My Life Is Murder

Mate, listen, that aftershave you're wearing, Paco Rabanne?

A couple of drops goes a really long way.

You know, unless you're trying to impress somebody 100 k's downwind.

Yeah, OK, yeah, but your sense of smell still works, right?

He said... Yeah, got it. Thank you.

- Please. - Thank you.

A few months back, a student at a cooking school was found dead

on the classroom floor, blunt-force head trauma.

You said sightseeing.

Yeah, we can sightsee and chew gum at the same time.

I hate chewing gum. How long are we up here for?

Half an hour, give or take.

You just wanted to be sure I couldn't walk away.

How good's the view?

Coroner returned an open finding. I'm not so sure.

Dead guy is Ivan Zhang, top student.

Kitchen staff found his body at 8am.

Time of death was estimated between 4 and 5am.

There was oil on the floor.

Coroner said he could have slipped and brained himself.

What's a kid doing at school at 4am?

This is a seriously competitive cooking school.

The teacher drives them hard.

Every month she comes up with some crazy, difficult recipe

to test the students.

Zhang was staying back that night

to have a crack at a dish for the test the next day.

Some complicated salmon tureen,

caviar-and-aspic pickled vegetables.

Ooh, caviar and aspic, lovely.

None of which use any oil in the cooking.

Do you think they serve it on planks of wood?

Because that would drive me to blunt-force trauma.

OK, what about persons of interest?

Another one of the students,

Yi Ling.

She was staying back that night too.

She says she left at 9 and went home to bed.

- Her family back her up. - Ah, what are families for?

And Ling's got a temper.

She was expelled from high school for assaulting a teacher.

Kieran, you are overselling.

Food wankers at each other's throats, irresistible.

Yeah, you'd fit right in. I mean, you're a good cook.

I bake bread, maybe a stir-fry.

What about those dinner parties you guys used to throw?

I loved that homemade pasta of yours.

I never made the pasta.

That was Gary.

You lost your phone.

It's not funny.

I paid out 600 bucks for a new one,

and everything on it looks different.

It's like learning to ride a bike again.

Next time, take me with you.

Well, that DOES sound like tremendous fun.

In the meantime, can you just get me into that cooking course?

What? What's funny, Hannah?

You're going to have to get a pair of those checked pants.

Please model this uniform for me. Just enrol me, smart-arse.

I can enrol you as a transferring student.

I'll fake your academic record.

But, you'll have to pretend to know everything.

Yep, I'll struggle through. Thanks.

A couple of drops goes a long way.

Proper preparation for this is cool performance.

I can smell onions!

You should not be frying! Come on, focus, people!

Number one, mise en place, precision cuts.

- How do I want them? - Perfect, Chef!

"Perfect, Chef." What do you want?

I'm Alexa, I'm the transfer.

You're late. Find a spot and do not hold me up.

Hi. Hi.

We're on lesson three.

Prepare poultry dishes, coq au vin and stuffed roasted quail.

- I'm Ranesh. - Hi, Ranesh. I'm Alexa.

I can hear chatting. You don't have time to chat. Move it!

- Hi, I'm Alexa. - Here's your chicken.

- Thanks. Can I get some of the breast? - God, no!

- Also, she's a dick. - Your potatoes should be on.

Your concasse, done!

- Come on, people! - Yes, Chef!

Yes, Chef!

Oh, God!

We are not doing a fucking stir-fry!

What is half the battle, people?

- Presentation, Chef! - Presentation.

Quite like a nice stir-fry.

- What? Something funny? - Yeah, what you're doing.

- Oh, shit. - Oh, Jesus wept!

You got blood on the eggplant?

Yeah, sorry. Have you, uh, got a bandaid?

Oh, do you want me to kiss it better, too?

You're supposed to be past the bandaid stage.

- I thought I was. - Well, clearly you're not.

- I told you not to slow me down. - Get your own bandaid next time.

Oh...

So, what's this about for you? Like a midlife crisis, or...?

Yeah, something like that.

Let me guess, um... public servant going mad.

Surrounded by idiots. Huh, snap.

I'm Brenda.

Yeah, I know, that's why I'm here.

I thought maybe I could, uh, learn from you.

You want to reinvent yourself?

Well, you identify a goal,

you plan a straight path to that goal

and you work like a dog to get there.

- Chef, how long for the figs? - Five minutes.

OK, you show me some skills, and I'll help you.

If not, I want you out of here, sink or swim.

- I'm fine. - I was worried sick.

- Hey. - Hi.

I followed up on Yi Ling.

No CCTV at the school,

but I found a report someone phoned in to local police.

A man and a woman were seen fighting in the car park

three weeks before Ivan was killed.

Description fits? Ivan and Ling.

What was the fight about?

Oh, it's not recorded, police arrived after they left.

- Hey, can I have a go? - Yes.

Careful, those knives are sharp.

Well, yeah, you've got the bandaids to prove it.

So, was it humiliating?

Look, those kids have been at it all year,

some of them have even worked in restaurants already,

which is cheating, if you ask me.

You asked to be dropped in the middle of it.

OK, what is this great, big, weird-looking turnip thing?

It's celery root. It's good for soup.

Actually, Ling's family run a bunch of restaurants across Melbourne,

so it's not like she's desperate.

Well, she's desperate about something.

What did you dig up on Ivan Zhang?

Not much. Sporty, lived with his mum.

I checked everybody's alibis too.

So, Ivan died at 4am.

They're all saying they were in bed then,

but, fun fact, Brenda Levine, the teacher,

she was with Diego Mann that night, midnight until breakfast.

- Wait, Diego Mann, the footballer? - Well, ex-footballer.

He's the main backer at her new restaurant in St Kilda.

Well, that's what I call a close working relationship.

I've dated a footballer. Never again.

People are never as interesting as their dating profiles,

or as good-looking as their pictures.

In fact, I'm over dating completely.

Bet you 50 bucks you'll be back on the circuit in three days.

Oh, you're on!

Easy money. I'm a free woman.

Done! Brunoise!

My dad taught me, he's a cook.

Oh, yeah, did he also teach you to be a smart-arse?

No, I think I picked that up more recently.

Why don't you go get me Ivan Zhang's mother's address?

I will.

If I'd made Ivan come home that night...

...if I'd let him study cooking years ago...

You just can't blame yourself, Mrs Zhang.

We had so many plans for him.

He won a scholarship to study law.

But he only cared about cooking and soccer.

I tried to keep his mind on study.

One day he left and we didn't see him for two years.

- Do you know where he went? - Queensland, mostly.

He worked in restaurant kitchens, washing dishes.

He's still here, all around!

That's his team.

Pictures, his things, reminders.

This was Ivan's.

He collected reviews, recipes he liked.

There.

So, after a few years in Queensland, he came home?

He tried to be a good son.

He went to uni. But he was miserable.

We sold some things, found the money for cooking school.

It was his dream.

I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

I still don't understand.

They said it was an accident.

Well, the police just want to be sure

of what happened, for you and for Ivan.

Tell me, did you ever get the feeling

that there was any kind of bad blood at the cooking school?

Ivan was topping the class.

He said they were his friends.

But they were all enemies, too.

Lift your left elbow. See? Your thumb comes back.

That's half a litre of blood saved.

Why do you suddenly need mad kitchen skills?

There's someone I want to impress.

Ah. Who is he?

- It's a woman. - Really? OK.

So, how long has this been going on?

About 24 hours. She's a chef.

Huh!

- Didn't you have a husband? - Yeah.

- What? - Hey, I get it.