Deadloch (2023–…): Season 1, Episode 2 - Episode #1.2 - full transcript
Ma'am, I think it's Trent Latham.
Trent!
- Vanessa! No! No!
- Trent!
We've recruited an interstate detective
to lead the case.
Detective Eddie Redcliffe is my name.
I am from Darwin.
Who is the psycho
with the 25-page rap sheet?
That is Gavin Latham,
Trent Latham's brother
and business partner.
What happened to
your windscreen, Gavin?
- Who's that?
- That's Trent.
Looks like our brothers
took a little trip together.
Time of death was between 3 and 4am.
No foreign DNA on the body.
What's the deal with
that forensic pathologist?
"Lingua amputo."
Five years ago,
Deadloch's mayor, Rod Dixon,
washed up dead on the same beach
as Trent Latham.
Comin' through!
Who was that woman with Dulcie?
- The detective?
- He's a woman?
Vanessa! Stop right there!
Lingua amputo.
Sexy, don't they all realise
we moved to Deadloch specifically
for work-life balance?
Well, I just don't think that the...
murderer,
or Commissioner Hastings...
care about our choir schedule, love.
Oh, I have to go.
I think I'm still upset you lied to me
about Detective Redcliffe, you know?
Yeah, and as I said,
I omitted some information
because I was worried about
how it'd make you feel.
- Where's my...
- The front door.
- Right.
- I felt triggered.
And you have communicated that
thoroughly, love,
and, again, I really apologise.
- For lying to me?
- Well, for...
Yep. Mm.
OK.
- OK.
- OK.
So let's just reset.
This whole investigation
has just got absolutely nothing
to do with our lives here,
and I will parent my emotions
and you'll do your work.
Oh, great! Great.
Your emotional work.
Yep, OK. That's... good too. I just...
I do really want to
keep talking about this, Cath...
- Me too.
- ...but I... I have to go.
- 'Course.
- OK.
Yeah, I'll chat to you in the car.
Alright. OK.
So Margaret called. She wants the bales
no more than 3m apart.
Has Amanda Palmer arrived?
- Yep.
- She has? OK.
So the murders haven't deterred her...
TAMMY: Is it just me,
or does no-one care that
two dudes are fully dead?
I know.
I saw a yoga class
on the beach this morning,
right where you tripped over
Trent's dead dick.
Ugh...
- We should go to his funeral.
- Why?
He kicked you off the footy team
the moment you turned 14
because you weren't a boy.
You hate him.
I don't hold grudges.
I go with love.
You just want to go
in case a footy recruiter rocks up.
Yeah, 'cause this town is cooked, brah.
And I'm gonna get out,
via my banana.
You're allergic to bananas.
Oh, it's a type of kick, M.
Fuck.
Autopsy of Gavin Latham
commencing now.
Time of death approximately 28 hours ago...
Oh, sorry, sorry. Senior Sergeant
Detective Collins just texted.
She said that Detective Redcliffe
told her that the autopsy
started in half an hour.
Yeah, well, boo-hoo for her.
Crack on, Smartwatch.
Very similar to the brother.
There's no foreign DNA on the body.
He's been completely cleaned.
- Wow!
- Ah, excuse me, babe.
- The hyoid was broken.
- Mm-hm?
Same sort of ligature
was used to strangle him.
- You see these bruises here?
- Mm-hm.
- Detective!
- They're full of blood.
You said the autopsy started at nine.
Oh, well, the early bird
catches the crim.
OK, let's get back to it, can we?
James, how long was Gavin's body
on the beach?
Nup. What about the Latham brothers'
tox report?
What are we talking?
Fuck-ton of drugs?
You reckon some fucking local dealer
bumped 'em off?
Well, we won't found out who killed him
until we found out how it happened.
Now, the bodies
were transported by boat.
Oh, you and your fucking boats!
OK, Collins,
in answer to your question...
the minimal amount of pooled blood
suggests the body
hadn't been lying on the beach long,
which actually suggests the killer...
Oh, just one second. One second.
Well, if we're all attending to
personal matters...
Hey, no, answer me, mate.
...at your make-up trial
tomorrow, babe,
just make sure the lady doesn't go OTT.
You've already reeled me in.
There's no need to be
impressing anyone else.
Hey. Oi! Smartwatch!
What about his fucking
toxicology report?
Yeah, it's still pending, Detective.
The liver's damaged, though.
But from what? Drugs?
Hey? Which ones?
Ah, T-B-C.
Well, T-B-have a fucking guess.
OK, what type of knife was used
to cut out his tongue, James?
How was his tongue removed?
With difficulty, I'd say.
See these ragged marks on the throat?
They're from a serrated blade.
But these ones on the cheek,
they're more dagger-like.
- So the killer...
- Ugh.
Can we just have a modicum of
decorum in here, please...
Can you just keep going, James?
Thank you. Just keep going.
I surmise the killer used two knives
to cut out the tongue.
Which tracks: the tongue is actually
the strongest muscle in the human body.
- It's not, James.
- Yeah, yeah, just wind it up, mate.
The jaw and teeth have been chipped...
- Ooh.
- Babe!
Sorry, Sven, I can't really talk
right n...
Copy that, Sven.
They've found Gavin's ute
at the old sawmill.
Dulce, forensics
are headed to the sawmill.
They'll meet you there, OK?
Copy that, Sven.
The sawmill used to be the main
source of employment in the town.
After he died, Margaret Carruthers'
husband, Rod Dixon,
left it to local businessman,
Phil McGangus.
Margaret has bankrolled the Feastival.
She also has a popular line of gourmet
food products, Margaret's Table...
Why can't Big Eyes drive me anymore?
I'd rather hear her bang on about
that knob-jockey boyfriend.
Sorry, fiancé.
Because I'm on this case,
and I can drive us,
so here we find ourselves.
And I think it's relevant
because Rod Dixon was the mayor.
On the beach.
With the missing tongue.
Oh, you're not still going on
about that, are ya?
Yes, I am, because fur seals
don't eat human flesh.
I think it's worth reinterrogating
how the tongue was removed.
No, no, no. OK?
Enough of your fucking Miss Marble's
Midwinter Murder Theories, mate.
The Latham brothers were
up their scrotes in drugs.
Someone's making an example of them.
Who's... Who's the local drug dealer?
Joan.
OK, so this Joan, what is she?
Is she like a Judy Moran
crime matriarch?
She sells under-the-counter hash gummies
at the local farmers' market
every second Sunday of the month.
- OK, well, it's bigger than Joan.
- Mm-hm.
Town like this, probably some kingpin
running drugs with boats
and he's gone under your radar
because he is a man and you are a...
you know.
You can just stay in the car
and keep the heater going, if you like.
Yeah, I could, couldn't I?
The ground's still wet
from the storm two nights ago.
We actually had 25mm of rain
in under an hour.
Fuck, really?
Keep me posted.
Ah, look at this big-boy toy.
Any sign of the tongue?
Ignore her. What about blood?
- Any other evidence?
- Mm-mm.
Yeah, it's probably 'cause of the storm.
We actually had 25mm of rain
in under an hour.
Yeah, she's gone. She's gone.
- Well, well, well.
- I...
Good morning, Phil.
Let me know if you find anything.
Shane's got two women
working the case, has he?
Brave man.
The Commissioner and I
are good mates from our footy days.
I'll let him know
how you girls are going.
Yeah, please. Yeah, you do that.
So Gavin and Trent used to work
out here at the sawmill, didn't they?
Everyone used to
work at the sawmill
before your lot took root, hmm?
Any idea what Gavin
was doing out here the night he died?
Absolutely no idea.
Oi!
Can I help you there, sweetheart?
Yeah, what's all that shit? In there?
Well, that's my personal property.
- Oh, yeah?
- Uh.
And where were you two nights ago,
Mr... McGangus, was it?
I was with Mike Nugent at
the footy club, planning Trent's wake.
Now I've got to plan another one
because two of me mates are dead.
It's no good, is it, Phil?
And can this, ah, Mark, corrobor...
...corrlob... corroba...
Can Mike corroborate that, Phil?
Well, I wouldn't have said it
if he couldn't.
What about you, Jimmy?
Where were you two nights ago?
I was at the Doorbell till closing.
- She was there too.
- That's irrelevant.
Were the Lathams involved in drugs?
Not that I'm aware.
- Are you involved in drugs?
- Not that I'm aware.
I'd like to take a look
in that sawmill, Phil.
Would you?
You know what you need for that.
- A warrant.
- Eyes.
Mm, yeah, is that alright with you,
Inspectress?
Yeah, 'course. Is it OK with you,
Phil, if you eat my dick?
Shane's gonna love this.
Good. That was good.
So, up in Darwin, do you lot threaten
all interviewees with fellatio,
or just the ones that are grieving?
Let's go.
You want to tell me where?
Fuck! Trent's wife!
Vajazzle.
Agh!
It's Margaret's Feastival, Gez,
and her name looks like "Maggot".
Maggot Carruthers.
Oh, gosh, I feel like such a dingo.
It's OK, babe.
I know it's just a mistake.
Detective, what are you doing?
But, obviously, fix it, or I'm revoking
your volunteer privileges.
Dulcie!
Is this
the drug-cunt brothers' gym, is it?
Well it's Gavin
and Trent Latham's gym, yes.
Detective, in light of
the Phil McGangus debacle,
I'd like to take the lead
on the interview with Vanessa myself.
This is my town and Vanessa and I
have a relationship.
Oh, yeah,
what's that relationship like?
You and your inner-city lezzo mates
narrowly avoiding getting
hate-crimed by Vanessa's lot?
Ah, well, obviously Deadloch
isn't perfect...
It's Satan's fucking snow globe!
I think that right now, Vanessa
would appreciate a familiar face,
in a pair of actual shoes.
Dulcie!
Mate, I am the lead detective, OK?
You are a day-rate cop who's used to
solving great mysteries like
"My Hat Is Missing",
and "I Shot My Dog".
So, hipso facto, I'll be doing
the interviewing, OK?
- Dulcie?
- Yes?
What you pulled at the parade
last night cannot happen again, OK?
OK, well, I didn't kill him myself,
Aleyna.
I mean it. No more of this
dead body nonsense.
You know how hard Margaret and I
have worked at this Feastival?
It's given me IBS.
Detective! Aleyna,
I do want to, and I will...
My colon is shredded, Dulcie.
Shredded!
We found the Pro-Bro ute
this morning.
Pretty... Pretty schmick rig.
Yeah, must be worth a bit of coin.
Got me thinking, you know?
How could Trent and Gavin afford
a souped-up ute like that when...
that gym downstairs is emptier than
an arsehole after breakfast?
- Was it drugs, Vanessa?
- Detective.
Was it drugs?
You know, started with
'roids, peptides, Molly, then, bang!
Half of Deadloch are just sticking
Special K right up the dick hole.
- Is that it, Vanessa?
- I... I am...
- Is that it, huh?
- I'm deeply sorry about this.
- I don't like you.
- OK.
We know you threw the plate
at his head, didn't you, Vanessa?
No, Trent threw the plate at her!
It ricocheted off the marble accent tray
and hit him in the head.
And we know about the affair.
- Mm, we've seen the dick pics.
- Detective.
How long have you and Gav
been smashing meat?
No, Mum kept telling Uncle Gavin
to stop sending her photos,
but he just kept sending them.
See? Look at her phone for yourself.
- Oh, good one.
- I'm not even sure if they're his.
They have watermarks.
I never wanted his penises.
Ah... Who are you?
Are you her dad, are ya?
No, I'm Greg, from Grey Lady Funerals.
Ah, Vanessa, Rod Dixon was their boss
at the sawmill. Were they on good terms?
What the fuck do you think you're doing?
Just a second, Vanessa.
This question is relevant.
- My fuzzy brown arse it is.
- It absolutely is.
More relevant than anything
out of your mouth this morning.
- I'll tell you what is a relevant...
- Rod.
Yeah. Yes, Vanessa.
He was president of the mayor.
He was...
President of the football club,
and the mayor. Thank you, Vanessa.
- Lesbian.
- OK.
Everything was good until
Mr Dixon died,
then his wife shut the sawmill down.
I see.
Mum said it was part of God's plan,
because if they hadn't lost their jobs,
then the three of them would have
never opened the Beast Factory.
Three?
Yeah. Phil's a part-owner.
Really? Well, isn't that fascinating.
And what percentage of...
of that did he own?
I don't know. I'm 17.
Phil's a majority owner
of the Beast Factory.
He co-owns Pro-Bro protein powder.
He owns Vanessa and Trent's place
upstairs.
Well, that's fucking cosy, isn't it?
And, of course, the old sawmill site.
Oh, gee, Sarge,
I wonder where he's getting
all the cash for all these purchases?
If Phil was running drugs,
we would know about it.
The money's probably from
his fishing business. He owns a trawler.
Well, there's a fucking
mystery murder boat
you've been banging on about,
it's Phil the drug king's boat!
Phil's boat was not used in the murder.
The harbour surveillance footage
from the night Trent died
comes from Phil's boat, Detective.
It was parked at the harbour all night.
It's moored, ma'am. Sorry.
OK, then he's got some associate,
you know?
A dodgy fuck who's got a boat
and he carts the bodies
and the drugs around.
You are over-simplifying this.
What the fuck is Father Time
doing up here?
I told you that Rod Dixon's death
might be connected to
Trent and Gavin's.
There is no connection, OK?
And if you mention
the seal tongue again,
I swear to God I'm gonna
cunt-punch you so hard
you're gonna double as a hand puppet.
Dulce, I've got Cath
on the phone. She says it's important.
Well, did she try my mobile?
Yes, but your coverage is terrible.
Right.
Bullshit.
Hi, love.
Sexy, you've got to get a new mobile
carrier. Your coverage is terrible.
I'm picking up tickets
to Helena Papatonis...
Oh, love, I really can't
see a show right now.
No, I know.
I gave your tickets to Nadiyah.
Textbook Skye,
making her new girlfriend
move to a town
where the poor thing knows no-one.
- So depressing.
- Right, yeah.
Fucking knew it!
Amphetamines, uppers, downers,
tranqs, steroids, peptides, shrooms.
The Latham brother's tox report
reads like a fucking
dark web shopping cart.
And I bet my right tit
McGangus and those Latham boys
are storing drugs
at that fucking sawmill
in that banana-guava flavoured
Pro-Bro shit.
Maybe that's why Gavin was out there
the night he died, ma'am?
Yeah, he was moving the product.
The Latham boys did the dirty on him
and that's why Phil killed them.
I need to search that sawmill.
You! How are you getting on with
that warrant?
Warrant? I didn't know
that was in my column.
Oh, fucking small town fucking...
Nadiyah just told me
the detective has to move out of
the Bush Wolf tomorrow.
Her room's been put up
for the Feastival.
OK. Alright.
The earlier she can check out,
the better,
just so Nads has got time
to give it a clean.
It looks like a Tracey Emin
installation, apparently.
Big Eyes, grab your keys.
Oh, um, I've actually got
my wedding make-up trial today.
- Cancel it.
- OK.
Don't stress about it,
I'll find the detective somewhere to stay.
I'll take it off your plate
and I'll put it on my plate.
Oh, thank you.
Thanks, love, that's great.
Speaking of plates, I really want to
go down on you tonight.
Oh, OK.
'Cause, you know, when we
work through conflict, I get horny.
Shouldn't we wait for
Senior Sergeant Collins, ma'am?
Nup.
You, get her onto Phil McNugget's alibi.
- Yep.
- We're going bush.
- Oh, actually that's Dulcie's jacket.
- Who?
- I do have to go right now, love.
- OK.
OK, sexy, I love you. Bye!
Hi, Virginia.
Now, I need to organise a warrant.
So, what's the go there?
Is there a county sheriff that I call,
or is it a PDF...
Where'd she go?
Ah, she didn't say, but she wants you
to verify Phil's alibi, please.
- Oh, she does, does she?
- Mm-hm.
Where's my jacket?
Come on Phil, you puffed-up
fuck-hole. Show yourself.
I can't believe I'm on a stakeout!
It's so aggressively policey.
So did you always want to be
a female detective?
It's pretty cool. There aren't many
women in forensic science, either.
That's what I originally studied.
James was my lecturer, actually...
- Too much talking.
- Yep!
That might be Senior Sergeant Collins.
Should we tell her what we're doing?
Nah, I'll text her.
Yeah, nah, it's Eddie. Ah, yeah, nah,
leave us a message.
Phil McGangus said that
you were with him the night that
Gavin died.
Is that correct, Mike?
Yeah. We were organising
the music for Trent's wake.
- Mm-hm.
- A lot of Tool.
It's what he would have wanted.
Excuse me, I'm looking for
Helena Papatonis. Is that you?
Ah, no, I'm a cop.
Yeah, the performance
is over the road.
Oh.
Can't believe the Latham boys
are both dead.
25 blokes graduated my year
at Deadloch High.
Now there's only a few left.
Really? Why?
Suicide. Drugs.
Oh, there was one drink-driving accident
wiped about seven of them.
They were in a boat.
On the roof.
Was that all you wanted to ask me?
Yeah. that was my only job
for the whole day. Thank you, Mike.
Actually, no, Mike,
there is something else.
You were still on the force
when Rod Dixon's body
was found, weren't you?
Yeah, that was my last day.
Put a bit of a dampener
on my farewell drinks.
Why aren't there any photos
in the case file?
- Sven, it's me.
- Hey.
I need you to have a hunt around
for any old station cameras lying about.
I'm looking for some photos of
Rod Dixon's body.
Apparently the old station sergeant
used to let them take the camera home
on the weekends.
OK.
And any instructions from the detective
as to my next steps?
- Ah, nope. Nothing yet.
- Nothing!
- OK, perfect.
- OK. Cheers, Dulce. Bye.
Cath. Cath, when does this finish?
It's Endurance Art, Nadiyah.
No-one knows.
Ugh, wow.
OK.
Um, I have a lot of people checking
into the Bush Wolf today, though.
Shhh!
Sorry.
Dulcie!
Sorry Margaret, I didn't mean
to interrupt your Feastival meeting.
It's fine, it's fine. Here we are.
Thank you, darling.
- Thank you.
- Vanilla dust?
Ah, no, thanks, darling, Margaret,
I'm working.
It's sugar, darling.
It's not methamphetamines. Mm-hm.
So, here is the artwork
for your book launch.
God, I look like a psychopath!
Well, we can change it.
We'll change it.
No, no, it's fine, darling.
It's fine, it's fine.
Your semi-freddo is melting, hmm?
I actually do have a few questions
for Margaret...
No, Dulcie, I was here first.
This is my turn.
Aleyna, I want you to go outside
and start walking.
And then I want you to keep walking
until your shoulders
stop grazing your ears.
You're very stressed.
I am stressed, Margaret.
My colon is red-raw.
I'm sorry if that's
too much information,
but you just remind me
a lot of my mother.
- Except more motherly.
- Yeah.
- And white.
- Good. Off you pop.
Aleyna!
Slower.
Now, Dulce, how can I help?
It's about Rod.
If you've come to tell me he's dead,
you're a bit late.
It's just a formality with...
beach-based... deaths.
Was Rod alone on the boat
the night he drowned?
Yes. I mean, normally he went fishing
with his friend Sam...
Sam O'Dwyer?
Yes, but that night he was alone,
and, um...
weather was terrible,
and he just... he just...
fell in.
- No life-jacket, of course.
- Mmm.
- Men!
- Yeah.
So, what are your thoughts?
I'm just... I'm not at liberty to
discuss the case, Margaret, sorry.
I meant the semi-freddo.
- Oh!
- It's for the dessert line.
Right. Mmm. Sorry. It's good.
It is just awful though, isn't it?
- It's maybe a little gritty.
- I meant the murders.
Right. No, the murders.
They are very bad.
So, did you see Rod's body?
Ah, no, no.
- The police recommended against it.
- Mm-hm.
You know, because of what
Kevin the Seal did to him.
- But Claire saw him.
- Claire?
Yeah, Claire found Rod
when she was walking her groodle.
She did a painting of him.
Tried to give it to me.
Hmm.
I tried to give it to Margaret,
but she didn't want it.
Really? I can't...
Yeah, but I mean,
you've seen the Carruthers Estate.
I don't think Margaret's
much into modern art.
Yeah, yeah, that... that's the reason.
My therapist thought that painting Rod
might help me process the experience.
It didn't.
I mean, I ended up taking Valium.
I left my therapist.
I mean, she was terrible.
Also, we kept sleeping together.
Oh, what? It's medicinal, Dulce.
Mm-hm. Do you have a prescription?
Claire, what's that mark?
Oh, that's red wine.
Oh, bum.
I thought it was something else.
Hey, how is Cath going
at Helena Papatonis?
It was so boring I had to leave.
Ma'am!
- Ugh.
- Ma'am!
- Oh!
- Sorry!
- Fuck!
- Phil's loading Pro-Bro boxes!
Oh, fuck. We're on, we're on.
Follow them.
- No lights!
- Sorry, ma'am!
Sorry. That was a rock, I think.
Gosh, it's dark.
What is this place?
This is Deadloch Lake,
which translates to "Deadlake Lake",
which is weird.
Also it’s not even a lake,
because it connects to the sea...
- Shh!
- Yes, sorry, I'm nervous.
Now why would you
be dumping all this product
if you had nothing to hide, eh?
Fucking knew it!
He's a sneaky fucker.
Brr...
Is it cold, ma'am?
Yeah! Me muff's frozen over!
Got it!
So Dulce, I found you
a bunch of old station cameras
that might have the Rod Dixon crime
scene piccy-dicks on them.
Oh, great.
Yeah, but there's no chargers for them.
So...
That's that, I guess. Dead end.
Ah, no, no, not a dead end, Sven.
You go to the shops,
you get on Gumtree,
you post on the Deadloch Police
Facebook page
and you track down some chargers.
Any word from the detective?
Ah, yeah, Abby just got onto me.
Apparently they are on a stakeout.
What?
And they got a Pro-Bro sample,
so that's great.
Ah, no. Nup, not great, Sven.
The woman does not have a warrant.
OK, bye Dulce. Ta-ta, see ya.
Sexy, you picked me up!
Yes, I did, I did. I picked you up.
Um, how was the endurance art?
Oh, God, I hated it.
It was amazing.
I found somewhere
for the detective to stay.
I'll sort it out, though.
Don't you stress about it.
You know I love it. Let's go.
I could piss for three hours.
Speaking of which, did you know
we got 25mm in under an hour
the other night? Huh.
Oh, fuck.
What the fuck! Stalker!
- I...
- How'd you get in here?
You let me in five minutes ago,
then you fell asleep again.
- I'm fully nude.
- Mmm. Yeah, I am very aware.
So Mike confirmed Phil's alibi.
OK, well,
ta for the big update, Sergeant.
Feel free to bugger off now
if you want.
No, I wanted to collect you
personally, actually,
to avoid yesterday's miscommunication.
I think yesterday
went really well, actually.
Oh, oh, right.
Yeah, you know good teamwork
is sometimes, you know,
not working together, ever.
Your warrant to search the sawmill
came through this morning
and it was rejected
by the Commissioner,
possibly because you told his...
his good friend Phil McGangus
to eat some of your penis.
Fuck, really? I'll have to think of
another plan, then.
Oh, I know about
the stakeout, Detective,
and that w... that was
just so incredibly risky.
You don't know Phil.
If he knew that you had followed him,
he would sue your pants off.
Big risks reap big rewards,
like those astronaut monkeys.
Yeah, they died in a fireball,
but they got to see space, didn't they?
I want to exhume Rod Dixon's body.
Oh, fuck a dead dick!
I'd want Forensics
to check for similarities
between the Latham brothers
and Rod Dixon.
Trent's funeral's at 10am.
The excavator
is already at the cemetery.
We could do it discreetly this afternoon
after everybody's left.
Now, obviously there won't be
any soft tissue left on the body
but we could check for damage
to the hyoid and the oral cavity...
You're like a fucking dog
with a boner, aren't you? I said no.
Now, there is a fuck-ton of paperwork
that you need to do
for Commissioner What's-his-dick.
So I suggest you run along
to the station
so I can wash my skanky old lady fanny
and go have a poke around.
No. No. You can't... Who are you poking?
No more.
None of your beeswax.
- Stop the poking. Be careful...
- Have a little poke.
Is that my jacket?
- Nup.
- That is absolutely my...
Ow!
Th...
Stuff her.
Ah, yeah, well,
I have Margaret's permission
to exhume Rod's body, James.
Just now.
Well, I know that there won't be
any soft tissue left on the body
but we will be able to
see if the hyoid is crushed
and if there's any knife wounds
in the oral cavity, won't we?
Yeah, just what I thought.
OK. Alright, thanks. Gotta go. Bye.
Oh my...
Sven!
- Sven!
- Yeah, over here!
OK, station camera update.
So I did five click-and-collects,
raided the Buy-Sell-Swap
Facebook page,
I met a guy from Gumtree on a clifftop,
side bar: thought I was gonna die.
Now, 22 hours later, I haven't slept,
my vision's pixelated...
...but I have chargers
for all the cameras.
Great. I need you to stop all that
and head out to Margaret's
to pick up some forms.
- Senior Sergeant Collins...
- Dulcie!
Because of you, 16 people from
Gumtree have my private number!
- Oh, hey, Ted, yeah.
- I'm a cop, Dulcie!
- Thank you for calling me back.
- I am very afraid right now!
Sergeant, I've tried
bulldozing the English ivy
at the entrance of the station.
It cannot be killed.
Ah, no, Ted, I need you to
excavate a coffin for me.
- Ted?
- Alright.
But if anyone arkses any questions,
I want involved, OK?
I'm police, Ted.
Alright. Tomorrow afternoon...
Yeah, yep, that would work.
- No, I can't do tomorrow afternoon.
- OK.
Can't do tomorrow morning,
this morning...
No, not this morning, Ted.
Obviously, it's Trent Latham's
funeral this morning.
How about tomorrow?
Yeah, nah, yeah, I reckon
I can make that work.
OK.
But are you sure you don't
want to do it at night?
Less chance of being caught.
Yes, like I said, Ted, I am police.
Ted?
Detective Redcliffe wants to
get this sample tested for drugs, babe.
She wants a rush on it.
Abby, I'm due on Hell's Tits at 10.
Oh, fine, you win.
I'll do it.
I'll give it to Kate. She's finally
back from maternity leave. Jesus.
Oh, Hell's Tits
is gonna be intense, babe.
Thank God, too. I need a challenge.
This job is dull as dog shit, right?
Hundred Ks, filthy headwinds,
14% gradient,
I'm gonna burn through calories
on those hairpins.
It's a good thing I got that
12-speed 105 cassette.
Just gives me smoother...
Detective Redcliffe?
- Plus I can fine-tune everything to suit the terrain...
- Yep, coming now, Ma'am.
...so my energy costs
are gonna be way lower.
Oh, hey, speaking of, can you pop
down and get me some tropical gels...
Babe?
♪ Lightning crashes ♪
♪ A new mother cries ♪
♪ Her placenta falls to the floor ♪
♪ The angel opens her eyes ♪
♪ The confusion sets in ♪
♪ Before the doctor ♪
♪ Can even close the door...
OK boys, drop. Give us 20.
Who are all these people?
Men from the footy club,
boys he coached.
That's the Steves.
Carnage Bay cops
Trent used to play footy with.
And those men doing push-ups
are from the Beast Factory.
♪ Forces pulling from
the centre of the Earth again ♪
♪ I can feel it, oh ♪
♪ I can feel it...
What the fuck!
Fucking Christ, Ted!
Abby.
Ah, slow down.
What's the detective done now?
What?
- You said this morning.
- I said not this morning, Ted!
Oh, my... It is...
It is not even the right grave, Ted!
It's OK. I'll start again.
No, no, no! No, just wait till
everybody's left, for God's sake.
You responsible for this?
Phil, I, uh... I assure you
this was not intentional...
Maybe his is typical of the disrespect
that us old sons and daughters
of Deadloch have endured
since you and your kind
infested our town.
OK, OK, I'm not exactly sure what
you mean by "my kind", Phil,
but I can assure you that I...
I take my duty to all Deadloch residents
- incredibly seriously...
- OK, well...
Tell that to Mary Avery, whose coffin
just got gored by a Caterpillar.
OK? You're a fucking disgrace.
Alright, move out folks!
Beer's on tap at the club.
Shandies for the ladies.
Greg! Take Nessie.
- Vanessa, I am so sorry...
- You keep away from us!
Absolutely, yeah. I will...
I will do that. Sorry. Um...
Sorry. Uh...
Sorry for your loss and I, uh...
What a wonderful turnout, huh?
Steve. Steve.
Detective, where are you going?
To the wake, to have a sandwich
and a poke around.
- No, absolutely not. I'm coming.
- To do what?
Sit Trent's corpse in your lap
and sing "Islands In The Stream"?
Stay here.
Clean up your mess.
Oh, no, babe,
did you bonk on Hell's Tits?
No, I didn't bonk,
I was in exceptional form.
I had to cut it short because of Collins
and her batshit request
to dig up Rod Dixon's coffin.
Hey, babe, you know
the knife patterns in Gavin's mouth?
- Yeah, babe, um...
- Do you think...?
I'm working here, OK? OK?
Collins, is that it?
Nope. No.
A mistake was made.
- Unbelievable.
- Mm-hm.
OK mate, let's try digging up
the right grave.
Oh, did Detective Redcliffe ask for
any other groceries
to be delivered here first?
Ah, no, just a slab of Coke
and chicken Twisties. That's it.
- Oh, wow.
- Whoa.
OK. Yeah, it's messy.
Lucky there's two of us.
Um, I am going to have to leave
after an hour
to get ready for the menu launch.
What do you need to do? You're 30.
You look like a Fenty model.
No, it's just, this is Tom's t-shirt
and I'm not wearing a bra and...
Well, I'm going to deal with
all the heavy stuff,
given you might be pregnant.
Oh, did Skye tell you about our IVF?
Yeah, she tells me everything.
I was her first girlfriend,
when she was 20.
I broke her heart.
Didn't I tell you that?
Oh, no, no.
You've told me, many times.
Oh, there's piss all over the floor
in here.
Tom, it's so fucking weird
that Sam O'Dwyer is your Grandpa.
I mean, like, I never met him.
Oi, Tammy,
what are you even fucking doing here?
You're fucking not even fucking
part of the club anymore.
Once a Devil always a Devil,
you dickturd.
Also, sorry for your loss.
Come on, let's go.
Tammy, I thought you said
we were going to a party.
You're in the country now, Tom.
This counts as a party.
What'd you do when you lived in Sydney?
Just go to plays and shit?
Well, actually my mum's ex,
two exes ago,
she took me to
swing dancing once and...
Shut up! There he is.
See that white bloke
with the brown hair?
They're all white dudes
around here.
He's that footy recruiter, M.
That's Luke Caddy.
Here.
Watch a future AFLW star
get her big break.
- Can I come?
- No!
Luke! Tammy Hanson.
Former Deadloch Devil's
centre half-forward.
Sergeant Collins,
I've got a bone to pick with you.
Ken, I'm really sorry about before...
The starlings are back
in my trees.
- Right.
- Right above the bins.
Oi! Toilets! Who's this?
That's a fishing rod.
Not the fucking ocean angler.
Did your fontanelle
not close over, mate?
Who is the bloke next to
Phil and the Lathams?
That's Sam. Sam O'Dwyer.
Sam...
And is this Sam one of
your bosses' business associates?
Yeah, kinda. No!
O'Dwyer?
Not married to that chef O'Dwyer
that runs the Bush Pig?
No, that's not his wife.
That's a lesbian.
That's his daughter.
So who is his wife?
Bakery Vic.
She's from the bakery.
Which one of these blokes is Sam?
- Nah, he's not here.
- Why not?
- Oi, Jimmy!
- Yeah, I didn't even say nothin'!
Go change the keg, you useless fuck.
This is a private event, Inspectress.
You and your girlfriend,
well, you're not welcome, OK?
So how's about you get your nose
out of matters that don't concern you,
and fuck off out of my club?
I became a St Drogo's altar boy
in 1963.
- Uh-huh.
- That's right.
- Father Donald's time.
- Mmm.
I shouldn't be surprised if someone
took a match to that church one day.
- What?
- Oh, yes.
Oh, Ken, we will circle back to this.
- I just...
- You're welcome.
Um...
I have to go. Um...
Have you sold many knives lately,
Adele?
Yeah, heaps.
'Cause there's a sale on.
Do you want a bag?
Yeah, that might be a good idea.
Oh, crap.
Hi, Michelle. Sorry, I forgot
our make-up appointment.
I was buying a bunch of knives.
Coming now.
Can you...?
Thanks, Vic.
Hello, there.
Can I help you, love?
- Are you Bakery Vic?
- Yeah, I suppose.
Sam O'Dwyer's wife?
- Yes, that's right.
- Mm.
Why wasn't he at the funeral?
Did him and Trent have a bust up?
Sorry, who are you?
Is he a "fisherman"
like his mate McGangus, huh?
I think you must be confused...
Are him and Phil
running a drug racket?
- What?
- Come on, what are they moving?
Bricks? Krokodil?
- That stuff'll just eat your...
- There you are!
- Oh, fuck me up!
- Ah, Vic, I am very sorry
for anything that she did
to you or your premises.
What'd you do to her?
Nothing, we were just having
a little chit-chat.
So, where are you hiding
your husband, huh?
One of these fake walls?
- Detective!
- Oh! Nuts!
- I am deeply sorry about this.
- That's solid.
You wouldn't hide him in there, no.
- What, is he in the ceiling?
- Detective, get out. That is enough, Detective!
- Get outside now.
- Argh!
I'm very sorry, Vic.
Sam O'Dwyer is not here.
He shot through on Victoria years ago.
Fucking toilets!
I'm gonna piss in his open mouth!
You know his family have never
actually gotten over it, Detective,
and it's almost as if,
had you included me today,
I could have told you that.
Instead, you retraumatised
Victoria O'Dwyer
while she was serving finger buns.
This is not your town, Detective,
and you need to show more
consideration for the people here.
Oh, that's a... that's a bit rich,
coming from the Senior Sergeant that
tit-fucked that funeral this morning.
I've never...
That was a miscommunication,
a genuine one!
And if Rod Dixon's hyoid bone is broken,
then it proves his death is
connected to the Lathams'.
No, enough, OK?
You are lucky that
I don't care about you enough
to report you to Hastings for that shit
you tried to pull this morning.
- You're a liability.
- Oh, I'm a liability?
Yeah, how are you going
with the case, Detective?
'Cause I'm really fascinated to see
who else you think is involved in
this trans-Tasman drug ring.
Is Kevin the harbour seal
in on it, maybe?
Fuck up, mate!
Go back to the station.
Do that work I gave you.
No! You will not
shake me off, Detective.
And not just because
I have a duty to the victims,
not just because this is my town
and I have memorised the street plan,
but because, Detective Redcliffe,
I am your partner.
And I know that's my jacket.
- You are not my partner.
- I am.
It is deeply unfortunate,
but it is the truth.
I don't need a new partner.
Here, have your jacket.
Smells like a lavender bush
pissed on it.
Shit.
Ugh.
Hi. How's it going?
Yeah, uh, g'day, Holly, it's um...
it's me again.
Ah...
Yeah, look, I haven't heard back
from you about the barbecue.
Um...
But, actually, something's come up
down here,
so I don't reckon I'm gonna...
get back in time.
So...
uh, you might need to get someone...
to bring the chops, you know,
in case you were relying on me
to bring... bring the chops.
But, ah, you know,
I'll be back up north soon, and...
you know, we can all have
a little catch up.
Have a chat about Bush, or whatever.
So, yeah!
Ah, you're good, and I'm good,
the case is going good.
So, yeah, that's...
So, anyway. Um, OK.
Big Eyes, what you got for me?
Hi, ma'am, the Pro-Bro powder
analysis is through.
Fucking McGangus!
Yo, yo, this is Dr James King.
Leave it at the beep.
James, it is Senior Sergeant Collins.
Any word on Rod Dixon's autopsy?
I am here, waiting for your call.
Oh, my God.
Oh, fuck me!
OK, kick it back.
Set up a mark for me.
I don't know what that means.
I told Luke Caddy that
I was part of a killer girls' squad,
so don't embarrass, me, yeah?
Any of you guys want a gummy?
Nadiyah got them
from the market for me.
No, brah, I can't do that shit anymore.
I'm going pro.
Dude, they're made with weed.
What?
I've eaten, like, 15 of these!
We know. We thought you were just
prepping for your mum's launch.
We should go to that, actually.
Look at that!
Straight through the sticks!
Wait! What do I do?
Am I gonna die?
Guys!
Oi, McCuntus.
Do your tree-necked mates know
their big-boy powder's
cut with strawberry jelly crystals
and pet-grade powdered milk?
Yeah?
Well, that got you choking on
your Pissfiddich, didn't it?
Listen here,
I'm not going to be in this
dick-sore of a town for very long,
but I promise you, you fraudulent fuck,
while I am here,
I'm gonna dig into
your shonky businesses
and staple-gun your nut-sack
to a fucking wall.
Vanessa, enough with
"Lightning Crashes". For fuck's sake!
That's a fucking sloop.
Who owns this boat?
Hey, Sergeant Horsehair,
where's the footage?
- What?
- The footage.
- What footage? What...
- The brothers. The biffo.
- What footage?
- The fight. Press play!
- Come on! Come on.
- Do not touch things!
Give me a little bit of space.
Oh, now you want
some fucking space, do ya?
Look. Look. Look at that boat.
Look at that boat.
Same sloop, different paint job.
- Whose boat is it?
- That is Sam O'Dwyer's boat.
- No, that can't be right.
- Yeah.
I'm sure that went missing...
- The fuck?
- Oh, sorry don't mind me.
Don't mind me!
Just taking a nap,
'cause I was up all night.
Finger limes, from Margaret.
Who's that? Collins?
Rod Dixon.
His mouth has the same markings
as the Lathams,
and ligature markings
around the neck.
Fuck me sideways, Collins.
No, that must be a mistake.
What?
Sam O'Dwyer went missing five days
after Rod Dixon's body was found.
Well, that's why he shot through,
isn't it?
He necked your mate Dixon,
and then he did a runner.
I'm sorry, was that the acknowledgement
that I was right about Rod Dixon?
'Cause that was very quick and quiet,
and I think I missed it.
Well, you know, actually,
I was right too. I, ah...
Forgot my pillow.
Yeah, I saw that picture of Sam O'Dwyer
and I was, like,
"That man is pure evil."
Uh-huh.
Oh, my God!
There's somebody there.
There's somebody there. Oh!
That's gotta be him.
And he's watching them.
Sam O'Dwyer is fucking back, baby.
Sorry, we will let you
get back to the launch in a sec.
Yeah, I need to get to the bakery.
Mum, it's my launch!
I'm going to make sandwiches
for everyone, Skye.
The food in there's tiny.
It's tiny because
it's fucking hors d'oeuvres, Mum.
Sorry, just circling back,
we just have some questions about Sam.
Do you know what happened to
his boat, the Loch Nessie?
Well we thought he took it with him,
didn't we love?
Yeah.
Dad loved that boat.
It was a Bass Strait yawl?
- Uh-huh.
- A sloop.
Um, and... and where did he
park the sloop?
He moored it
near our shack at the lake.
Mate, what's this all about?
- We're just making some enquiries...
- We think Sam's back.
- No...
- What?
No, we're just making
some routine enquiries,
- ...trying to establish a possible...
- We reckon he's involved in these murders
that have been going on.
It's probably a vendetta.
Sam got wind that
Trent, Gavin and Phil
were using the gym
as a cover for drugs so,
he learnt Mandarin.
Sailed the seas on the Loch Nessie,
became their Asian connection,
then when that all turned to shit,
he came back and just
fucking necked them, you know?
Sorry, that is her theory, not mine.
Now, he's the boss of what we're
all calling the Deadcunt drug ring...
Ah, no, we're not. Absolutely
have not signed off on that name.
Sorry, you're saying that Dad
might have killed these men?
No, we're just trying to establish
a possible pattern at the moment.
Oh, 100%, yeah.
- We have no...
- Excuse me.
- What?
The detective has run away
a little with that...
Hello, hello. Sorry. Excuse me!
Hello, hi. Sorry. Sorry to interrupt
this very intense conversation but,
guests are starting to arrive
and I look like this.
Sorry, we'll let you go.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Get amongst it.
Safest spot for you.
Plenty of witnesses.
Um, Detective, I took the liberty
of packing up your room,
given you didn't actually check out.
Oh, ripper! Those are my undies?
Yes, yep.
Uh, I found them in the kettle.
Thanks for choosing the Bush Wolf.
Where are you going?
To the harbour office, mate,
to see if anyone's seen that boat.
Sam's probably been hiding out on it
in between murders.
Oh, my God,
why do you just shout everything?
Can you just shush?
The harbour office is shut for the day.
But if Sam's transporting bodies by boat
then it makes more sense
if he'd park it elsewhere.
OK. Get those Carnage Bay cops
to check the moorings up the coast...
Yeah, they are all drunk
at Trent's wake.
Fucking small towns!
Well what about O'Dwyer's old haunts?
His house, his workplace?
This is it. You are standing in
his old house and workplace.
It'd be too risky for him to
show his face anywhere else in town.
We'll start a full search
in the morning.
Well what the shit am I
supposed to do in the meantime?
Hey.
Ah, Tom. This is Tom, my godson.
Spanish croquettes?
- I don't...
- Seriously, they're so good.
The Happy Plum's perfect, Dulce.
We're not going to be the only ones
who can see past the fire damage.
So were Gavin and Trent's deaths
linked, Dulcie?
- I can't discuss the case, Aleyna...
- She doesn't really want to talk about it.
Because, you know
it'd be good if they were.
Yeah, it'd be clean, Dulcie.
It'd be easy to wrap it up in, what,
like, a couple of days?
You could wrap it up
in a couple of days.
- Let's talk about something else.
- I reckon it's drugs.
Is it drugs? Dulcie, is it drugs?
Is Joan involved?
- What's Doppelbock?
- I don't know.
Ugh...
Eugh.
- Ray! Hi!
- Hi all.
Dulce, didn't expect to see you here
tonight with the...
Is, um, the detective here too?
Oh, my God, the detective
digging up that grave,
the complaints I had to
deal with afterwards!
Yeah, don't let her do it again,
OK, Dulce? She's insane.
- Mm-hm.
- And the smell of the woman!
It's like an old block of parmesan
lost in a foot...
Eddie, hi. I'm Cath,
I'm Dulcie's wife.
I was at the beach last night. I...
I shot Kevin with a tranquiliser.
How do I know you?
- Have we fucked?
- Oh...
- No, I saw you at the bakery today.
- Hmm.
Righto, well, I'm...
I'm off the clock so...
are you driving me to my new digs?
No, Ray can take you, can't you Ray?
Yep. Sure, Cath. Happy to.
...involved objects
commonly used to inflict
sharp-force trauma injuries.
Her findings were as follows.
A round objects like a spear
may produce a circular stab wound.
Stabbing with a fork produces
clusters of two to three wounds,
depending upon
the number of prongs on the fork.
A screwdriver produces a slit-like stab
with squared ends and abraded margins.
If a single-edged knife is used,
the surface wound will be triangular
or wedge-shaped
and one angle will be sharp,
the other rounded, blunt or squared off.
A round, blunt-pointed object
such as a pointed stick or metal rod
may produce a circular surface wound
with inverted, ragged and bruised edges.
Foreign material, such as
dirt, rust or splinters may be found.
The blunter the tip of the object,
the coarser...
Hey, babe, I don't think
the killer used two knives.
I think he used one knife
with two blades.
Yeah, yeah, sorry, sorry.
Coming now.
Oh, fuck my fanny, it's cold!
Oh, so, lights are here.
Found the heating.
I know the owners.
That's why I know my way around.
We're not together, though.
I'm not with anyone.
Yeah, picked the wrong town
to find true love.
A lot of lesbians.
Lot of lesbians.
And I love lesbians. My best mate,
Skye, she's a lesbian.
You've got Cath who's a lesbian,
Dulcie, obviously, is a lesbian,
and Skye, that's Nadiyah, lesbian.
A lot of the choir, also...
...lesbians.
So, Detective, um, how long
are you here for, do you reckon?
I don't know.
Might stick around for a bit.
Become a white witch.
Really?
- Nuh.
- No.
I'm out of here the moment
Sam O'Dwyer is in cuffs.
Oh. Right.
OK. Ah...
I am off to bed.
Yep.
OK, um... I will go.
So, there's keys. Light.
You gave it a nudge.
- Pretty solid, huh?
- I...
Sorry I'm late. What are you two
talking about?
James was just telling me about
a double-bladed knife theory of his.
If the blade had two edges,
it would account for the two markings
in the oral cavity.
- Mm-hm.
- It's surprisingly solid.
And, uh... Thanks, babe. I took a quick
look at Rod Dixon this afternoon.
As we both suspected,
his hyoid was crushed.
Right, well, uh, thank you for only
waiting six hours to tell me, James.
Mm-hm. That is not... pet nat.
That's... something else.
Do you want to take that back?
The shack today was like a tip.
Old food, beer cans,
piss all over the toilet floor.
If I didn't know any better,
I would have thought
some man lived out there.
Sorry, I wasn't listening.
What shack?
Vic's shack, babe.
Detective Redcliffe
needed a place to stay
and the shack was just sitting there,
so I thought why not?
Actually, the lights were on in there
when I went for a run last week.
"Olive tamponade"?
Ugh!
Alright, friends, please welcome
the person responsible for tonight,
chef Skye O'Dwyer.
Thanks, Aleyna,
and welcome, everyone, to my baby,
the Bush Wolf.
I'm so proud of what my family,
Nadiyah, Tom,
yeah, there they are there,
have helped a former little bush rat
to create.
The Bush Wolf, the Feastival
and all of us here tonight,
we're breathing new life into
my little home town.
Good things are going to happen here.
I can feel it.
Shame!
Shame!
Vanessa?
Deadloch is in mourning.
Two kings of this town are dead,
and none of you give a frig.
This is Sam O'Dwyer's joint.
Hey! Hey!
You...
Oh, fuck!
Hey! Hey, Sam!
I know it's you!
Hey, give it up!
I'm police!
Fucking speedy cocksucker!
Look at you,
stuffing your chubby gobs...
with your chubby food
and your chubby wines.
Where's your respect?
- Mum, it's time to go...
- No, let me go.
- And you...
- Vanessa...
...waltzing back here
with your tattoos
and your fiancée and your son,
like you're a different you.
But I remember you.
Fuck!
Oh, cunt!
And if your father could see
all of this, he'd be custard.
Dis... custard.
Vanessa, now is not the time...
Don't you tell me what to do,
you lesbian.
Dyke! Butch!
Oof!
Fuck!
Fuck.
Dulcie, whose boat is that?
That's Sam O'Dwyer's boat.
Fuck! Ugh!
Agh!
Sam!
Trent!
- Vanessa! No! No!
- Trent!
We've recruited an interstate detective
to lead the case.
Detective Eddie Redcliffe is my name.
I am from Darwin.
Who is the psycho
with the 25-page rap sheet?
That is Gavin Latham,
Trent Latham's brother
and business partner.
What happened to
your windscreen, Gavin?
- Who's that?
- That's Trent.
Looks like our brothers
took a little trip together.
Time of death was between 3 and 4am.
No foreign DNA on the body.
What's the deal with
that forensic pathologist?
"Lingua amputo."
Five years ago,
Deadloch's mayor, Rod Dixon,
washed up dead on the same beach
as Trent Latham.
Comin' through!
Who was that woman with Dulcie?
- The detective?
- He's a woman?
Vanessa! Stop right there!
Lingua amputo.
Sexy, don't they all realise
we moved to Deadloch specifically
for work-life balance?
Well, I just don't think that the...
murderer,
or Commissioner Hastings...
care about our choir schedule, love.
Oh, I have to go.
I think I'm still upset you lied to me
about Detective Redcliffe, you know?
Yeah, and as I said,
I omitted some information
because I was worried about
how it'd make you feel.
- Where's my...
- The front door.
- Right.
- I felt triggered.
And you have communicated that
thoroughly, love,
and, again, I really apologise.
- For lying to me?
- Well, for...
Yep. Mm.
OK.
- OK.
- OK.
So let's just reset.
This whole investigation
has just got absolutely nothing
to do with our lives here,
and I will parent my emotions
and you'll do your work.
Oh, great! Great.
Your emotional work.
Yep, OK. That's... good too. I just...
I do really want to
keep talking about this, Cath...
- Me too.
- ...but I... I have to go.
- 'Course.
- OK.
Yeah, I'll chat to you in the car.
Alright. OK.
So Margaret called. She wants the bales
no more than 3m apart.
Has Amanda Palmer arrived?
- Yep.
- She has? OK.
So the murders haven't deterred her...
TAMMY: Is it just me,
or does no-one care that
two dudes are fully dead?
I know.
I saw a yoga class
on the beach this morning,
right where you tripped over
Trent's dead dick.
Ugh...
- We should go to his funeral.
- Why?
He kicked you off the footy team
the moment you turned 14
because you weren't a boy.
You hate him.
I don't hold grudges.
I go with love.
You just want to go
in case a footy recruiter rocks up.
Yeah, 'cause this town is cooked, brah.
And I'm gonna get out,
via my banana.
You're allergic to bananas.
Oh, it's a type of kick, M.
Fuck.
Autopsy of Gavin Latham
commencing now.
Time of death approximately 28 hours ago...
Oh, sorry, sorry. Senior Sergeant
Detective Collins just texted.
She said that Detective Redcliffe
told her that the autopsy
started in half an hour.
Yeah, well, boo-hoo for her.
Crack on, Smartwatch.
Very similar to the brother.
There's no foreign DNA on the body.
He's been completely cleaned.
- Wow!
- Ah, excuse me, babe.
- The hyoid was broken.
- Mm-hm?
Same sort of ligature
was used to strangle him.
- You see these bruises here?
- Mm-hm.
- Detective!
- They're full of blood.
You said the autopsy started at nine.
Oh, well, the early bird
catches the crim.
OK, let's get back to it, can we?
James, how long was Gavin's body
on the beach?
Nup. What about the Latham brothers'
tox report?
What are we talking?
Fuck-ton of drugs?
You reckon some fucking local dealer
bumped 'em off?
Well, we won't found out who killed him
until we found out how it happened.
Now, the bodies
were transported by boat.
Oh, you and your fucking boats!
OK, Collins,
in answer to your question...
the minimal amount of pooled blood
suggests the body
hadn't been lying on the beach long,
which actually suggests the killer...
Oh, just one second. One second.
Well, if we're all attending to
personal matters...
Hey, no, answer me, mate.
...at your make-up trial
tomorrow, babe,
just make sure the lady doesn't go OTT.
You've already reeled me in.
There's no need to be
impressing anyone else.
Hey. Oi! Smartwatch!
What about his fucking
toxicology report?
Yeah, it's still pending, Detective.
The liver's damaged, though.
But from what? Drugs?
Hey? Which ones?
Ah, T-B-C.
Well, T-B-have a fucking guess.
OK, what type of knife was used
to cut out his tongue, James?
How was his tongue removed?
With difficulty, I'd say.
See these ragged marks on the throat?
They're from a serrated blade.
But these ones on the cheek,
they're more dagger-like.
- So the killer...
- Ugh.
Can we just have a modicum of
decorum in here, please...
Can you just keep going, James?
Thank you. Just keep going.
I surmise the killer used two knives
to cut out the tongue.
Which tracks: the tongue is actually
the strongest muscle in the human body.
- It's not, James.
- Yeah, yeah, just wind it up, mate.
The jaw and teeth have been chipped...
- Ooh.
- Babe!
Sorry, Sven, I can't really talk
right n...
Copy that, Sven.
They've found Gavin's ute
at the old sawmill.
Dulce, forensics
are headed to the sawmill.
They'll meet you there, OK?
Copy that, Sven.
The sawmill used to be the main
source of employment in the town.
After he died, Margaret Carruthers'
husband, Rod Dixon,
left it to local businessman,
Phil McGangus.
Margaret has bankrolled the Feastival.
She also has a popular line of gourmet
food products, Margaret's Table...
Why can't Big Eyes drive me anymore?
I'd rather hear her bang on about
that knob-jockey boyfriend.
Sorry, fiancé.
Because I'm on this case,
and I can drive us,
so here we find ourselves.
And I think it's relevant
because Rod Dixon was the mayor.
On the beach.
With the missing tongue.
Oh, you're not still going on
about that, are ya?
Yes, I am, because fur seals
don't eat human flesh.
I think it's worth reinterrogating
how the tongue was removed.
No, no, no. OK?
Enough of your fucking Miss Marble's
Midwinter Murder Theories, mate.
The Latham brothers were
up their scrotes in drugs.
Someone's making an example of them.
Who's... Who's the local drug dealer?
Joan.
OK, so this Joan, what is she?
Is she like a Judy Moran
crime matriarch?
She sells under-the-counter hash gummies
at the local farmers' market
every second Sunday of the month.
- OK, well, it's bigger than Joan.
- Mm-hm.
Town like this, probably some kingpin
running drugs with boats
and he's gone under your radar
because he is a man and you are a...
you know.
You can just stay in the car
and keep the heater going, if you like.
Yeah, I could, couldn't I?
The ground's still wet
from the storm two nights ago.
We actually had 25mm of rain
in under an hour.
Fuck, really?
Keep me posted.
Ah, look at this big-boy toy.
Any sign of the tongue?
Ignore her. What about blood?
- Any other evidence?
- Mm-mm.
Yeah, it's probably 'cause of the storm.
We actually had 25mm of rain
in under an hour.
Yeah, she's gone. She's gone.
- Well, well, well.
- I...
Good morning, Phil.
Let me know if you find anything.
Shane's got two women
working the case, has he?
Brave man.
The Commissioner and I
are good mates from our footy days.
I'll let him know
how you girls are going.
Yeah, please. Yeah, you do that.
So Gavin and Trent used to work
out here at the sawmill, didn't they?
Everyone used to
work at the sawmill
before your lot took root, hmm?
Any idea what Gavin
was doing out here the night he died?
Absolutely no idea.
Oi!
Can I help you there, sweetheart?
Yeah, what's all that shit? In there?
Well, that's my personal property.
- Oh, yeah?
- Uh.
And where were you two nights ago,
Mr... McGangus, was it?
I was with Mike Nugent at
the footy club, planning Trent's wake.
Now I've got to plan another one
because two of me mates are dead.
It's no good, is it, Phil?
And can this, ah, Mark, corrobor...
...corrlob... corroba...
Can Mike corroborate that, Phil?
Well, I wouldn't have said it
if he couldn't.
What about you, Jimmy?
Where were you two nights ago?
I was at the Doorbell till closing.
- She was there too.
- That's irrelevant.
Were the Lathams involved in drugs?
Not that I'm aware.
- Are you involved in drugs?
- Not that I'm aware.
I'd like to take a look
in that sawmill, Phil.
Would you?
You know what you need for that.
- A warrant.
- Eyes.
Mm, yeah, is that alright with you,
Inspectress?
Yeah, 'course. Is it OK with you,
Phil, if you eat my dick?
Shane's gonna love this.
Good. That was good.
So, up in Darwin, do you lot threaten
all interviewees with fellatio,
or just the ones that are grieving?
Let's go.
You want to tell me where?
Fuck! Trent's wife!
Vajazzle.
Agh!
It's Margaret's Feastival, Gez,
and her name looks like "Maggot".
Maggot Carruthers.
Oh, gosh, I feel like such a dingo.
It's OK, babe.
I know it's just a mistake.
Detective, what are you doing?
But, obviously, fix it, or I'm revoking
your volunteer privileges.
Dulcie!
Is this
the drug-cunt brothers' gym, is it?
Well it's Gavin
and Trent Latham's gym, yes.
Detective, in light of
the Phil McGangus debacle,
I'd like to take the lead
on the interview with Vanessa myself.
This is my town and Vanessa and I
have a relationship.
Oh, yeah,
what's that relationship like?
You and your inner-city lezzo mates
narrowly avoiding getting
hate-crimed by Vanessa's lot?
Ah, well, obviously Deadloch
isn't perfect...
It's Satan's fucking snow globe!
I think that right now, Vanessa
would appreciate a familiar face,
in a pair of actual shoes.
Dulcie!
Mate, I am the lead detective, OK?
You are a day-rate cop who's used to
solving great mysteries like
"My Hat Is Missing",
and "I Shot My Dog".
So, hipso facto, I'll be doing
the interviewing, OK?
- Dulcie?
- Yes?
What you pulled at the parade
last night cannot happen again, OK?
OK, well, I didn't kill him myself,
Aleyna.
I mean it. No more of this
dead body nonsense.
You know how hard Margaret and I
have worked at this Feastival?
It's given me IBS.
Detective! Aleyna,
I do want to, and I will...
My colon is shredded, Dulcie.
Shredded!
We found the Pro-Bro ute
this morning.
Pretty... Pretty schmick rig.
Yeah, must be worth a bit of coin.
Got me thinking, you know?
How could Trent and Gavin afford
a souped-up ute like that when...
that gym downstairs is emptier than
an arsehole after breakfast?
- Was it drugs, Vanessa?
- Detective.
Was it drugs?
You know, started with
'roids, peptides, Molly, then, bang!
Half of Deadloch are just sticking
Special K right up the dick hole.
- Is that it, Vanessa?
- I... I am...
- Is that it, huh?
- I'm deeply sorry about this.
- I don't like you.
- OK.
We know you threw the plate
at his head, didn't you, Vanessa?
No, Trent threw the plate at her!
It ricocheted off the marble accent tray
and hit him in the head.
And we know about the affair.
- Mm, we've seen the dick pics.
- Detective.
How long have you and Gav
been smashing meat?
No, Mum kept telling Uncle Gavin
to stop sending her photos,
but he just kept sending them.
See? Look at her phone for yourself.
- Oh, good one.
- I'm not even sure if they're his.
They have watermarks.
I never wanted his penises.
Ah... Who are you?
Are you her dad, are ya?
No, I'm Greg, from Grey Lady Funerals.
Ah, Vanessa, Rod Dixon was their boss
at the sawmill. Were they on good terms?
What the fuck do you think you're doing?
Just a second, Vanessa.
This question is relevant.
- My fuzzy brown arse it is.
- It absolutely is.
More relevant than anything
out of your mouth this morning.
- I'll tell you what is a relevant...
- Rod.
Yeah. Yes, Vanessa.
He was president of the mayor.
He was...
President of the football club,
and the mayor. Thank you, Vanessa.
- Lesbian.
- OK.
Everything was good until
Mr Dixon died,
then his wife shut the sawmill down.
I see.
Mum said it was part of God's plan,
because if they hadn't lost their jobs,
then the three of them would have
never opened the Beast Factory.
Three?
Yeah. Phil's a part-owner.
Really? Well, isn't that fascinating.
And what percentage of...
of that did he own?
I don't know. I'm 17.
Phil's a majority owner
of the Beast Factory.
He co-owns Pro-Bro protein powder.
He owns Vanessa and Trent's place
upstairs.
Well, that's fucking cosy, isn't it?
And, of course, the old sawmill site.
Oh, gee, Sarge,
I wonder where he's getting
all the cash for all these purchases?
If Phil was running drugs,
we would know about it.
The money's probably from
his fishing business. He owns a trawler.
Well, there's a fucking
mystery murder boat
you've been banging on about,
it's Phil the drug king's boat!
Phil's boat was not used in the murder.
The harbour surveillance footage
from the night Trent died
comes from Phil's boat, Detective.
It was parked at the harbour all night.
It's moored, ma'am. Sorry.
OK, then he's got some associate,
you know?
A dodgy fuck who's got a boat
and he carts the bodies
and the drugs around.
You are over-simplifying this.
What the fuck is Father Time
doing up here?
I told you that Rod Dixon's death
might be connected to
Trent and Gavin's.
There is no connection, OK?
And if you mention
the seal tongue again,
I swear to God I'm gonna
cunt-punch you so hard
you're gonna double as a hand puppet.
Dulce, I've got Cath
on the phone. She says it's important.
Well, did she try my mobile?
Yes, but your coverage is terrible.
Right.
Bullshit.
Hi, love.
Sexy, you've got to get a new mobile
carrier. Your coverage is terrible.
I'm picking up tickets
to Helena Papatonis...
Oh, love, I really can't
see a show right now.
No, I know.
I gave your tickets to Nadiyah.
Textbook Skye,
making her new girlfriend
move to a town
where the poor thing knows no-one.
- So depressing.
- Right, yeah.
Fucking knew it!
Amphetamines, uppers, downers,
tranqs, steroids, peptides, shrooms.
The Latham brother's tox report
reads like a fucking
dark web shopping cart.
And I bet my right tit
McGangus and those Latham boys
are storing drugs
at that fucking sawmill
in that banana-guava flavoured
Pro-Bro shit.
Maybe that's why Gavin was out there
the night he died, ma'am?
Yeah, he was moving the product.
The Latham boys did the dirty on him
and that's why Phil killed them.
I need to search that sawmill.
You! How are you getting on with
that warrant?
Warrant? I didn't know
that was in my column.
Oh, fucking small town fucking...
Nadiyah just told me
the detective has to move out of
the Bush Wolf tomorrow.
Her room's been put up
for the Feastival.
OK. Alright.
The earlier she can check out,
the better,
just so Nads has got time
to give it a clean.
It looks like a Tracey Emin
installation, apparently.
Big Eyes, grab your keys.
Oh, um, I've actually got
my wedding make-up trial today.
- Cancel it.
- OK.
Don't stress about it,
I'll find the detective somewhere to stay.
I'll take it off your plate
and I'll put it on my plate.
Oh, thank you.
Thanks, love, that's great.
Speaking of plates, I really want to
go down on you tonight.
Oh, OK.
'Cause, you know, when we
work through conflict, I get horny.
Shouldn't we wait for
Senior Sergeant Collins, ma'am?
Nup.
You, get her onto Phil McNugget's alibi.
- Yep.
- We're going bush.
- Oh, actually that's Dulcie's jacket.
- Who?
- I do have to go right now, love.
- OK.
OK, sexy, I love you. Bye!
Hi, Virginia.
Now, I need to organise a warrant.
So, what's the go there?
Is there a county sheriff that I call,
or is it a PDF...
Where'd she go?
Ah, she didn't say, but she wants you
to verify Phil's alibi, please.
- Oh, she does, does she?
- Mm-hm.
Where's my jacket?
Come on Phil, you puffed-up
fuck-hole. Show yourself.
I can't believe I'm on a stakeout!
It's so aggressively policey.
So did you always want to be
a female detective?
It's pretty cool. There aren't many
women in forensic science, either.
That's what I originally studied.
James was my lecturer, actually...
- Too much talking.
- Yep!
That might be Senior Sergeant Collins.
Should we tell her what we're doing?
Nah, I'll text her.
Yeah, nah, it's Eddie. Ah, yeah, nah,
leave us a message.
Phil McGangus said that
you were with him the night that
Gavin died.
Is that correct, Mike?
Yeah. We were organising
the music for Trent's wake.
- Mm-hm.
- A lot of Tool.
It's what he would have wanted.
Excuse me, I'm looking for
Helena Papatonis. Is that you?
Ah, no, I'm a cop.
Yeah, the performance
is over the road.
Oh.
Can't believe the Latham boys
are both dead.
25 blokes graduated my year
at Deadloch High.
Now there's only a few left.
Really? Why?
Suicide. Drugs.
Oh, there was one drink-driving accident
wiped about seven of them.
They were in a boat.
On the roof.
Was that all you wanted to ask me?
Yeah. that was my only job
for the whole day. Thank you, Mike.
Actually, no, Mike,
there is something else.
You were still on the force
when Rod Dixon's body
was found, weren't you?
Yeah, that was my last day.
Put a bit of a dampener
on my farewell drinks.
Why aren't there any photos
in the case file?
- Sven, it's me.
- Hey.
I need you to have a hunt around
for any old station cameras lying about.
I'm looking for some photos of
Rod Dixon's body.
Apparently the old station sergeant
used to let them take the camera home
on the weekends.
OK.
And any instructions from the detective
as to my next steps?
- Ah, nope. Nothing yet.
- Nothing!
- OK, perfect.
- OK. Cheers, Dulce. Bye.
Cath. Cath, when does this finish?
It's Endurance Art, Nadiyah.
No-one knows.
Ugh, wow.
OK.
Um, I have a lot of people checking
into the Bush Wolf today, though.
Shhh!
Sorry.
Dulcie!
Sorry Margaret, I didn't mean
to interrupt your Feastival meeting.
It's fine, it's fine. Here we are.
Thank you, darling.
- Thank you.
- Vanilla dust?
Ah, no, thanks, darling, Margaret,
I'm working.
It's sugar, darling.
It's not methamphetamines. Mm-hm.
So, here is the artwork
for your book launch.
God, I look like a psychopath!
Well, we can change it.
We'll change it.
No, no, it's fine, darling.
It's fine, it's fine.
Your semi-freddo is melting, hmm?
I actually do have a few questions
for Margaret...
No, Dulcie, I was here first.
This is my turn.
Aleyna, I want you to go outside
and start walking.
And then I want you to keep walking
until your shoulders
stop grazing your ears.
You're very stressed.
I am stressed, Margaret.
My colon is red-raw.
I'm sorry if that's
too much information,
but you just remind me
a lot of my mother.
- Except more motherly.
- Yeah.
- And white.
- Good. Off you pop.
Aleyna!
Slower.
Now, Dulce, how can I help?
It's about Rod.
If you've come to tell me he's dead,
you're a bit late.
It's just a formality with...
beach-based... deaths.
Was Rod alone on the boat
the night he drowned?
Yes. I mean, normally he went fishing
with his friend Sam...
Sam O'Dwyer?
Yes, but that night he was alone,
and, um...
weather was terrible,
and he just... he just...
fell in.
- No life-jacket, of course.
- Mmm.
- Men!
- Yeah.
So, what are your thoughts?
I'm just... I'm not at liberty to
discuss the case, Margaret, sorry.
I meant the semi-freddo.
- Oh!
- It's for the dessert line.
Right. Mmm. Sorry. It's good.
It is just awful though, isn't it?
- It's maybe a little gritty.
- I meant the murders.
Right. No, the murders.
They are very bad.
So, did you see Rod's body?
Ah, no, no.
- The police recommended against it.
- Mm-hm.
You know, because of what
Kevin the Seal did to him.
- But Claire saw him.
- Claire?
Yeah, Claire found Rod
when she was walking her groodle.
She did a painting of him.
Tried to give it to me.
Hmm.
I tried to give it to Margaret,
but she didn't want it.
Really? I can't...
Yeah, but I mean,
you've seen the Carruthers Estate.
I don't think Margaret's
much into modern art.
Yeah, yeah, that... that's the reason.
My therapist thought that painting Rod
might help me process the experience.
It didn't.
I mean, I ended up taking Valium.
I left my therapist.
I mean, she was terrible.
Also, we kept sleeping together.
Oh, what? It's medicinal, Dulce.
Mm-hm. Do you have a prescription?
Claire, what's that mark?
Oh, that's red wine.
Oh, bum.
I thought it was something else.
Hey, how is Cath going
at Helena Papatonis?
It was so boring I had to leave.
Ma'am!
- Ugh.
- Ma'am!
- Oh!
- Sorry!
- Fuck!
- Phil's loading Pro-Bro boxes!
Oh, fuck. We're on, we're on.
Follow them.
- No lights!
- Sorry, ma'am!
Sorry. That was a rock, I think.
Gosh, it's dark.
What is this place?
This is Deadloch Lake,
which translates to "Deadlake Lake",
which is weird.
Also it’s not even a lake,
because it connects to the sea...
- Shh!
- Yes, sorry, I'm nervous.
Now why would you
be dumping all this product
if you had nothing to hide, eh?
Fucking knew it!
He's a sneaky fucker.
Brr...
Is it cold, ma'am?
Yeah! Me muff's frozen over!
Got it!
So Dulce, I found you
a bunch of old station cameras
that might have the Rod Dixon crime
scene piccy-dicks on them.
Oh, great.
Yeah, but there's no chargers for them.
So...
That's that, I guess. Dead end.
Ah, no, no, not a dead end, Sven.
You go to the shops,
you get on Gumtree,
you post on the Deadloch Police
Facebook page
and you track down some chargers.
Any word from the detective?
Ah, yeah, Abby just got onto me.
Apparently they are on a stakeout.
What?
And they got a Pro-Bro sample,
so that's great.
Ah, no. Nup, not great, Sven.
The woman does not have a warrant.
OK, bye Dulce. Ta-ta, see ya.
Sexy, you picked me up!
Yes, I did, I did. I picked you up.
Um, how was the endurance art?
Oh, God, I hated it.
It was amazing.
I found somewhere
for the detective to stay.
I'll sort it out, though.
Don't you stress about it.
You know I love it. Let's go.
I could piss for three hours.
Speaking of which, did you know
we got 25mm in under an hour
the other night? Huh.
Oh, fuck.
What the fuck! Stalker!
- I...
- How'd you get in here?
You let me in five minutes ago,
then you fell asleep again.
- I'm fully nude.
- Mmm. Yeah, I am very aware.
So Mike confirmed Phil's alibi.
OK, well,
ta for the big update, Sergeant.
Feel free to bugger off now
if you want.
No, I wanted to collect you
personally, actually,
to avoid yesterday's miscommunication.
I think yesterday
went really well, actually.
Oh, oh, right.
Yeah, you know good teamwork
is sometimes, you know,
not working together, ever.
Your warrant to search the sawmill
came through this morning
and it was rejected
by the Commissioner,
possibly because you told his...
his good friend Phil McGangus
to eat some of your penis.
Fuck, really? I'll have to think of
another plan, then.
Oh, I know about
the stakeout, Detective,
and that w... that was
just so incredibly risky.
You don't know Phil.
If he knew that you had followed him,
he would sue your pants off.
Big risks reap big rewards,
like those astronaut monkeys.
Yeah, they died in a fireball,
but they got to see space, didn't they?
I want to exhume Rod Dixon's body.
Oh, fuck a dead dick!
I'd want Forensics
to check for similarities
between the Latham brothers
and Rod Dixon.
Trent's funeral's at 10am.
The excavator
is already at the cemetery.
We could do it discreetly this afternoon
after everybody's left.
Now, obviously there won't be
any soft tissue left on the body
but we could check for damage
to the hyoid and the oral cavity...
You're like a fucking dog
with a boner, aren't you? I said no.
Now, there is a fuck-ton of paperwork
that you need to do
for Commissioner What's-his-dick.
So I suggest you run along
to the station
so I can wash my skanky old lady fanny
and go have a poke around.
No. No. You can't... Who are you poking?
No more.
None of your beeswax.
- Stop the poking. Be careful...
- Have a little poke.
Is that my jacket?
- Nup.
- That is absolutely my...
Ow!
Th...
Stuff her.
Ah, yeah, well,
I have Margaret's permission
to exhume Rod's body, James.
Just now.
Well, I know that there won't be
any soft tissue left on the body
but we will be able to
see if the hyoid is crushed
and if there's any knife wounds
in the oral cavity, won't we?
Yeah, just what I thought.
OK. Alright, thanks. Gotta go. Bye.
Oh my...
Sven!
- Sven!
- Yeah, over here!
OK, station camera update.
So I did five click-and-collects,
raided the Buy-Sell-Swap
Facebook page,
I met a guy from Gumtree on a clifftop,
side bar: thought I was gonna die.
Now, 22 hours later, I haven't slept,
my vision's pixelated...
...but I have chargers
for all the cameras.
Great. I need you to stop all that
and head out to Margaret's
to pick up some forms.
- Senior Sergeant Collins...
- Dulcie!
Because of you, 16 people from
Gumtree have my private number!
- Oh, hey, Ted, yeah.
- I'm a cop, Dulcie!
- Thank you for calling me back.
- I am very afraid right now!
Sergeant, I've tried
bulldozing the English ivy
at the entrance of the station.
It cannot be killed.
Ah, no, Ted, I need you to
excavate a coffin for me.
- Ted?
- Alright.
But if anyone arkses any questions,
I want involved, OK?
I'm police, Ted.
Alright. Tomorrow afternoon...
Yeah, yep, that would work.
- No, I can't do tomorrow afternoon.
- OK.
Can't do tomorrow morning,
this morning...
No, not this morning, Ted.
Obviously, it's Trent Latham's
funeral this morning.
How about tomorrow?
Yeah, nah, yeah, I reckon
I can make that work.
OK.
But are you sure you don't
want to do it at night?
Less chance of being caught.
Yes, like I said, Ted, I am police.
Ted?
Detective Redcliffe wants to
get this sample tested for drugs, babe.
She wants a rush on it.
Abby, I'm due on Hell's Tits at 10.
Oh, fine, you win.
I'll do it.
I'll give it to Kate. She's finally
back from maternity leave. Jesus.
Oh, Hell's Tits
is gonna be intense, babe.
Thank God, too. I need a challenge.
This job is dull as dog shit, right?
Hundred Ks, filthy headwinds,
14% gradient,
I'm gonna burn through calories
on those hairpins.
It's a good thing I got that
12-speed 105 cassette.
Just gives me smoother...
Detective Redcliffe?
- Plus I can fine-tune everything to suit the terrain...
- Yep, coming now, Ma'am.
...so my energy costs
are gonna be way lower.
Oh, hey, speaking of, can you pop
down and get me some tropical gels...
Babe?
♪ Lightning crashes ♪
♪ A new mother cries ♪
♪ Her placenta falls to the floor ♪
♪ The angel opens her eyes ♪
♪ The confusion sets in ♪
♪ Before the doctor ♪
♪ Can even close the door...
OK boys, drop. Give us 20.
Who are all these people?
Men from the footy club,
boys he coached.
That's the Steves.
Carnage Bay cops
Trent used to play footy with.
And those men doing push-ups
are from the Beast Factory.
♪ Forces pulling from
the centre of the Earth again ♪
♪ I can feel it, oh ♪
♪ I can feel it...
What the fuck!
Fucking Christ, Ted!
Abby.
Ah, slow down.
What's the detective done now?
What?
- You said this morning.
- I said not this morning, Ted!
Oh, my... It is...
It is not even the right grave, Ted!
It's OK. I'll start again.
No, no, no! No, just wait till
everybody's left, for God's sake.
You responsible for this?
Phil, I, uh... I assure you
this was not intentional...
Maybe his is typical of the disrespect
that us old sons and daughters
of Deadloch have endured
since you and your kind
infested our town.
OK, OK, I'm not exactly sure what
you mean by "my kind", Phil,
but I can assure you that I...
I take my duty to all Deadloch residents
- incredibly seriously...
- OK, well...
Tell that to Mary Avery, whose coffin
just got gored by a Caterpillar.
OK? You're a fucking disgrace.
Alright, move out folks!
Beer's on tap at the club.
Shandies for the ladies.
Greg! Take Nessie.
- Vanessa, I am so sorry...
- You keep away from us!
Absolutely, yeah. I will...
I will do that. Sorry. Um...
Sorry. Uh...
Sorry for your loss and I, uh...
What a wonderful turnout, huh?
Steve. Steve.
Detective, where are you going?
To the wake, to have a sandwich
and a poke around.
- No, absolutely not. I'm coming.
- To do what?
Sit Trent's corpse in your lap
and sing "Islands In The Stream"?
Stay here.
Clean up your mess.
Oh, no, babe,
did you bonk on Hell's Tits?
No, I didn't bonk,
I was in exceptional form.
I had to cut it short because of Collins
and her batshit request
to dig up Rod Dixon's coffin.
Hey, babe, you know
the knife patterns in Gavin's mouth?
- Yeah, babe, um...
- Do you think...?
I'm working here, OK? OK?
Collins, is that it?
Nope. No.
A mistake was made.
- Unbelievable.
- Mm-hm.
OK mate, let's try digging up
the right grave.
Oh, did Detective Redcliffe ask for
any other groceries
to be delivered here first?
Ah, no, just a slab of Coke
and chicken Twisties. That's it.
- Oh, wow.
- Whoa.
OK. Yeah, it's messy.
Lucky there's two of us.
Um, I am going to have to leave
after an hour
to get ready for the menu launch.
What do you need to do? You're 30.
You look like a Fenty model.
No, it's just, this is Tom's t-shirt
and I'm not wearing a bra and...
Well, I'm going to deal with
all the heavy stuff,
given you might be pregnant.
Oh, did Skye tell you about our IVF?
Yeah, she tells me everything.
I was her first girlfriend,
when she was 20.
I broke her heart.
Didn't I tell you that?
Oh, no, no.
You've told me, many times.
Oh, there's piss all over the floor
in here.
Tom, it's so fucking weird
that Sam O'Dwyer is your Grandpa.
I mean, like, I never met him.
Oi, Tammy,
what are you even fucking doing here?
You're fucking not even fucking
part of the club anymore.
Once a Devil always a Devil,
you dickturd.
Also, sorry for your loss.
Come on, let's go.
Tammy, I thought you said
we were going to a party.
You're in the country now, Tom.
This counts as a party.
What'd you do when you lived in Sydney?
Just go to plays and shit?
Well, actually my mum's ex,
two exes ago,
she took me to
swing dancing once and...
Shut up! There he is.
See that white bloke
with the brown hair?
They're all white dudes
around here.
He's that footy recruiter, M.
That's Luke Caddy.
Here.
Watch a future AFLW star
get her big break.
- Can I come?
- No!
Luke! Tammy Hanson.
Former Deadloch Devil's
centre half-forward.
Sergeant Collins,
I've got a bone to pick with you.
Ken, I'm really sorry about before...
The starlings are back
in my trees.
- Right.
- Right above the bins.
Oi! Toilets! Who's this?
That's a fishing rod.
Not the fucking ocean angler.
Did your fontanelle
not close over, mate?
Who is the bloke next to
Phil and the Lathams?
That's Sam. Sam O'Dwyer.
Sam...
And is this Sam one of
your bosses' business associates?
Yeah, kinda. No!
O'Dwyer?
Not married to that chef O'Dwyer
that runs the Bush Pig?
No, that's not his wife.
That's a lesbian.
That's his daughter.
So who is his wife?
Bakery Vic.
She's from the bakery.
Which one of these blokes is Sam?
- Nah, he's not here.
- Why not?
- Oi, Jimmy!
- Yeah, I didn't even say nothin'!
Go change the keg, you useless fuck.
This is a private event, Inspectress.
You and your girlfriend,
well, you're not welcome, OK?
So how's about you get your nose
out of matters that don't concern you,
and fuck off out of my club?
I became a St Drogo's altar boy
in 1963.
- Uh-huh.
- That's right.
- Father Donald's time.
- Mmm.
I shouldn't be surprised if someone
took a match to that church one day.
- What?
- Oh, yes.
Oh, Ken, we will circle back to this.
- I just...
- You're welcome.
Um...
I have to go. Um...
Have you sold many knives lately,
Adele?
Yeah, heaps.
'Cause there's a sale on.
Do you want a bag?
Yeah, that might be a good idea.
Oh, crap.
Hi, Michelle. Sorry, I forgot
our make-up appointment.
I was buying a bunch of knives.
Coming now.
Can you...?
Thanks, Vic.
Hello, there.
Can I help you, love?
- Are you Bakery Vic?
- Yeah, I suppose.
Sam O'Dwyer's wife?
- Yes, that's right.
- Mm.
Why wasn't he at the funeral?
Did him and Trent have a bust up?
Sorry, who are you?
Is he a "fisherman"
like his mate McGangus, huh?
I think you must be confused...
Are him and Phil
running a drug racket?
- What?
- Come on, what are they moving?
Bricks? Krokodil?
- That stuff'll just eat your...
- There you are!
- Oh, fuck me up!
- Ah, Vic, I am very sorry
for anything that she did
to you or your premises.
What'd you do to her?
Nothing, we were just having
a little chit-chat.
So, where are you hiding
your husband, huh?
One of these fake walls?
- Detective!
- Oh! Nuts!
- I am deeply sorry about this.
- That's solid.
You wouldn't hide him in there, no.
- What, is he in the ceiling?
- Detective, get out. That is enough, Detective!
- Get outside now.
- Argh!
I'm very sorry, Vic.
Sam O'Dwyer is not here.
He shot through on Victoria years ago.
Fucking toilets!
I'm gonna piss in his open mouth!
You know his family have never
actually gotten over it, Detective,
and it's almost as if,
had you included me today,
I could have told you that.
Instead, you retraumatised
Victoria O'Dwyer
while she was serving finger buns.
This is not your town, Detective,
and you need to show more
consideration for the people here.
Oh, that's a... that's a bit rich,
coming from the Senior Sergeant that
tit-fucked that funeral this morning.
I've never...
That was a miscommunication,
a genuine one!
And if Rod Dixon's hyoid bone is broken,
then it proves his death is
connected to the Lathams'.
No, enough, OK?
You are lucky that
I don't care about you enough
to report you to Hastings for that shit
you tried to pull this morning.
- You're a liability.
- Oh, I'm a liability?
Yeah, how are you going
with the case, Detective?
'Cause I'm really fascinated to see
who else you think is involved in
this trans-Tasman drug ring.
Is Kevin the harbour seal
in on it, maybe?
Fuck up, mate!
Go back to the station.
Do that work I gave you.
No! You will not
shake me off, Detective.
And not just because
I have a duty to the victims,
not just because this is my town
and I have memorised the street plan,
but because, Detective Redcliffe,
I am your partner.
And I know that's my jacket.
- You are not my partner.
- I am.
It is deeply unfortunate,
but it is the truth.
I don't need a new partner.
Here, have your jacket.
Smells like a lavender bush
pissed on it.
Shit.
Ugh.
Hi. How's it going?
Yeah, uh, g'day, Holly, it's um...
it's me again.
Ah...
Yeah, look, I haven't heard back
from you about the barbecue.
Um...
But, actually, something's come up
down here,
so I don't reckon I'm gonna...
get back in time.
So...
uh, you might need to get someone...
to bring the chops, you know,
in case you were relying on me
to bring... bring the chops.
But, ah, you know,
I'll be back up north soon, and...
you know, we can all have
a little catch up.
Have a chat about Bush, or whatever.
So, yeah!
Ah, you're good, and I'm good,
the case is going good.
So, yeah, that's...
So, anyway. Um, OK.
Big Eyes, what you got for me?
Hi, ma'am, the Pro-Bro powder
analysis is through.
Fucking McGangus!
Yo, yo, this is Dr James King.
Leave it at the beep.
James, it is Senior Sergeant Collins.
Any word on Rod Dixon's autopsy?
I am here, waiting for your call.
Oh, my God.
Oh, fuck me!
OK, kick it back.
Set up a mark for me.
I don't know what that means.
I told Luke Caddy that
I was part of a killer girls' squad,
so don't embarrass, me, yeah?
Any of you guys want a gummy?
Nadiyah got them
from the market for me.
No, brah, I can't do that shit anymore.
I'm going pro.
Dude, they're made with weed.
What?
I've eaten, like, 15 of these!
We know. We thought you were just
prepping for your mum's launch.
We should go to that, actually.
Look at that!
Straight through the sticks!
Wait! What do I do?
Am I gonna die?
Guys!
Oi, McCuntus.
Do your tree-necked mates know
their big-boy powder's
cut with strawberry jelly crystals
and pet-grade powdered milk?
Yeah?
Well, that got you choking on
your Pissfiddich, didn't it?
Listen here,
I'm not going to be in this
dick-sore of a town for very long,
but I promise you, you fraudulent fuck,
while I am here,
I'm gonna dig into
your shonky businesses
and staple-gun your nut-sack
to a fucking wall.
Vanessa, enough with
"Lightning Crashes". For fuck's sake!
That's a fucking sloop.
Who owns this boat?
Hey, Sergeant Horsehair,
where's the footage?
- What?
- The footage.
- What footage? What...
- The brothers. The biffo.
- What footage?
- The fight. Press play!
- Come on! Come on.
- Do not touch things!
Give me a little bit of space.
Oh, now you want
some fucking space, do ya?
Look. Look. Look at that boat.
Look at that boat.
Same sloop, different paint job.
- Whose boat is it?
- That is Sam O'Dwyer's boat.
- No, that can't be right.
- Yeah.
I'm sure that went missing...
- The fuck?
- Oh, sorry don't mind me.
Don't mind me!
Just taking a nap,
'cause I was up all night.
Finger limes, from Margaret.
Who's that? Collins?
Rod Dixon.
His mouth has the same markings
as the Lathams,
and ligature markings
around the neck.
Fuck me sideways, Collins.
No, that must be a mistake.
What?
Sam O'Dwyer went missing five days
after Rod Dixon's body was found.
Well, that's why he shot through,
isn't it?
He necked your mate Dixon,
and then he did a runner.
I'm sorry, was that the acknowledgement
that I was right about Rod Dixon?
'Cause that was very quick and quiet,
and I think I missed it.
Well, you know, actually,
I was right too. I, ah...
Forgot my pillow.
Yeah, I saw that picture of Sam O'Dwyer
and I was, like,
"That man is pure evil."
Uh-huh.
Oh, my God!
There's somebody there.
There's somebody there. Oh!
That's gotta be him.
And he's watching them.
Sam O'Dwyer is fucking back, baby.
Sorry, we will let you
get back to the launch in a sec.
Yeah, I need to get to the bakery.
Mum, it's my launch!
I'm going to make sandwiches
for everyone, Skye.
The food in there's tiny.
It's tiny because
it's fucking hors d'oeuvres, Mum.
Sorry, just circling back,
we just have some questions about Sam.
Do you know what happened to
his boat, the Loch Nessie?
Well we thought he took it with him,
didn't we love?
Yeah.
Dad loved that boat.
It was a Bass Strait yawl?
- Uh-huh.
- A sloop.
Um, and... and where did he
park the sloop?
He moored it
near our shack at the lake.
Mate, what's this all about?
- We're just making some enquiries...
- We think Sam's back.
- No...
- What?
No, we're just making
some routine enquiries,
- ...trying to establish a possible...
- We reckon he's involved in these murders
that have been going on.
It's probably a vendetta.
Sam got wind that
Trent, Gavin and Phil
were using the gym
as a cover for drugs so,
he learnt Mandarin.
Sailed the seas on the Loch Nessie,
became their Asian connection,
then when that all turned to shit,
he came back and just
fucking necked them, you know?
Sorry, that is her theory, not mine.
Now, he's the boss of what we're
all calling the Deadcunt drug ring...
Ah, no, we're not. Absolutely
have not signed off on that name.
Sorry, you're saying that Dad
might have killed these men?
No, we're just trying to establish
a possible pattern at the moment.
Oh, 100%, yeah.
- We have no...
- Excuse me.
- What?
The detective has run away
a little with that...
Hello, hello. Sorry. Excuse me!
Hello, hi. Sorry. Sorry to interrupt
this very intense conversation but,
guests are starting to arrive
and I look like this.
Sorry, we'll let you go.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Get amongst it.
Safest spot for you.
Plenty of witnesses.
Um, Detective, I took the liberty
of packing up your room,
given you didn't actually check out.
Oh, ripper! Those are my undies?
Yes, yep.
Uh, I found them in the kettle.
Thanks for choosing the Bush Wolf.
Where are you going?
To the harbour office, mate,
to see if anyone's seen that boat.
Sam's probably been hiding out on it
in between murders.
Oh, my God,
why do you just shout everything?
Can you just shush?
The harbour office is shut for the day.
But if Sam's transporting bodies by boat
then it makes more sense
if he'd park it elsewhere.
OK. Get those Carnage Bay cops
to check the moorings up the coast...
Yeah, they are all drunk
at Trent's wake.
Fucking small towns!
Well what about O'Dwyer's old haunts?
His house, his workplace?
This is it. You are standing in
his old house and workplace.
It'd be too risky for him to
show his face anywhere else in town.
We'll start a full search
in the morning.
Well what the shit am I
supposed to do in the meantime?
Hey.
Ah, Tom. This is Tom, my godson.
Spanish croquettes?
- I don't...
- Seriously, they're so good.
The Happy Plum's perfect, Dulce.
We're not going to be the only ones
who can see past the fire damage.
So were Gavin and Trent's deaths
linked, Dulcie?
- I can't discuss the case, Aleyna...
- She doesn't really want to talk about it.
Because, you know
it'd be good if they were.
Yeah, it'd be clean, Dulcie.
It'd be easy to wrap it up in, what,
like, a couple of days?
You could wrap it up
in a couple of days.
- Let's talk about something else.
- I reckon it's drugs.
Is it drugs? Dulcie, is it drugs?
Is Joan involved?
- What's Doppelbock?
- I don't know.
Ugh...
Eugh.
- Ray! Hi!
- Hi all.
Dulce, didn't expect to see you here
tonight with the...
Is, um, the detective here too?
Oh, my God, the detective
digging up that grave,
the complaints I had to
deal with afterwards!
Yeah, don't let her do it again,
OK, Dulce? She's insane.
- Mm-hm.
- And the smell of the woman!
It's like an old block of parmesan
lost in a foot...
Eddie, hi. I'm Cath,
I'm Dulcie's wife.
I was at the beach last night. I...
I shot Kevin with a tranquiliser.
How do I know you?
- Have we fucked?
- Oh...
- No, I saw you at the bakery today.
- Hmm.
Righto, well, I'm...
I'm off the clock so...
are you driving me to my new digs?
No, Ray can take you, can't you Ray?
Yep. Sure, Cath. Happy to.
...involved objects
commonly used to inflict
sharp-force trauma injuries.
Her findings were as follows.
A round objects like a spear
may produce a circular stab wound.
Stabbing with a fork produces
clusters of two to three wounds,
depending upon
the number of prongs on the fork.
A screwdriver produces a slit-like stab
with squared ends and abraded margins.
If a single-edged knife is used,
the surface wound will be triangular
or wedge-shaped
and one angle will be sharp,
the other rounded, blunt or squared off.
A round, blunt-pointed object
such as a pointed stick or metal rod
may produce a circular surface wound
with inverted, ragged and bruised edges.
Foreign material, such as
dirt, rust or splinters may be found.
The blunter the tip of the object,
the coarser...
Hey, babe, I don't think
the killer used two knives.
I think he used one knife
with two blades.
Yeah, yeah, sorry, sorry.
Coming now.
Oh, fuck my fanny, it's cold!
Oh, so, lights are here.
Found the heating.
I know the owners.
That's why I know my way around.
We're not together, though.
I'm not with anyone.
Yeah, picked the wrong town
to find true love.
A lot of lesbians.
Lot of lesbians.
And I love lesbians. My best mate,
Skye, she's a lesbian.
You've got Cath who's a lesbian,
Dulcie, obviously, is a lesbian,
and Skye, that's Nadiyah, lesbian.
A lot of the choir, also...
...lesbians.
So, Detective, um, how long
are you here for, do you reckon?
I don't know.
Might stick around for a bit.
Become a white witch.
Really?
- Nuh.
- No.
I'm out of here the moment
Sam O'Dwyer is in cuffs.
Oh. Right.
OK. Ah...
I am off to bed.
Yep.
OK, um... I will go.
So, there's keys. Light.
You gave it a nudge.
- Pretty solid, huh?
- I...
Sorry I'm late. What are you two
talking about?
James was just telling me about
a double-bladed knife theory of his.
If the blade had two edges,
it would account for the two markings
in the oral cavity.
- Mm-hm.
- It's surprisingly solid.
And, uh... Thanks, babe. I took a quick
look at Rod Dixon this afternoon.
As we both suspected,
his hyoid was crushed.
Right, well, uh, thank you for only
waiting six hours to tell me, James.
Mm-hm. That is not... pet nat.
That's... something else.
Do you want to take that back?
The shack today was like a tip.
Old food, beer cans,
piss all over the toilet floor.
If I didn't know any better,
I would have thought
some man lived out there.
Sorry, I wasn't listening.
What shack?
Vic's shack, babe.
Detective Redcliffe
needed a place to stay
and the shack was just sitting there,
so I thought why not?
Actually, the lights were on in there
when I went for a run last week.
"Olive tamponade"?
Ugh!
Alright, friends, please welcome
the person responsible for tonight,
chef Skye O'Dwyer.
Thanks, Aleyna,
and welcome, everyone, to my baby,
the Bush Wolf.
I'm so proud of what my family,
Nadiyah, Tom,
yeah, there they are there,
have helped a former little bush rat
to create.
The Bush Wolf, the Feastival
and all of us here tonight,
we're breathing new life into
my little home town.
Good things are going to happen here.
I can feel it.
Shame!
Shame!
Vanessa?
Deadloch is in mourning.
Two kings of this town are dead,
and none of you give a frig.
This is Sam O'Dwyer's joint.
Hey! Hey!
You...
Oh, fuck!
Hey! Hey, Sam!
I know it's you!
Hey, give it up!
I'm police!
Fucking speedy cocksucker!
Look at you,
stuffing your chubby gobs...
with your chubby food
and your chubby wines.
Where's your respect?
- Mum, it's time to go...
- No, let me go.
- And you...
- Vanessa...
...waltzing back here
with your tattoos
and your fiancée and your son,
like you're a different you.
But I remember you.
Fuck!
Oh, cunt!
And if your father could see
all of this, he'd be custard.
Dis... custard.
Vanessa, now is not the time...
Don't you tell me what to do,
you lesbian.
Dyke! Butch!
Oof!
Fuck!
Fuck.
Dulcie, whose boat is that?
That's Sam O'Dwyer's boat.
Fuck! Ugh!
Agh!
Sam!