Deadloch

Deadloch is in mourning!

Two kings of this town are dead.

The lake body has been identified.

- Is it Sam O'Dwyer? - It is.

The tongue is missing, Detective. They are all connected.

Five years ago Deadloch's mayor, Rod Dixon,

washed up dead on the same beach as Trent Latham.

His tongue was also missing.

- Who's working the case? - At the moment, me.

Dulce, you promised.

It is just until the lead detective arrives.

He... He... The detective, comes tomorrow.

Oh, OK.

Anyway, I've just about chewed your fucking ear off, haven't I,

all night?

I fucking killed my partner!

- Bushy. - He got eaten by a croc.

I was supposed to be with him when it happened.

Deadloch has a serial killer.

I need an outsider's perspective.

I need a partner.

Trent, Gavin and Rod have pentobarbital in their system.

That's a tranquiliser.

Men don't poison.

We're looking for a woman.

Dulcie, you say that your work is very stressful at the moment.

Why is that?

Because I'm working a murder investigation, Claire.

Mmm! A murder investigation.

Alright, let's talk about that.

I can't talk about it, Claire.

Why not? What's the block there for you, Dulcie?

The law's the block, Claire.

But communication is key in a relationship, isn't it?

Exactly. She didn't even tell me our friend's dad was dead.

Well, it's... it's not procedure, so...

Mmm.

I'm moving back to the shack.

I'm confronting my fears.

Like someone eating a hot chicken roll

after a bout of gastro

from the hot chicken roll.

You know?

I have to open the shop up.

Oh.

Alright.

Sprog.

See ya round, Bushy.

I've been ordered by Mayorette Rahme

to put the footy club memorial of my mates in the bin.

Oh, Mr McGangus, I'm so sorry about that.

That woman has no respect, OK?

We are in mourning.

Not that you would know, with this festival of tit art going on.

Good men are dead,

yet our mayorette wants us to go and see a show

that teaches people how to...

wank off a carrot. It just begs belief.

I can tell you now the late mayor, Rod Dixon,

if he could see how his wife and his successor

are using his money to destroy this town

he would be rolling in his pauper's grave.

His pauper's grave?

Yes. Like, his pauper's grave.

Thank you. Thanks, that was... No, paup...

That was good. Thank you. I meant in a way... MEE-gan!

Hey!

Cath, let's turn to you.

You say that you're concerned about how this lack of communication

is impacting on Dulcie's health.

Claire, the case is confidential.

Still a choice, Dulcie.

Tch.

Is that all it is for you, Cath?

No, well, also I feel very triggered.

It reminds me of how her behaviour in Sydney made me feel.

Would you agree, though, that your life here in Deadloch

is different from your life in Sydney?

- Very different. - So here's your homework, Cath.

How about you try to see this murder investigation

as unusual circumstances

that need to be approached in a new way?

Dulcie, carve out some time in that double murder investigation

to really reconnect with Cath.

What's something that brings you both together?

- Hikes. - Fucking.

Detective? Detective.

Detective, Jeremy Hodge, the Bugle.

Are there any updates on the Latham case, Detective?

What? Ah, no, Jeremy.

Uh, but everything's cool.

- We're onto it, so... - Well, how, exactly...

Detective, what do you have to say to this morning's article?

Ah, what... what article?

In the Tribune, written by me.

It suggests that you're not fit to run this investigation,

after you went on the record with a journalist

and badmouthed this beautiful town and its hardworking residents.

And then you accused your colleagues of gross incompetence and bad hair.

When the fuck did I say all that?

Last night. To me.

Who the fuck are you?

Detective, what measures... - Megan Lang, I wrote the article. If you remember, we also talked about...

Ah no, no, I will not be taking any questions at this time!

Alright, no more questions.

Thank you. All done.

Thank you. Have a lovely day.

- Cheers. Bye, MEE-gan. - It's MEG-an!

- Fucking... - Bye!

- Fuck! Fuck. - Thanks.

There were journos in that front bit before.

Yeah, good morning to you too, Detective.

Don't worry, I didn't answer any of their questions.

I was out of there quicker than an airport fuck.

You look different.

Yeah, you look... you look different also.

- Oh, yeah, I got clothes. - Mm-hm.

- A full-length pant, if you will. - Mm-hm.

Feel like a cheese toastie. Oh, punch my tit.

- No. I'm not punching... - No, come on. Come on. Punch my...

- I'm not going to do that. - Come on. Go on.

Did you do it? I don't know.

- I didn't feel a thing. - I did it. OK, good.

Well, I'm glad to be of service.

Did you speak to Commissioner Hastings?

Oh, yeah, that dildo wants me to apologise to fucking McGangus.

Yeah, I spoke to the Commissioner too.

- I tried to tell him about this... - Oh, the old...

Yeah, no, that's the one, and he told me that I was hysterical

and ruled by the moon and then he hung up on me.

So, that's really nice to know, that he's in our corner.

Oh, my gosh, my mouth tastes like a set of keys.

Yeah, nah, that's just adrenaline.

- You'll be OK, Collins. - Mmm.

Right, let's get this thing started, shall we?

I've started calling you Collins, by the way.

It's just a little nickname.

OK. Alright.

Is there anything that you want me to call you?

I can't nominate my own nickname. I'm not Batman.

Big Eyes! Sven! Come on, get in here.

- Yeah, so, look... - So, what I'm about to say

cannot leave...

- Ah no, no, lesbians first. - No, no, no, please.

- After you. No, you go. - OK.

So, this morning a newspaper article was published

in which I was quoted as saying some stuff.

Yeah, we know.

Yes, you referred to me as "Sergeant Horsehair".

- Oh, did I? - Then you said that Abby looked like

a traumatised bush baby

and you called Sven "Sveg", so...

OK, well in light of this new info,

looks like last night wasn't my best work.

Full disclosure, I have been known

to be a bit fiery and impulsive sometimes.

But, you know, look, that's all water under the bridge.

We're all OK.

Right. You're up, sunshine.

Right, thanks. So...

It is very possible that

the murders of Trent Latham, Gavin Latham,

Rod Dixon and Sam O'Dwyer

are the actions of a female serial killer

who uses pentobarbital to sedate her victims

before she cuts out their tongues and strangles them.

Oooh.

Yeah, so I think we can all agree that

that's a fairly significant development in the case.

It's enormous!

Ma'ams, if you need anything, Sven and I will be here for you.

- Well, no, not anything. - Day and night.

- Not day or night, no. - 24 hours.

- We will sleep here in the office. - I've got my own life going on.

- On the couch, in shifts. - My back's a little bit... This is a job for me, so...

OK. Alright, good to know.

Now, as far as the public are concerned,

there are only two victims, Trent and Gavin Latham

And because my partner here referred to the "Dead-C-word drug ring"

quite a lot in her press interview

everyone thinks that the Latham murders are drug-related.

Now, I have no memory of that, but you're welcome.

Right. So, luckily, no-one has made the connection

between the Latham murders

and the historical murders of Dixon and O'Dwyer.

But if a connection is made

it is a very short trip from four victims to serial killer.

And once that gets out there, there is no going back.

That's right.

It's like trying to shove a fart back up a bum.

It's nigh-on impossible.

The town will go bananas, and the press will go bananas,

not to mention the killer.

Who knows what that sort of attention will embolden her to do?

I reckon she'll probably do some more murders.

Yep. Yep, that is... That's...

That is also my instinct, what I was implying.

- Just off the top of my dome, there. - Right.

So... So no mention to anyone outside of this room of serial killers.

And no using she/ her pronouns when discussing the killer.