Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries (2012–…): Season 2, Episode 13 - Murder Under the Mistletoe - full transcript
Phryne, Dot, Aunt Pru and Dr. Mac head off to the mountains for Christmas in July and a bit of skiing. They arrive at their lodge to learn that Len Fowler had died that morning, electrocuted while stringing lights on the Christmas tree. While everyone else thinks it's an accident Phryne suspects murder, something that proves correct when Vera and Nicholas Mortimer are murdered. Phryne believes it all relates to an accident at a nearby mine a decade ago - and it soon becomes obvious the killer plans on doing in everyone in the lodge.
(The Twelve Days of Christmas plays)
MAN: ♪ On the first day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ A partridge in a pear tree
WOMAN: ♪ On the second day
of Christmas
♪ My true love sent to me
♪ Two turtle-doves
and a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the third day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
BOTH: ♪ And a partridge
in a pear tree
♪ On the fourth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Four calling birds
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
BOTH: ♪ And a partridge
in a pear tree
♪ On the fifth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Five golden rings
♪ Five golden rings
♪ Four calling birds
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
BOTH: ♪ And a partridge
in a pear tree
♪ On the sixth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Six geese a-laying... ♪
(Door creaks)
♪ Five golden rings
♪ Five golden rings
♪ Four calling birds
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
BOTH: ♪ And a partridge
in a pear tree... ♪
(Electricity crackles)
Yarghhh!
♪ And a partridge in a pear tree. ♪
(Record scratching,
electricity zapping)
♪ Theme music
Mac's a marvel on skis.
Aren't you, Mac?
Oh, I must be, if you're impressed.
She was once clocked
going downhill at 30mph.
Oh! 30?!
You should try it, Aunt Prudence.
My own pace will be quite hectic
enough, thank you,
what with organising
Christmas in July
and finalising the sale of the mine.
Nicholas assures me
he's got all the paperwork,
but these things can be complicated.
Nicholas Mortimer was my
late Uncle Edward's business partner.
Junior.
Naturally.
What about you, Dot? Fancy a lesson?
Yes, but where are the brakes?
Why on earth would you want to stop?
But meanwhile, the Alps are calling!
Ooh!
(Mac yodels)
PHRYNE: Here we are.
PRUDENCE: Ooh! My word, it is cold.
(Bell dinging)
PRUDENCE: Yoo-hoo!
We've arrived!
(Wind whistling, clock ticking)
It's awfully quiet.
There's usually someone here
to greet the guests.
(Door opens)
PRUDENCE: Ah, Nicholas.
Prudence, I'm so sorry.
Have you been here long?
This is my niece,
Miss Phryne Fisher.
How do you do?
Phryne, Nicholas Mortimer,
part owner of the Stanley Mine.
And this is my friend Dr MacMillan
and my companion,
Miss Dorothy Williams.
Yes, yes, welcome.
I'm afraid you'll have to forgive
us, we're... we're rather in shock.
Oh?
Len Fowler passed away this morning.
Oh...
Putting up the Christmas tree,
keeled over, fell down the ladder.
Dear Lord!
I... I'm so terribly sorry.
Our condolences.
We're assuming a heart attack,
but we can't get the doctor
up until tomorrow,
so we put his body
in the cool store.
Poor Len.
(Door opens)
How undignified.
MAN: Mrs Stanley!
Oh, Chester!
How is poor Birdie?
Shattered.
She thought Len was fighting fit.
We all did.
PRUDENCE:
Phryne, you've already met Chester.
Of course. You used to manage
the mine for Uncle Edward.
Yes, before we had to
shut things down.
My friend Dr MacMillan
is a physician.
Perhaps she could examine
Mr Fowler for you.
It might comfort Mrs Fowler
to know how he died.
Yes, yes, of course.
Um, I must go to her at once.
She's in her room.
PRUDENCE: Oh, thank you.
It's difficult to determine cause
of death without a full dissection.
Might not go down well
with Len's wife.
Let's start with the extremities.
Holes in the soles of his slippers.
(Sniffs) Burn holes.
And a scorched finger.
Either Len Fowler
was struck by lightning indoors,
or he was electrocuted.
This is a holiday.
Must you find murder everywhere?
Mac.
You know very well murder finds me.
(Thunder rumbling)
Ho, ho, ho!
Oh! (Chuckles)
Merry Christmas.
Quentin Lynch,
Mr Mortimer's secretary.
Miss Fisher?
No. No, I'm Dorothy.
Oh.
We're so sorry about Mr Fowler.
These seem rather inappropriate now.
Oh, thank you.
(Footsteps approaching)
Oh, uh... hello.
You must be Miss Fisher.
I am.
Quentin Lynch. How do you do?
Pleased to meet you.
These are very pretty lights.
Little pears.
Yes, Vera Mortimer
brought those back from Paris.
Huh. There seems to be one missing.
Oh. Perhaps it, uh,
came out somewhere.
Huh. Found it.
Quentin. Have you cleaned the guns
for tomorrow's game shooting?
Uh, not yet, Mr Mortimer.
I'll do that now.
Good man. You'll find the key
on my desk in the room.
Yes, sir.
Oh, I hope you don't mind,
but Chester has put your car
in the garage out of the weather.
How thoughtful.
And he's put your luggage
in your room.
Thank you.
(French accent) Surprise, monsieur!
Miss Jane! Goodness!
We weren't expecting you for days.
C'est moi.
My ship left Marseille early.
She telephoned us to pick her up.
Oh, Jane. The others have gone away.
They're celebrating Christmas
in July in the mountains.
So much for my surprise.
We'd drive you up there, Janie,
but the cab,
she won't take those roads.
Look on the bright side -
you won't have to see your aunty.
All's not lost. We can have
our own Christmas in July.
Lovely, isn't it?
Mine had seven little swans,
just like the carol.
Mrs Fowler must have laid out
the rooms just before Len...
Len Fowler's death
wasn't all it seems, Dot.
While I have a chat to his wife,
why don't you explore?
See if anything strikes you as...
odd.
That won't be very hard, miss.
I gave Birdie Fowler a tonic
to help her sleep.
You didn't happen to ask her
if she knew who might want
to electrocute her husband?
I'll leave that delicate inquiry
to you.
She'll be knocked out
for a good few hours, though.
Never mind. I have other avenues
to investigate in the meantime.
(Thunder rumbling)
(Floorboard creaking)
Oh, Quentin.
Enigmatic, isn't she?
Hello again.
Like the Mona Lisa.
William Wordsworth,
the most romantic of poets.
'She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleaned upon my sight
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair
Like twilight's, too,
her dusky hair.'
Very nice.
Well, um...
(Phone ringing)
Dotty! Thought you were
up in the mountains.
What? In the coolroom?
Have the local police been called?
No-one seems to think it's a problem,
except for Miss Fisher, of course,
who thinks it's a murder.
Murder? Miss Fisher's always right.
Except when she's wrong.
Like when she breaks the law
and when someone more important
is right.
Oh, Hugh, there's something
about this place that scares me.
Anyway, we arrived safely, Hugh,
so goodbye for now.
Hello there.
Happy Christmas in July.
Christmas isn't happy,
any time of the year.
What was that all about?
Miss Fisher's gone
on holiday again, sir.
Oh. Anyone dead yet?
Only one so far, sir.
(Door creaks)
(Creaking)
Nicholas.
Hello there.
Perhaps you could recommend
some reading material.
Oh, well... I don't know
if you might like this.
Wordsworth? It's a little too florid
for my taste.
(Chuckles) Yes, mine also.
But my wife, Vera, adores him.
The artwork not to your taste,
either?
That's a photograph of the miners.
I took it down because
it upset Vera when we arrived.
These are the poor fellows who died
in the Christmas Eve cave-in
of 1919.
Len Fowler took
the photograph, actually,
just before he sent them down
for their last shift.
He was our foreman.
Aunt Prudence never
told me much about it.
That's Ernie Heppenstall,
the union rep.
He was Quentin's uncle.
And beside him,
Mitch Darcy, mine engineer.
He was Vera's first husband.
(Door creaks)
Don't touch that.
Miss Fisher, meet my daughter,
Isobel.
Stepdaughter.
Hello.
Is your mother
back from her walk, Isobel?
I wouldn't tell you if she was.
I am sorry.
I'm afraid this trip has rather
stirred things up for everybody.
I'm sure Len Fowler's death
can't have helped.
Mm.
(Footsteps)
Isobel said you'd gone hunting.
Vera, darling, this is Prudence's
niece, Miss Phryne Fisher.
Miss Fisher, I was looking forward
to meeting you.
How awful the circumstances
are so tragic.
None of us could foresee that.
I hope you'll join us for
pre-dinner drinks, Nicholas and I.
Yes.
Wonderful.
So do you think we'll be leaving
early now, Doctor?
Not a hope in Hades.
Dr MacMillan. Vera.
A pleasure.
I hear you're a keen langlaufer?
I am.
I'm afraid the weather
may not cooperate.
Yes, they're about to close the road
and the storm's here to stay.
I suspect we'll be snowed in
by tomorrow.
Snowed in?
It happens from time to time.
But we have plenty of supplies,
and one another for company.
PRUDENCE: Birdie!
Everyone, Mrs Len Fowler.
I've brought stockings!
It's Christmas in July Eve,
after all.
Dear Birdie,
are you sure you should be up?
I will not lie staring at four
walls. I have to keep busy.
Chester, will you fix the hole
in the henhouse tonight?
I saw another fox this morning.
PRUDENCE: Very beautiful.
Who's Laurie?
Len always hung a stocking
for poor Laurie.
He was a little boy.
The mine's youngest victim.
A child died that day?
He begged his father to let him
go with him for a Christmas treat.
I can assure you, if Edward
had known that he was there,
he would not have allowed it.
Neither would I.
Did nobody else survive the cave-in?
PRUDENCE: Please, Phryne!
It's why Nicholas and I
wish to sell the land and the mine -
to erase those dreadful memories.
Erase the memories?
As if Isobel and I
could ever forget Mitch.
Of course not. I-I'm so sorry...
If you didn't want to forget Dad,
why did you marry Nicholas?
Isobel. He's a good man...
VERA: Excuse me.
I hope you're satisfied, Phryne,
with all your questions.
Aunt P!
I wish to sign the paperwork
with Nicholas and Chester
first thing in the morning.
Leave these poor people
to their grief.
(Breathes deeply)
(Thunder rumbling)
(Phone ringing)
Tu vois?
C'etait benefique,
m'envoyer tout ca, n'est-ce pas?
Let's send you to Istanbul next.
I need to brush up on my Turkish.
I'm so sorry you're there all alone.
It's alright. Bert and Cec
are keeping me entertained.
Just a minute.
CEC: Sore loser.
Hello, miss?
I need you to go to Aunt P's house
and find some documents for me.
Wait up. I'll write it down.
Anything relating to the cave-in
at the Mount Alexandra Mine.
In particular,
look for any references
to Ernie Heppenstall, Len Fowler
or Mitch Darcy.
(Thud!)
(Woman screaming)
Miss Fisher?
She hung up.
PRUDENCE: Oh, no!
My goodness!
PHRYNE: She's gone.
PRUDENCE: Vera!
I saw Nicholas Mortimer
with this book.
Miss... Quentin Lynch
was reading it, too.
He quoted from it.
Oh, this sculpture, it's...
It's Rodin's The Kiss.
In this case, the kiss of death.
(Banging at door)
I'll go. You tell the others.
(Banging continues)
Jack.
Miss Fisher.
Nice of you to drop by.
Dot called. May we come in?
PHRYNE: Of course.
(Both grunt)
They closed the road behind us.
So we may be here
longer than we'd planned.
Vera Mortimer.
So how does a sculpture
just fall off a shelf?
It didn't.
Fishing line was threaded through
a hole in the cover of this book,
and then tied to the sculpture.
So when she took
the book off the shelf,
it brought the sculpture down
with it
and inflicted a fatal blow
to her head.
I don't understand it.
I was doing some paperwork in
my room. How could this happen?
Vera.
God almighty.
You did it, didn't you?
What?
You killed her, you bastard!
(Both grunt)
What the hell
are you talking about?!
You're the one who can't be trusted!
Stop! Stop.
Maybe you should go check on
your daughter, Mr Mortimer.
NICHOLAS: Outrageous!
Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.
Why did you accuse Nicholas Mortimer
of murdering his wife?
He is not the benevolent man
he pretends to be, Inspector.
And where were you when
everyone else was in the parlour?
I was tired.
I fell asleep in my room.
Why would I want to kill Vera? I...
You what? Hm?
How well did you know Vera Mortimer?
Vera and Quentin were lovers.
This was in the back of the book.
'My phantom of delight
My soul cries this wretched night
Leave him without further ado
Or with broken heart
I must leave you.'
Mr Wordsworth seems suddenly
restrained.
So Vera Mortimer was lured
to her death with this love poem?
And both Nicholas and Quentin
knew it was in the Wordsworth book.
So either one of them
could have set up the trip-wire.
Nicholas could have found the poem
and murdered Vera for revenge.
And Quentin murdered her
because of... thwarted love.
That would do it, especially if
it's been thwarted long enough.
(Thunder crashing,
electricity buzzing)
(Wind howling)
The fuse box is in the basement,
but there's no point.
Weather like this,
the whole grid goes down.
(Chickens clucking)
I can see to
the generator in the morning,
but for now, I suggest everyone
retire early to bed.
(Chester hammering)
I don't want anyone taking chances,
so lock your door.
But, Jack, if I lock my door,
nobody could get in.
It's too great a risk, Miss Fisher.
Lock it tight.
Goodnight.
(Chickens clucking, wind howling)
(Rooster crowing)
(Chickens clucking, rooster crowing)
What is it?
What is all the palaver?
(Screams)
Nicholas Mortimer.
The gun didn't leave
much of his face.
I recognise the shoes.
Collins, go inside
and take a statement from Mrs Fowler
and check on the other guests.
Yes, sir.
A Saint-Etienne revolver.
An 1873 Chamelot-Delvigne.
Nicholas was going shooting
this morning.
Quentin Lynch had the key
to the gun cabinet.
Quentin's scarpered.
His room's empty
and his things are gone.
The gun came from here.
(Electricity buzzing)
At least the generator's working.
You're here.
So why have your skis gone missing?
Quentin.
I'll bypass the local bloke
and call the Jamieson Police.
The police will be able to send
backup.
Jack.
Dear God!
Chester said the car engines
have frozen over,
so he can't have escaped by road.
We believe he escaped on skis.
He could be halfway
down the mountain by now.
I'm an experienced langlaufer,
Inspector.
At least let me go
and alert the Jamieson Police.
I think I should go.
No, I don't want anyone
in harm's way.
The conditions
are treacherous out there.
At least with Quentin gone,
nobody else is in danger.
And when the ice has thawed on
the roads, we can widen our search.
We should try to stay busy.
I'll put carols on.
It'll distract us.
Izzie, do you want to help?
Are you insane?
How can you celebrate?
Three people have died,
including my mother.
And my rotten stepdad.
Miss Mortimer.
It's Miss Darcy.
I'm going to my room.
(The Twelve Days of Christmas plays)
MAN: ♪ On the first day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ A partridge in a pear tree... ♪
Turn that off!
Mrs Stanley, I'm sorry.
(Music stops)
Phryne, where did you put
my briefcase?
I need that paperwork signed.
I believe it ended up
in my room, Aunt P.
Well, what use is it there?
(Huffs)
Aunt Prudence, whatever's wrong?
I loathe that song.
But why did you bite
poor Birdie's head off?
Because I've heard it
more times than I care to.
It haunts me.
Just stop, for a moment.
How does it haunt you?
It was that dreadful Christmas Eve.
Edward and I were staying here,
at the chalet.
(Distant singing)
DISTANT VOICES: ♪ Five golden rings
♪ Four calling birds
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
and a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the tenth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Ten lords a-leaping
♪ Nine ladies dancing
♪ Eight maids a-milking... ♪
Edward.
They're singing again.
I swear it.
They're down there, singing
the Twelve Days of Christmas.
Listen.
(Silence)
Oh!
I heard them, Edward.
They're alive, I know it.
Come on, come back to bed.
I'm sure it... it was my mind
playing tricks, but...
Tell me.
I'm perfectly alright.
Thank you.
No need for that.
How can you,
when there are people lying dead
all over, and under, the house?
Izzie.
Isobel.
Someone has to pay the price,
for all of it.
Isobel, you're in shock. Come here.
BIRDIE: (Faintly) Isobel, I didn't
give it to you to cause trouble.
Can't you just leave things be?
What exactly did you mean
'others haven't been punished'?
I don't know
what you're talking about.
PHRYNE: Isobel,
Constable Collins and Miss Williams
heard you say those exact words.
And you believe the kind of people
that lurk behind doors to listen in?
Isobel, please.
We're trying to prevent more murders.
It's too late to prevent
my mother's.
No!
You're all as greedy as each other.
Leave me alone.
Isobel?
Look at all this money.
PHRYNE: Isobel's tried to hide it.
What's that?
Five gold rings.
I found one similar beside my bed.
(Sniffs)
(Bird call)
What?
(Bird call)
(Water splashing)
Agh!
(Gasps)
Prudence! Prudence!
Oh, God. OK.
I've got you.
Somebody pushed me.
I thought I'd surely drown.
But luckily I learned how
to hold my breath as a little girl.
By sheer good fortune,
I kicked over a milk pail
and... and that's when
Dr MacMillan came and...
(Sobs)
Thank God you're alright, Aunt P.
(Sobbing) Oh, Phryne!
I was out there checking langlaufing
conditions when I heard the clatter.
I thought I made it clear
everyone should remain inside.
I'm a doctor. I save lives.
I can't do nothing.
Well, you didn't see the culprit,
did you?
He'd made himself scarce
before I arrived.
No sign of anyone, sir,
but I found this.
Quentin was wearing that.
He's still here.
Why in God's name
does he want me dead?
What have I ever done
to the wretched fellow?
You owned the mine
where his uncle died.
But why now, a decade later?
It doesn't make sense!
Mrs Stanley?
My powders.
In the side pocket.
Aunt Prudence,
where did you get this?
I found it on my pillow
when we arrived.
We need to secure this place.
I think I've just worked out
how all these murders fit together.
PHRYNE: Jack!
Jack! It's the Twelve Days of
Christmas.
A partridge in a pear tree.
Len Fowler was found electrocuted
under a tree that was hung
with pear-shaped lights.
Those lights had been tampered with.
Then, I found these,
in Nicholas and Vera's room.
Two turtle-doves implies lovers.
Vera was killed with a book
of love poetry
and a statue named The Kiss.
Three French hens.
There were three hens in the henhouse
where we found Nicholas
shot with a French revolver.
And four calling birds?
Aunt Prudence heard what she thought
was an injured bird call four times,
and then she was forced,
face down, into a birdbath.
So each victim receives
an unsigned card
and then they receive
an untimely death.
Which means he must be targeting...
Everyone.
I received nine ladies dancing.
And what about Dotty?
Seven swans.
This gathering
was arranged weeks ago.
Our killer knew that there were
going to be ten guests and staff
staying at the chalet.
Yes, but there are twelve days.
There are two police officers
at Jamieson,
but they couldn't get through.
Not even a criminal mastermind
could control the weather.
Luckily you two arrived
to make up the numbers.
You didn't find cards in your rooms?
No.
Collins, check your coat.
Twelve drummers drumming.
Nothing.
Jack.
Ten lords a-leaping.
I've got eleven pipers piping.
I've eight maids a-milking.
He's going after us all one by one!
We're sitting ducks!
Five gold rings.
I tried to warn you all
and now it's too late.
It's not too late.
The house is secured from
top to bottom. Just calm down.
But if he's killing us off
one by one, I'm leaving.
We must all leave.
The roads are frozen.
So are the motor cars.
I'll hike!
And risk being murdered?
What?
Quentin may have arranged us
in neat numbers for now,
but I'm sure if he saw you,
he wouldn't hesitate
to kill out of sequence.
PRUDENCE: Oh, my God.
We need to stay inside.
Especially you, Mrs Stanley.
No doubt he wants to finish the job.
To kill me?
Yes.
Well, supposing he gets inside?
He won't. The chalet's been
completely secured.
Everyone's inside and the doors
and windows are completely locked.
Not everyone. Mac's missing.
CHESTER: Oh, my God.
So is my pistol.
Mac's an experienced
outdoorswoman, Jack.
She's only trying to help.
And risking our lives
in the process?
It's lunacy.
Jack.
Mac!
Oh, God!
Drink this.
Have a drink.
I'll live.
Oh!
I'm afraid I lost your revolver.
Six geese a-laying.
What happened?
I thought I'd go cross-country
to Jamieson.
I saw a sign.
And then someone hit me from behind.
Miss Fisher?
Miss Fisher.
JACK: Looks like fresh timber.
Couldn't be more than
a couple of weeks old.
I thought the mine
was closed ten years ago.
It was.
JACK: Someone's been
down there recently.
Who could it have been?
CHESTER: Must have been Quentin.
Why would Quentin reopen the mine?
Well, I have no idea.
Why would he suddenly
start killing people
to the theme
of the Twelve Days of Christmas?
It beggars belief.
What can you tell me about
the cave-in?
I've never forgiven myself
for not trusting my own opinion.
I didn't want the men
to keep drilling,
but we were getting close
to a new seam of gold
and I was issued with a report
that said the mine was safe.
But it wasn't.
No.
I stay inside when it's cold like
this. I get terrible chilblains...
Would Len have reopened
the mine shaft?
Or Nicholas?
Why are we talking about
a mine shaft?
Shouldn't you be out there trying
to find Quentin,
before he kills us all?
I'm sorry.
With my Len gone
and this madman on the loose,
I can't think straight.
Why don't you ask Chester
about the mine shaft?
The Inspector's with him now.
What did you give Isobel earlier?
Nothing.
I should go to her.
Poor thing, she's lost her mother
and her stepfa...
Birdie.
Did you give Isobel that money?
About six months ago.
Nicholas paid Len and I
to dig some new tunnels,
to get to the gold seam another way.
Go on.
Well, last week,
we came across what was left
of Mitch and Ernie Heppenstall
and those other poor blokes.
Along with a letter in a tin.
JACK: 'We are trapped down here.
Ernie tried to warn the boss
the wall was unstable,
but he refused to listen.
We've hauled young Laurie
up to the top in the basket
to send word that we're still alive,
and we're keeping our spirits up
by singing little Isobel's
favourite Christmas song.'
Did Laurie ever deliver his message?
All we heard was he'd died.
Nothing about the rest of them
being alive.
(Coughs, splutters)
(Continues coughing)
BIRDIE: Later that night,
there was a second collapse.
It sounded like an explosion to me.
And Len noticed
some gelignite was missing.
Are you suggesting
those men were murdered?
(Thunder rumbling)
Did either of you ever inform
my uncle?
No.
Len wasn't sure who was responsible.
He was scared of losing his job.
I'm not proud of what we did.
But we've been doing it tough.
Len threatened to tell Mrs Stanley
we'd found the gold seam
if Nicholas didn't let us
take half for ourselves.
And then Isobel
tried to blackmail him
about the past with her letter.
That £200.
Nicholas gave it to you?
Mother and I deserved that money.
Father died down there that day
when he could have been saved.
(Thunder rumbling)
Mitch Darcy and the other men
lived through the first cave-in.
You did hear singing.
I thought I was imagining things.
The first collapse
trapped the miners.
But it was the second one,
perhaps deliberate,
which killed them
and guaranteed their silence.
Did Uncle Edward ever mention
young Laurie delivering a message?
No, he certainly did not!
Edward might have had to
rely on others
to judge the condition of the mine,
but if the boy had said something
to him, he would have told me.
Your uncle was
a fine and decent man.
I'm sorry, Aunt P.
I know you adored him.
But the mine was struggling
and Uncle Edward had to
keep things to schedule.
Maybe he became desperate.
(Woman screaming)
DOT: Miss! Miss!
It's Birdie!
I just found her!
Eight maids a-milking.
Birdie! No!
The cocoa was poisoned.
He's inside the house.
Inside? We must get out!
Miss, we have to go.
No, if we leave now,
we'll perish from exposure.
Collins, get a gun from the cabinet.
Search the reading room
from top to bottom.
Once you know it's safe,
get everybody inside
and lock the door.
Come on.
PHRYNE: And find Chester.
How the hell did he get inside?
Oh...
(Distant singing)
Jack, the shafts.
The tunnels must run under the house.
It's the only way Aunt Prudence
could have heard singing.
Aunt Prudence heard the singing
in the kitchen, by the fire.
Somewhere just the other side
of this wall.
Somewhere here.
Feel this.
It's icy.
That's why the room's so cold.
(Door creaks)
You should be in the reading room
with the others.
It's not much more
than a ventilation shaft,
but it must be how Quentin's
getting into the house.
There are other sets of keys around.
Nicholas could have easily
given Quentin access to them.
This one should unlock the hatch.
Jack.
Look at Nicholas's shoes.
Blood.
Ugh...
The toes have been cut off
to fit into Nicholas's shoes.
This isn't Nicholas at all.
It's Quentin Lynch.
So Nicholas is still alive.
And Quentin has been framed
for the murders he didn't commit.
Go and stay with the others,
and let Constable Collins
know we're going into the tunnel.
Hip flask?
Refreshments.
Stay close.
Is that an order, Inspector,
or are you just scared?
Only of you.
It's the new gold seam.
Miss Fisher, come back.
It's a dead end.
It could be a trap...
Jack!
You won't get away with this,
Nicholas.
I believe I already have.
I'm dead, after all, aren't I?
Why did you decide to kill us all?
The gold belongs to me.
And you were prepared to murder
twelve more people to hold onto it.
Well, in the unlikely event
that you can't count,
I haven't actually finished yet.
Nine ladies dancing.
One.
(Gunshot)
(Gunshots)
(Gun clicks)
Police revolvers only hold
six bullets.
Happily, I've come across another.
(Gunshots)
Nine.
(Groans)
(Grunts)
I'm sure you've met
Detective Inspector Jack Robinson?
AUNT PRUDENCE: Why?
Because your husband robbed me
when he closed the mine.
I wasn't going to be robbed again.
CHESTER: I should have guessed.
You've always been obsessed
with the gold.
That's what started
this whole damned tragedy.
You knew the quartz was unstable,
but you made them keep going,
and the wall caved in.
It was an accident.
How could you send
your own men into danger?
That was the least of his crimes.
He could have saved them,
but he chose not to.
What is it, Laurie?
(Coughs)
NICHOLAS: Get the doctor!
They're alive.
What?
(Coughs)
What?
All of them.
Shh.
(Muffled screaming)
It's alright, boy.
It's alright.
EDWARD: The doctor's on his way.
It's too late.
Did the poor lad say anything?
Not a word.
You left my dad there to...
PHRYNE: There's no point, Isobel.
The law will do more with him
than you can.
So Edward knew nothing
of the other miners?
He kept haranguing me
about your hearing
the Twelve Days of Christmas.
So I stole some gelignite
from Len Fowler and blew them up.
Poor Edward was so distressed
that he closed the mine.
Thereby robbing you of the share of
gold you thought was rightly yours.
It was mine!
When I finally found it again
after all these years,
I was not going to be robbed again.
And so you hatched your plan.
Len,
Birdie...
You had reasons to kill them all.
And you were afraid Isobel
had told Vera
so you killed your own wife, too.
PHRYNE: You employed Quentin
because you looked alike,
so you could frame him
for your own crimes
and then disappear
down into the mine tunnels.
Your Twelve Days of Christmas
was an exceptionally cruel jab
at Aunt Prudence.
And the rest of us?
For my own amusement.
MAN: ♪ On the first day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ A partridge in a pear tree
WOMAN:
♪ On the second day of Christmas
♪ My true love sent to me
♪ Two turtle-doves
and a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the third day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Three French hens... ♪
(Laughs)
Under the mistletoe. Kiss! Kiss!
(Mac and Phryne laugh)
(All cheer)
Whoo-hoo!
Ah, dear Jane,
it's so lovely to have you back.
If you insist, Mr Butler.
Dry gin, Mr B.
Just the way I like it.
Thank you, Mr B.
Cheers, Mrs S.
Oh. Oh, merry Christmas.
Aunt Prudence and Bert.
(Chuckling)
Ohh!
I'll be in it if you will.
Ohh...
(All cheer)
(Laughs)
I would have paid admission
to see that.
Miss Fisher and the Inspector.
OTHERS: Ooh...
(Jane giggles)
I'm not sure
that my kisses can be compelled
by sprigs of parasitic greenery.
Hemiparasitic.
Of the genus Viscum.
I'll take your word for it.
(Chuckles)
I think it's time for another song.
Come on, Cec. Deck The Halls!
(Cec clears throat)
♪ Deck the halls
with boughs of holly
ALL: ♪ Fa la la la la, la la la la
♪ 'Tis the season to be jolly
♪ Fa la la la la, la la la la
♪ Don we now our gay apparel
♪ Fa la la, la la la, la la la
♪ Troll the ancient yuletide carol
♪ Fa la la la la, la la la la! ♪
Cheers!
Cheers!
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas, everyone!
♪ Silent Night
MAN: ♪ On the first day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ A partridge in a pear tree
WOMAN: ♪ On the second day
of Christmas
♪ My true love sent to me
♪ Two turtle-doves
and a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the third day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
BOTH: ♪ And a partridge
in a pear tree
♪ On the fourth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Four calling birds
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
BOTH: ♪ And a partridge
in a pear tree
♪ On the fifth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Five golden rings
♪ Five golden rings
♪ Four calling birds
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
BOTH: ♪ And a partridge
in a pear tree
♪ On the sixth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Six geese a-laying... ♪
(Door creaks)
♪ Five golden rings
♪ Five golden rings
♪ Four calling birds
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
BOTH: ♪ And a partridge
in a pear tree... ♪
(Electricity crackles)
Yarghhh!
♪ And a partridge in a pear tree. ♪
(Record scratching,
electricity zapping)
♪ Theme music
Mac's a marvel on skis.
Aren't you, Mac?
Oh, I must be, if you're impressed.
She was once clocked
going downhill at 30mph.
Oh! 30?!
You should try it, Aunt Prudence.
My own pace will be quite hectic
enough, thank you,
what with organising
Christmas in July
and finalising the sale of the mine.
Nicholas assures me
he's got all the paperwork,
but these things can be complicated.
Nicholas Mortimer was my
late Uncle Edward's business partner.
Junior.
Naturally.
What about you, Dot? Fancy a lesson?
Yes, but where are the brakes?
Why on earth would you want to stop?
But meanwhile, the Alps are calling!
Ooh!
(Mac yodels)
PHRYNE: Here we are.
PRUDENCE: Ooh! My word, it is cold.
(Bell dinging)
PRUDENCE: Yoo-hoo!
We've arrived!
(Wind whistling, clock ticking)
It's awfully quiet.
There's usually someone here
to greet the guests.
(Door opens)
PRUDENCE: Ah, Nicholas.
Prudence, I'm so sorry.
Have you been here long?
This is my niece,
Miss Phryne Fisher.
How do you do?
Phryne, Nicholas Mortimer,
part owner of the Stanley Mine.
And this is my friend Dr MacMillan
and my companion,
Miss Dorothy Williams.
Yes, yes, welcome.
I'm afraid you'll have to forgive
us, we're... we're rather in shock.
Oh?
Len Fowler passed away this morning.
Oh...
Putting up the Christmas tree,
keeled over, fell down the ladder.
Dear Lord!
I... I'm so terribly sorry.
Our condolences.
We're assuming a heart attack,
but we can't get the doctor
up until tomorrow,
so we put his body
in the cool store.
Poor Len.
(Door opens)
How undignified.
MAN: Mrs Stanley!
Oh, Chester!
How is poor Birdie?
Shattered.
She thought Len was fighting fit.
We all did.
PRUDENCE:
Phryne, you've already met Chester.
Of course. You used to manage
the mine for Uncle Edward.
Yes, before we had to
shut things down.
My friend Dr MacMillan
is a physician.
Perhaps she could examine
Mr Fowler for you.
It might comfort Mrs Fowler
to know how he died.
Yes, yes, of course.
Um, I must go to her at once.
She's in her room.
PRUDENCE: Oh, thank you.
It's difficult to determine cause
of death without a full dissection.
Might not go down well
with Len's wife.
Let's start with the extremities.
Holes in the soles of his slippers.
(Sniffs) Burn holes.
And a scorched finger.
Either Len Fowler
was struck by lightning indoors,
or he was electrocuted.
This is a holiday.
Must you find murder everywhere?
Mac.
You know very well murder finds me.
(Thunder rumbling)
Ho, ho, ho!
Oh! (Chuckles)
Merry Christmas.
Quentin Lynch,
Mr Mortimer's secretary.
Miss Fisher?
No. No, I'm Dorothy.
Oh.
We're so sorry about Mr Fowler.
These seem rather inappropriate now.
Oh, thank you.
(Footsteps approaching)
Oh, uh... hello.
You must be Miss Fisher.
I am.
Quentin Lynch. How do you do?
Pleased to meet you.
These are very pretty lights.
Little pears.
Yes, Vera Mortimer
brought those back from Paris.
Huh. There seems to be one missing.
Oh. Perhaps it, uh,
came out somewhere.
Huh. Found it.
Quentin. Have you cleaned the guns
for tomorrow's game shooting?
Uh, not yet, Mr Mortimer.
I'll do that now.
Good man. You'll find the key
on my desk in the room.
Yes, sir.
Oh, I hope you don't mind,
but Chester has put your car
in the garage out of the weather.
How thoughtful.
And he's put your luggage
in your room.
Thank you.
(French accent) Surprise, monsieur!
Miss Jane! Goodness!
We weren't expecting you for days.
C'est moi.
My ship left Marseille early.
She telephoned us to pick her up.
Oh, Jane. The others have gone away.
They're celebrating Christmas
in July in the mountains.
So much for my surprise.
We'd drive you up there, Janie,
but the cab,
she won't take those roads.
Look on the bright side -
you won't have to see your aunty.
All's not lost. We can have
our own Christmas in July.
Lovely, isn't it?
Mine had seven little swans,
just like the carol.
Mrs Fowler must have laid out
the rooms just before Len...
Len Fowler's death
wasn't all it seems, Dot.
While I have a chat to his wife,
why don't you explore?
See if anything strikes you as...
odd.
That won't be very hard, miss.
I gave Birdie Fowler a tonic
to help her sleep.
You didn't happen to ask her
if she knew who might want
to electrocute her husband?
I'll leave that delicate inquiry
to you.
She'll be knocked out
for a good few hours, though.
Never mind. I have other avenues
to investigate in the meantime.
(Thunder rumbling)
(Floorboard creaking)
Oh, Quentin.
Enigmatic, isn't she?
Hello again.
Like the Mona Lisa.
William Wordsworth,
the most romantic of poets.
'She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleaned upon my sight
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair
Like twilight's, too,
her dusky hair.'
Very nice.
Well, um...
(Phone ringing)
Dotty! Thought you were
up in the mountains.
What? In the coolroom?
Have the local police been called?
No-one seems to think it's a problem,
except for Miss Fisher, of course,
who thinks it's a murder.
Murder? Miss Fisher's always right.
Except when she's wrong.
Like when she breaks the law
and when someone more important
is right.
Oh, Hugh, there's something
about this place that scares me.
Anyway, we arrived safely, Hugh,
so goodbye for now.
Hello there.
Happy Christmas in July.
Christmas isn't happy,
any time of the year.
What was that all about?
Miss Fisher's gone
on holiday again, sir.
Oh. Anyone dead yet?
Only one so far, sir.
(Door creaks)
(Creaking)
Nicholas.
Hello there.
Perhaps you could recommend
some reading material.
Oh, well... I don't know
if you might like this.
Wordsworth? It's a little too florid
for my taste.
(Chuckles) Yes, mine also.
But my wife, Vera, adores him.
The artwork not to your taste,
either?
That's a photograph of the miners.
I took it down because
it upset Vera when we arrived.
These are the poor fellows who died
in the Christmas Eve cave-in
of 1919.
Len Fowler took
the photograph, actually,
just before he sent them down
for their last shift.
He was our foreman.
Aunt Prudence never
told me much about it.
That's Ernie Heppenstall,
the union rep.
He was Quentin's uncle.
And beside him,
Mitch Darcy, mine engineer.
He was Vera's first husband.
(Door creaks)
Don't touch that.
Miss Fisher, meet my daughter,
Isobel.
Stepdaughter.
Hello.
Is your mother
back from her walk, Isobel?
I wouldn't tell you if she was.
I am sorry.
I'm afraid this trip has rather
stirred things up for everybody.
I'm sure Len Fowler's death
can't have helped.
Mm.
(Footsteps)
Isobel said you'd gone hunting.
Vera, darling, this is Prudence's
niece, Miss Phryne Fisher.
Miss Fisher, I was looking forward
to meeting you.
How awful the circumstances
are so tragic.
None of us could foresee that.
I hope you'll join us for
pre-dinner drinks, Nicholas and I.
Yes.
Wonderful.
So do you think we'll be leaving
early now, Doctor?
Not a hope in Hades.
Dr MacMillan. Vera.
A pleasure.
I hear you're a keen langlaufer?
I am.
I'm afraid the weather
may not cooperate.
Yes, they're about to close the road
and the storm's here to stay.
I suspect we'll be snowed in
by tomorrow.
Snowed in?
It happens from time to time.
But we have plenty of supplies,
and one another for company.
PRUDENCE: Birdie!
Everyone, Mrs Len Fowler.
I've brought stockings!
It's Christmas in July Eve,
after all.
Dear Birdie,
are you sure you should be up?
I will not lie staring at four
walls. I have to keep busy.
Chester, will you fix the hole
in the henhouse tonight?
I saw another fox this morning.
PRUDENCE: Very beautiful.
Who's Laurie?
Len always hung a stocking
for poor Laurie.
He was a little boy.
The mine's youngest victim.
A child died that day?
He begged his father to let him
go with him for a Christmas treat.
I can assure you, if Edward
had known that he was there,
he would not have allowed it.
Neither would I.
Did nobody else survive the cave-in?
PRUDENCE: Please, Phryne!
It's why Nicholas and I
wish to sell the land and the mine -
to erase those dreadful memories.
Erase the memories?
As if Isobel and I
could ever forget Mitch.
Of course not. I-I'm so sorry...
If you didn't want to forget Dad,
why did you marry Nicholas?
Isobel. He's a good man...
VERA: Excuse me.
I hope you're satisfied, Phryne,
with all your questions.
Aunt P!
I wish to sign the paperwork
with Nicholas and Chester
first thing in the morning.
Leave these poor people
to their grief.
(Breathes deeply)
(Thunder rumbling)
(Phone ringing)
Tu vois?
C'etait benefique,
m'envoyer tout ca, n'est-ce pas?
Let's send you to Istanbul next.
I need to brush up on my Turkish.
I'm so sorry you're there all alone.
It's alright. Bert and Cec
are keeping me entertained.
Just a minute.
CEC: Sore loser.
Hello, miss?
I need you to go to Aunt P's house
and find some documents for me.
Wait up. I'll write it down.
Anything relating to the cave-in
at the Mount Alexandra Mine.
In particular,
look for any references
to Ernie Heppenstall, Len Fowler
or Mitch Darcy.
(Thud!)
(Woman screaming)
Miss Fisher?
She hung up.
PRUDENCE: Oh, no!
My goodness!
PHRYNE: She's gone.
PRUDENCE: Vera!
I saw Nicholas Mortimer
with this book.
Miss... Quentin Lynch
was reading it, too.
He quoted from it.
Oh, this sculpture, it's...
It's Rodin's The Kiss.
In this case, the kiss of death.
(Banging at door)
I'll go. You tell the others.
(Banging continues)
Jack.
Miss Fisher.
Nice of you to drop by.
Dot called. May we come in?
PHRYNE: Of course.
(Both grunt)
They closed the road behind us.
So we may be here
longer than we'd planned.
Vera Mortimer.
So how does a sculpture
just fall off a shelf?
It didn't.
Fishing line was threaded through
a hole in the cover of this book,
and then tied to the sculpture.
So when she took
the book off the shelf,
it brought the sculpture down
with it
and inflicted a fatal blow
to her head.
I don't understand it.
I was doing some paperwork in
my room. How could this happen?
Vera.
God almighty.
You did it, didn't you?
What?
You killed her, you bastard!
(Both grunt)
What the hell
are you talking about?!
You're the one who can't be trusted!
Stop! Stop.
Maybe you should go check on
your daughter, Mr Mortimer.
NICHOLAS: Outrageous!
Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.
Why did you accuse Nicholas Mortimer
of murdering his wife?
He is not the benevolent man
he pretends to be, Inspector.
And where were you when
everyone else was in the parlour?
I was tired.
I fell asleep in my room.
Why would I want to kill Vera? I...
You what? Hm?
How well did you know Vera Mortimer?
Vera and Quentin were lovers.
This was in the back of the book.
'My phantom of delight
My soul cries this wretched night
Leave him without further ado
Or with broken heart
I must leave you.'
Mr Wordsworth seems suddenly
restrained.
So Vera Mortimer was lured
to her death with this love poem?
And both Nicholas and Quentin
knew it was in the Wordsworth book.
So either one of them
could have set up the trip-wire.
Nicholas could have found the poem
and murdered Vera for revenge.
And Quentin murdered her
because of... thwarted love.
That would do it, especially if
it's been thwarted long enough.
(Thunder crashing,
electricity buzzing)
(Wind howling)
The fuse box is in the basement,
but there's no point.
Weather like this,
the whole grid goes down.
(Chickens clucking)
I can see to
the generator in the morning,
but for now, I suggest everyone
retire early to bed.
(Chester hammering)
I don't want anyone taking chances,
so lock your door.
But, Jack, if I lock my door,
nobody could get in.
It's too great a risk, Miss Fisher.
Lock it tight.
Goodnight.
(Chickens clucking, wind howling)
(Rooster crowing)
(Chickens clucking, rooster crowing)
What is it?
What is all the palaver?
(Screams)
Nicholas Mortimer.
The gun didn't leave
much of his face.
I recognise the shoes.
Collins, go inside
and take a statement from Mrs Fowler
and check on the other guests.
Yes, sir.
A Saint-Etienne revolver.
An 1873 Chamelot-Delvigne.
Nicholas was going shooting
this morning.
Quentin Lynch had the key
to the gun cabinet.
Quentin's scarpered.
His room's empty
and his things are gone.
The gun came from here.
(Electricity buzzing)
At least the generator's working.
You're here.
So why have your skis gone missing?
Quentin.
I'll bypass the local bloke
and call the Jamieson Police.
The police will be able to send
backup.
Jack.
Dear God!
Chester said the car engines
have frozen over,
so he can't have escaped by road.
We believe he escaped on skis.
He could be halfway
down the mountain by now.
I'm an experienced langlaufer,
Inspector.
At least let me go
and alert the Jamieson Police.
I think I should go.
No, I don't want anyone
in harm's way.
The conditions
are treacherous out there.
At least with Quentin gone,
nobody else is in danger.
And when the ice has thawed on
the roads, we can widen our search.
We should try to stay busy.
I'll put carols on.
It'll distract us.
Izzie, do you want to help?
Are you insane?
How can you celebrate?
Three people have died,
including my mother.
And my rotten stepdad.
Miss Mortimer.
It's Miss Darcy.
I'm going to my room.
(The Twelve Days of Christmas plays)
MAN: ♪ On the first day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ A partridge in a pear tree... ♪
Turn that off!
Mrs Stanley, I'm sorry.
(Music stops)
Phryne, where did you put
my briefcase?
I need that paperwork signed.
I believe it ended up
in my room, Aunt P.
Well, what use is it there?
(Huffs)
Aunt Prudence, whatever's wrong?
I loathe that song.
But why did you bite
poor Birdie's head off?
Because I've heard it
more times than I care to.
It haunts me.
Just stop, for a moment.
How does it haunt you?
It was that dreadful Christmas Eve.
Edward and I were staying here,
at the chalet.
(Distant singing)
DISTANT VOICES: ♪ Five golden rings
♪ Four calling birds
♪ Three French hens
♪ Two turtle-doves
and a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the tenth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Ten lords a-leaping
♪ Nine ladies dancing
♪ Eight maids a-milking... ♪
Edward.
They're singing again.
I swear it.
They're down there, singing
the Twelve Days of Christmas.
Listen.
(Silence)
Oh!
I heard them, Edward.
They're alive, I know it.
Come on, come back to bed.
I'm sure it... it was my mind
playing tricks, but...
Tell me.
I'm perfectly alright.
Thank you.
No need for that.
How can you,
when there are people lying dead
all over, and under, the house?
Izzie.
Isobel.
Someone has to pay the price,
for all of it.
Isobel, you're in shock. Come here.
BIRDIE: (Faintly) Isobel, I didn't
give it to you to cause trouble.
Can't you just leave things be?
What exactly did you mean
'others haven't been punished'?
I don't know
what you're talking about.
PHRYNE: Isobel,
Constable Collins and Miss Williams
heard you say those exact words.
And you believe the kind of people
that lurk behind doors to listen in?
Isobel, please.
We're trying to prevent more murders.
It's too late to prevent
my mother's.
No!
You're all as greedy as each other.
Leave me alone.
Isobel?
Look at all this money.
PHRYNE: Isobel's tried to hide it.
What's that?
Five gold rings.
I found one similar beside my bed.
(Sniffs)
(Bird call)
What?
(Bird call)
(Water splashing)
Agh!
(Gasps)
Prudence! Prudence!
Oh, God. OK.
I've got you.
Somebody pushed me.
I thought I'd surely drown.
But luckily I learned how
to hold my breath as a little girl.
By sheer good fortune,
I kicked over a milk pail
and... and that's when
Dr MacMillan came and...
(Sobs)
Thank God you're alright, Aunt P.
(Sobbing) Oh, Phryne!
I was out there checking langlaufing
conditions when I heard the clatter.
I thought I made it clear
everyone should remain inside.
I'm a doctor. I save lives.
I can't do nothing.
Well, you didn't see the culprit,
did you?
He'd made himself scarce
before I arrived.
No sign of anyone, sir,
but I found this.
Quentin was wearing that.
He's still here.
Why in God's name
does he want me dead?
What have I ever done
to the wretched fellow?
You owned the mine
where his uncle died.
But why now, a decade later?
It doesn't make sense!
Mrs Stanley?
My powders.
In the side pocket.
Aunt Prudence,
where did you get this?
I found it on my pillow
when we arrived.
We need to secure this place.
I think I've just worked out
how all these murders fit together.
PHRYNE: Jack!
Jack! It's the Twelve Days of
Christmas.
A partridge in a pear tree.
Len Fowler was found electrocuted
under a tree that was hung
with pear-shaped lights.
Those lights had been tampered with.
Then, I found these,
in Nicholas and Vera's room.
Two turtle-doves implies lovers.
Vera was killed with a book
of love poetry
and a statue named The Kiss.
Three French hens.
There were three hens in the henhouse
where we found Nicholas
shot with a French revolver.
And four calling birds?
Aunt Prudence heard what she thought
was an injured bird call four times,
and then she was forced,
face down, into a birdbath.
So each victim receives
an unsigned card
and then they receive
an untimely death.
Which means he must be targeting...
Everyone.
I received nine ladies dancing.
And what about Dotty?
Seven swans.
This gathering
was arranged weeks ago.
Our killer knew that there were
going to be ten guests and staff
staying at the chalet.
Yes, but there are twelve days.
There are two police officers
at Jamieson,
but they couldn't get through.
Not even a criminal mastermind
could control the weather.
Luckily you two arrived
to make up the numbers.
You didn't find cards in your rooms?
No.
Collins, check your coat.
Twelve drummers drumming.
Nothing.
Jack.
Ten lords a-leaping.
I've got eleven pipers piping.
I've eight maids a-milking.
He's going after us all one by one!
We're sitting ducks!
Five gold rings.
I tried to warn you all
and now it's too late.
It's not too late.
The house is secured from
top to bottom. Just calm down.
But if he's killing us off
one by one, I'm leaving.
We must all leave.
The roads are frozen.
So are the motor cars.
I'll hike!
And risk being murdered?
What?
Quentin may have arranged us
in neat numbers for now,
but I'm sure if he saw you,
he wouldn't hesitate
to kill out of sequence.
PRUDENCE: Oh, my God.
We need to stay inside.
Especially you, Mrs Stanley.
No doubt he wants to finish the job.
To kill me?
Yes.
Well, supposing he gets inside?
He won't. The chalet's been
completely secured.
Everyone's inside and the doors
and windows are completely locked.
Not everyone. Mac's missing.
CHESTER: Oh, my God.
So is my pistol.
Mac's an experienced
outdoorswoman, Jack.
She's only trying to help.
And risking our lives
in the process?
It's lunacy.
Jack.
Mac!
Oh, God!
Drink this.
Have a drink.
I'll live.
Oh!
I'm afraid I lost your revolver.
Six geese a-laying.
What happened?
I thought I'd go cross-country
to Jamieson.
I saw a sign.
And then someone hit me from behind.
Miss Fisher?
Miss Fisher.
JACK: Looks like fresh timber.
Couldn't be more than
a couple of weeks old.
I thought the mine
was closed ten years ago.
It was.
JACK: Someone's been
down there recently.
Who could it have been?
CHESTER: Must have been Quentin.
Why would Quentin reopen the mine?
Well, I have no idea.
Why would he suddenly
start killing people
to the theme
of the Twelve Days of Christmas?
It beggars belief.
What can you tell me about
the cave-in?
I've never forgiven myself
for not trusting my own opinion.
I didn't want the men
to keep drilling,
but we were getting close
to a new seam of gold
and I was issued with a report
that said the mine was safe.
But it wasn't.
No.
I stay inside when it's cold like
this. I get terrible chilblains...
Would Len have reopened
the mine shaft?
Or Nicholas?
Why are we talking about
a mine shaft?
Shouldn't you be out there trying
to find Quentin,
before he kills us all?
I'm sorry.
With my Len gone
and this madman on the loose,
I can't think straight.
Why don't you ask Chester
about the mine shaft?
The Inspector's with him now.
What did you give Isobel earlier?
Nothing.
I should go to her.
Poor thing, she's lost her mother
and her stepfa...
Birdie.
Did you give Isobel that money?
About six months ago.
Nicholas paid Len and I
to dig some new tunnels,
to get to the gold seam another way.
Go on.
Well, last week,
we came across what was left
of Mitch and Ernie Heppenstall
and those other poor blokes.
Along with a letter in a tin.
JACK: 'We are trapped down here.
Ernie tried to warn the boss
the wall was unstable,
but he refused to listen.
We've hauled young Laurie
up to the top in the basket
to send word that we're still alive,
and we're keeping our spirits up
by singing little Isobel's
favourite Christmas song.'
Did Laurie ever deliver his message?
All we heard was he'd died.
Nothing about the rest of them
being alive.
(Coughs, splutters)
(Continues coughing)
BIRDIE: Later that night,
there was a second collapse.
It sounded like an explosion to me.
And Len noticed
some gelignite was missing.
Are you suggesting
those men were murdered?
(Thunder rumbling)
Did either of you ever inform
my uncle?
No.
Len wasn't sure who was responsible.
He was scared of losing his job.
I'm not proud of what we did.
But we've been doing it tough.
Len threatened to tell Mrs Stanley
we'd found the gold seam
if Nicholas didn't let us
take half for ourselves.
And then Isobel
tried to blackmail him
about the past with her letter.
That £200.
Nicholas gave it to you?
Mother and I deserved that money.
Father died down there that day
when he could have been saved.
(Thunder rumbling)
Mitch Darcy and the other men
lived through the first cave-in.
You did hear singing.
I thought I was imagining things.
The first collapse
trapped the miners.
But it was the second one,
perhaps deliberate,
which killed them
and guaranteed their silence.
Did Uncle Edward ever mention
young Laurie delivering a message?
No, he certainly did not!
Edward might have had to
rely on others
to judge the condition of the mine,
but if the boy had said something
to him, he would have told me.
Your uncle was
a fine and decent man.
I'm sorry, Aunt P.
I know you adored him.
But the mine was struggling
and Uncle Edward had to
keep things to schedule.
Maybe he became desperate.
(Woman screaming)
DOT: Miss! Miss!
It's Birdie!
I just found her!
Eight maids a-milking.
Birdie! No!
The cocoa was poisoned.
He's inside the house.
Inside? We must get out!
Miss, we have to go.
No, if we leave now,
we'll perish from exposure.
Collins, get a gun from the cabinet.
Search the reading room
from top to bottom.
Once you know it's safe,
get everybody inside
and lock the door.
Come on.
PHRYNE: And find Chester.
How the hell did he get inside?
Oh...
(Distant singing)
Jack, the shafts.
The tunnels must run under the house.
It's the only way Aunt Prudence
could have heard singing.
Aunt Prudence heard the singing
in the kitchen, by the fire.
Somewhere just the other side
of this wall.
Somewhere here.
Feel this.
It's icy.
That's why the room's so cold.
(Door creaks)
You should be in the reading room
with the others.
It's not much more
than a ventilation shaft,
but it must be how Quentin's
getting into the house.
There are other sets of keys around.
Nicholas could have easily
given Quentin access to them.
This one should unlock the hatch.
Jack.
Look at Nicholas's shoes.
Blood.
Ugh...
The toes have been cut off
to fit into Nicholas's shoes.
This isn't Nicholas at all.
It's Quentin Lynch.
So Nicholas is still alive.
And Quentin has been framed
for the murders he didn't commit.
Go and stay with the others,
and let Constable Collins
know we're going into the tunnel.
Hip flask?
Refreshments.
Stay close.
Is that an order, Inspector,
or are you just scared?
Only of you.
It's the new gold seam.
Miss Fisher, come back.
It's a dead end.
It could be a trap...
Jack!
You won't get away with this,
Nicholas.
I believe I already have.
I'm dead, after all, aren't I?
Why did you decide to kill us all?
The gold belongs to me.
And you were prepared to murder
twelve more people to hold onto it.
Well, in the unlikely event
that you can't count,
I haven't actually finished yet.
Nine ladies dancing.
One.
(Gunshot)
(Gunshots)
(Gun clicks)
Police revolvers only hold
six bullets.
Happily, I've come across another.
(Gunshots)
Nine.
(Groans)
(Grunts)
I'm sure you've met
Detective Inspector Jack Robinson?
AUNT PRUDENCE: Why?
Because your husband robbed me
when he closed the mine.
I wasn't going to be robbed again.
CHESTER: I should have guessed.
You've always been obsessed
with the gold.
That's what started
this whole damned tragedy.
You knew the quartz was unstable,
but you made them keep going,
and the wall caved in.
It was an accident.
How could you send
your own men into danger?
That was the least of his crimes.
He could have saved them,
but he chose not to.
What is it, Laurie?
(Coughs)
NICHOLAS: Get the doctor!
They're alive.
What?
(Coughs)
What?
All of them.
Shh.
(Muffled screaming)
It's alright, boy.
It's alright.
EDWARD: The doctor's on his way.
It's too late.
Did the poor lad say anything?
Not a word.
You left my dad there to...
PHRYNE: There's no point, Isobel.
The law will do more with him
than you can.
So Edward knew nothing
of the other miners?
He kept haranguing me
about your hearing
the Twelve Days of Christmas.
So I stole some gelignite
from Len Fowler and blew them up.
Poor Edward was so distressed
that he closed the mine.
Thereby robbing you of the share of
gold you thought was rightly yours.
It was mine!
When I finally found it again
after all these years,
I was not going to be robbed again.
And so you hatched your plan.
Len,
Birdie...
You had reasons to kill them all.
And you were afraid Isobel
had told Vera
so you killed your own wife, too.
PHRYNE: You employed Quentin
because you looked alike,
so you could frame him
for your own crimes
and then disappear
down into the mine tunnels.
Your Twelve Days of Christmas
was an exceptionally cruel jab
at Aunt Prudence.
And the rest of us?
For my own amusement.
MAN: ♪ On the first day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ A partridge in a pear tree
WOMAN:
♪ On the second day of Christmas
♪ My true love sent to me
♪ Two turtle-doves
and a partridge in a pear tree
♪ On the third day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
♪ Three French hens... ♪
(Laughs)
Under the mistletoe. Kiss! Kiss!
(Mac and Phryne laugh)
(All cheer)
Whoo-hoo!
Ah, dear Jane,
it's so lovely to have you back.
If you insist, Mr Butler.
Dry gin, Mr B.
Just the way I like it.
Thank you, Mr B.
Cheers, Mrs S.
Oh. Oh, merry Christmas.
Aunt Prudence and Bert.
(Chuckling)
Ohh!
I'll be in it if you will.
Ohh...
(All cheer)
(Laughs)
I would have paid admission
to see that.
Miss Fisher and the Inspector.
OTHERS: Ooh...
(Jane giggles)
I'm not sure
that my kisses can be compelled
by sprigs of parasitic greenery.
Hemiparasitic.
Of the genus Viscum.
I'll take your word for it.
(Chuckles)
I think it's time for another song.
Come on, Cec. Deck The Halls!
(Cec clears throat)
♪ Deck the halls
with boughs of holly
ALL: ♪ Fa la la la la, la la la la
♪ 'Tis the season to be jolly
♪ Fa la la la la, la la la la
♪ Don we now our gay apparel
♪ Fa la la, la la la, la la la
♪ Troll the ancient yuletide carol
♪ Fa la la la la, la la la la! ♪
Cheers!
Cheers!
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas, everyone!
♪ Silent Night