Jack Irish: Bad Debts

How the hell's it going to fit in our apartment, woman?

If you think I'm going to remain

living within the bowels of a Masonic hall forever,

you'll be living a long and lonely life.

For you to sign, please.

How are you, Isabel? Married to a philistine.

Oh, I know.

I need to fiddle with that second para one more time.

It's Tasmanian blackbutt. Do you know how rare that is?

I'm guessing fairly rare.

It's not just a table. It's...

This old bloke is an artisan. It's a work of art.

Well, it is the same price as a Picasso, so I gather it must be.

You have no taste whatsoever, Jack Irish.

Oh, come on. I chose you, didn't I? OK, one good choice.

How good do you look in that suit?

Oh, pretty sharp I reckon.

You do, and who chose that suit? Can't remember. Lost in time.

We're buying the table.

Think of it as a family heirloom we pass on to our unborn children.

I do love you, you know.

(Yells) Let me speak to Jack fuckin' Irish!

Hey, hey, wait a minute.

You cannot come in here... There you are, Mr Judas lawyer!

I'm sorry, mate. I tried to stop him.

She left me!

She took me kids from me while I rotted in that that you sent me to!

Go and wait in the car, will you? Give me ten minutes.

Parking fines. You let 'em put me away for bloody parking fines!

113 unpaid parking fines, mate. That was just the entree.

The cop you assaulted ended up in hospital for two months.

What did you expect? I told you I hit him.

But you wouldn't fucking listen, would you you bastard!

Just calm down, OK? Just go and sit in there and wait.

I'll go find your file and we can talk about this sensibly, alright?

OK, sir... Don't touch me!

OK, I won't touch you.

I'm calling the police. No, don't mate, don't.

That's the last thing he needs. I'll deal with him. It's alright.

What was that?

From outside.

Alright, you win.

We mortgage the flat and we buy a black-bottomed Tasmanian...

See? You wouldn't bloody listen.

You listening now, Jack?

# NICK CAVE: Red Right Hand

# Take a little walk to the edge of town

# Go across the tracks

# Where the viaduct looms like a bird of doom

# As it shifts and cracks

# Where secrets lie in the border fires

in the humming wires

# Hey, man, you know you're never coming back

# Past the square, past the bridge, past the mills, past the stacks

# On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man

# In a dusty black coat with a red right hand. #

MAN, ON RADIO: ..numbers two, six and twelve.

That's two, six and twelve,

The Catharsis, Bridal Sweet

and the New Zealand two-year-old, In Her Name.

On to race number eight, there's only one scratching

and that's the favourite, Corpus Loys, number five.

Beautiful day for racing in Sydney today at Royal Randwick.

The track is still rated as heavy,

but with the great weather we have at the moment,

there's a chance that the track will dry up,

and an upgrade is on the cards later in the...

Ah, Marinara.

You're a hard man to find, Mr Dollery.

Do come in, or I'll shoot your balls off.

Come on.

Turn right.

So, how'd you find me?

Listen, point that somewhere else, will you?

Those... those things have a tendency to go off

for motives of their own.

Arggh!

Arggh! Arggh!

Hey! Hey, let go of me!

Please! Please!

You're not gonna knock me, are ya?

You're being a bit paranoid, mate. Arggh!

Sticking too much marching powder up your nose.

Oh, come on, mate! Shit.

Give me a chance!

Yeah, Harry. I found your mate.

Yeah, I wouldn't mind being warned about the armed and desperate.

Well there's going to be an extra five per cent

to cover my shock

at having a World War II pistol pointed at my genitalia.

Yeah, righto.

Listen, dickhead.

You're going to have to be a bit more cooperative

with people whose money you've nicked.

Now I've taken the ten grand out of the dishwasher.

And I reckon there's, what...

..another seventy in the air conditioning vent?

I s'pose.

Right.

Well, sign here for the rest of it.

And the biro.

Pleasure doing business with you. Hey!

You're not going, are ya?

Mate! Here you go.

Just in case you get lonely.

Mate, you can't leave me in here.

Oh, come back, will ya?

I can't get out of here!

You've called Jack Irish. Leave a message.

Jack. It's Danny. I'm in the car park, mate.

Are you coming?

Christ, help me.

Oh, thank God.

I can see your lights flashing.

# OPERA MUSIC

You have four new messages.

MAN, ON MACHINE: Jack, Harry Strang.

Sorry about your little mix-up with Dollery.

Anyway, no harm done.

Listen, I got something I need you to do.

Jack Irish, it's Danny McKillop, mate.

You know, the hit-and-run ten years ago?

Look, I'm out now, mate, but I'm in a bit of strife,

so you reckon you might give me a call?

It's 0491570110.

Tonight... as soon as you get this.

Jack, it's Danny again, mate.

You... you didn't call.

Um... listen mate. I'm in deep shit.

I think I'm being followed.

Do you reckon you could come and meet me, 7:00 tonight?

I'm in the car park of The Hero of Trafalgar in Brunswick.

Jack, it's Danny. I'm in the car park, mate.

Are you coming?

Christ, help me.

Oh, thank God.

I can see your lights flashing.

Ah.

Don't tell me you're finally coming back to criminal law.

Hardly.

Bit of conveyancing's about it these days.

No, just looking for an old file. Great. Come in.

It's good to see ya. You too, mate.

His name's Danny McKillop. McKillop? How old?

About as old as your suit. Fuck off! It's brand new.

You know, Helen has shot through.

Head over heels with some painter in Eltham.

What, a house painter? No, artiste painter.

Someone no one's ever heard of.

Bruce Seal. Bruce Seal? Shit.

Drinkie?

So what do you know about Helen's painter bloke?

Oh, he speaks five languages, apparently.

He's won the Archibald three times

and his nickname's the Throbbing Stallion.

Great.

Here we go. Daniel Patrick McKillop.

Convicted of culpable driving, 18th of June, 2001.

Knocked down and killed Anne Elspeth Jeppeson

in Ardenne Street, Richmond.

Ah, the public housing woman. The activist.

Your client was as high as a kite.

Cheers.

How do you remember this? You weren't even on it

It wasn't a good time for you.

I made it to court, though, didn't I?

Oh, photo finish.

You did go off the rails there a bit just before you quit.

Anyway, it was an open-and-shut case.

Your client eventually pleaded guilty, got ten years.

He was a junkie. Had a whole stack of priors.

So why's he calling me from a hotel car park on a Saturday night?

And why is he now not returning any of my calls?

Can I hang onto this? Sure.

This has nothing to do with her.

Helen left for her own reasons. She doesn't even know about Lorna.

Gotta love em when they're around, don't you mate?

Hard after fifteen years. Yeah, I wouldn't know.

Ah-ha. That's how long ago it was.

I mean, who has a VHS anymore? Oh, I know people.

Where the hell were you last Saturday when we needed you?

The Saints went down by three goals.

I was in Sydney, on business.

What sort of bloody work takes you to Sydney on a Saturday arvo?

He doesn't work no more. Not real work.

He's a standover boy. A bloody debt collector now!

Didn't miss much. They played like girls.

They don't make 'em like your old man anymore.

Toughest man ever to wear an athletic support.

Listen, I need to stick this on, if I can.

Well, they're watching the game. It's a replay. From 1996.

Hey! It's Fitzroy's last game at the G.

Yeah. We got smashed by 25 goals. It was horrible.

Never about that, Jack, as well you know.

It's three-quarter time. He can put it on now.

But make it quick, will ya?

Reminds me of round fourteen, 1971. Remember that game against the Roos?

Danny McKillop's car

was seen swerving out of control in Ardenne Street,

moments before fatally injuring