Deadloch (2023–…): Season 1, Episode 6 - Episode #1.6 - full transcript

Sam O'Dwyer.

He was our first victim.

The killer's using the sloop
as his kill-room!

Abby, you really should have told us
Sam O'Dwyer was a serial adulterer.

I wasn't in Deadloch when Dad left.

I was living around the corner
from you and Cath, in Sydney.

Is everything all tense
'cause of the affair Dulcie had?

I'm Eddie Redcliffe!
I'm king effin' shit up in Darwin!

- They don't want me either!
- Why not?

'Cause I... I fucking killed my partner!

Jesus Christ, Jimmy.



I think our killer
might be a good Christian lady.

Jimmy's place is very bare.
There's just a lot of photos of boats.

And you were both home?

Yep.

Skye went and spent $12,000
on something that she won't even say!

The women of the town hate the men.
And she hates them the most.

She knew about the infidelities.

The night Sam died,
Mike gave her a speeding ticket.

She was in Deadloch. She lied.

Skye friggin O'Dwyer.

Bum.

After a 24-hour hiatus,

I am pleased to announce that
all Feastival events

will be recommencing as scheduled.



Well, not exactly as scheduled.

We have had some minor changes,

which you will note
in these revised programs,

which we printed at 4am
on our home printer,

which, for some reason,
lives in our bedroom.

You will see that
the Immersive Water Sculpture

that was scheduled for tonight
at Deadloch Lake

has, unfortunately, been cancelled

and in its place there will be... Gez?

- Ah, TBC.
- A TBC. Gorgeous.

- Oh...
- Oh?

So, how do we get play this?

We go in hard with the speeding fine?

We ask her again about her whereabouts
the night Sam O'Dwyer was murdered

and see if she lies to my face again
about that,

like a lying liar who just lies.

Absolutely fucking not.
That's our fucking trump card.

Jesus Christ, you are red-hot right now.

I'm fine. I'm... I'm fine.

Yeah, look, you need to
unknot your norks.

You are cutting off the blood supply
to your brain.

It's like a fucking titty tourniquet
right now.

We're just gonna
go into that interview room

and have a casual chat, yeah?

Yeah.

Oh, Jesus Christ, did she bring brunch?

My God, she has absolutely no idea
what's happening here.

So you have nothing?

No.

No, um, no, we don't have nothing.
Um, I actually just...

Far from nothing, I would say.

We just got off the phone
from a phone call,

and I am excited to announce

that we will now be hosting, tonight,

um, an inflatable outdoor cinema event
at Deadloch Lake

that will be called Cinema Aquatica.

Or Floating Flicks.
They're both winning titles, so...

Mayor Rahme, what do you have to say
to Feastival pass-holders

who are afraid of coming to Deadloch
because of the active serial killer?

Um, I think you'll find that
the press suppression order

isn't lifted till 11am, Jeremy,

so maybe we'll just do some questions
about the Feastival only.

Yes, Mayor,
but I think you'll find that

my question was about
Feastival pass-holders.

Mmm.

Well, I would say to them, Jeremy,

that the killer is only targeting
cis-het white men,

and our market research shows that

uh, that's a far cry from
our Feastival patron demographic.

In fact, given that
the victim demographic

is usually responsible
for the perpetration of violence

Deadloch may well be
the safest place to be right now

for many members of
our Feastival community.

So, Joan, you went to
the info booth yesterday.

Did you see anyone
dropping off a bag when you were there?

No, not that kind of bag.

A green bag, Joan.

Fuck.

No, I put all this down in the cellar
the night of the Beast on the Cross.

What do you think happened?
The killer broke in and stole it?

Well, yeah.
Well, that would explain how, um...

how it wound up as part of
a crime scene, wouldn't it, Collins?

- Yeah, that would absolutely explain all of that.
- That would explain that.

Uh, Skye, given the situation we,
need to get your movements again

for the night that Jimmy Cook died.

- Ah, sure.
- OK, of course. Great.

Also for all the other nights
that all the other men died.

Yeah, well, I wasn't even here
the night Dad died.

- I was in Sydney.
- OK, super-duper, Skye.

Then you shouldn't have any issues
supplying those alibis, then.

Sorry, Mayor, are you saying that
everything is OK

because only
straight, cis, white men are dying?

No, Jeremy, that is not...
That is not what I'm saying.

That would be a misinterpretation
of what I said,

'cause I didn't say that
and what I did say was a misspoke.

I misspoke. Um, so...

Uh, thank you, everyone, for coming,

and please enjoy tonight's
Cinema Aquatica.

I hope it really floats your boat. Gez?

- Gez.
- Yes.

- Gez, did that just happen?
- Yes, sweetpea.

OK. Well, then,
you need to take me to the hospital

because I just shot myself
in the fucking face.

Don't say another word to her.

- I'm fine.
- No, no.

You've got Predator eyes.
They've gone full black.

Hey, Dulce, who do I speak to about
a police report for the Nessie?

I want to file an insurance claim.

Uh...

I can sort that from here.

Yeah, cool. Thanks, mate.

Some of my best memories
are of me and Dad on that sloop.

Hello!

Cath, what are you doing in here?

Here to check in on Skye.
Extenuating circumstances.

Oh, my God!

- The killer was in your house?
- Yeah, apparently.

Nadiyah said he went through
your stuff. We were both freaking out.

Even I thought, for a second,

you'd been pulled in
for questioning over the murders.

I nearly dug out that
bottle-green Cue suit

and suggested you hired me
as your lawyer.

Why would she hire a vet as a lawyer?

'Cause I used to be a lawyer.

Before I retrained as a vet.

It only takes me
half the time as most people

just 'cause I'm good at everything.

Oh, my God, sexy!

Imagine if the press saw you
escort Skye in here.

They'd be like,
"Skye O'Dwyer is a serial killer!"

Skye, your business
and your reputation will be ruined.

You're coming home with me.

- Mmm... Mm-mm...
- The ute's out the back near the bins.

Just hop in and hide under the dog mat.

- Look, I'm just going...
- Go.

Go.

Oh! Crisis averted!

Oh, my God!

Imagine if you'd arrested Skye!

Oh, I would divorce you on the spot.

You're her third-best friend!

Bye, Eddie. See ya!

Bye, Cath.

Alright, time to get
Operation Convict The Cook rolling.

Where's Big Eyes?
She needs to get this DNA sample off.

Babe, do you get the pressure
I'm under right now?

I'm dealing with a serial killer, yeah?
I'm organising a wedding.

I cannot be expected to deal with
my bride-to-be

randomly disappearing
in the middle of the night.

I didn't disappear.

I was in hospital
because I inhaled a toxic gas.

I was testing the wood
from Jimmy's crucifix.

I think it's coated in
a substance that contains arsine.

It's a chemical that's used
in a treatment called CCA...

Yeah, I know what arsine is, babe.

Yeah, it's a treatment
that's used on boats.

And when you burn it, James,
when you burn, it smells like garlic.

- Really?
- Yeah!

- And that's why I thought I was smelling garlic.
- Wow.

But then I thought, Sam O'Dwyer's boat,
the Loch Nessie, was burnt,

and so was the wood on the crucifix.

And then I was like,
what if that wood is the same wood?

Babe, babe, babe, babe, babe, babe,

can you hear yourself right now, hmm?

Hey, hey, come here.

Babe, you sound insane.

But can't we just check
the Loch Nessie mast?

Where is it?

Hey, it's probably back at the lab.
Look, I'm taking you home, OK?

Hey, hey, hey, hey, I'm taking you home.

You can catch up on
some much-needed beauty sleep

and then find us a celebrant.

Surely there's an out-of-work actor
who's desperate for the money.

- No, but, James...
- Babe...

You've been poisoned by gas that's
used in chemical warfare, yeah?

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

And... you're
out of your little mind, yeah?

- Yeah.
- Yeah, OK.

- OK.
- Let's go wait in the car, OK?

Go wait in the car.
I'm gonna make a quick call.

- OK.
- OK.

Hey, man, how's it going?

Yeah, so, Xave,
quick question about the boat.

Sorry, Sharelle!
I've never had a job before.

I can tell. Give it here.

Be aggressive.
Soy milk can smell your fear.

Alright, I'm starting without Big Eyes.

I'm like a grog-bog on a Sunday morning.
I cannot be stopped.

So...

We are going to need hard evidence
to tie Skye to these murders

particularly if old mate's lawyer wife
Erin Fuckletits is getting involved.

So we're gonna need witnesses,
DNA evidence, surveillance footage,

one of them lights that spots cat piss.

We need to be sure about this
before we make an arrest, OK?

Otherwise the charges won't stick.

And Dulcie will be blowing up
her entire life for nothing.

Yeah. We want it to mean something
when it all comes crashing down

and Collins is you know,
cold, shivering, sleeping in her car.

OK, Collins, let's timeline this shit.

See how Skye's done it, yeah?

Uh... OK.

Well, I guess I will do the board, then?

- What? No, no.
- No?

No, absolutely not, no.
Don't you touch that board.

My life may be
teetering on the precipice

but at least my writing doesn't
look like the pen's got narcolepsy.

OK, so on the night that
Jimmy was murdered,

Nadiyah said she and Skye
went to bed at 10pm.

But I know that Nadiyah and Skye
are sleeping in separate rooms,

and I know this because
my wife told me this

because I am blended into this situation
like an onion in a soup.

- So Nadiyah's alibi for Skye is...
- Shaky.

Poos.

However, there was an
independently verified sighting of Skye

at 7 o'clock the next morning.

She visited Donna
at The ButchSmith Butchery

to pick up 17 kilograms
of Spanish blood sausage.

Oh, morcilla!
It's pricey and disgusting.

Yeah, it's disgusting. It's made
from the blood of Spaniards.

OK, moving on to Jimmy.

He was last seen at 11pm.

His last phone call was to
Vanessa Latham at 12:23am.

Now, according to Jimmy's autopsy,
he was strangled around 4am.

And liver mortis shows that
he was mounted on the cross

for two hours before he was discovered
by Aleyna at 7:30am.

Is anybody taking notes?

- I thought that's what you were doing.
- No, this is just numbers!

I'm just doing numbers. Where is Abby?

I got a very, very strange
voice-to-text from her.

Something about poussin.

- Poussin?
- Pussy?

Ooh, maybe she wants a recipe from

When Life Gives You
Preserved Lemons.

I'm thinking of
trying the abalone tonight.

That is so wonderful for you, Sven.

- How great.
- Thanks.

OK, given that the bluff
is only accessible by water,

it is very likely the killer
murdered Jimmy on a boat,

just like the other victims.

Now, it is my suspicion that

they are mooring the new kill-room boat
in the same spot as the Loch Nessie,

because serial killers just,
well, they just love routine.

Like babies.

So, if Skye did this...

...somewhere around 5:30am...

...she mounted Jimmy on the cross.

She sailed the new kill-room
back to its parking spot

and then she travelled, in a vehicle,
back to Deadloch,

all in time to pick up
her Spanish blood sausage at 7am.

So, there we have it.

- Cannibal sausage?
- Donna's in it?

- Sausage?
- Like, Donna's part of it?

- No. No.
- Two words. Give me a clue.

Skye had a 90-minute window
in which to make that trip,

which gives us a search radius

for where she's storing
the new kill-room boat.

Ma'am, sorry I'm late.
I got poisoned.

What?

Oh, bum! Did you start without me?

OK, Sven,
what am I looking at here?

These are all the mooring points,
from Fisheries and Wildlife.

"Pox Bay, Squatter Beach,
Grim Creek, Devastation Point."

Fuck, these place names
are fucking dark.

OK, we really need to
narrow down these locations.

This is gonna take way too long.

Hey, what's this, um, red stuff
on the Nessie hull?

I noticed that too, ma'am.

Was it parked in mud?

Moored, maybe?

OK, we need to get the soil tested.

That might help us
narrow down these locations.

Do you want me to do it, ma'am? I can.

- I don't. I absolutely don't, Abby.
- I feel much better.

You are basically levitating.

Sven, get onto forensics
about the soil.

No, no, no, mate, come on.
We need to get onto this search.

We can't fucking piss-fart around.

I can drive a car.

- No. No. No.
- Collins!

- I can walk away.
- Dulcie!

- Poo, poo, poo.
- Dulcie!

Told you this would happen!

- Detective? Detective?
- This is an absolute disaster.

- Is Skye O'Dwyer a suspect?
- No comment!

- Detectives...
- Everybody, clear the area.

OK? Clear it!

You fucking started that rumour,
rat cunt!

- Jesus, Christ, get your head in the fucking game.
- Do something about this!

Mr McGangus, do you believe
Skye O'Dwyer killed your best friend?

- Do something.
- Vanessa!

You homophobic cunt!

Get your hands off her,
you lesbian dyke butch!

Why the fuck are you saying
all that bullshit?!

Oi, calm your fucking farm, mate.

- Jesus Christ.
- Nessie's done nothing wrong.

- Oh, you stay out of this.
- Megan gave me four wines!

I know she did,
but you spoke your truth, OK?

You did nothing wrong.
You spoke your truth.

Councilman McGangus,
how do you feel about

what's happening in your town right now?

Well, I'll let you know
how I feel, Jeremy. Um...

- I don't know this town anymore, Jeremy.
- Oh, fuck off.

Me best mates are dead,

and what does Mayorette Rahme
have to say about that?

Oh, fuck up, cunt.

- Go inside. Come on. "Oh, it's OK
- because they're all white men."

- It's a disgrace, OK?
- Come on, Collins.

Sven, can you get those Carnage Boys
onto that boat search?

I can tell you right now that
the born and breds of Deadloch,

we have had enough of Mayorette Rahme
and her girl gang.

Thank you.

So we are taking matters
into our own hands, aren't we, Ness?

- Um, yes.
- Yes.

How, Vanessa?

Um, I don't know.

This is such small-town bullshit!

You're all coming back
to our place.

- I'm not going to hear another word about it.
- Cath, it's actually fine.

We probably just need some time, like,
to be home for...

- Nadiyah!
- ...after a big, um...

Nadiyah, a brick could have come through
and cracked your skull open

and broken it like an egg, and
your brains could be all over the tiles.

Dulcie, you've got to
do something about this.

Hey, ma'am,
I'm using voice-to-text

because my brain is moving too fast
for my fingers.

Anyway, I'm at the lake

because the Loch Nessie
used to be moored here

and I thought that maybe
the stains on the hull

would match the lake mud,

but they don't.

Sweetpea. Sweetpea. Sweetpea.
Hey, just slow it down.

Good.

The stains on the hull

are definitely much redder
than the lake mud.

Wait...

Ma'am, I think I know what it is.
I'll call you back.

Agh!

Stay calm, everyone.

Just a flamingo.

Vanessa outed me when I was 17
and nearly ruined my life,

and now she's trying to ruin it again!

And, Mum,

why the fuck is Vanessa
wearing a bakery uniform?

I gave her a job.
I felt sorry for her.

You read
that fucking article, Mum.

Thanks to her, everyone will think
I'm a fucking psychopath! Right?

No, but you are a chef,
so it's easy to confuse the two.

Yeah, they will. Your name is mud.

Dulce. Mate. You need to call time
on this bullshit.

Clear my name. Make a statement.

You'll do that, absolutely.
Won't you, sexy?

Ah, well, yeah. Um... Well, it's, um...

Um... Unfortunately,
what Collins wants to say is that

we can't, in the position that we're in,

comment at this juncture
of this point of the...

So, toorah, let's go.

- What the fuck!
- Dulcie!

Fucking hell!
That was an emotional bloodbath.

Let's go out on that boat search.

It'll snap you out of this.

You're too tall to have a breakdown.
You'll look like a sad air dancer.

What are these texts from Abby?

A green bag.

No, not a sage.
More vibrant than that.

Oi!

Whities!

What's fucking going on here?

Why aren't you out
searching for a fucking kill-room?

Uh, I can answer that.

The search is off 'cause apparently
no-one coming from the north

could have used the Settler Highway
the morning that Jimmy died.

Why not?

Well, Mona from the servo said that
a lolly truck went over on a hairpin.

Blocked the whole road with
20 tonnes of Chupa Chups and Sour Worms

for the whole morning.

Spearmint leaf?

Are you fucking shitting me?

Really? A spearmint fucking leaf?
Pass me that box.

OK, alright,
so the north is out.

Any coast south of Deadloch
within our 90-minute radius

is just vertical cliff-face.

There's nowhere to park a boat.

Moor. Moor the boat.

- OK, we are missing something.
- Yeah.

She must be getting back there
some other way.

Yeah, or she's Bermuda Triangleing us

'cause there is no place to hide
a fucking kill-room boat

unless you involve another dimension.

Sven, how did forensics go

with the soil matching the red stain
on the Loch Nessie?

Well, I delegated that to Abby.

- What? Sven, she's been poisoned!
- She's fucked, mate!

She said she wanted to do it!

She sent me a voice-to-text about it,

like, thinking
she was sending it to you.

Look! There you go.

The bite sitting in our car.
It's sitting in our car. Our car.

- What?
- Our car.

Our car. What is that?

It doesn't understand our accents.

That beach is fucking red, isn't it?

- Where is that?
- Oh, that's Carruthers Island.

- Ochre.
- Huh?

Ochre. The boat is sitting in ochre.

And why
the name "Pademelons"?

Well, pademelons feed their babies
to predators to save themselves.

I did not know that.

Yeah, they're cute
but they're cut-throat.

Just like our footy team's going to be.

And that's why I want to
give you the opportunity

to get on the ground floor with us

by becoming our first ever
major sponsor, Margie.

Initial amount TBC,
but I'm thinking 100K?

- Oh, is that all?
- Yeah.

Now, Margie, you know how
you're bankrolling a Palawa woman,

- my cousin here...
- It's...

It's not just a cash injection, darling.

I mean, my girls are my family.

Yeah, awesome, because
the Captain of this team,

she's Palawa, too, on her mum's side,

and Paakantji-Wiradjuri
on her dad's side.

You know, she's a superstar!

She's hot, she's got good hair,
she can sing well.

- Talking about herself.
- Yeah, I figured that, darling.

What do you say, Mrs Carruthers?

We'll name a hyperbaric chamber
after you.

Oh, Tammy...

I just... I love your passion.

But I'm not in a position
to take on more charitable projects.

But why don't you apply for next year's
academic scholarship, hmm?

How are your grades?

They're not as good as my kick, Miss.

Well, unfortunately that scholarship

is designed to set up pathways
for exceptional young ladies

like our Miranda here.

Tammy is exceptional.

Yes, but if I help Tammy,
then another girl like you,

maybe even another Palawa girl,

who's really trying,
who really deserves it,

she wouldn't receive my help,
you understand?

No, I don't understand.

Yeah, aren't you rich? Can't you just
sell another haunted painting

and help out more than one nerd?

I'm sorry. I know it wasn't
what you were hoping for.

But sometimes, trust me,

the best thing for one person
to say to another person is no.

But, Margaret...

It's fine, darling.

Maybe next time warn me
before you bring the family over.

My house is beginning to feel like
a drop-in centre.

Take some spiced lard. I have tonnes.

Dulcie, darling! Of course!

No, I'll escort you there myself.

What the fuck is spiced lard?

You don't like boats too much,
do you, Collins?

They don't really like me.

I once...

put a ferry out of commission
for a month.

I love boats. I've got a ripper
little speedboat up in Darwin.

Oh, yeah? That's so great.

Can you please
never invite me on that, ever?

I won't be going out on that
for a while.

Why not?

Bushy died on it.

Ah, right, OK. Well, that'd...

Yeah, that would colour things,
wouldn't it?

Um, do you want to talk to me
about that, with you?

We just did. That's enough.

Thanks for escorting us out,
Madame Carruthers.

My pleasure, darling.

Can you just make sure that
everyone stays on the path, OK?

The terrain around here,
it's very dangerous.

How do we get to
the cemetery up there?

Oh, that's off-limits, I'm afraid.

- Why?
- Tiger snakes.

You know, they've been left to
their own devices for far too long.

They're huge, aggressive,
completely unfazed by the weather.

They've really made having sex with
their cousins work for them.

OK, well, we'll...
we'll make sure we stick to the shore.

- Excuse me.
- Good-o.

I'll stay put here and try not to
antagonise Kevin, if he shows up.

The seal?

Yes! He thinks
this island belongs to him.

He's one of many.

- Are you OK?
- Can you just...

I don't want you to ask me that
because you ask me that

and it just makes everything
so much worse for me, so...

Abby, where's the ochre beach?

Fay said it was on the northwest coast.

She drew a map for me, actually.

Those are tissues.

- Those are tissues.
- OK, yeah.

Abby, how long till
the poison's out of your system?

Only a few more hours,

but the ER doctor said that
I'll be pissing arsenic for weeks.

Killer dike!

Not you, your mum!

Yeah, that's good C-Dog.
Pump it!

Stop calling me C-Dog!

One more, bro.

Hey, guys, how's it going?

The fuck are you doing here?

I saw in the group chat you guys
were here, so I came to pump it.

You didn't kick him out
of the group chat?

- I'm not the admin.
- Well, who's the fucking admin, then?

- It's Ronny.
- Where the fuck is he?

He's at the orthodontist.
He's getting his braces tightened.

Oi. Oi!

His Mum is a fucking man-killer!

Fuck, Hunter. Chill out!

His Mum killed fucking Trent!

- And Gavin.
- I know.

- And fucking Sam and Jimmy and some other fucking bloke.
- I know she did.

- Hunter!
- She's a man-hating bitch killer.

Yeah, every chick in this town's
a man-hating bitch, bro.

My mum's a bitch, Ronny's mum's a bitch.

Callum's mum's a fucking bitch.

She just doesn't like sleepovers
on school nights, man.

Our nans are bitches, our teachers.

The canteen lady that banned hotdogs,
she's a bitch.

And Tammy!

Tammy's the biggest fucking bitch
of all, isn't she?

Yeah. She is.

Yeah, she fucking took
Luke Caddy from us.

Shut up about fucking Luke Caddy.

Luke Caddy was Trent's mate.
He's our recruiter.

That fucking dyke bitch
needs to be stopped.

Yeah.

Two-Mums, I've got a job for ya.

So, hang on, Abby,
you... you thought that Jimmy's crucifix

was made from the Loch Nessie mast?

- I know it's crazy, ma'am...
- No, Abby, that is not at all crazy.

Serial killers want to show
how clever they are

to literally everyone.

Thank you for saying that.
That's actually incredibly validating.

James said I was out of my mind.

Well, you are not, Abby.
You are entirely in your mind.

But the mast is in the lock-up, yes?

Yeah, James says it's at the lab.

Hello, kill-room.

Abby, call forensics.

Yes, ma'am.

- Fuck her.
- Tamara, language!

Nah, I don't need that racist lady,
not with a left foot like this.

That football damages
Aunty Joy's beanie stand

and I'll be cancelling
that Fortnite subscription.

It's called a battle pass,
and we use Tom's.

Well, I'll be getting Tom
to change the password, then.

Good luck trying to get hold of him,
'cause he has ghosted us.

You been holding that for an hour.
You wanna put it down?

It's just...

Why does Margaret Carruthers
get to decide who deserves what?

She doesn't know better than us
about what we need.

She just knows how to jar beef fat.

I know her money could help me,
but the way she talked about Tammy...

The thought of going to that school
of hers just makes me feel... sick.

And it's not just because
the uniform looks like diarrhoea.

Bub, that sick feeling?

You listen to it.

That's our ancestors.

That's thousands of years of wisdom

telling you it ain't worth
your integrity as an Aboriginal woman.

No money and fancy school
with a wellness centre's worth it.

You don't need a leg-up from her.
You got two legs.

Put one foot in front of the other,

and you'll make a life for yourself
you can be proud of, bub.

O... K.

Hey, Mum, how fast do you reckon
Aunty Joy could knit?

The recruiter's coming in
a couple of days,

and I need, like, 18 footy jumpers.

Hi.

Hello, ghost dog.

Your new mates dumped you, did they?

You wanna stay for a feed?

Sorry, James, the reception's
really bad out here.

I'm just getting to higher ground.

We need forensics out here.

- Babe, the celebrant?
- No, I haven't found one.

Abby, Abby, you need to
pick up the slack on your end, yeah?

We're getting married in a week.

Actually, James, I think we need to
cancel the wedding.

Oh, my God,
I am so relieved you said that.

Really?

Yeah, there is way too much
going on right now, babe.

We absolutely need to
postpone the wedding.

Postpone? No, James...

I'll be honest, Abs,
I need a break, yeah?

I mean, his investigation has been
entirely about what you need

and I don't think you actually realise,

but it's taken a huge toll on me.
I mean...

...if you don't prioritise me,

and I don't prioritise me,

then who prioritises me, Abby?
"No-one" is the answer.

- I don't want to postpone the wedding, James!
- And I deserve better.

I'm breaking up with you!

- What are you doing here, sweetheart?
- Um...

I said this was off-limits, darling.

- I'm sorry Mrs Carruthers.
- It's like Medusa's head up here.

Yeah.

- You'd better get back down
before you get bitten. - OK.

- Off you go. Come on.
- Yes. Yes, ma'am. Sorry.

No, no, it's fine. It's fine.

Be careful on the steps down.
They can be awfully slippery.

OK.

This is a good-looking boat.

What happens to this
when it's not a crime scene anymore?

Perhaps une certain member
of the force

gets a "fucking good job"
boat bonus, yeah?

- Detective.
- What is it?

- Gimme a boost.
- What? No.

- Come on, I'll put it right back.
- Don't... You can't... Ugh.

Just come on. Come on.
One, two, three, go.

Ah, yep. Ah, hang on. I've got it.

- Put me down. Fuck! My cooch!
- OK.

- Jesus Christ, drop me!
- Alright!

Fucking hell!

That's Jimmy's jacket.

Yeah.

Need to run that against your mate's
DNA. See if it's a matchy-match.

What's that look?

Why do you look like
a dead dog right now?

This doesn't feel right.
This isn't right.

No! Don't fucking choke on me now.

Why would Skye carelessly leave
Jimmy's jacket on board?

That is inconsistent with
how fastidiously

she planned and executed
the other murders.

It's also inconsistent
with her chronic perfectionism.

So she dropped the ball.

So what? She's got a fucking
punishing murder schedule.

No, Skye is relentlessly inflexible,
uptight, anally retentive.

I know this, because it's what
drew me to her as a friend.

Listen, mate, I know you don't want to

fucking shit on your nice life
here in Deadloch

but your fucking
paddock-to-pussy chef mate

should have thought about that

before she started
cutting blokes' tongues out, OK?

She's the one who's
fucked this up, not you.

Collins, she is mooring the boat here

and then she is
swimming back to Deadloch

like a fucking... like a murder eel, OK?

We saw it in that cookbook -

she did it when she was a kid
and she's doing it again now.

Ma'ams? I think Jimmy had
an ad for this boat in his meat locker.

That's the Windbreaker.

That's Rachel Haddick's boat.
She was selling it.

That's the fucking Windbreaker.

That's the effing Windbreaker.

Ma'ams, I think it's the Windbreaker.

Yes, Abby,
that's just what we said.

- That's what we just said.
- Where did you get that from?

- Sorry, I couldn't hear.
- OK.

Yeah, used to be Geoff's boat.

It's been on the market for months,
though. No-one wanted it.

Probably because of Geoff
and him setting fire to the farmhouse.

- Trying to kill me.
- Mmm.

So you didn't sell the Windbreaker?

Oh, no, we did. Three days ago.

That's how we got the camper.

We're going off around Australia,

doing waterfall to waterfall before
climate change dries everything up.

You and Cath putting in the offer on the
hobby farm was such good timing, Dulce.

You know they've upgraded

the glow worm trail
at Mount Mountain Park?

Sorry, Cath put in an offer?

Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, lesbians,
fucking glow worms, blah, blah, blah.

Who'd you sell the boat to?

I think he said his name was James.

No, it was Jimmy.

You know, the one who
masturbates outside choir.

- Wait, wait, Jimmy... Jimmy Cook?
- Yeah.

Who was murdered yesterday morning?

He was murdered? Oh, my God!

We had no idea. We have been
so absorbed in the camper trailer.

It has soft-closing drawers.
Do you want to have a look?

How the fuck could Jimmy afford
a $12,000 boat?

He was on the bones of his arse.

Hang on, did you say $12,000 dollars?

Gosh, Lainey, now you've got me worried.

Well, check the net banking.

Did the bank transfer go through?

Rachel, who paid for the boat?

Nah, that can't be right.

Who is it?

Skye.

"Skye Anne O'Dwyer."

Anne? I didn't know
her middle name was Anne.

It's a terrible middle name.

Thank you so much to

all the patrons who
made it out here this evening.

Unfortunately some of our ticket holders
couldn't make it.

Perhaps they're all at the hospital

recovering from
a car accident they manifested

'cause they just needed a little break
from... all the shit.

Anyway, the Deadloch Winter Feastival

is very proud to premiere
a new filmic artwork.

It's by local filmmaker, Joan Lamont.

It is called Poseidon's Uterus.

It's an ode to water
and the divine feminine.

And it goes for four hours.

Fuck my arse, Joan. Really?

So, Nance, just wondering
if you saw anyone at the info booth

dropping off chains and hooks?

Yeah, in a green bag.

Yes, I know it was unmanned.
I was stuck in the toilet.

No, my pelvic floor is fine,
thanks, Nance.

I get rave reviews, trust me.

Hello, Detective Collins' phone.

- Hello, Mrs Carruthers.
- You know what I'm talking about.

- Ooh!
- OK. I'll come in the morning.

Sure. Now is good too.

Aleyna wanted to borrow this
for the outdoor cinema.

I said absolutely not.

I'm not having some mainland straights

fart all over
my $400 self-inflating mattress,

thank you very much.

Skye.

I'm making us $200 Iberico ham toasties.

It's not like
the restaurant's gonna want it.

Skye...

How much do you reckon we'll get
for the wine in the cellar?

I mean, maybe I should just
fucking drink it all at once.

- Take my liver for a spin...
- Skye!

The night of
Jimmy Cook's murder...

...I told the police that
you were in bed all night.

But at 12:30, when I got up to wee,
you weren't there.

So I checked the whole place,
and you weren't anywhere.

So?

So you lied. You don't have
an alibi for Jimmy Cook's murder.

Nadiyah, fucking get off it!

You lied to the police, Skye.

You have never talked about your Dad.
Tom has never met his Grandad.

And you don't talk to me about anything

except how much you hate this town
and all of the men in it,

particularly the Lathams.

And ever since Trent was murdered

you and your Mum

have been creeping around like
you're the fucking Hamburglar twins.

What am I supposed to think?

Do you have anything to say to me?

- Also, I'm pregnant. And, um...
- What?

I cannot be
committed to this relationship

if you are a serial killer.

- I'm fine with just a doona, love.
- No, no, no, Vic.

I refuse to believe
we've got 10 bottom sheets

and zero bloody top sheets.

Oh, sexy! You said you'd be
working late tonight.

Skye.

We need to talk to you.

Ah, Dulce, now is not a good time, mate.

This isn't a request.

Interview of Skye O'Dwyer,
commencing at 7:12pm.

You can't interview her like this.
She's been drinking.

Yes, we can, Cath. It's not illegal.

And no judge will accept
her testimony, Dulcie.

That's a problem for
another day, Cath.

Alright, what can you
tell us about this?

Well, Detective,
that's what you call a boat.

Great start! Great start.

Nothin' else?

- Nuh.
- Really?

Because you deposited
$12,000 into Rachel Haddick's account

to pay for this boat.

We also know
you spent $12,000 on something

and wouldn't tell Nadiyah
what that something was.

- Dulcie, I told you that in confidence.
- Cath!

We found this boat at Carruthers Island.

And on board was a jacket
belonging to Jimmy Cook.

He was wearing it the night
he was murdered

and we just got told
it's absolutely covered in your DNA.

Skye, did you buy this boat
and murder Jimmy on board?

What?

Did you buy this boat
and use it as a kill-room

because you set fire to the Nessie
when you found out that we were onto it?

No! Dulce, that is not my boat.

Then whose boat is it, Skye?

It's Jimmy's boat. I bought it for him.

Why the hell would you
buy Jimmy Cook a boat?

Because he was blackmailing me.

So that's why the DNA
is all over his jacket,

because I roughed him up
when I paid him off.

Why was he blackmailing you? Hey?

Did he find out about you
and those dead blokes?

Skye, did you know
about your Dad's affairs?

Is that why you killed him?

Dulcie!

Thank you for coming so late, Abby.

That's OK.

Here it is.

I know this is Miranda's earring,

which means she's been
trespassing on my land.

Oh, I'm sure it was a misunderstanding.

But I can talk to her if you want me to.

Would you?

I think a visit from the police
might give her the little start

she needs to behave,

before she goes the way of her aunt,
and that cousin of hers.

Um, I'll have a chat to her, then.

Oh, you are a dear. Thank you.

Um, is it OK if I hold onto
this earring, just for evidence?

Oh, of course. You'll need that.

Yeah.

- Off you go.
- Oh, OK.

- Thank you, Mrs Carruthers.
- Thank you.

- Take some spiced lard!
- Oh. Yeah.

- It's lovely.
- Um...

Take two. I have heaps.

- Oh! Thank you.
- Mmm.

Let's talk about your old mates,
Trent and Gavin Latham.

Must have been pretty rough for you
at the footy club,

being the only girl on the team
amongst all those homophobes.

Seen the graffiti around town about ya.

- It's pretty anti-lesbian.
- Fuck!

You uncovered my big secret.

I was a closeted gay kid
in a homophobic country town

and it didn't go well for me,
and that made me do murders!

You two are good!

Skye, why did you stay away
from Deadloch all those years?

Because when Vanessa outed me,

Trent and his fucking footy boys
bullied the shit out of me,

and then the adults,

including Rod Dixon and my own Dad
got involved.

So, yeah, you bet
I stayed the fuck away.

And then a year ago you came back.

Yeah.

I just thought, fuck it.

I've just as much right to be here
as those dickturds.

Mm-hm. Made your triumphant return
after 22 years.

Yeah.

- Hadn't stepped foot back before then?
- Nope.

What's that?

I can't see what it says.
I forgot my glasses.

It's a speeding fine
given out by Mike Nugent

to Skye Anne O'Dwyer
on June 10th, 2017.

Oh, OK.

So Skye was back for a day.
Jesus, Dulce!

June 10th 2017 was the night
Sam O'Dwyer was murdered.

Mate...

You told me you were in Sydney, Skye.

You have repeatedly lied to me...

None of this is
what you think it is, mate!

Then what is it, mate?
Just tell me, mate!

Skye, as your lawyer,
I suggest you don't say anything.

Cath, no, I've had a gutful.

- You want to know?
- Mm-hm.

Vanessa was right.
I did hate all those men.

My Dad was a cunt.
So was Rod Dixon, Trent, Gavin.

They made
this little lesbian's life hell.

And you know what?
I'm fucking stoked they're dead.

I am!

But I didn't kill them. I didn't.

Because it turns out it is possible
to hate someone

and want them dead
with every inch of your fucking being

and not fucking murder them!

Then why did you come back to Deadloch
the night your Dad died?

No comment.

I mean, you can be really angry
and not kill. That's true, isn't it?

Oh, yeah, yeah.
Heaps of people don't kill.

Yeah, exactly. I agree with that.
So, you know, maybe she didn't do it.

- OK
- OK, OK.

But she came back to Deadloch
that night,

something happened,
and she's not telling us the truth.

Yep. And whatever she did,
Jimmy knew about it.

Yeah, yeah.
And now he's dead, isn't he, so...

Ooh, yeah, yeah. Nah, he's dead.
He is very dead.

Yeah.

I'm going to go home and check on
Nadiyah, Vic and Tom.

They'll be out of their minds
'cause Skye's behind bars in a lock-up

with only one roll of toilet paper.

- Cath, I... - Can I just have a private word
with Dulcie please, Eddie?

I know you're partners at work,
but we're still partners in life.

Yep, no worries. I'll just...

- Chookas.
- Yeah.

OK.

Oh!

Fucking spearmint leaves.

Hey, Eddie.

Um, have you seen Cath?
I've been trying to call her.

Ah, yeah, she's, uh...
back at the station.

But I'd give her a wide berth.
She's... raring for a fight.

She's like one of them
frill-neck lizards doing one of these...

Agh!

- You know?
- OK.

Um...

Probably don't need to see her anyway.
It's a bit beyond that now. Um...

Lou's dead.

Oh, fuck!

Not another one.

Ugh! Who's Lou?

One of them fucking
salty sea-dog fishermen

with the gold teeth down on the water...

Lou's my donkey.

- Oh, that's not... That's shit.
- Yeah, it is.

She was my best friend.

Oh, no.

- Um...
- Are you OK?

Um, see...

the thing is, Ray Pies, um...

I don't have a best friend,

because, um,

my best friend died, too.

Did he? Oh, no.

Yeah, my best friend died,
and your donkey died,

and... and all the good ones die,
Ray Pies.

- I know!
- So... Yeah.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

Can I, um, can I
come home with you, Ray Pies?

I think... I think I need a gruck.

- I'd really like that, yeah.
- Yeah. OK.

- What's a gruck?
- It's a grief-fuck, mate.

- OK.
- Yeah. Right.

- Hop in.
- OK.

Yeah.

Thank you to my family, my team mates...

...Luke Caddy,
for always believing in me...

...the Brownlows...

My beautiful wife, Kehlani.

I would not like to thank...

...Margaret Carruthers,
because she is a racist dog.

And, of course...

...I would like to thank you,
beautiful sports drink bong,

for giving me the opportunity to
smoke weed one last time

before I go pro.

You know, I knew
there'd be water in this,

but, if I'm honest, I wasn't expecting
to see so much of Joan's breasts.

I'm not watching it, Gez.
Checking emails.

Amanda Palmer's just officially
pulled the pin, that absolute skank.

What, is that it?

- A very jarring ending.
- What the hell?

- No. - We demand
that Mayor Rahme cancel the Feastival.

Five men are dead.

Enough is enough.
Cease the Feast.

- That's right. Louder.
- Cease the Feast.

- Louder, louder! Cease the Feast!
- Cease the Feast!

Cease the Feast!
Cease the Feast!

"Cease the Feast."
Take me back to shore.

- Get me back there, Gez.
- I don't have an oar.

Why don't you have any oars?

All the men in my life are dead!

- Shuffle.
- Shuffle.

Shuffle.

Over the past five years,
I've worked so hard

at trying to stop the narrative
in my head

that tells me that you don't love me.

Cath, I...

Your behaviour lately
is making it really hard

for me to believe that you actually
care about our relationship, Dulcie,

about our dogs, about our life
in Deadloch, about our friends.

I mean, you've completely ruined
our friendship with Skye.

Bringing up all of that stuff
about her dad and the affairs...

OK, I didn't... I didn't bring it up.

- What did you say?
- You ruined our friendship with Skye.

No, not that, not that.
The bit before that.

I mean, did you know that
Sam was cheating?

Did you know that
Skye knew about the cheating?

- Well, yeah, I suppose.
- Cath!

We're dealing with a serial killer here,

one whose... whose killing spree
started with Sam's murder.

You didn't think that that might be,

I don't know, just...
just useful information to tell me?

Well, it's not my story to tell.

I...

I don't know why you're upset at me.
These are my friends!

This is my life you're messing up.

Yeah, it is.
That is right, it is your life.

All of this, this is your life.

You decide where we live, what we eat,

when we put a deposit down
on a hobby farm.

I know about that, by the way.

You decide what... what pets we have.

I didn't want a new dog!

And you know what else?
I don't want to run a damn dog motel.

Let's not say insane things
we can't take back.

No. No, I think it's a silly idea

and it's a useless contribution
to the world.

And here's another one -
this is a... a really big one.

I love being a detective.

And the only reason that I quit is
because you guilted me into it.

In fact, you know what, Cath,
our entire life here

is built around you guilting me
into giving you what you want,

into living this life - your life -

that is making me really unhappy.

- You're unhappy?
- Yes!

How am I supposed to know that?

How am I meant to know if you're unhappy

if you just... just put everything
into your vault of repression?

You don't tell me that you're unhappy.

You could ask.

What do you want to do, then?

I mean, move back to Sydney
where we were stressed,

and fighting and everything was uphill?

No. No.

What do you want, then, Dulcie,
if it's not this?

Like, if it's not this life

that I created thinking it was
what we both wanted,

what the fuck do you want?

- What are you doing?
- When was this photo taken?

June 10th, 2017.

The night Sam died.

Cath...

Did you know that Skye
came back to Deadloch

the night of her Dad's disappearance?

Cath.

Look...

Are you kidding me?

Maybe you'd have
remembered the date earlier, Dulcie,

if you were at home babysitting Tom
with me that weekend

instead of fucking some other woman
in a work shower!

Senior Sergeant!

Not now, Ken!

I just wanted to see
if you're finished with that bag?

The green one
I dropped at the info booth.

I need it for tomorrow's shop.

Don't you dare go out there.

It's just a job, Dulcie.

Mm-hm.

Yeah, but if I don't do my job,
more people will die, so...

Right now, my job's
more important than us, Cath.

It's more important than you.

Those bags cost 90 cents, Dulcie,
and I'd like it back.

Ken, did you find the hooks and chains?

Yeah, on the beach,
with my metal detector.

After they cleaned up
Jimmy's crime scene.

Sorry! Sorry, did you say
"after" it was cleaned up?

That's right, they were just there
on the rocks.

Someone planted it.

I didn't see any plants there.

I suppose seaweed's a type of plant.

- Aleyna.
- Vanessa Latham has lost it.

I need you to get down here, Dulcie,

because my Cinema Aquatica
is under attack.

Is this your joint?

Did friendly fucking forest creatures
build it for you or something?

It's just what rentals
look like here.

Hey, um, hang on a sec.

Before we go inside
your perfect little...

...gingerbread man house...

...I need to say some stuff.

OK.

I'm... I'm...

I'm no good, Ray Pies.

I know you've got the horn for me,
and that is understandable,

because of this hair and these titties,

but your dickie needs to know
what he's getting himself into.

OK.

If your dickie wants to go on
fucking tandem bike rides,

and leave love letters in lunchboxes,

and, you know, eat bird-shit muesli...

- Do you mean bircher muesli?
- Yeah, whatever.

If that's something that your dickie is
into, then...

then tell him to go somewhere else.

I'm not good with nice things, Ray Pies.

'Cause when I get 'em, I just...

...I break 'em.

Eddie, why are you saying this?

'Cause I fucked up.

And now Bushy's gone and everyone
in fucking Darwin fucking hates me

and I... I've got nowhere.

I've got nothing, Ray Pies.

So, you know, I understand if... if...

if you want me to go now as well,
I'll just... I'll go sleep in a bush

or I'll fight a wombat for its burrow,
or whatever.

Eddie, look... Hey! Look...

Nobody's perfect.

We've all done things
we're not proud of.

I've made some mistakes with women

and I've had some
pretty weird interests.

When I first moved to Sydney,

I played in a ska-funk-Latin band
called Dog Kingdom

and... we were all white.

With dreadlocks?

Some.

- Off!
- I know.

But the point is...

everybody deserves a chance
to reinvent themselves, right?

So maybe it's time to forgive yourself

let go of the past,

start over and do it better this time.

Are we gonna kiss now? Is that...

The fuck's going on over there?

Holy shit!

Is this...

alien UFO...?

No, it's the aurora australis.

- What?
- Southern Lights.

Who?

Well, there's...

I think there's, like, magnets
on the sun, I think...

No, or it's, um... wind on the sun

that hits magnets on the earth

and then maybe...
something in and around that.

It's so fucking beautiful here.

You're so fucking beautiful here.

Sorry.

- Sorry.
- It's OK.

Oh.

Agh... OK. Mmm!

Check it out. Landscape mode.

Fucking pound it, Ray Pies.

Bravo, Phil!

Let it go, boys!

Don't even get paid for this.
It's a volunteer position!

Move it!

Get this shark off my face!

- Give me back my lobster!
- You don't deserve lobster!

Alright, break it up!

Vanessa, let go.

Let go! Aleyna, drop it!

Drop it! Drop it!

- I can't swim!
- Vanessa!

Help! Help, help!

Take my hand!

Stop!

Just stop hitting me!
I'm trying to help you!

Oh, my God!

They're dead bodies!

♪ Thrown like a star in my vast sleep ♪

♪ I opened my eyes to take a peek ♪

♪ To find that I was by the sea ♪

♪ Gazing with tranquility ♪

♪ 'Tis then when the hurdy gurdy man ♪

♪ Comes singing songs of love ♪

♪ Then when the hurdy gurdy man ♪

♪ Comes singing songs ♪
♪ Singing songs ♪

♪ Of love ♪ ♪