The Brokenwood Mysteries

Help!

Somebody, please!

Help! Somebody!

Help!

Somebody help!

Please!

Hey, there, you. You okay?

- Good morning. - Hey, boss.

Nice day for it.

- Is it? - Uh, Gina's already started.

Considering the location,

I might actually forgive you for calling us out today.

Right. Uh, happy new year.

Let's go.

- You good there? - Just a mo.

The property is known as Whitecliff Manor,

and its owner, Maxwell Cornelius,

is our deceased, 79 years old.

He was found just after 7:00 a.m.

by Frodo and the young woman he's with,

Frances Martin.

She's a guest of Mr. Cornelius.

I'll take Frodo.

Morning, Gina.

Daniel, happy new year.

Kristin, how are you?

Box of birds. Thanks, Gina.

You should not keep the birds in a box.

It's cruel.

Must have been a hell of a party last night.

You think he tied one on and blew a gasket?

Toxicology will tell us more.

A few who attended the party are still in the manor.

On it.

What happened here, Maxwell?

Was it just your time, or did you get some help?

The victim has no obvious signs of injury.

Of course, this arouses great interest in me.

Um, sure.

Anything else to add?

To die in this position,

it's very unusual.

I have a deep suspicion his death is unnatural.

I feel it...

In your lagoon where the devils dwell.

You know me so well.

Plus, I found this in his pocket.

"Meet me in the garden. Come alone."

Last night, Mr. Cornelius, the dead guy,

he hosted a masquerade ball for, like, New Year's Eve.

That explains the pants.

Take it you've been here all night?

Yeah, I might have overdone it a bit.

You are a friend of Mr. Cornelius?

Yeah. No.

He's always been pretty private.

But he was a regular at the coffee cart.

- Good morning, Franklin. - Hey, Mr. Cornelius.

Your usual?

Ah, always.

A magic morning begs for a little magic.

A magic what?

It's a double shot of ristretto

with three quarters flat white.

They're pretty hard to make.

I think that's why I got an invite.

Private bash to see in the New Year.

Hush, hush. Keep it close.

Loose lips sink ships.

So, it was supposed to be a secret party?

Uh, I don't know, man.

I just went for the free booze.

Mildred Hawkins. I'm the live-in housekeeper.

And how long have you been working for Mr. Cornelius?

Close to 40 years.

You must be upset by his death.

Maxwell was a good employer.

And over time, he became a dear friend.

But at his age...

...people die.

He liked extravagant parties.

No, not really.

He mostly kept to himself,

with the exception of a few close friends.

Then why hold a New Year's Eve event?

Today would have been Maxwell's 80th birthday.

He wanted to celebrate.

And with New Year's Eve,

he could kill two birds with one stone.

He wasn't sure how many big milestones he had left.

Why a masquerade party?

Well, Maxwell had a love of the theatrical.

Stems from his art history background.

Before he retired, he was an art valuer.

Oh.

What kind of art?

Historical paintings, mostly.

He was incredibly well known in the fine arts world.

Some of the big name galleries hired him on a regular basis.

They must have kept him busy.

Why are the police interested

in the death of an elderly gentleman?

It's routine.

So, when was the last time you saw him?

I tried to find him at midnight

to wish him a happy birthday.

Well, I assumed he'd be on the balcony to watch the fireworks.

Attention, everyone!

It's almost midnight.

Everyone needs to come out on the balcony

to see the fireworks.

Ten! Nine!

Eight! Seven!

Six! Five!

Four! Three!

Two! One!

Happy New Year!

- He wasn't there? - No.

It was strange.

When did you see him last?

Honestly, I can't remember.

I was flat out all night.

Approximation will do.

I guess sometime around 11:00 p.m.,

I saw him chatting with Hattie.

And Hattie is?

Hattie Anderson, Maxwell's one-time fiancée.

Although he called the engagement off.

I think she still holds a candle.

Oh, Mildred.

Didn't you get the memo?

It's a masquerade ball.

Someone needs to serve.

And I'm ever grateful to you, Millie.

What would I do without you?

Yes, I'm sure it would be hard to find another waitress

at short notice.

Hattie!

That must have been humiliating.

I've always known my place.

Come through.

- Sorry. I'm still... - Oh, please take your time.

Finding a body can be a very confronting thing.

What a way to start the year.

How did you know Mr. Cornelius?

He's a recent acquaintance,

and I didn't have any plans for New Year's,

so I thought, why not?

Please.

It appears Whitecliff Manor was the place to be last night.

Yes, it was a fun party.

Then you were up early this morning?

Yes.

Going somewhere?

I was about to get a taxi.

You're not from Brokenwood?

No.

I heard that Mr. Cornelius was a bachelor.

Does that mean he's got no next of kin?

Uh, we don't know that detail yet.

It will be part of our inquiry.

Why do you ask?

Just curious.

We'd appreciate if you stay in the district a little longer.

Because?

Well, just in case we get curious about things.

Of course.

Oh!

- Mrs. Baker. - Mrs.? Gracious.

D.C. Chalmers!

You almost gave me a heart attack.

If I didn't know better, I'd think

you might have spent the night here.

Well, just between you and me,

I think that someone spiked the champagne

because I barely had anything to drink.

Next thing you know, I'm waking up facedown

in the rumpus room.

Are you a friend of Mr. Cornelius?

No. He's a client.

But I never say no to a dress-up.

I always loved making an effort when it comes to haute couture.

As it turns out, my father was a cross-dresser back in the day.

When you could still call it that.

Now, of course, that got him into all sorts of trouble.

But also, I did wonder if the rumors were true.

About Maxwell, not my father.

There were no rumors there.

Everyone knew that he was a cross...

What rumors would they be?

Drinking on the job, Mrs. B?

Well, nothing like a bit of stress relief

when you're under pressure.

I've been tasked with organizing an extravagant birthday party.

An 80th.

And it happens to fall on December 31st.

So, as you can imagine, a lot going on.

Anyone we know?

Mr. Maxwell Cornelius, he owns Whitecliff Manor.

That rich art guy.