Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries

Yes, Uncle.

Did you see him?

He was mugging upstage. If he tries that tonight...

They don't appreciate a true artist, Mr Copland.

Do you smell that? Like flowers.

Dorothea?

It can't be.

No.

Stay away!

I shouldn't be long. Do you want to come in?

Oh, it's him. Dot?

Yes?

I'll see you inside. Mm-hm.

A bit of greasepaint will cover it, sir.

But you must hurry. The curtain goes up in 20 minutes!

I'm fine. I'm fine, don't fuss. Thank you, Lin, I'm in your debt.

As am I. No, please. Happy to be of service.

Phryne!

She hangs upon the cheek of night,

like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear.

You're a little old for Romeo, Bart.

Nonsense! Henry Irving was 45 when he played Romeo at the Lyceum.

Besides, with you as my Juliet... age is immaterial.

Miss Phryne Fisher, may I present Lin Chung.

Mr Lin.

He was kind enough to come to the aid of our leading man,

who was set upon by thugs outside the theatre.

I'm sure anyone would've done the same.

Pleasure to meet you, Miss Fisher. Good luck with the show.

You're looking ravishing as always, dear girl.

You haven't changed a bit.

Hurry, Miss Leila. 15 minutes and counting.

Chookas, Mr Tarrant. Love the dress!

Unless you want me to miss the curtain, tell me why you invited me.

Quite right. Tell me, Phryne, are they true, the rumours about you?

Usually, I'm afraid. But you're a detective.

That too.

I should have guessed free theatre tickets would come with a price tag.

We have a ghost.

A ghost?

It's not just any ghost.

It's Dorothea Curtis. I've heard that name.

Dorothea was a promising soprano. She died 20 years ago.

The last role she ever played was Rosie in Ruddigore in this theatre.

She died at her own hand on opening night.

I found her in the dressing room.

She'd stabbed herself through the heart.

That's unusual. She was an actress.

If one has to play out a death scene, Juliet's the classic choice.

Mr Tarrant, five-minute call! Break a leg!

Bart.

I may have a reputation for taking on difficult cases,

but... even I can't fix a ghost.

All this talk of spectres will pass as soon as the curtain rises.

Trust me.

I can't believe we're sitting so close.

Close enough to get a good look at the handsome Gwilym Evans.

Is he handsome? You hadn't noticed?

It's his talent I admire. Which, I'm sure, is formidable.

If you want some advice, I'd hide your admiration

of Mr Gwilym Evans' talents when your constable arrives.

Hugh's coming?

It was a surprise for your birthday. I thought you'd be pleased.

Sorry I'm late. Constable Collins asked me to send his apologies.

His football game ended in a brawl.

He ended up arresting half the opposing team.

I didn't pick you as a Gilbert and Sullivan fan, Inspector.

Constable Collins neglected to mention

the tickets were for an operetta.

A pleasant surprise then.

One for which he will most definitely pay the price.

Perfect as always, pumpkin.

Evans. Well, house is full to bursting.

Break a leg. Indeed.

And I'll break yours if you upstage me tonight.

This costume is not right. Hansen?

Parbuckle me, if you ain't the loveliest gal I ever set eyes on!

There, I can't say fairer than that, can I?

No! The question is,

is it meet that a total stranger should thus express himself?

Now he's in love with her? But they've only just met.

Where's your sense of romance, Jack?

So now she's getting engaged to the other fellow?

Sh!

Is that what you call a modern interpretation?

No. Walter Copland looked like he was dying on stage.

Absolutely. Gwilym Evans really should be the lead.

Phryne, come quickly!

Do you think anyone noticed we went off book?

Interval did come a tad early. How's the patient?

Can't someone just give Walter a tonic?

Is this a usual occurrence?

Mr Copland! There's a doctor down the lane.

If Copland isn't up for it, I know his part. I'm happy to step up.

And who plays Richard? Bradford knows all the parts.

Bra...! He may not be much to look at,

but he can sing a damn sight better than Copland.

That's just for rehearsal, sir. I couldn't step out on the stage.

Nonsense. This is an emergency.

Look at him. He's three sheets to the wind. Is he?

You can hold off on that doctor. Looks like your man's dead.

Any enemies? Surely you don't suspect murder.

We won't know until we get the autopsy,

but contracted pupils, sudden coma, could indicate poison.

If the press get hold of this, I'm ruined.

Are you alright? I'm... I'm perfectly fine.

Thank you once again for the theatre tickets.

It seems we won't be seeing the second act.

It's a murder, Jack. Surely you don't expect me to just walk out.

One can only hope.

I need to look after the interests of my client.

Mr Tarrant employed me this evening to...

look into some strange occurrences in the theatre.

I engaged Miss Fisher right before the curtain went up.

How convenient.

I know this is a terrible time for everyone. Just ghastly.

Not now, Gwilym! It's just...

Don't you think Bradford should get Walter's costume back

before they remove the body? Whoever replaces him will need it.

Actors, Jack.

You need somebody who understands their language.

And I speak fluent Thespian. Ah.

I'll stumble through. Thanks all the same.

Come on, ladies. Stand behind the wings please.

Not quite the birthday celebration I had planned for you, Dot.

Not worry, Miss. Hardly your fault that poor man died.

I saved your show tonight! You owe me!

I'll decide in the morning.

I'm sorry, in all the ruction, we haven't yet had the pleasure.

No, we haven't. Gwilym Evans.

Phryne Fisher, Mr Evans.

There were some questions I was hoping I might ask you.

Anything to help a lady.

But first, may I present Miss Williams?

She is a great admirer of your talents. Charmed.

Do you think I might have an autograph?

Dressing room. Yes, sir.

Oh, it's for my mother. Her name is Dot.

Mr Evans, shall we?

I was going to have a word to Miss Fisher.

Oh. Miss Fisher... has to leave.

Did you see him? He spoke to me! And that voice!

Those eyes. May I?

Hmm.

Different hand. Sorry, Miss?

I said Gwilym Evans has a lovely hand.

I have heard tell of young ladies being snatched from around here.

You mustn't believe everything you read in The Argus, Dot.

There's absolutely nothing to be...

afraid of.

Well, that's just rude.

I do approve of a man who can fight

and still maintain his sartorial elegance.

Shall we?

Um... Miss? Come along, Dot.

Miss.

I am sorry. She wants to protect me from the decadence of the west.

A losing battle I'm guessing. Dot, try one of these.

Your skills with the chopsticks are very impressive.

So are your fighting skills.

Sometimes in my business it is necessary to employ them.

And your business is? I'm an importer.

May I ask what you import? Silk.

I didn't realise the silk business was so dangerous.

Two fights in one evening. Welcome to Chinatown.

There are those few here

who would rather rob their own kind than make an honest living.

So that's what the skirmish was about? An attempt to rob you?

And what, may I ask, were you doing in the laneways at this hour?

I'm always interested when somebody avoids answering a question.

As you know, we were at the theatre.

Until one of the actors up and died.

Your friend Walter Copland. I only met him tonight.

Mr Lin, you'll get me hooked.

Thank you for coming, darling girl.

Little earlier than I'm used to.

Did the Inspector keep you up half the night?

Oh, he did.

I expect he asked you who might stand to gain from Walter Copland's death?

He also told me I shouldn't speak to you about the case.

And?

I told him there was no love lost between Mr Copland and Mr Evans.

Don't let Dot hear you say that. She worships the man.

And the reason for their conflict? Nothing apart from the obvious.

Two rival actors competing for the same role.

Creditors?

Painters, stage hands, orchestra, even the actors.

Oddly enough, they all expect to be paid.

What? They're not in it for the love of theatre?

Only me.

You quite alright? I've been better, my dear.

The truth is, Miss Fisher, I have everything riding on this show.

Every last cracker! If Ruddigore goes down, I'm ruined.

That's the end of me.

Apparently there's some tension between your Mr Evans and Mr Copland.

I can't think what about.

Unless it was jealousy of Mr Evans' talent.

Could it be jealousy of the attentions of Miss Esperance?

That's impossible, Miss. How so?

Well, Miss Esperance was engaged to Mr Copland,