Jack Irish: Bad Debts (2012) - full transcript

How the hell's it gonna fit
in our apartment, woman?

If you think I'm gonna remain

living within the bowels
of a Masonic hall forever,

you'll be living
a long and lonely life.

For you to sign, please.

How are you, Isabel?
Married to a philistine.

Oh, I know.

I need to fiddle with that second para
one more time.

It's Tasmanian blackbutt.
Do you know how rare that is?

I'm guessing fairly rare.

It's not just a table. It's...



This old bloke is an artisan.
It's a work of art.

Well, it is the same price as a Picasso,
so I gather it must be.

You have no taste whatsoever,
Jacklflsh.

Oh, come on. I chose you, didn't I?
OK, one good choice.

How good do you look in that suit?
Oh...

Pretty sharp, I reckon.
You do, and who chose that suit?

Can't remember. Lost in time.

We're buying the table.

Think of it as a family heirloom
we pass on to our unborn children.

I do love you, you know.

- Let me speak to Jack fuckin' Irish!
- Hey, hey, wait a minute.

You cannot come in here...
There you are, Mr. Judas lawyer!

I'm sorry, mate. I tried to stop him.
She left me, huh?

She took me kids from me while I rotted
in that prison that you sent me to!



Go and wait in the car.
Give me 10 minutes.

Parking fines. You let 'em put me away
for bloody parking fines.

113 unpaid parking fines, mate.
That was just the entree.

Cop you assaulted ended up in hospital
for two months. What did you expect?

I told you I hit him!

But you wouldn't fuckin' listen,
would you, you bastard?

Calm down, OK?
Just go and sit in there and wait.

I'll go and find your file and we can
talk about this sensibly, alright?

OK, sir...
Don't touch me!

OK, I won't touch you.

I'm calling the police.
No, don't, mate, don't.

That's the last thing he needs.
I'll deal with him.

What was that?

From outside.

Alright. You win.

We mortgage the flat

and we buy
a black-bottomed Tasmanian.

See? You wouldn't bloody listen.

You listening now, Jack?

♪ Take a little walk to the edge of town

♪ And go across the tracks

♪ Where the viaduct looms
like a bird of doom

♪ As it shifts and cracks

♪ Where secrets lie in the border fires

♪ In the humming wires

♪ Hey, man, you know
you're never coming back

♪ Past the square, past the bridge

♪ Past the mills, past the stacks

♪ On a gathering storm
comes a tall, handsome man

♪ In a dusty black coat
with a red right hand. ♪

..on the card,
scratching serial numbers 2, 6 and 12.

That's 2, 6 and 12.

The Catharsis, Bridal Sweet and the
New Zealand 2-year-old, In Her Name.

Onto race number eight.
There's only one scratching.

And that's the favourite,
Raucous Noise, number five.

Beautiful day for racing in Sydney today
at Royal Randwick.

The track is still rated as heavy,

but with the great weather
we have at the moment,

there's a chance
that the track will dry out,

and an upgrade is on the cards
later in the...

Ah, marinara.

You're a hard man to find, Mr. Dollery.

Do come in,
or I'll shoot your balls off.

Come on.

Turn right.

So, how did you find me?
Point that somewhere else, will you?

Those... those things have a tendency
to go off for motives of their own.

Ah!

Ah! Ah! Rah!

Hey! No, please! Please!

You're not gonna knock me, are ya?
You're being a bit paranoid, mate.

Sticking too much marching powder
up your nose.

Oh, come on, mate.

Shit.
Give me a chance.

Yeah, Harry.

I found your mate.

Yeah, I wouldn't mind being warned
about the armed and desperate.

Well, there's gonna be an extra 5 %
to cover my shock

at having a World War Il pistol
pointed at my genitalia.

Yeah, righto.

Listen, dickhead.

You're gonna have to be
a bit more cooperative

with people
whose money you've nicked.

Now, I've taken the 10 grand
out of the dishwasher.

And I reckon there's, what,
another 70 in the air conditioning vent?

Oh, s'pose.

Right.

Well, sign here
for the rest of it.

And the biro.

Pleasure doing business with you.
Hey! You're not going, are ya?

Mate!
Here you go.

Just in case you get lonely.

Mate, you can't
leave me in here.

Oh, come back, will you?
I can't get out of here!

You've called Jack Irish.
Leave a message.

Jack.

It's Danny. I'm in the car park, mate.
Are you coming?

Christ, help me.

Oh, thank God. I can...

No, I can see
your lights flashing.

You have four new messages.

Jack, Harry Strang.

Sorry about
your little mix-up with Dollery.

Anyway, no harm done.

Listen, I got something
I need you to do.

Jack Irish,
it's Danny McKillop, mate.

You know, the hit-and-run
10 years ago?

Um... look, I'm out now, mate,
but I'm in a bit of strife, so...

..so you reckon
you might give me a call?

It's 0491-570-110.

Tonight, as soon as you get this.

Jack, it's Danny again, mate.
You... You didn't call.

Um...

Listen, mate. I'm in deep shit.
I think I'm being followed.

Do you reckon you could
come and meet me 7:00 tonight?

I'm in the car park of
the Hero of Trafalgar in Brunswick.

Jack. It's Danny. I'm in
the car park, mate. Are you coming?

Christ, help me.

Oh, thank God. I can...
No, I can see your lights flashing.

Ah.

Don't tell me you're finally
coming back to criminal law.

Hardly.

Bit of conveyancing's
about it these days.

No, just looking for an old file.

Great. Come in.

It's good to see ya.
You too, mate.

The name's Danny McKillop.
McKillop? How old?

About as old as your suit.
Fuck off! It's brand-new.

You know
Helen has shot through?

Head over heels
with some painter in Eltham.

What, a house painter?
No, artiste painter.

Someone no-one's ever heard of.
Bruce Seal.

Bruce Seal? Shit.

Drinkie?

So, what do you know
about Helen's painter bloke?

Oh, he speaks
five languages, apparently.

He's won the Archibald three times and
his nickname's the 'Throbbing Stallion'.

Great.

Here we go.
Daniel Patrick McKillop.

Convicted of culpable driving,
18 June, 2001.

Knocked down and killed Anne Elspeth
Jeppeson in Ardenne Street, Richmond.

Ah, the public housing woman.
The... activist.

Your client was
as high as a kite.

Cheers.

How do you remember this?
You weren't even on it.

It wasn't a good time for you.

I made it to court, though, didn't I?

Oh, photo finish.

You did go off the rails there a bit
just... before you quit.

Anyway, it was an open-and-shut case.
Your client eventually pleaded guilty.

Got 10 years. He was a junkie.
Had a whole stack of priors.

So why is he calling me from
a hotel car park on a Saturday night?

And why is he now
not returning my calls?

Can I hang onto this?
Sure.

This has
nothing to do with her.

Helen left for her own reasons.
She doesn't even know about Lorna.

Gotta love 'em when they're round,
don't you, mate?

Hard after 15 years.

Yeah, I wouldn't know.

That's how long ago it was.
I mean, who has a VHS anymore?

Oh, I know people.

Where the hell were you last Saturday
when we needed you?

The Saints went down
by three goals.

I was in Sydney, on business.

What sort of bloody work takes you
to Sydney on a Saturday arvo?

He doesn't work no more.
Not real work.

He's a standover boy.
A bloody debt collector now!

You didn't miss much. Played like girls.

They don't make 'em
like your old man anymore.

Toughest man ever to wear
an athletic support.

Listen, I need to
stick this on, if I can.

Well, they're watching the game.

It's a replay-

From 1996.

Hey! It's Fitzroy's last game at the 'G.
Yeah. We got smashed by 25 goals.

- It was horrible.
- Never about that, Jack.

As well you know.

It's three-quarter time. He can put it
on now. But make it quick, will ya?

Reminds me
of round 14, 1971.

Remember that game
against the Roos?

Danny McKillop's car was seen
swerving out of control in Ardenne Street

moments before fatally injuring public
housing campaigner Anne Jeppeson.

I recognise that sheila.

This blue car was just...
weaving all over the road.

Suddenly, bang, it just ploughed
straight through her and kept on going.

Poor woman
didn't stand a chance.

Daniel McKillop was found
asleep in the garage of his home.

Put the game back on.
Three-quarter time'd be over by now.

Well, Charlie, maybe if you drew me
a plan of the table, instead of just

four random measurements
on torn-off bits of the 'Age',

I might know what I'm doing.

What for do I need drawings?
I don't do anything I didn't make before.

But it's all in your head,
and I don't know if what's in your head

is the same
as what's in my head.

I don't want anything in your head
near my head, thank you.

Jack, Charlie.
Hey, Cam.

Harry needs to see you
for a couple of hours.

Righto.

Can you spare us
your apprentice, please, Charlie?

Should manage.

50 years on my own until Wonder Boy
shows up wanting to learn.

How's he doing?

Shithouse.

Mr. Pittman,
the Opposition is demanding to know

why the Yarra Cove development
was approved

without proper public consultation.

No, no, no, listen.

Yarra Cove is an injection of $600 million
straight into this state's coffers.

Put on some Willie Nelson, will ya?

Who wants to listen to pollies lie
all the way to Ballarat?

They reckon
the racing industry's bent!

- What the hell's Yarra Cove?
- Sounds tropical, doesn't it?

Topless chicks swaying about in
grass skirts on the banks of the Yarra.

They'd have icicles
on their nipples.

Sorry, Harry.
No Willie, just Kenny.

Oh, let's do it in silence.

Who'd live here?

You'd have to be
committed by a magistrate.

So, all on Topside Winder?

No. You leave that to the others.
You back the favourite to win.

Go early. I want to see if we can't
push Topside's odds out a bit.

Charlemagne's Pride.
1,000 to win, thanks.

1,000 pays 6,000, Charlemagne!

Topside Winder, 500 to win.

500 on Topside to win.

Topside Winder
for 500 on the nose.

Just about ready for the running

of race number three on the card -
the McVane Family Textiles Handicap.

Start her up.
Ready to jump now!

I thought we should take
a little look at the Dom to celebrate.

Jack.

Better finish these
before the wife makes an appearance.

We averaged 15 to 1.

Some of these bookies see a go coming
if you put down 50 bucks.

15s are fine.

You don't want to nuke the bastards.
We want 'em there next time.

Jack.

Want to show you something.

Cheers.

Cheers!

Gate five. Dakota Dreaming.

Animal's got a truly horrible record.
Lucky he's not in the pet's mince.

Here. Slow it down?

Give him the history, Cam.

Bred for staying.
Top-shelf Kiwi pedigree.

Won his first race by seven lengths
then pulled up lame.

Tendon trouble.
Then ran ninth.

With respect, Harry, he doesn't seem
like much of an investment to me.

He hasn't run for two years,
but some blokes up Ballarat way

reckon he's come good.

Got a couple
of big races in him.

Maybe just watering their tonsils,
but these blokes know their nags.

There.

Now, did he or didn't he?

Yeah. Looks like
he's holding to me.

It may be worth another pilgrimage
in the very near.

Take another squiz
at Dakota Dreaming.

Oh, I don't think
I really earned this today, Harry.

Probably not.
Cam'll give you a lift home.

I hear
Vanotti's got a groin.

My opinion,
and I get no pleasure saying it,

Vanotti's missing something
in his groin.

Hey. You seen the paper?

Danny McKillop, shot dead by a cop
in the car park of the Trafalgar.

Apparently he pulled a pistol,
so I guess that's that, then.

Oh, shit. Why would he
pull a gun on a cop?

It says he was off his face.

Oh, God, so that's twice
I've screwed this poor bastard over now.

If that's guilt
I'm hearing, forget it.

The worst time of his life,
he gets a drunk lawyer,

and this time he calls me,
I don't even show up.

It's a prosecutor's wet dream. He was
probably working some drug scam.

Just drop it, mate.

Yeah.

I'm serious.

File it under “best forgotten...

Why is this only on page nine?

This is his third groin, you know.
Mmm.

“For this reason, I tell you that his sins,
many as they are,

“have been forgiven him,
for he has shown great love.

“It is someone who forgives little
that shows little love.”

Then he said unto him,
“Your sins are forgiven."

And now Danny's daughter Kristy...

Uh, Kirsty.

...will place a special letter for her father
on the coffin.

Thanks.

Sue McKillop?

I'm so sorry
to hear about Danny.

I'm Jack Irish.

Kirsty, this is your dad's lawyer.

The one who wouldn't
return his calls.

Well, I was in Sydney. I didn't
get the messages till it was too late. I

Listen, when things settle down,

I was just wondering
if you could give me a call.

Things aren't gonna settle.
Yeah.

Join us at the wake, if you like.

Come on.

You don't know why
Danny wanted me to meet him, do you?

Two blokes were waiting outside
the house on Thursday night.

Danny saw 'em and bolted.

Beer.

Jack, Vin. Danny's cousin.
Hi.

Jack was the one that...
The top lawyer.

Papers said he had a gun.

He didn't own one.

The Danny I knew was no crim.

He finished school in jail,
he got a job, got off the drugs.

We were living a good life, you know?
He was a good dad.

Do you know
what these two blokes wanted?

No.

About a month ago,
this woman called out of the blue,

and she told Danny
her husband had just died,

left actual proof he was fitted up
for the hit-and-run.

What... what kind of proof?

I don't know. I don't know who she was,
what she was talking about.

Danny just wanted
to put it behind him.

It kept gnawing away at him.

So he arranged to meet her, and...

And he didn't meet her?

Well, we're here.

Could have been running a nice
little earning motel in Lismore now.

Turned it down, didn't I?

All so I can stay number eight
on the commissioner's top 10 shit list.

Too many known associates,
they reckon.

I mean, fuck that.

Used to be called
part of the job.

The new police minister's an ex-cop,
isn't he? He'll take care of you.

Mate, Garth Bruce is a turd
with selective amnesia.

He gets voted in and then immediately
wants to get rid of the old culture.

Mate...

...I'm very proud
of the old culture.

Wouldn't have a Quick-Eze
on you, would ya?

Not on me, no.
Remind me again of the old culture.

The old culture. You know.
Dinosaurs like me.

A time when it didn't count if you took
an extra 10 bucks for the drinks or...

...you know, loaded up some cockroach
just to keep 'em off the streets.

Wonderful days.

Nowadays, it's just all these
fuckin' mad dogs out there

with chemical warfare
going off in their heads,

stuff up their nose
fighting against the stuff in their arms.

Ooh, shit.
And we can't do a bloody thing.

Have you read much
about the Pritikin diet?

Hm?

Go fuck yourself.

This mate of yours that got himself dead
in the Trafalgar car park.

He was a client.

Hope you got paid in advance.

Baker, the cop
who put four in him,

reckons your bloke
just appears from behind a car,

high as a kite, points a .38 at him
and his partner.

McKillop's wife reckons
he's been clean for years.

Mrs. Goebbels reckons her husband
was in advertising. Shit's shit, mate.

He left me a message
the night he got shot.

He said someone
was flashing their lights at him.

He thought it was probably me.

There's no chance
that this Baker planted that gun

and the smack on him, is there?

Baker's an officer
of 26 years service.

If he was gonna knock your boy,
he would have done it somewhere

just a little less public, now,
wouldn't he?

Don't mess with it, mate.

It's done.

Alright?

He was scum.

Righto. Well... I'll be in touch.
I'll buy you a drink.

Drink?

You mean drinks, don't you, Jack?

Still dealing with
the old culture here, mate.

You can have that.

Did it surprise you when Danny ran over
that Jeppeson woman 10 years ago?

Yeah, it surprised me.

Danny hadn't driven
for about six months.

He was on a suspended sentence
for drink driving.

He was shit-scared
of going to prison.

And you reckon there was a chance
he'd had a few and forgotten all of that?

Oh, yeah, could be right.

If you can work out how a bloke can go
from being passed out in Fed Square,

go home, grab his car and run over
the Jeppeson tart five minutes later.

How do you know
he was in Fed Square?

Mate saw him.

Legless.

Drinking a vat of bourbon.

Talking to that arsehole Scullin.

Did he tell the police?

Scullin is the police.

Danny was a dog.

For the Drug Squad.

There's plenty of people who'd want
to see him get put away for 50 years.

You didn't get that
from me, right?

Right. Hey, listen, the witness
in the case, um, Ronald Bishop.

Do you know anything about him?
Never met him.

I know he's a bloody liar.

Jack?

Prepared to divulge your thoughts
on the gallops at Geelong?

Uh, people in the know, Norm,
usually treat my tips as scratchings.

If that's you, Gavin, I have
a lifetime case of herpes. Go away.

Linda Hillier?

Jack Irish. I...

Oh, yeah, right.

You rang about
the Anne Jeppeson hit-and-run.

Yeah.
God, that was a lifetime ago.

Yeah, I appeared for the accused.
But I don't practise law much anymore.

What do you do?

Oh, I live off my wits.

Gamble.

Drink.

Then you'll be keeping
pretty much the same company.

Oh, no, it's definitely
a notch up since then.

I see you interviewed Anne Jeppeson
a number of times

about the sale
of the Hoagland Commission flats.

Yes. I even spoke to her
the morning she was killed.

Our Joan of Arc
in tight jeans and boots.

So you weren't
one of her admirers?

Oh, there were
things about her I admired,

but, no, I wasn't
one of her admirers.

I was never sure of her motives.

Um, Yarra Cove back then, it was
just a bunch of crappy old warehouses

and filthy docklands, wasn't it?

Yeah. I mean, the cops used to call it
the Leper Colony.

Right.
They wanted to develop the whole site.

Suddenly, Jeppeson
comes on the scene like Batwoman

with 'Save our Hoagland'.

And what happened
with the protest?

Not much
after your client ran over her.

Do you think anyone
considered at the time that...

...maybe she was murdered?

What, you're suggesting
he did it deliberately?

Or someone else.

It's a bit of an extreme step
for the Housing Commission to take,

don't you think?

Danny got out of jail a few years ago,
a new man, apparently.

Good job and a wife and a kid,
and then a cop shot him and killed him

in the Brunswick hotel car park
last Saturday night.

Oh, God, that was him?
I hadn't made the connection.

Listen, I've got to file a story
for Hong Kong in eight minutes.

I'll do some digging and get back to you.
Yeah, righto. Thanks.

I don't, by the way.
Don't what?

Have herpes.

I'm looking for
a Ronald Bishop.

Oh.

Well, I don't think
he's home, mate.

That arsehole pissed off to Perth
years ago.

Just a shifty little poof.

The sandgropers
are bloody welcome to him.

I take it
you weren't close, then?

Shit.

Yeah, g'day.
This is Jack Irish.

I'm looking for a Ronald Bishop
who lives in Perth or Fremantle...

I've got a feeling that we're looking
at a rerun of the Kyneton Cup

from 21 months back.

OK. Alright, no worries.
Know it in me bones.

Relied on your bones, we'd be
round the Salvos eating rabbit stew.

Not such a bad idea.

Hi. You've called Ronnie. And if
you're handsome, leave a message.

Yeah, g'day.
This is Jack Irish.

I'm a lawyer.
I'm looking for a Ronald Bishop.

I was involved in the
Anne Jeppeson case some years ago,

and if you are the Ronald Bishop
who was a witness in that case,

I'm just wondering if you could
give me a call on 041809018.

Thanks very much.

What do you mean,
it's commercial-in-confidence?

Hoagland was public land.

Yeah, well, when...

Yeah, when does it
become public?

Great. Well, I'll get my grandchildren
to follow it up.

Check the share registry. Anything
we've got on Hoagland, Yarra Cove.

And maybe anything we have
on a Jack Irish?

Barr)!

Sweet-and-sour prawns?

Go fuck yourself.

You gettin' in?

I've only got a couple of minutes,
so I'm gonna make this quick.

Leave this
McKillop business alone.

Sensitive issue, these days,
cops killing people.

Did you find the cop Scullin?
In a manner of speaking.

He runs a big security company now.
Heard of AdvanceGuard?

They make big bucks.

What'd... what'd he say
about McKillop?

Said he doesn't talk
police business.

Is that it?
That's it.

You drove around here
to tell me that?

No. I drove around here
to tell you something else.

Don't ask me any more questions
about McKillop, OK?

That's what
I came around to tell ya.

You can get out now.

SFK. Son of the fucking king.

Excuse me.
Are you Martin Scullin?

Who wants to know?

Oh, Jack Irish.

I was, uh...

...Danny McKillop's lawyer back in...

What, or who the hell,
is Danny McKillop?

Well, in 2001, you were his arresting
officer in the Anne Jeppeson case.

I arrested
thousands of citizens.

Well, he was
gunned down recently.

Really?

I should send some flowers.

You know, these days,
I make 25 grand a week,

so unless you want me to start
the meter, this little friendly is over.

Mrs. Bishop? Jack Irish.
I rang before, about your son, Ronnie.

Have you found him?

No. I thought you said
he was here.

No.

No, no, I said he was here.
Three weeks ago.

Arrived in a terrible state,
all the way from Perth. Spent one night.

I made his favourite breakfast,
scrambled eggs and toast soldiers.

Look, I told the police all this.
Come in.

Come in. I'll put the kettle on.

Did you call the police?
No. No, they just came.

To tell him that his place in Fremantle
had been broken into.

Did he leave anything behind when he...
Yes. A case. Well, the police took that.

Looking for clues.

Nice place you've got here.

It's all Ronnie.

Packed me off to Noosa one day.

Came back to this.

What, he came into
some money, did he?

He won the lottery.

Shit.
10 years ago.

Before then, he'd just been
living hand-to-mouth,

working as a social worker
for the Good Hands Foundation,

making his little documentary films
on street kids.

He loved working with kids. You know,
he always wanted to be a filmmaker.

He's in big trouble, isn't he, Mr. Ireland?
Oh, let's not worry yet, Mrs. Bishop.

Listen...

Did he call anyone
when he was here?

He used his, um, cordless phone
a couple of times, I think.

Have you got the number
for that phone?

It won't do you any good.

He's not answering.

Oh!

Police didn't get this.

It's the last thing he gave me.

Nat King Cole.
Don't know why.

I don't really like him.
Have you played this?

Yes.

And?

I still don't like him.
No, I mean, it's just music, is it?

No. He sings.

Well, you can borrow it if you like,
if you promise to bring it back.

Mrs. Bishop, do you have any idea
why anyone might want to hurt Ronnie?

You know, before he left,
he said something that...

...just made my blood run cold.

He said,
“If I turn up dead somewhere,

“don't ever believe
it was my own fault.”

Hip hip hooray!
Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!

Hi.

Thanks. I'll just take my jacket off.
Thank you.

Thanks.
Hi.

Hi. Oh.
How old-world of you.

This is a nice way to end
a real pain-in-the-butt day.

Signorina.

Permesso?

Parents would approve
of this place.

I took the liberty
of ordering some starters.

People have been known to
eat their shoe leather here at Donelli's,

waiting for their first course,
so I hope you don't mind.

You're out of practice at this,
aren't you?

Am I?

So, tell me, why are you digging up
all this ancient stuff?

It's a bit late
to help anyone, isn't it?

Oh, well...

Danny McKillop's
left a daughter behind,

and she's gonna grow up
thinking her old man's a scumbag,

and if he wasn't,
she's got the right to know.

Compliments of the house,
for the signorina.

So beautiful.

Bella donna.

I'll be back to take your orders.

Wow.

You've certainly got clout.

He's just being a suck. He, uh...

It's a case
of outstanding legal fees.

Well, a bad debt
that he can't pay, so he...

And just ignore the accent.
He was born about half a k up the road.

His parents are from Galway.

Cheers.
Cheers.

So, is that the only reason?

Oh, no.

I didn't really ask
enough questions at the time.

I wasn't...
really on top of my game.

And now there's just a whole lot of stuff
that doesn't add up.

You know, like Ronald Bishop
telling his mother that he won the lottery.

I checked. He's never won
a bloody thing in his life.

Some mystery woman
calling up Danny McKillop

to say that she's got evidence
proving he's innocent.

Then she disappears, he dies,

and now the lottery winner's
disappeared as well, so...

I'll tell you what I found,
which isn't gonna clear up much.

The whole
Hoagland tender process

was initially handled by
the minister for planning at the time.

A guy called Pixley.
Kevin Pixley.

Yeah. I mean, he's a dipso,
but he's straight enough.

And then there's
a Cabinet reshuffle

and Lance Pittman becomes
the minister for planning,

and his first order of business
is to flog off Hoagland.

So imagine

...that...

..here is Yarra Cove.

“Launch your new life
with Yarra Cove."

And this... this was
the Hoagland Commission flats.

There were dozens
of different companies

that had been buying up
disused land - thanks -

and busted warehouses along
the riverfront in the preceding years.

What kind of companies?
Oh, well, offshore, just names.

Still checking.

What's interesting is that
when Hoagland was sold...

...to this...

Oh. Sorry. Thanks.

The olive oil.

Extra virgin.

All these other condiments -
the salt and pepper, the sugar,

3-day-old bread
and the parmesan cheese...

Let's not forget the toothpicks.
No.

The toothpicks
were not actually involved.

Oh.

...all sold their holdings to this entity
within a month.

Ah. To the virgo intacto olive oil.
Yep.

A company called Hexiod
bought up everything.

And was there collusion
amongst these condiments?

Well, that's about
impossible to tell,

because Hexiod was deregistered
eight years ago

when it was bought
by this new player.

If I could just swap. Thanks.

The oak aged balsamic vinegar.

Also known as
the Charts Corporation.

Right.

So Charts are the ones making
the real money out of Yarra Cove?

Squillions.

We have Joseph Kwitny, CEO
and chairman of the Charts board.

I mean, there's no crime
making money, so they say.

Well, no, not unless
you know in advance

that the planning minister's
gonna award you the tender, I guess.

Yeah, well, that would start
to smell like a crime.

But the details of that tender are locked
in the same vault as the Petrov affair

and the communist shark
that ate Harold Holt.

So if Anne Jeppeson
did stop the development,

Charts would have ended up

with a whole lot of
shitty old warehouses and factories.

Well, $600 million worth of them.

600 million reasons
to knock her on the head.

I do have one other question.

About Charts?

Yeah, sort of.

I was just wondering, um,
if you're seeing anyone at the moment.

Do you think if there was
anyone important in my life,

I'd be sitting here
moving condiments about a table?

Signorina.

Thank you.
Signor.

I'd quite like to
do this again one day.

Eat and drink?

Yes.

And... whatever else.

I'm not gonna sleep with you,
tonight, if that's...

Is that what you're asking?

'Cause talking about Jeppeson and
Yarra Cove, it hasn't quite got me there.

Well, I am... I am rusty, yes.

I'm happy. though-

Happy?

That you were even...
considering it.

Hey, Jack.

Are you right?

Yeah. Yeah, just been
working the dogs for Harry.

He's been worried
they're going a bit soft.

What can I do you for?

I'm just wondering if you've
still got that mate at the telco.

I need to trace
a couple of calls from a phone

owned by a bloke
called Ronald Bishop.

Ooh, Harry doesn't like me
using his contacts for outside work.

Cam, Harry owes me, OK?

The last bloke he sent me to
pointed a dodgy old gun at my balls.

Text me the number.

If Harry's OK with it,
I'll see what I can do.

Who's the best dog in the world, then?
Who's the best dog in the world?

So, Mr. Big Businessman...

...Mr. Executive...

...has no time to go to
the telephone anymore.

He has to carry it
all the time with him.

It's just work, Charlie.

Next...

No time for the toilet.

Take a mobile Schiesshaus,

a little shithouse you can carry away
all the time, so you can do it in car.

How did you know
I lived here?

Do you own a suit?

Why? Are you inviting me out?

Don't get too excited.

I got myself invited to a charity event
hosted by the Charts Corporation.

Make yourself at home.
I'll... just go and get dressed.

Yeah, well, make sure it's elegant.
This is high-end charity.

Righto.

“Father Alex Gorman
and Joseph Kwitny" -

Order of Australia, no less -

“cordially invites you and..."
rent-a-date - that's you -

“to their launching of the new offices
for the Charts Good Hands Foundation."

Oh, shit. That's, um, where
Ronald Bishop used to work.

I love what you've done with the place.
Designer chic meets lone wolf.

And who's Father Gorman?

Oh, he's a handbag
for high-society women

when their husbands
are out screwing the secretary.

Right.

Ah...

Been a while
since I've worn this.

She's beautiful.

Yeah.

I read what happened.
I can't think of anything worse.

The Jeppeson case
was around that time, wasn't it?

Yeah. Yeah.

This crusade you're on...

...is it connected,
it's some sort of guilt thing?

Oh... I don't think so.

I was in too much of a...

...state of incoherent rage
to think about guilt.

Out-of-date but gorgeous.

Do you mind if I drive?

We can listen to Nat King Cole.

Look around you.
Take it in. Beautiful, isn't it?

Our new home,
here at Yarra Cove,

overlooking
the world's most livable city.

I thank the Lord for it every day.
Champagne's French.

Oh, shit. Is that a problem?

They know how to treat the media.
I thank our benefactor, Joseph Kwitny.

Whose generosity allows
this instrument of the Lord's will

to work in such splendour.

Without Joe Kwitny, Good Hands'
outreach program for kids,

both here and in Asia,
would simply not exist.

Over many years,
they've supported us,

not just with the development
of our sanctuary here...

Lance Pittman.
The Honourable Minister for Planning.

He's on the board. Do you think
he's ever met a homeless kid?

Probably rooted a few.
We pray for the Charts Corporation.

And we thank them
for their generosity.

Now, please, a big welcome...
What do we know about him?

He lives abroad.

He's a poor boy made good,
and then a lot more gooder.

Now, if you look out over the Yarra, over
the railway lines and the shunting yards,

and past the docks,

you may see the street
where I grew up.

It's not pretty, even now.

When I lived there, we had no sewerage,
and power if we could afford it.

But we had one thing.

We had a dream, us Kwitnys.

Father Gorman?

Jacklflsh.

Wonder if I can bother you
for a moment.

Mr. Irish. Now, there's
a good Catholic name.

Yeah, my old man thought so.

Listen, I understand that a Ronald
Bishop used to work for Good Hands.

Bishop?

Um...

Well, you...

You'd think I'd remember
a name like that, wouldn't you?

Um...

Oh, yeah. That was a...
That was a very long time ago.

Um, Rodney wasn't really cut out
for the work, I'm afraid. He was, uh...

It's not a criticism,
but not everyone has the gifts

needed to work
with our problem youths.

But he's been in contact
with you recently, hasn't he?

Er, yes. He, um... He... he rang me.
In fact, he dropped in here.

He, um, seemed a little agitated,
but I was rushing off to a meeting,

so we... we barely chatted.

Francis. Hey.

Still no sugar.

I may have to send you back
to waiter school.

I'm sorry, Father.
I will... get some.

Ronnie was working for you when
he testified against a hit-and-run driver.

Uh, the Jeppeson woman.
Yeah, that was a terrible tragedy.

I knew her mother.
She was a delightful person.

Did he ever
talk about that night?

Is there, uh, some reason
I should recall such a conversation?

No. Not if you don't.

A very sad business.
Would you excuse me?

Sure.

They had a huge argument.

What about?

Father Gorman accused Ronnie
of stealing something, and Ronnie was...

...Ronnie was yelling back at him,
“No way you're hanging me out to dry!"

Are you sure this was Ronnie?

Oh, yeah, yeah. We know Ronnie.
What'd he pinch?

You're not really Irish,
are you, Jack?

What was
your grandfather's name?

Issy Reich?

I-reich. I-rish.

You're just a Jewboy,
aren't you?

I take you to a function
serving French champagne

and you bring me here,
to a warp in the time continuum?

Well, at least when they piss on
your shoes here, it is prostate-related.

Hey.

What a voice, eh?

Mmm. Velvet.

Wilbur.
Hi, Wilbur. Linda.

Yeah.

Yeah. I remember
when he started out.

Charlie Harris on bass.

Of course, afterwards
was the legendary Johnny Miller.

I could pop this on now,
if you two wouldn't mind?

Run amok.

I was sure it was that CD they were after
when they tore Ronnie's place apart.

Was there anything on it?

No, and I had
the encryption people check it.

♪ The very thought of you... ♪

You don't think

this is for our benefit, do you?

Not even Sinatra
could make this place romantic.

You're gonna have to work
a lot harder than this.

I knew this would happen the moment
I... saw you in the newsroom.

Yeah, I...

I bet you thought, “Here comes
6'6” of solid erotic pleasure.”

No, actually, I was thinking,

“This is exactly the kind of
rumpled, burnt-out sleazebag

“I always end up with."

So...

Did you live here
with your wife?

Yeah.

Do all the girls ask that?

Yeah, every single one of them.

No, you're the first.

Well, you're the only, actually.

So you were a faithful husband?

I had you picked as a wild boy.

Domesticated
as a neutered cat, I'm afraid.

I always thought Isabel was...
kind of out of my league.

You know, like she was
a mirage or something.

Yeah, mine was
more coma than mirage.

I married a gastroenterologist.

And our hobbies
included waking to alarms

and supermarket shopping
and Sunday lunches with the in-laws.

And how did...
how did that finish up?

In the arms of a rock singer.

Disgracefully.

I suppose you're too burnt out
to go again?

Yeah, listen. I'm the son
of a famous Fitzroy hard man.

You knock me down,
I just get straight back up again.

You've called Jack Irish.
Leave a message.

I've got that number for you.

Ronald Bishop's last phone call
was made to a Dr. Paul Gilbert

at some health spa
in Daylesford.

Oh, yeah, and Harry said
not to wear out this service.

G'day. I'm looking for Long Gully Road.
The, um, Koolanja Healing Centre?

You've come
the long way, mate.

Long Gully's down there
at the T-junction.

Turn left, go down about
a kilometre or so, second on the right,

first after that, yeah?

But the place is closed, I think.
Oh, I'll give it a try. Thanks.

Hooroo.

Hello?

Hello!

Hello?

Oh!

Police have released the names
of the murdered men -

Dr. Paul Gilbert,
a deregistered general practitioner,

and Ronald James Bishop,
a former social worker.

An anonymous call to the RSPCA

led police to the grisly discovery
of the bodies

that may have been there
for over two weeks.

As yet, the motive
for the murders is unclear.

Oh, good, you're alive.

I was worried sick.

I'm fine.

So I'm thinking we can
pretty much discount coincidence.

You've got Jeppeson, McKillop
and now Bishop.

And according to the news,

Ronald Bishop was killed
before Danny McKillop.

Feels like there's
a bit of spring cleaning going on.

Thanks.

My, um, editor,

he's an old drinking buddy of the
former planning minister, Kevin Pixley.

He hates journos.
He reckons we ruined his career.

But he's a Fitzroy tragic
He might just talk to you.

Yeah, I should talk to him. I reckon
a journo will send everyone to ground.

OK, but don't think
you can cut me out, Jack.

I feel a Walkley Award coming on.

Really?

So you were worried sick,
were you?

No, I think I had
an off oyster at lunch.

He's in the kitchen.

Spit of your old man.

You know, he was one of
the hardest bastards to ever pull on

a Fitzroy guernsey.

We'll be lunching soon, Kevin.

Goodbye, Mr. Irish.

Very economically done.

I got my instructions,
you got your marching orders,

so we'd better be quick.

There's a beer.

They tell me I shouldn't drink,
but stuff 'em. What do they know?

This is about Yarra Cove, eh?
Yeah.

Who was that society bird, Jeppes...
Anne.

Jeppeson. Anne. Yeah.
Saucy little girl, right?

She nearly put a stop
to the whole thing.

No, this is off the record, is it, Jack?

I'd be more inclined
to shaft the shaftworthy if it was.

Be like me doing a public service.
Totally off the record.

It was your idea to sell the
Hoagland Commission flats, wasn't it?

Well...

You know, the place was a cesspit.

It was Pittman's lead at the start.

The Premier and I
were happy to be involved.

Just export all the rapes
and the bashings to Melton.

There was plenty of opposition,
wasn't there, at the time?

There wasn't a whisper
till that woman got involved.

Suddenly, you had, you know,
rent-a-leftie protesters

popping up like...
pricks at a pyjama party

I had Premier Weak-As-Piss
ready to drop the whole development.

Thought it was gonna
cost him the election.

Well, why was Pittman involved?

I thought he was the, um...
the police minister at the time.

Where have you been, Jack?
Planning's where the big graft is.

That's where the big boys play.

Pittman would have put on
lipstick and a party frock

and sucked off the entire Caucus
to get his hands on Planning.

Can you tell me about
the tender process?

I'll tell you everything.
There wasn't any.

As planning minister, I called for one.
Correct procedure.

So...?

There was a palace coup.

I was made minister of the arts,
geriatrics and other national disasters

and Lance Pittman, Mr. Lucky,
got my job.

Now, you can say
whatever you like about me, Jack.

And when I was
planning minister,

I was responsible
for some fuckin' horrible cock-ups.

I mean, there's some
I still can't bear to drive by today.

But I did get into Parliament
to help people.

So Pittman sold it
straight to Charts?

For about half
of what it was worth.

Lunch now, Kevin.

Oh. yeah?

And...

And the death
of Anne Jeppeson?

Oh. Well, buggered if I know.
I mean, she was being tailed 24/7.

Listen. You got a light?

No.

Shit. Could have stayed indoors!

What was she being tailed for?

Oh, she had some activist boyfriend
the government didn't like.

Was it ASIO?
No, not ASIO, local boys.

Special Branch.

See, they were monitoring
her every bowel movement.

I don't know how
she could have

got herself knocked off
without anybody noticing.

You haven't got any names,
have you?

Oh, yeah, Special Branch,
they love giving out that sort of info.

But I had this all out with the new
police minister, Garth Bruce, yonks ago.

And?
And?

Next time, bring a match.

It's time for my lettuce and a nap.

Yep. Leaving now.

Mate, you've got to watch out
for these people.

Kwitny doesn't come
from the Melbourne Club.

This mob thinks

bribery's
a legitimate tax deduction.

Hey, did I tell you, tipped
eight out of eight three weeks in a row,

me granddaughter's
tipping pool.

You did, Wilbur, but I'm happy
to hear it over and over again.

Why are they wearing colours of a team
that was extinct over a decade ago?

They do know it's a Saints-Hawks game
we're going to?

Mate, look around you.
They may now barrack for the Saints.

But all they see is Fitzroy.
Jack.

Detective Tony Baker.

Nice to see people
still do work among the elderly.

Yeah, it's the Fitzroy Youth Club.

No... no risk of anyone
wanting to join?

Like you to come
for a little drive, Jack.

Have you got some identification?
Oodles.

But if it's not convenient for you
right at the moment,

I do have instructions
to arrest you.

Really?

Yeah.
On what charges?

Many options available to us.

Conspiring to pervert
the course of justice,

conspiracy to
conceal the odd murder or two.

Yeah. Well, it does appear that a gap's
just opened up in my social calendar.

I'll come with you.
No. It's OK, mate. I'll...

I'll see you there.

See you at half-time, fellas.
Yeah, righto, mate.

I didn't know Jack had a mate
from the Gold Coast.

So, cop shops have gone up
a notch or two.

Police Minister's expecting you.

The Minister?

I'm meeting Garth Bruce?

You've managed to piss off
people in very high places, Jack.

After you.

Come in, Jack.

Thought it was about time
we had a quiet drink together.

Take a seat.

Hey, what'll you have?

Uh, whisky and water, thanks.

Jesus, what a day.

Politics, eh?

Win 1, lose 10.

I'm told you've been
sniffing around,

asking a lot of questions
about old business.

Really?

I was a cop for nearly 20 years.
I know the story.

And I know the system.
I know what goes on.

It's why the Premier
gave me the job.

Yeah.

What's your
particular interest, mate?

Well, I... got a phone call
from an ex-client, Danny McKillop,

the night he was killed.

When your bloke was shot
behind the Trafalgar, I called in the file.

I've had it
with this Dirty Harry shit.

20 years on the beat,
I fired all of three shots,

and all in response
to pricks firing at me.

Now, your name...

...is all over this, Jack.

What's worrying is that you were
seen in the bush, in Daylesford,

and it looks like you wiped clean a whole
lot of Danny's prints from the scene.

You know how serious this is?

Danny's prints?

Who the hell
do you think killed him?

Wake up.

Here's the ballistics.

The gun Danny had on him
the night of the Trafalgar

was the same as the one that knocked
Ronnie Bishop and his doctor mate.

No question.
You were next. Revenge.

McKillop reckoned you fitted him up.
You, Scullin and Ronnie Bishop.

If you had managed
to meet up with him that night,

you'd be looking at the lid now.

I spoke to Kevin Pixley.
Oh, yeah?

What number gin and tonic
was he on?

He pretty much shafted Pittman.

You know who the biggest crook ever to
hold ministerial office in this state is?

Oh, it'd be a pretty open field,
wouldn't it?

One clear winner.
The Honourable K. Pixley.

You like his little lean-to in Brighton?
Think that came from family money?

I need a favour from ya.

An election coming up.

Premier doesn't want a media circus
over Yarra Cove.

It's prehistory.

Now...

You've made
a right tool of yourself so far,

and it's only thanks to me
you're not sitting in remand.

But keep your nose out of it,

no articles on the subject
in the dailies from your girlfriend,

and in return,
maybe I'll get the files cleaned up.

No charges.
No trace of you.

Come on, eh?

My private line, if you need me.

Tony'll drive you back.

You're right
to walk from here, Jack?

You're joking, aren't ya?

Outski.

You've got a bad history
of losing your women, don't you?

Be a shame to repeat it.

Isabel? Isabel?

Isabel! Isabel!

Listen, just give me 10 minutes.
I'll meet you in the car park... car park.

You wouldn't
bloody listen... listen.

We're buying the table.

You listening now, Jack?

Isabel?!

I thought you could use
some MSG and trans fats.

Great.

Remember all those companies
that sold their land to Charts?

Um, the supremely virginal oil, the
pepper grinder, but not the toothpicks?

Yeah, not the toothpicks.

Names like
Edelweiss Nominees Number 12,

and Collarstud Holdings
and Rabbitrun.

You can put your hands
around me if you like.

All registered
in the Caymans and Vanuatu.

So, for your average reporter,
a dead end.

I'll get some plates, eh?
No, no. I want you to listen.

This food'll kill you anyway.

It's only a dead end if the companies
don't own real estate here,

and, you see,
all these companies did.

They bought existing buildings,

so they had to pay water rates,
electricity bills, like real people do.

So a brilliant journalist
traced them.

And guess where
all the bills got sent.

Well, to a management company.

And guess who the signatory was
for that management company.

Um...

Joseph Kwitny,
I hear you suggest?

No. That'd be
completely improper.

His wife.

Give the man a fish ball.

Charts was there from the start.

They knew bloody well
the development was gonna proceed.

Pittman was their inside man.

I am going to print with this.

Hey, listen, um...

I met with Garth Bruce today.

He, uh... he has ballistic evidence proving
that Danny McKillop killed all three

and I, apparently,
was next on the list.

Hang on. I haven't got over
the “I met with Garth Bruce” bit yet.

Why?
I know, I know.

He basically made it clear to me
that... it's a conspiracy theory.

I mean, he's right.

You can't connect

Pittman and Kwitny
to the murders

without a tangible, beneficial link,
and we don't have one.

Uh, normally,
lawyer talk turns me on.

Yeah, I'm not so sure this time.
I told him we'd drop it.

Why the hell
would you do that?

They know I was in Daylesford.
They've got my fingerprints.

Didn't you ask yourself
why they didn't charge you?

Five minutes with the Police Minister,
you come out in reverse?

This is a huge story.
I'm running with it.

I told them you wouldn't.

Yeah, well, I'm not yours to shut up, and
I don't know what made you think I was.

Oh, come on.
Screw you, Jack.

Actually, no, that's the last thing
that'll ever happen.

Oh, Linda!

Linda!

Oh, Linda, just once,
fall for a proper bloke, eh?

Fuckin' hell.

I didn't wake you, did I?

No.

Some idiot turned the saw on

at fünf o'clock in the morning.

He woke me.

Oh, well,
I'm glad it wasn't me, then.

This table
needs something special,

to hide the disaster

you make of joins.

Come here.

Cuban mahogany.

100 years old.

So beautiful.

Maybe they won't
notice the mess you've made.

Yeah, I don... I don't know
that I'm ready for this, Charlie.

Till you make something nice out of it,
it's only a piece of wood.

Mr. Pittman. Linda Hillier.

I was wondering if I could ask you
a couple of questions.

I'm only here for
a wretched breakfast meeting

with a bunch
of religious nutters.

I'm running a story
on the Yarra Cove development

and specifically your links to the
Charts Corporation - care to comment?

I'll happily answer
all your questions, love.

Best make an appointment
with my secretary.

Hillier, was it?
I'll tell her you'll call.

Yeah, the problem
seems to be ongoing.

There he is, lads.

Dakota Dreaming.

Part of
the superannuation plan.

Walks like a stayer.

You can tell.

Next Saturday, Caulfield, race four.

What's her experience?

Well, rounding up cattle in the country,
mainly. Couple of city wins.

Cam's happy.
He wanted a girl from the start.

Women keep their mouth shut.

Well, they don't get on the phone, go to
the pub and do all their mates favours.

She loves this horse.

Don't want some cocky bastard on him,
hard hands, know-it-all,

thinks he can
thrash him home.

You'll understand if I say
you're not to make any outside calls

until after Saturday's race, love?

Is this big?
Well, big enough.

This horse is gonna win
'cause it's the best horse in the race.

There's nothing else
going on here.

Microfiche. How old is this?

Yep, just keep going. Faster.

What's that? OK, can...
Wait. Go back a bit.

No! No!No!

No!

Stop.

No!

No, back. There.

That.

Got him.

Well, that was nice.

Girl can ride.

230 on this sheep paddock?

For a stayer, she's smoking.

So you in?
It's 25 big ones.

Jesus! By next Saturday?

Well, can you do it?

Well, I might have to
sell a kidney.

You having fun there,
Schumacher?

Two pricks on a bike have been with us
since we left the track.

I just wanted to see
what they would do.

Uh, what's going on?

I don't know.

Could be just two guys
out for a joy-ride.

Could be someone who thinks
we've got cash on board.

Harry, you want to reach
under the seat for me, please?

There's a little case there.

You want to open it for me,
please, Jack?

686 Smith & Wesson.

When was the last time
you shot anything, Jack?

Oh, some rabbits
about 20 years ago in the mallee.

I missed most of them, though.

The bloke in the back's
got a little... bag or something.

Well, that'll be his playlunch.

Hold on. I'm gonna take
the scenic route.

Can't outrun 'em.

I think we'll have to
show the boys the iron.

Out we go!

I'll stay where I am, Cam.

Stay down!

Give me the gun.

Get down!

You bastards!

Party over?

Yeah, it looks that way, boss.

That ain't the way you go about
taking money off people.

Uh...

I don't think
this is about the horses, fellas.

Might have something to do
with a little job I've taken on.

Well, don't take on any big jobs.

Yeah.

You want me to wait?
No, it's OK. Cheers.

You alright?

Have you seen anyone go in or out?
No.

Alright, come on. I'm gonna
grab some stuff and then we'll go.

Look out! Look out!

No. No, Jack, you can't.

Jack! Leave it!

Come on, please.

Leave it! it's gone!
Hop in the car, Jack!

Get in the car!
No!

Come on! Jack!
Hop in!

Should be comfortable here.
It belongs to my current.

She's in Italy somewhere,
swanning with her mother.

Wish I was in Italy
with her mum.

I need to swap the Jag over
for the ute.

You need me,
I'm on my phone.

But don't use your mobile.

Help yourself to the fridge.

I'm in the apartment opposite.

I can see everything from there.
That's how I met my girlfriend.

I'm indebted, Cam.

Next Saturday, at Caulfield,
we pay off our debts.

See ya, Jack.

Cheers, mate.

See ya, Linda.
Thanks, Cam.

Found something
of historical interest.

Well, Bishop's mum did say
he was into filmmaking.

Down the bottom -
name of the cop who said it was all

a case of mistaken identity.

Uh...

Detective Sergeant Scullin.

One paragraph on.
The other arresting officer.

Senior Sergeant Garth Bruce.

Ronald Bishop had to be
blackmailing them, didn't he?

So we need to find whatever it was
he had over them before they do.

Which will probably keep us alive
for another week.

You realise we are going to end up
in a caravan park in Deniliquin

on witness protection, don't ya?

What is it about imminent death
that makes you horny?

I'm just turned on
by the thought of Deniliquin.

Oh, God.

Oh, God! Yeah!

Ah! McKillop's wife.

What?

Well...

...you told me that she said
that this all started

when McKillop received a call
from a mystery woman, right?

Is this your idea of pillow talk?

A call from
a recently widowed woman.

She rang and said
that she had something

that proved
Danny's innocence.

It has to be the wife
of someone on the inside.

Who knows? It could be someone
from Charts, or Good Hands or a cop.

Death notices.
The obituaries from that time.

Somewhere, there has to be
a name that jumps out.

Right, yeah.

Hang on a sec.

Didn't your mother tell you
it's rude not to finish what you start?

Can you not
mention my mother?

Uh, this is Dr. Charles Taub here,
from Monash University Medical School.

Um, Denise, we're doing a study
on police mortality.

Hopefully, our research will mean
higher stress loadings on police salaries.

Yeah, I'm just wanting
to double-check our data

on any police deaths
in the last three months.

Sure.

I find appealing to their pockets
usually gets more answers.

Two in January.

Motor transport. Yeah.

Yeah, I've got those.

None in Feb.

Yes, thank God.

PK Vane?

Yeah, I did hear about that.

Uh, no. Thanks, Denise.
That's all we need. Thank you. 'Bye.

PK Vane, shot dead in the driveway
of his Seaford home.

What department?

Special Branch.

That's gotta be him, doesn't it? I mean,
it's gotta be his wife who called Danny.

Can you get an address?
Sure.

Cam.
- Hey, listen, brother.

It's time to go.

There's some blokes
coming up your way.

Don't use the back.
Use the roof.

Gotta get out of here.

Oh, shit!

Fuck.

Jack Irish? Police!
We know you're home.

Open the door, Jack!

Roof!
Go, go, go!

Find another way out!

Give me that fucking chair!
Alright, alright!

Ah!
Shit!

Mrs. Vane?

Are you sure
this is the right house?

Excuse me!

Oh, Mrs. Vane, I'm... I'm sorry. We're
just wondering if you could help us.

I take it you're not
Jehovah's Witness.

Didn't I see you
at Danny McKillop's funeral?

Paul had the Jeppeson girl
under surveillance the day she...

...was run over.

He said he'd seen her
get murdered.

That they'd framed someone and that
he had something that would prove it.

Did he say what?

Nope.

He didn't want me to know.

Well, why didn't he
come forward himself?

He was too scared.

He started hiding guns
all around the place.

Started checking for phone taps.

He took an early retirement
and sat on the couch for years

just watching nature docos.

I mean, it wasn't exactly the kind of...
retirement that I had planned.

And then one day, he just...

He just snapped.

He got up, he rang Danny McKillop,
and he told him,

“We can
make these bastards pay."

Pay?

I think the word is 'blackmail'.

Oh, and they paid him out.

They shot him in the driveway
in front of his dog.

Jesus.

Well, the cops pulled the place apart
trying to find whatever it was.

Pretended they were
looking for clues.

I told them I didn't know.

If you didn't know
what he had over them,

then why did you call
Danny McKillop?

I may not know what it is,
but I have a fair idea where it is.

You've got a long drive
ahead of you.

Here it is.

I bet it's in there.

How do you know?

Oh, debt collector's instinct.

Well, there's a crowbar in the ute.
Yeah, I know. I was lying on it.

Move along, Kamahl.

Jacklflsh.

You know, you really are
one giant pain in the arse.

Oh, well, I'm sorry to be
such an inconvenience.

Where is it?
Don't know. We're just here on holidays.

Maybe if you tell us
what it is you're looking for.

Who do you think I am, Miss Marple?

Let's be clear at the outset.

What's gonna happen is
I'm gonna kill the blackfella.

Oh, like the good old days.
Then I'll move onto the woman.

They're not involved, OK?

Well, they are now.

You see, you're all gonna die here, Jack.
It's really just a question of speed.

Get us what we're looking for
and it can be over in a heartbeat.

Painless, like putting down a dog.

Dick us around, I mean,
there's no-one for miles.

Death could come very slowly.

They know the story I'm working on.
They know your names.

Tell me, do people
still read newspapers?

it's in the fireplace.

Show us.

Yeah, OK.

OK, now get up there.

This coat cost me four grand.

Yeah, right.

Don't get stuck up there, Jack.

You'll make
an easy target for Tony.

Ow!

Come on! Get a move on.

Taking too long!

No! It's here.
- Bastard!

She's a real fighter, Jack.

Get on with it!

Thank you very much.

I will take that.

You can stop now.
I think they understand.

Yeah.

Ow.

I've taken worse beatings.

I'm thinking maybe I should
just return to conveyancing.

Oh, that's Anne Jeppeson.

Our officers Garth Bruce
and Martin Scullin.

I need you
to be with me tonight.

Well, that's a relief,
'cause I haven't got anywhere to live.

I need a car sent
to the Prince of Prussia hotel.

I need to come in
the back of the building.

Make sure there's
plenty of security staff.

Yes, Gavin,
it is life-and-death.

No, I'm not drinking till I've filed this.
Oh. Well, I'll have yours, then.

You realise
this doesn't really link Kwitny?

He could still
bullshit his way out of it.

Yeah, we'll get him eventually.

Great win last Saturday, Jack.

Yes, a truly, truly great win.

Ball out of defence, still a weakness.

Shame about your place.

Yes, isn't it just?

Don't they want you now
for murder or something?

It's a misunderstanding.

Some great songs.

But I could have
bet the whole bar here

that Nelson Riddle done
the arrangements on this record.

Well, that's lovely for Riddle.

Look, Wilbur,
it's been a long couple of days.

Yeah.

Oh, it was Riddle.
Money on the table.

I never heard of
the bloody Kwitny Orchestra.

Pittman on counter sax.
Oh, shit, how did I miss this?

There.

The post office box
of the recording studio.

Abbotsford.
- Well, that's plain wrong.

Nat recorded that in Chicago.

My guess is that he never came
anywhere near Abbotsford.

We would have heard about it.

No, he was never there,
to my knowledge.

How does it feel to bring down
an entire government, Wilbur,

without getting off
your bar stool?

With this
extraordinary story still unfolding,

we can confirm that both
the Minister for Police, Garth Bruce,

and the Minister for Planning,
Lance Pittman, are now in custody.

And following the revelation of
secret documents from an inside source,

Special Branch detectives have also
raided the offices of Charts Corporation,

making several arrests, including that
of millionaire developer Joseph Kwitny

and Father Alex Gorman,
of the Good Hands Foundation,

on multiple charges
of graft and corruption.

In what is certainly proving
to be the biggest scandal

to hit this city in decades,

we spoke exclusively to the woman who
helped break the story, Linda Hillier...

Dakota Dreaming's
at 12 to 1 now.

Reckon we can push it to 20
before they smell a rat.

Oh, Harry, I just came by to tell you
that my house blew up,

so I couldn't raise the 25.

Your place was insured, wasn't it?
You'll be good for it.

Cam knows how to find you.

Could really go down
big-time here, couldn't we?

You know
what Oscar Wilde said?

“Only one thing makes more of a fool
of a man than a woman,

“and that's a horse.”

And this one's
got a woman riding it.

Pulling off a coup's
always a bit of a miracle.

I've had a coup horse
run stone motherless last.

Goodbye 70 grand.

And today...

...there's 13 other cattle out there
trying to sink us.

But some bunny's gotta win, eh?

Why not us, Jack?

Just about ready
for the running of race number four

on the program at Caulfield.

Group one feature, moving in.

Just about set.

Ready to run.

Dakota Dreaming sprung the gates.

♪ The mere idea of you

♪ The longing here for you

♪ You'll never know

♪ How slow

♪ The moments go

♪ Till I'm near to you... ♪