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1 (THEME MUSIC)

- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.MY-SUBS.com -

I just realized it's been two whole weeks without my usual shave.

I've been far too busy.

When you're finished with this shave, you'll look like a king.

Let me just get my straight razor.

- (GUNSHOT) - (GASPS)

Help!

Constable Crabtree! Constable Crabtree!

Sir, did he just say Crabtree?

That's what I heard.

Constable Crabtree, there's a story in today's Inquiry

that might interest you. Sea monsters.

I'm not Constable Crabtree. I'm Constable Higgins-Newsome.

Oh, I-I'm sorry.

I-I thought you were Constable Crabtree,

but would you like to buy one anyway?

No, thank you.

I assume George usually works this beat.

Yes, sir. I suppose it's a reasonable enough mistake,

but you would agree I have a more manly stride, wouldn't you?

Just the one shot then?

Yes.

Did you see a gunman?

No.

It came out of the blue.

Well, whoever made the shot knew what they were doing.

What can you tell me about the victim?

His name was Nathaniel Marston

of Marston & Sons Construction company.

He'd just taken over from his father.

I see.

He was such a kind man.

Always tipped generously.

Who would do such a thing?

In my experience, good men die as often as bad ones.

Well, good morning, Mrs. Crabtree.

- Good morning! - Oh.

Well, what's all this?

Well, I heard that shiny objects can deter birds

from roosting around the home,

so I thought I'd try and hang up these wind chimes.

Oh? You'll put that up yourself?

- Oh, why not? I like to be useful. - Oh.

You know, they are awfully noisy.

You needn't worry, Mrs. Halston.

I'm sure they'll make a lovely sound.

Well, I think the neighbours will mind it.

Well, I must do this, Mrs. Halston,

because if the birds do decide to roost,

- there'll be no removing those nests. - I see.

Well, what about placing spinning pinwheels on your yard?

Now that will scare the birds away.

You know, I've never thought of that.

But wind chimes are so charming.

I'd like my home to be as pretty as a picture.

- Well, of course. - (BARKING)

Oh, there's that stray again.

You know, I tried to give him some treats the other day,

but it appears that he only likes Mr. McDowell!

- Hi! - That stray dog really likes you,

doesn't he, Mr. McDowell?

Ah!

Oh, oh, Mrs. Crabtree!

Oh! Oh, no, oh!

- (BARKING) - Oh. Oh no, no!

- (MOANING) - Call a doctor.

According to the barber,

Nathaniel Marston was a kind, hardworking man.

But you think he was murdered by a contract killer.

I do, sir. Miss Hart recovered a. 30 calibre bullet

from the victim's body.

It was rimless and had a pointed nose.

That would only have been fired from a newer model gun.

Yes, sir.

The kind preferred by a professional assassin.

And the victim ran a construction company?

- Yes, he did. - Hm.

My Nathaniel was a good, smart boy.

He wasn't the kind to make any enemies.

No one he may have hurt or offended?

This world is full of gossip mongers and backstabbers,

but he was not one of them.

He was nothing but an asset to my company.

A company you ceded to him.

For the most part.

I advise only on the larger decisions.

Mr. Marston, who would have known of your son's

scheduled barbershop appointment this morning?

Only his secretary, Mr. Tibbins.

He keeps Nathaniel's daily schedule.

Where might we find this Mr. Tibbins?

I can't believe I broke my leg.

You'll be back on your feet in a few weeks.

But I have legal briefs to read,

and these drugs are making me feel a bit lightheaded.

The wheels of justice won't grind to a halt

just because you can't read a brief or two.

I suppose I shall resign myself to staring

onto the street until I die of sheer boredom.

(CHUCKLING)

Look over there.

Mr. Sanders, poor man.

He's waiting to see if there are letters for him; There never are.

- You don't know that. - Oh, but I do.

The mailman arrives at the same time every day

and Mr. Sanders gets up to meet him.

Well, we're all creatures of habit, I suppose.

Yes. Now I have all the time in the world to watch

the same habits repeat themselves.

Oh, look! There's the Rimer boy.

His mother always picks him up to have lunch at home,

and then he throws a tantrum on his way back to school.

Oh, dear.

Never misses a day. It's amazing.

Oh, Mr. Ken McDowell.

He helped me earlier when I fell.

Well, that was kind of him.

That's odd.

He was so dexterous with that hose earlier.

(BARKING)

Hey, get outta here! Get outta here! Shoo!

- Hey! No! Get out! - Mr. McDowell!

Get out! Just playing!

- Really? - How strange.

Earlier, that dog was wagging his tail and seemed to love him.

Effie, I must get back to the clinic.

You rest up.

Mr. Marston is correct.

As his secretary, I keep Nathaniel's schedule in this ledger.

Mr. Tibbins, who else knew of Mr. Marston's barbershop appointment?

If I could be perfectly honest,

there's something that weighs heavy in my heart.

Feel free to share it with us.

Yesterday, someone telephoned the office to inquire

about Nathaniel's schedule.

Who?

I didn't recognize his voice.

The caller had said that he had a meeting scheduled

with Nathaniel for the morning,

but unfortunately needed to cancel.

I told the caller that he must be mistaken

because Nathaniel had a barbershop appointment in the morning.

Please, go on.

The caller then asked

whether Nathaniel still frequents Perry's Barbershop.

I told him no; He goes to Goodwin's Barbershop.

(CRYING)

You offered this information to a stranger?

He was very conversational.

He... he then said he must indeed be mistaken and,

uh, hung up without...

Without giving his name.

I'm afraid I may have fallen for a trick.

I'm a fool. Oh!

- (CRYING) - We'll give you a moment.

Well, the killer very clearly learned the victim's

whereabouts from the secretary.

Don't you think Tibbins is putting it on a bit?

He seemed upset, but I didn't think so. Why?

Maybe Tibbins fabricated the call.

You think so?

I've got good instincts for these things, Murdoch.

- Never wrong. - Right then.

Let's see if Henry can find the origins of the telephone call.

(LAUGHING IN THE DISTANCE)

(GASPING)

Mr. McDowell!

Thank you for your help today!

(EERIE MUSIC)

(PHONE RINGING)

Hello?

Julia, Julia!

- It's me. - Effie?

It's quite late. Is everything all right?

There's something very strange happening at the McDowells.

You remember my neighbours?

You remember Ken and Lize.

Uh, not really.

What seems to be the problem?

They're... they're digging in their yard,

and they've got a sack and they're burying whatever's inside of it.

Uh, Effie, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about,

but I'll ask William to pop over first thing in the morning.

All right?

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Well, I'll be damned.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Come in.

- Hello? - William!

Thank you so much for coming so early.

Yes, Julia said you noticed something strange

- about your neighbour? - Yes. Yes.

Mr. Ken McDowell, over there. You see?

Yesterday morning, he was doing up his garden hose, like this.

Perfectly, as if he'd been doing that it way his entire life.

But in the afternoon, he was all thumbs,

as if he didn't know how to handle the thing at all.

Perhaps he was just feeling a bit out of sorts?

But now he's gone back to handling the hose perfectly!

Oh. Well, all the more the reason to assume he made a mistake.

I felt as though he were a different man.

Oh, that's quite a leap.

But, William, there's a stray dog in the neighbourhood.

Yesterday morning, the dog absolutely loved Mr. McDowell,

wagging his tail, licking him.

Then in the afternoon the dog was growling and barking at him.

Animals without owners can sometimes behave unpredictably.

I called out the window... "Thank you!"

Because he'd helped me when I fell and I broke my leg

and he gave me a blank look, as if I were crazy!

Effie, um, what exactly happened late last night

that led you to call Julia?

He and his wife were digging.

They had a sack, and they were burying whatever was inside.

How big was the sack?

Well, it was very dark, and I don't know.

Would you go and ask?

Investigate?

I don't really see any evidence of wrongdoing.

William, please! It could be anything in there!

Maybe I am going crazy.

(CHUCKLING)

Effie, I'll go over and speak with them.

Put on your hat, William.

(DOOR CLOSING)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Good morning.

Detective Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary.

Is there a problem, Detective?

Someone called in concerned that you were burying something

in your yard last night.

What of it?

May I ask what it was?

It was that pesky neighbourhood raccoon.

It had mange and it was getting into everyone's trash,

- even during the day. - Yeah.

Probably died of rabies.

It was a dreadful, ugly thing.

Dig it up, if you care to take a look.

Sorry to disturb.

- Have a good day. - You too, Detective.

- A raccoon? - Hm.

Apparently, your neighbourhood has had an issue

with one getting into food waste.

- Yes, but... - Well, that explains it, then.

You see? There's nothing to worry about, Effie.

You can relax.

I was so sure.

Sure about which?

Ah, Julia did mention you should try to be careful

with your morphine dosage.

Perhaps a nap would be a good idea?

Oh.

- Inspector. - Ooh.

Oh, oh. There's a lovely couch right over here.

- Is there? - Oh, my goodness!

You must be the detective and the inspector.

I'm the inspector, he's the detective.

- And you are? - I'm Marcel Marston.

Nathaniel was my older brother.

Oh. Terribly sorry for your loss, Mr. Marston.

Thank you. I only just heard.

I was out of town supervising a project in Peterborough.

I rushed home and I found this in my home mailbox.

"You'll be next."

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

The note is obviously from my brother's killer.

I'll admit I'm extremely disturbed.

Do you have any idea who may have uttered this threat?

Someone who was obviously unhappy that my brother and I

acquired some property recently.

It was our first successful deal together.

You mean the Rosedale property?

- You're aware? - Yes.

I had a constable pull all of the public land registry records

that show Marston & Sons Construction won the bid.

It seems the legal wrangling went on for months.

Yes. It wasn't a secret that my brother and I together

were part of the bidding war.

Well, then, is it possible that

one of the unsuccessful bidders in particular made this threat?

I wouldn't be able to say.

Right. I'll be taking this note into evidence.

We'll post a constable outside your home for protection.

McNabb!

Accompany Mr. Marston for the rest of the day.

Make sure he gets home safe.

We'll be in touch, sir.

Well, I suppose we can narrow our pool of suspects down

to all those that bid on this Rosedale property.

Maybe Tibbins was conspiring with one of them.

I suppose so.

I won't eliminate Mr. Tibbins as a suspect just yet, sir.

Constable Tucker!

I need you to get addresses and details

on all of these parties that bid on that Rosedale property.

Will do, sir.

I'll get them for you as soon as I can.

You've been a bit of a keener since the oyster bar incident, haven't you?

I just want to work hard, sir.

Oh, wait.

Before you do that,

go to Marston & Sons Construction

and obtain a set of fingermarks for a Norman Tibbins.

And while you're at it, take into evidence his ledger

that outlines his boss' schedule.

The ledger?

Well, sir, it's one way to compare

Mr. Tibbins' handwriting to this note.

Ah.

(DOOR CLOSING)

(SOFT MUSIC)

Julia?

Julia, is that you?

Where's my...

(GRUNTS)

(PHONE RINGING)

Dr. Julia Ogden.

Julia, Mrs. McDowell has broken into my house!

- What? - She stole my logbook!

What on earth are you talking about? What logbook?

I've been jotting down the goings-on in the neighbourhood,

especially after what happened with Mr. McDowell.

Effie, I'm afraid you may be blowing things out of proportion.

I woke up from my nap because I heard the front door slam,

and then I noticed my logbook was gone.

I've been taking notes on her and her husband,

and now she's taken them.

(SIGHING) Effie, I...

I'm worried you may be ingesting too much morphine.

It's known to produce auditory hallucinations.

Julia, I am certain she's been inside my house.

Could you please go over there and ask her for my logbook?

What? You can't be serious!

Julia, please!

Love you.

(SCOFFS)

Sirs, according to the telephone operator,

the call that Mr. Tibbins received was made from a public phone box

at the corners of Grandview and Pine Street.

What else is at Grandview and Pine?

I think shops and businesses.

Go find and interview any shoppers or shopkeepers

who were in the vicinity of the phone box.

Ask if they remember anything from the time of the call.

- Yes, sirs. - Shame you didn't think of that yourself.

(CLATTERING)

Oh. Hello!

Who are you?

Oh, I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude.

I'm... I'm a friend of your neighbour's.

Okay, well, what exactly do you want?

Ah, well, I wanted to thank you for helping her yesterday.

She fell from the ladder.

That's the reason you're snooping around the side of my house?

You couldn't have just rang the doorbell?

Oh. I... I'm sorry.

Have you, by chance, seen a notebook anywhere?

- Uh, what? - Never mind.

You've come at a bad time.

Yes, I do apologize. I see that you've hurt your arm.

Are you all right?

I dropped a crate of milk bottles and, um, cut myself.

It's nothing I can't handle.

Well, I'm a doctor. Would you like me to take a look?

No. Thanks.

Thank you.

Right.

Well, have a good day.

Effie.

Julia.

Julia!

I found the logbook!

- Oh, you did? - It was in my room the whole time!

- Ah! - I was at my wits' end!

Well, I'm so glad you found it.

I thought I was losing my mind. (LAUGHING)

(SIGHING)

I think it's time for me to go back to sleep.

I think that's a good idea.

Well?

Most of the ledger is in shorthand notation,

but I did find some writing.

Mr. Tibbins did not write this note

and there are no fingermarks on it.

Sirs, I've just returned from speaking with the locals

where the call to Mr. Tibbins was made.

- So, what did you find? - Well,

the interviews weren't exactly noteworthy, sir.

Mostly trivial details. But I have written them down, just in case.

(PHONE RINGING)

Detective Murdoch.

Who the hell is that?

Mr. Anthony Marston.

I thought his son was supposed to be next.

It appears someone is after the entire family.

I served Mr. Marston as I do every Wednesday night.

Oh, this was routine for Mr. Marston?

Yes. He's a regular at our establishment.

It wouldn't be too difficult for someone to trail him

and find out where he went every Wednesday.

I agree. What time exactly did Mr. Marston arrive?

He arrived at 4pm, as he always does.

I met him at the back door reserved for our select guests,

then I brought him to this room.

This private room.

- And what happened then? - He ordered the ribeye steak,

which I brought him straight from the kitchen.

I shut the door behind me, giving him the quiet

and the privacy that he prefers.

- You found the body? - I did.

- I nearly jumped out of my skin. - Hm.

He seems to have been dead for a few hours.

Why did you wait to call us?

Mr. Marston always rings the bell when he's finished

with his meal because he does not like to be disturbed.

I decided to check in on him because it seemed a bit strange

he'd been in there for so long.

- I called as soon as I found him. - Hm.

And this is the only entryway into this room?

Correct.

Thank you, Mr. Wohl.

Single stab wound to the back of the head.

It appears the blade was inserted into the space

between the base of the skull and the first vertebra.

Poor fella barely made a dent in his steak.

Hm. The murder must have occurred

shortly after Mr. Wohl exited the room.

The killer would have entered quietly,

struck and then exited before being seen.

No rest for the wicked.

Do you think it's the same killer as the older son's, Murdoch?

Well, sir, based on the professional nature,

- I would have to think so. - Sirs.

What is it, Higgins?

Have a look at this.

A steak knife covered in blood.

Looks like our murder weapon.

Hm. That's odd.

Right. Henry, send this along with Mr. Marston to the morgue.

We'll have Miss Hart analyze everything.

Sure, sir.

Mrs. Crabtree.

On the mend I see.

Oh, instead of being out and about,

I'm just watching everyone else go about their busy days.

Oh. Well, then let me ask you this:

Have you seen that stray dog anywhere?

The stray?

No, not for a few days, actually.

- I take it you haven't, either? - No.

And I've a nice beef knuckle he'd like.

Well, if he meanders back, let me know. I'd like to feed him.

I'm sure he'd appreciate that.

Well, I mean, living alone as a widow, it's sometimes nice

to have something to take care of.

Of course.

Well, going to have my morning tea.

Have a good day.

- (KNOCKING ON DOOR) - Detective Murdoch.

Here's a list of names and addresses of the others

who bid on the Rosedale property.

Right.

Thank you, Constable Tucker.

Here to serve, sir.

The bidding war for the land was among these parties.

Those are a lot of names, sir. Who do we start with?

Well, let's start with the one nearest to us.

Larue & Company Textiles, 2112 Simcoe Street.

Mr. Garrett Larue?

Detective William Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary.

We'd like a word.

About?

We understand your company bid on a Rosedale property recently.

- Yes. - Do you know who won that bid?

Uh, I forget the name, um, Martin, Morton. Something like that.

Mr. Larue, two members of the company who won that bid

were discovered murdered.

Good God!

Yes, we believe it has to do with the bid

and we need you to share with us fulsome details.

Uh, I let the secretary, Mr. Heller, take care of the details.

I'm afraid I don't know much about the nitty-gritty.

Are you saying you weren't involved in a bid

that had your name on it?

Well, I advised only on the amount to offer.

Were you not aware that there was a bidding war for the property?

I was.

This type of situation is not uncommon, Detective.

There's an auction-house sort of fervour

whenever there's prime property up for grabs.

But I became uninterested in the property.

Why is that?

Buying bigger land in Leaside instead was a better business move.

Besides, we felt a bit pressured by some bidders to back off.

That's why we stopped bidding on the Rosedale property

after raising our offer only once.

Mrs. McDowell.

I was wondering how you'd been faring since the accident.

- Oh, as well as I can, I suppose. - Hm.

I made you a little milk pie to cheer you up.

I hope you like baked custard.

How delightful.

I'll come back later for the pie plate.

(GRUNTING)

Sir, Larue's story checks out.

His firm bid high on the property at first but dropped out.

A few other bidders backed out as well, citing pressure.

I wonder if Marcel knows anything about this.

Mr. Marston. Please have a seat.

I'm sorry to tell you that your father has been murdered.

But I was the one who was supposed to be under threat.

We suspect it's the same killer.

Do you have any thoughts on this?

I didn't say this earlier

because I was afraid it would make things worse.

But look what happened anyway.

My entire family's been killed.

What is it, Mr. Marston?

I've an idea of who the killer is.

Who?

The Grimecrux family.

In the bid, most of the others backed off early,

but that family was persistent.

There are rumours that they're a shady bunch.

I'm scared, Detective.

Well, that certainly narrows it down.

We'll look into this family.

Thank you so much.

I'll rejoin the constable I left in the hall.

- I've heard of the Grimecruxes. - Oh?

I didn't want to say anything in front of the poor fella,

but depending on who you talk to,

they're either a respectable family,

or they're a gang of criminals.

(HUMMING)

(GASPING)

They lied!

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

I did some digging into the Grimecruxes.

It seems the family has been linked to several unsolved murders,

but no one has ever been arrested due to insufficient evidence.

See? Not exactly the saintly type.

And all of the murders employ our contract killer's methods.

A single .30 calibre gunshot to the forehead,

a single, precise stab wound in the back of the neck,

all whilst entering and exiting without a trace.

It all makes the Grimecruxes look plenty suspicious, doesn't it?

And as you mentioned, all of their dealings are well-concealed.

But the head of the family, Liam Grimecrux,

just happens to be in prison at the moment on charges of embezzlement.

Hm.

Penny for your thoughts.

Mr. Grimecrux, are you aware that your family recently lost

a very heated bidding war for a property in Rosedale?

It was briefly mentioned to me.

Did you have a hand in commanding this bid?

(CHUCKLING)

Gentleman, I'm stuck here in prison.

I can barely make a phone call when I wish.

I only learned about it after the bid closed.

Your family must have been very sore when they didn't win.

Sore enough, perhaps, to kill the ones who did.

That's a load of rubbish.

Killing someone is not going to turn over the land.

Now what's this all about?

Mr. Grimecrux, we need your assistance

in identifying the killer in these murder cases.

From two years ago, a .33-calibre bullet

to the forehead of a banker named Mr. Robbie Simons,

who was seated at a diner.

A high precision shot from a long-range weapon.

From four years ago,

a single stab wound to the back of the neck.

The victim, a Mr. Herman Barnes,

who was suspected of having borrowed money from loan sharks.

And from three years ago, a landlord, Mr. Earl Ecker,

was found dead with double coil wire marks around his neck.

He was garrotted at a private lounge.

And what makes you think I would know anything about all this?

Well, in each of the cases,

your family was suspected of being involved.

Well, good luck trying to prove that.

These photographs are from more recent cases.

Now, we believe the same hitman is behind these cases.

Tell us who.

Mr. Grimecrux, if you can provide us with information,

perhaps we can provide you with leniency on your current jail term.

These look like they could be the work of a Mr. M.

Or so I've heard.

Mr. M?

Don't play games, sunshine.

- Who's Mr. M? - I don't know his identity.

Only that he's a ruthless and efficient killer

and available for hire to anyone who has the money to pay.

Sir, I find his claims that he had nothing to do

with the previously unsolved murders hard to believe.

Indeed.

Look, Murdoch, one day, we'll come back to those cases.

We'll return to Grimecrux.

But we promised him leniency in exchange for what he's told us.

What's a promise to a killer?

One day his dodgy dealings will catch up with him eventually.

Sirs. There's been a call from Miss Hart.

She says the blood that was found on the steak knife

at the restaurant was not the victim's.

Well, whose blood was it then?

It's impossible to know.

Perhaps Mr. Marston got a couple of digs in

before he went to the great beyond.

Hm.

(BARKING IN THE DISTANCE)

(EERIE MUSIC)

(PANTING)

(GRUNTING)

(GASPS)

(GRUNTING)

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Did you see any mention of this Mr. M in the files, Murdoch?

I did not, sir.

I think this warrants a closer look.

There has to be something we've missed.

Let's have a look at this one.

"Before and after the gunshot, local residents,

a Miss Aidy Cooper and a Mr. Tom Hewey,

reported seeing a milk truck being parked a block from Woolworth's,

the butcher's... " Blah, dee-blah-dee-blah-dee-blah.

Bloody useful information.

- What is it, Higgins? - Well, I forgot to hand you my notes

- from the phone box interviews, sirs. - Oh, great, more interviews.

It's like picking pennies up in front of a steamroller.

Now, hold on just a moment.

- What is it? - In the Barnes case, sir.

Uh, "two hotel staff and one guest reported seeing

a milk truck drive by at the time,

even though no milk deliveries were scheduled."

So what?

The Simons case you were just reading...

Someone reported seeing a milk truck near the scene of the crime.

- Yes. - That's funny.

I spoke to a local who said there was a milk truck

parked by the phone box.

What's a milk truck doing in all of this?

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

A milk truck also in the Ecker case.

And this is the oldest file that we have going back five years.

The murder of Mr. Lorne Parker.

A single bullet wound to the forehead

during a private fitting at a tailor's on Claremont Avenue.

A witness, a Miss Nancy Withers, age seven,

saw a man exit a milk truck on the same street!

And I quote, "he was not my Mr. Milkman.

He was a different Mr. Milkma... "

- Mr. M. - Mr. M.

Good lord.

Our contract killer is a milkman?

- Bloody hell. - (KNOCKING ON DOOR)

William, sorry for the interruption.

I'm finished at the clinic,

but I'm heading to Effie's, perhaps for the night.

Is everything all right?

Ah, she still thinks that her neighbour

is up to something nefarious.

I did actually speak with Mr. McDowell yesterday

and he was quite strange.

Her neighbour.

- He's a milkman! - Ah, yes. What of it?

Julia, the contract killer

that we are looking for may be a milkman.

Did you happen to notice if he was injured?

Ah, did he have any wounds?

Yes! On his arm. That's what was so strange.

It was fresh, but it looked as if he'd stitched it up himself.

He worked for Lakeside Dairy, I believe.

I saw the tag on his uniform.

Sir, the man I spoke to said that

it was a Lakeside Dairy truck by the phone booth.

- Effie was right. - Right about what?

- Her neighbour. - Come on.

- Why aren't you working? - (PHONE CLICKING)

There's no use calling for help. We cut the telephone line.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Whoa, whoa.

(GASPING, GRUNTING)

(SCREAMS)

It is a shame you didn't just mind your own business, Mrs. Crabtree.

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

A milkman. That's him.

He's dead.

Our murderer is murdered.

Sir,

Effie seems to think there are two of them.

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

- You're not Mr. McDowell! - You're right about that.

- So, there are two of you? - Not anymore.

- What did you do? - What do you think?

My husband was a vicious killer.

The world is better now that it's rid of him

and, as much as I regret it, you're to meet the same fate.

Milk will do your body good.

Open wide!

(SCREAMING)

(SPITS)

- (GROANING) - Toronto Constabulary!

Stop! Come here!

Sit down! Don't move!

Are you all right, Effie?

Yes, I'm fine.

Curiosity may have killed the cat,

but satisfaction brought it back.

So, the truth.

Who are you, really?

My name is Daniel Dunn.

And what's your relationship to the McDowells?

It's quite a story.

I first met Ken McDowell some years ago.

Seeing the similarities in our physical appearance,

Ken hired me to replace him each time he went on an assignment.

On top of his persona as a milkman,

Ken would always have an airtight alibi.

Whenever a murder was committed,

he was always at home,

with his loving wife.

And you knew of this?

And you went along with it? Why?

Over time, Daniel and I fell in love.

We planned to get rid of my husband,

take his money and start life anew.

And we would've been able to,

had Mrs. Nosy Parker kept out of all this.

That's why you poisoned your husband?

Well, he would have seen a weapon coming from a mile away.

But he didn't expect a wee bit of cyanide in his glass of warm milk.

Then you tried to kill Mrs. Crabtree.

Pity she doesn't care for pie.

Your husband may have been the killer,

but the two of you have both committed heinous crimes.

You'll likely hang for them.

- Those portraits came down quickly enough. - Gentlemen.

Have you found my father's killer?

We have.

Mr. Marston, do you recognize these?

They are personal cheques that were found

amongst the possessions of the late Mr. Ken McDowell.

They bear your name and signature.

I have no idea what those are.

I don't even recall the man.

You hired the assassin, Mr. M.

He even placed a fake telephone call here to Mr. Tibbins.

Perhaps because you couldn't figure out

your brother's schedule based on Mr. Tibbins' shorthand.

You were greedy and quick to take over.

You had your father and brother killed.

After the bid, you put the blame on an easy scapegoat.

What? That's preposterous!

I am the next victim!

Marcel Marston, you are under arrest

for soliciting murder and for fabricating evidence to the police.

Come here.

Well, I certainly didn't imagine

such precarious adventure when I moved to the neighbourhood.

I'm glad you're all right now.

- I was quite worried about you. - Mm.

Mrs. Halston!

Oh, hello.

I find that the hardest part of staying at home is the restlessness.

Hopefully, when George returns, I can cope better.

Oh, I'm sure you will.

I wonder if that stray's going to return.

I haven't seen him in a week.

I pray that he's all right.

That reminds me, Mrs. Halston.

There's, um, someone I'd like you to meet.

(SQUEAKING)

Hello.

For me?

Oh, you're beautiful.

I know how much you admired the stray

and I thought it would be suitable for you to have one of your own.

Oh, I can't thank you enough. Hello.

Hello, darling.

I have a knuckle bone you might like.

Oh. Oh, there. Oh, no! You can't do that on my lap.

(LAUGHING)

(♪♪)

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