder of Mr Terry Reynolds

of Little Street in East Ballarat...

"The suspect was apprehended at Wendouree Golf Club last night

"during a private gala and has since been transferred to Melbourne

"where he will be held before facing court next month."

And then it gets rather colourful, after that.

-Do you mind if I, er, have a look?

-No, no.

I'm extremely busy at the moment so if this is about the article...

No, it's not. It's about the Herald, you know, in Melbourne.

Right. What about them?

They've been asking a lot of questions

about the events leading up to Terry's death,

how he got the job here, his role at The Courier,

his... well, his, er... his work habits.

They even think that you may have been involved in whatever Terry was up to.

I see.

-And what do you think?

-Me?

I think whatever Terry was up to was small potatoes.

I don't think Edward Tyneman would stoop to that level.

Did you tell them that?

No.

I haven't told them anything.

At least, not yet.

Fine. Harvey Treloar gets his job back.

And you can work the police beat but your work better be good.

Oh, don't worry. It will be.

Diet and exercise are very important.

Yes? Till next time.

-That's the last one?

-Yes. Nothing till one o'clock.

Right.

Jean, I really should thank you again.

-Without you last night, I...

-Don't.

We can't do this.

Not anymore.

Yes. I'm sorry.

Of course, you're... you're absolutely right.

I wish I wasn't but there it is.

It's not fair on Mei Lin.

And it's not fair on me.

I should go.

Yes, you should.

KNOCKING

I was afraid it would be you.

Well, aren't you going to invite me in?