All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries s18e20 Going Postal.eng

(enchanting music)

(bicycle bell rings)

- I'll see this gets
sent out today.

(mysterious music)

(laughing)

(Julia): William. It was
wonderful to have you with us

in London. Susannah and I
are missing you more than ever.

I hate to deliver the news
this way,

but the miles between us
give me no choice.

I've received a grant to expand
the teaching hospital.

It's exciting for women's
medical education, of course,

but it also means that
I'll be remaining in London

for the next year, at least.

Love, Julia.

(rapid knocking at door)

- Miss Longfellow,
now is not a good time-

- Trust me, you are going
to want to see this.

- What is it?
- Evidence of a crime

you and I are going to prevent
from occurring.

(theme music)

- Start at the beginning.

- Well, this is what
we in the postal service

call a dead letter.

It's mail that can't be
delivered

but also can't be returned.

- I thought dead letters were
meant to be incinerated.

- Oh! Yes, they are.

But only once we're absolutely
certain they're dead.

And you see...

Sometimes I can bring
the letters back to life,

as it were, by reading
the letters' contents.

- Mm. And, in this case,

you've found evidence
of a crime?

- A forthcoming crime.

- "I've seen you in the window
and I won't be ignored."

- "Answer me or else."

- Well, this is certainly
threatening in tone,

but I don't see how this
is a matter for the police.

- Well, Detective,

clearly the author
of this note

is tired of being ignored
by someone

and is preparing
to take action!

- But this could just as easily
be a prank of some sort.

And because there is no
decipherable address,

or any other details,
there's nothing we can do.

- Well, but-
- My answer is no.

(sighs)

(jazzy music)

- Sir! I was delighted
to get your call.

I feel we haven't had a proper
chin wag

since I got back
from my writing sojourn.

- Indeed, George. Actually,

that's what I was hoping
to speak with you about.

- Well, it was quite
the adventure, sir.

- Mm.

I was wondering:

how did you and Effie manage...

all of that time apart?

- Oh.

Well, certainly, sir,
it wasn't easy.

I think it helped
that we were both

kept quite busy by our own work.

- Mm.

- You're missing Dr. Ogden?
(sighs)

- Every day.

I-I could manage just fine

when I knew that her time
in London

had a specific end.

But now I...

- Has something changed, sir?

- Oh! Yes, uh, I received this.

- She's been asked to expand
the teaching hospital, sir.

That's wonderful!

Another year at least.

Sir, that will be difficult
on a personal level,

but think about all the good
the doctor is doing.

- That cannot be denied.

And yet I-
(dishes clanging)

(crowd murmuring)

- That's enough!

(grunting)

Let's go.

Get out!

- Well done, Miss Hart.

Are you all right?

- Just another night
in paradise.

(birds chirping)

- Ooh. Miss Longfellow.
Excuse me.

- Oh, no! No excuses needed.

I was just on my way to see you.

I've made progress on our case.

- Our...

As I said last night-
- Nothing to be done

without an address. Yes.
But I've solved that problem,

at least partially.

- Oh. You've made
a pencil rubbing.

- Mm-hmm.

I noticed indentations
on the letter

and that led me to suspect
that the envelope had,

in fact, been addressed
after it was sealed.

- It seems you were correct.

- So does that mean
that you'll help me?

(intriguing music)

- Sir, has a case come in?

- Oh! No, I'm helping
my neighbour with a project.

Or at least I'm trying to,
but I've had no success.

- Sir, what sort of rooming
house have you moved into

that there would be blood
on your neighbour's mail?

- Oh! That's not blood
and that's not what I'm after.

The faded ink or graphite
markings of the address,

I was hoping they could be
revealed by ultraviolet light,

but, uh...

no.

I wonder if...

- How is taking a photograph
going to help?

- The physicist Robert Wood
has had some success

photographing, uh,
using infrared light

with long exposure.

- I'm not sure I understand.

- Oh. Uh, both ink and graphite

are visible under
infrared light,

so perhaps using
Mr. Wood's technique

will reveal the address
on the envelope.

- I see.
- Of course the focal length

is much too great.

- Sir, have you given any
thought to Dr. Ogden's letter?

- Yes! I'll be joining them
in London as soon as possible.

- Sir, you don't mean to say-

You're not leaving
the constabulary, are you?

- I-I-I realize that was quite
sudden and I apologize, George.

But, yes, I-I-I need
to be with my family.

- Yes, of course.

(somber music)

You don't, you don't
need me to tell you

you'll be sorely missed.

And Dr. Ogden will be thrilled.

- Yes.

At least I-I think so.
I've yet to receive

word or-or-or her thoughts
on the matter.

- Detective.

I must say I am quite tickled

that you invited me to lunch.

- I-I'm sure I said
we should meet outside.

- Did you? Oh.

Well, a man has to eat!

And I already ordered
for us both.

Sit, sit, sit!

- Beans and sausage.
How did you know-?

- Know that they're
your favourite?

An educated guess based on
what I've seen in your trash.

Now, Detective! I'm very eager

to hear what you've learned
about our threat!

- Uh...

- Harwell Hotel, Room 3.

(gasps)
You did it!

- Note that the sender does not
include an intended recipient,

nor his own return address.

- It's all the more likely
something nefarious is afoot.

Shall we go
to the Harwell Hotel?

No! No, after our lunch.

- Uh, unfortunately, I can't.

I'm expecting an urgent overseas
telegram from my wife.

- Oh!

Well, I suppose I can
just go on my own.

- You will do no such thing.

- Well, I thought the whole
point of discovering

the recipient was to warn them.
- And you can.

- How?
- By placing the letter inside

of a new envelope
and sending it along.

- Oh, you must be joking!

- I assure you I am not.

- Harwell Hotel, please.

(mysterious music)

- It came in while
you were out, sir.

(Julia): "As you said yourself,

we each have a duty and it's not
always to each other.

The constabulary needs you.

You must remain in Toronto

and I in London."

- I'm sorry, sir.
I know it's not the response

you were hoping for.

- That's rather
an understatement. Excuse me.

- Oh!
- Ah, Miss, can I help you?

- I'm fine, thank you.

I-I'm sorry to interrupt, but...

Oh, you got your telegram.

- What can I do for you,
Miss Longfellow?

- You can read this,
for a start.

- "You've made your bed.

Enjoy your last few days
on Earth."

Where did you get this?
- It was in the return-to-sender

box after our lunch. I noticed
it because of the address.

I-I think you'll agree,
the threats have intensified.

- Indeed. And despite
the continued

lack of return address,

it's at least now possible
for us

to warn the potential victim.
- Channing Brown, yes.

If I can find him.

- I'm a police detective
with the Toronto Constabulary.

I assure you we can find him.

- We.

So, are you saying...

you are going to help me?

- Yes, Miss Longfellow.

And we'd best hurry.

A man's life could be in danger.

- Oh. Good day,
Mister and Missus...?

(giggling)

- Detective Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

I need a forwarding address
for a former guest,

a Mr. Channing Brown.

- I wish I had one myself.

- Mr. Brown didn't
leave an address?

- Mr. Brown has never been
a guest here.

But if you find him,
perhaps you can give him these.

- Ah, more threats,
as I suspected.

- These postmarks are all
from last month.

Someone's been trying to reach
Mr. Brown for some time.

- Well, we should be thankful

that whoever that is
had the wrong address.

- Hm. I'm not so sure.

You mentioned that
in the first note

they said they saw Mr. Brown
in the window.

- Yes. Of course. Of course!

So he was a guest here
at some point.

Is he lying?

- Or...

someone gave their alias,
Channing Brown,

to whomever is now writing
these threats.

- You are a genius,
Detective Murdoch.

- I wouldn't say that.

- So now that we have the names

of everyone who stayed
in Room 3...

- We just need to figure out
which one

used the alias Channing Brown.

Oh! Uh, one of
the forwarding addresses

is just around the corner here.

Should we start there?

- Yes, let's.
- All right.

- But first!
- Oh.

- Thank you for helping me.

- And thank you for being
a concerned citizen.

- Detective Murdoch.

- Miss Hart! What a surprise.

- I'll say.

- Uh, my neighbour,
Miss Longfellow.

We are investigating
a-a string of-of threats.

- Uh, no need to explain.

What you do in your free time
is your business.

Good day.

- Of course. Please, come in.
Please.

(typewriter clicking)

Billy, dear,

there's a detective here
who wants to speak to you.

- Uh, just give me
a moment more.

(chuckling)

- Billy's a brilliant novelist.

Soon the whole world
will know it.

- You're his secretary?

- Oh, goodness no!

I'm his benefactress,
Juliet Medland.

- Now, then.

What did you wish
to speak to me about?

(clears throat)
- Your time

at the Harwell Hotel.

For how long
were you a resident?

- Two weeks?
But that was months ago,

before Juliet offered me
this suite to live and work in.

- Mm.

You were registered
under your own name,

but do ever have cause
to use an alias?

- A pen name, you mean?
Like Mark Twain?

- Like Channing Brown.

- That doesn't sound
authorial at all.

- Nonetheless, the individual
behind this name

has been the target
of several threatening letters.

Are you sure you've never used
the alias Channing Brown?

- I am.

Besides, I don't have
an enemy in the world.

- Oh, sir. A moment?

- Uh, yes. Miss Longfellow,

you can have a seat
in my office.

The next potential Mr. Brown
should be along shortly.

- Hm.

- What have you, George?
- Oh, nothing actually, sir.

I was just wondering, or rather
Effie and I were wondering,

if you would like to come
for dinner.

We thought it might
brighten your spirits.

- Oh, that-that's
very thoughtful.

But I believe I'll be
otherwise engaged this evening.

- With this new case, you mean?

- That's correct.
It's fascinating.

- I'm sure.

Well, is there
anything I can do?

- Uh, no. I-I believe
Miss Longfellow and myself

have it all under control.

Oh, there is one thing!
- Sir?

- A Mr. Martineau
should be arriving shortly.

If you could please show him
to my office when he does?

- Yes, of course.
- Thank you, George.

- Yes, I stayed in Room 3
at the Harwell Hotel,

but I am not Channing Brown,

despite what you
or anyone else might think.

- Anyone else?

Are we not the first
to ask you about this Mr. Brown?

- Not exactly.

A man came to my door
at the Harwell Hotel

several weeks ago looking
for a Dr. Brown.

- Ooh! Doctor, Mister,

they must be one and the same!

Now, what did he say to you?
Was he quite threatening?

- You can answer, Mr. Martineau.

- He was agitated.

Not that I can blame him.

Apparently, Brown drove his wife
to jump off a bridge.

- He what?!

Sorry.
- Uh, did this man tell you

anything else, either about

his wife's death or her
connection to this Dr. Brown?

- He did not.

- Well, did he at least
tell you his name?

- No.
- Oh.

- Now, may I?

- Yes, you may go.
Thank you, Mr. Martineau.

- Do you think the man
who came to his door

is the one who authored
those threats?

- I believe it's possible.
And...

I think I may know
a way to identify him.

- What's this?

- Resumes I gathered
for potential managers

at the Starbright.

- I see.

- Hope I didn't overstep?

- It's not that.

- But I can see you're upset.

- I like my evenings
at the club, Isaiah.

It's lively.

- - And sometimes dangerous.

- At least I'm surrounded
by the living.

It's a nice change from
spending my days in here.

Detective.

- Miss Hart. Am I interrupting?

- I was just leaving.

- Everything all right?

- My fianc� wants something
from me

that I don't want to give.

- Mm.

All relationships
require negotiation.

- Negotiation.

Does that explain
what I witnessed you doing

earlier with that young woman
on the street?

- What you witnessed
was a concerned citizen

thanking me for my help
as a police detective.

(mysterious music)

Were you able to find those
files that I requested?

- Yes.

There was one matching
your specifications,

an Andrea Etter.

Died in a fall from
Flindon Bridge six months ago.

- Very good. Thank you.

- Yes, I went
to the Harwell Hotel.

But I simply wanted to speak
to Andrea's psychiatrist.

- Channing Brown.

(scoffs)
- Some doctor.

Supposed to make
my wife better, not...

drive her to take her own life.

- You must've been
furious with him.

- I was. I am upset.

Sweet Andrea.

- Mr. Etter, have you ever
attempted to contact

this Dr. Brown via the post?

- No, never.

I only learned
the whereabouts of his practice

on the day I tried
to speak with him.

(Longfellow): Mr. Etter
could have been lying.

- It's possible. He seemed
credible to me, though.

- Oh, oh! To me, too.

Goodness, we're no closer
to finding the author

of these threats or this man
who calls himself Mr. Brown.

- Mr. Randall.
- Uh-uh, Mr. Brown.

Mr. Randall is the young author
that we met at-

Mr. Randall! Are you
all right? Your jacket!

- Ruined, I know.

Some maniac ran me down
in the street.

- How terrifying.
- Oh, it was terrifying, indeed.

- You witnessed the accident?

- Sir, if I didn't know
any better,

I would think the driver
was aiming

for poor Mr. Randall here.

- Is that right?

- Sir, do you think this could
be connected to the case

you two are working on?

- That's a question
for Mr. Randall.

- Like I said before,

I don't have an enemy
in the world.

This is just a nasty
coincidence is all.

- Right. Well, in that case,
as you were.

- Sir.

- Some coincidence.

If you ask me, Billy Randall
is Channing Brown

and whoever ran him down
is the author of those threats.

- I think you're right.

- Really?

Because there is one thing
I-I don't understand,

which is why Mr. Randall
is-is continuing with this ruse.

- People often lie when they
have something to hide.

- Well, it must be some kind
of secret to keep it

even after being run down.

- Indeed.

- I can see your mind working.
What are you thinking?

- If we can ascertain the nature
of Mr. Randall's secret,

it may help us uncover
who wants him dead.

- Great minds. I was thinking
the exact same thing.

Meet me tonight at
the Ashbury Hotel at eight p.m.

- Miss Longfellow-
- And don't be late!

- Miss Longfellow,
what exactly is your-

- Shh-shh-shh!

Ta-da!

- I don't understand.

- Well, Mr. Randall's suite
is right next door,

which gives us the perfect
vantage to keep an eye...

...and an ear on him.

Go, have a listen!

These walls are surprisingly
thin for such a fancy hotel.

- All I hear is tapping.

(typewriter clicking)

- Yes, Mr. Randall's typewriter,
no doubt.

I'm sure we'll hear something
telling sooner or later.

- That's if our theory
is correct.

- No, no, no. I am certain
he is Channing Brown.

And if today's accident was,
in fact, on purpose

then the letter writer is intent
to make good on his threats.

- But there's nothing to say
that that will be tonight.

Or that the letter writer
is aware

of Mr. Randall's new residence,
for that matter.

- Well, do you want
to take that chance?

- Well, your plan has
some merit.

But we can't simply
stay here all night

on the off chance
that something should happen.

- Detective, we have to think
of Mr. Randall's safety!

- I can post a constable
to stand guard all night.

- Yes, all right. Fine.

But until then,
whenever that is,

I'm going to make myself
more comfortable.

And I think you should
do the same.

(curious music)

- Miss Longfellow,
what are you wearing?

- Oh, I thought we should
play the part,

in case someone might see us.

- We're in a private room!
Who's going to see us?

- Well, the hotel staff,
for a start.

Oh. I ordered us
room service.

- We are not on vacation.

- Speak for yourself.

We have to eat. Oh!

And the bellboy

might know something
of Mr. Randall's secret.

(woman screams)

Detective?

Oh! That was incredible.

- What's happened?

- Wake up, my darling. Wake.

(gasps)
Somebody's killed my Channing!

(sobbing)

- He was working on his novel

when I went to bathe at nine,

and when I came back,
he was dead. Poor boy.

- A boy you knew
as Channing Brown?

- How else would I know him?

I-is this all?

I-I'm eager to leave.

- Mrs. Gregoire,
a man has been murdered.

This is a police investigation.

- One that I would rather not
be dragged into

any more than necessary.
You see,

my husband
is a very public figure.

- Your husband?

- Wait, do you mean to say
that your husband

is Arthur Gregoire,

the Archdeacon of Toronto?

- You see why I would appreciate

any discretion
that you could offer.

(sighs)

- I'll expect you in my office
first thing in the morning.

- Thank you, Detective.
Good night.

- Sir.

Oh! Miss Longfellow.
Pardon me.

Um, sir, a couple of things.

Ah, Miss Hart believes
that Mr. Randall

was smothered in his sleep.

Also,

no hotel staff or guests

reported hearing anything
out of the ordinary

prior to Miss Gregoire's scream.

- No, I wouldn't expect so.

We were right next door and we
didn't hear so much as a peep.

- We?

As in, you and...?

- We were keeping an eye out

for Mr. Randall's safety,
rightly so.

- I see.

- Maybe Mrs. Gregoire
killed Randall.

- She's the only person
known to be in the room.

- No. If she was the murderer

she wouldn't have called
attention to herself

by screaming.

- Oh, yes, I suppose so.

What would an aspiring author
need a ledger for?

- Oh, I can speak to that
from experience.

As a writer,
it's very important

to track your expenses.

- I don't believe
that's what's happening here.

- What else would these
names and dollar figures

be in reference to?

- I believe Mr. Randall
was keeping track

of monies received from women,
including Mrs. Gregoire.

- What would a woman like her
be paying him f...

Oh.

Oh, I see.

(indistinct chatter)

- Ephraim Currant.

- Isaiah Buchanan.

- I see you've met Mr. Currant.

He's an acquaintance
in the neighbourhood

and he's agreed to take over
as management at the club.

- What? That's wonderful!

- You don't mind that I didn't

hire from one of the resumes
you brought me?

- Not at all.

I can't pretend
that I'm surprised.

You didn't seem keen when
we discussed this earlier.

- I wasn't.

Well, at least not at first.

- Well, what changed your mind?

- Detective Murdoch, actually.

- Well,

cheers to Detective Murdoch.
- Hm.

- What I don't understand.
is how Mr. Randall

had the stamina
for all these women.

- Oh, good! You're here.

- Perfect timing, George.
What have you?

- Well, sir, I visited
all the hotels

in Randall's ledger.
It turns out

that he was indeed exchanging...

ah, companionship for money.

But Channing Brown

was not the only pseudonym
he used.

- It wasn't?
- No.

He also used the names

Darcy Tweddle, Stuart Power,

Manuel Stubbs,

Randall Flicker,
and Chud Johnson.

- That explains it!

Last night I noticed
that Mr. Randall

put initials next to each
of the client's names

in his book.

They must represent
the pseudonyms

that he uses
with each of the clients!

- Sir, brilliant thinking.

And that certainly narrows down
our suspect list.

- Right. Please arrange
interviews

with each of the clients
that knew him as Channing Brown.

- Sir, right away.

- Is it really the clients
we should be looking into?

What about the jealous husbands
like Mr. Gregoire?

- Are you suggesting
the Archdeacon of Toronto

murdered Billy Randall?

- Surely just the thought
of one's spouse

even considering cheating
is enough

to make someone murderous.

- Hm.

Well, I won't rule out
that possibility.

But it could just as easily be

one of Mr. Randall's clients
who is our killer.

- What cause would one of his
clients have to do such a thing?

- That's what I intend
to uncover,

along with which, if any,

of the husbands
knew of the affairs.

- You're not saying you intend

to conduct these
interviews alone.

- I am.
- But-

- These conversations will be
delicate. It-it's for the best.

- Well, in that case,

perhaps I can go look into
the husbands and try to see if-

- You will do no such thing.

You are to remain here
at the station house.

- But, I was the-
- There's a killer on the loose,

Miss Longfellow. I will not
have you in any danger.

Would you like some tea?
- Yes, thank you.

- You stated that you were
in the bath

from nine until ten p.m.

and that you didn't see or hear

anything amiss until
you discovered the body.

- Yes. We went over
this last night.

- I'm simply ensuring that
I have all of the facts.

- Hm.

- Now, I presume
that the Archdeacon

was unaware of your relations
with the victim.

- One should never presume,
Detective.

Arthur and I love
each other very much,

but our love no longer extends
to the physical.

And as such,

I am free to have those needs
met elsewhere.

- If I may?
- Mm.

- How do you reconcile this
arrangement with your faith?

- Our arrangement,

as unusual as it is,

allows us to remain
freely and happily committed

to one another.

And isn't that the very heart
of the marriage covenant?

- You simply must find
the scoundrel

who did this
to poor dear Billy.

- That's what I wanted
to speak with you about

and you'll have to pardon
the blunt questions,

but, uh...

were you just Mr. Randall's
benefactress?

- You want to know
if we were lovers.

- I do.

- We were.

- And it didn't bother you

that he had other
sources of income?

- Not a whit.

What Billy and I have...

had went far beyond
the tawdry relations

he had with those other women.

- Did your husband know
the depth of the relationship

you had with Mr. Randall?

- Certainly not.

(sighs)
- Oh, this is just mortifying.

My liaison with Mr. Brown

was the biggest mistake
of my life.

- It was not ongoing?

- No! I ended things months ago.

So why am I here?

- Your name was on
one of Mr. Brown's client lists,

Mrs. Campbell.

- Am I to be charged
with a crime?

- Not for the affair, no.

But there is the matter
of the murder

of the man you knew
as Channing Brown.

- Channing was killed?

- Mm. After receiving
numerous threats.

- Oh! How... awful.

You don't think I had anything
to do with this, I hope.

- That's what I aim
to ascertain.

- Of course I didn't!

All I wanted was to put
this whole thing behind me.

I love my husband, Detective.

- What of your husband?

Was he aware of your liaison?

- Gavin is a jealous man.

If he'd discovered my secret,

I wouldn't be sitting here
with you today.

(curious music)

- What is he doing in there?

Where's he going?

Oh! Uh.

- Good Lord!

Miss Longfellow,
what on Earth are you doing?

- This could be evidence.

Collected it from the husband
of one of Mr. Randall's clients.

- I'm sorry.
Could you repeat that?

- I was just saying
something strange did happen

one evening when Channing and I
were out together.

- Go on.
- It was several months ago.

A man marched right up
to Channing

and punched him in the face.

Said he had driven
his wife to her death.

- You lied to me, Mr. Etter.

You told me you had never
met Channing Brown.

- I'm sorry.

I was embarrassed to admit
the true reason

my wife chose to end her life.

- Just what was it about
Mr. Brown

that drove your wife
to suicide?

- She was...

hopelessly in love with him.

But all he cared about
was the money she gave him.

In the end, it got to be
too much for her.

- So you attacked him
in the street?

- I punched him, yes.

But I didn't write him
those notes.

And I didn't kill him.

(knocking at door)

- Excuse me.

- Sir, I'm sorry
for the interruption,

but I just took a statement
from a witness

to the car accident
who gave me a partial license.

- Matching Mr. Etter's vehicle?

- No, sir. Matching
Gavin Campbell's vehicle.

- And I found this
in Gavin Campbell's trash.

- "Enjoy your last few days."

It's a match
to the final threat.

- What's going on?
- It's police business,

Mrs. Campbell. Step aside.

- Please don't tell Gavin
about my affair.

He'll never forgive me.

- Oh, I believe
he already knows.

Gavin Campbell,

you are under arrest

on suspicion of the murder
of Billy Randall,

also known as Channing Brown.

- This is absurd! I'm no killer!

- Mr. Campbell,
you have no alibi

for Mr. Randall's murder,

nor the earlier attempt
on his life.

- That doesn't make me guilty!

- Were you aware
of your wife's affair?

- Don't answer that.

A partial license plate
and five words

on a typewriter ribbon
is not sufficient cause

to hold my client.

Let's go, Mr. Campbell.
- We are not finished here.

- We are. And if you or any
other member of the constabulary

wish to question
my client again,

you'll need to do so
with me present.

- Well, did he confess?

- No. He left after insisting
upon his innocence.

- No. But it's plain as day
that he killed Mr. Randall.

- Well, sometimes plain as day
isn't sufficient.

We need more evidence.

- What we need is a confession.

(whistling)

- Mr. Currant.

Did everything go well
after I left last night?

- Usual crops of troublemakers,
but nothing I couldn't handle.

- Glad to hear it.

Now, shall we talk about
the real reason I hired you?

- Thought you'd never ask.

- You've heard about
the violence

perpetrated by Tony Petrucci?

- Experienced it firsthand.

Last bar I managed
got firebombed

when the owner refused
to pay a protection fee

to Petrucci's thugs.
- How awful.

It's just a mess.

One I'd like us
to clean up together.

- How do you propose we do that?

- By starting a program
to help businesses keep safe

from Petrucci and men like him.

- Hm. I can see the appeal,

especially given your
connections in the constabulary.

- Yes. Well, my position,
I think,

will make people eager
to participate.

But this is separate
from that.

Entirely so.

We can't count on
the police for everything.

- Don't I know it.

This new program...

I'm guessing it won't be free
for folks to join.

- A small fee would only
be fair, I think,

given the amount of work
it will take.

- There's my girl.

Ready for dinner?
- Yes. Just finishing up here.

Are we in agreement,
Mr. Currant?

- We are, Miss Hart.

- Wonderful.

- What did you say
your name was?

- Iris Cooke.
I work for your lawyer.

- Mr. Pullman.

- Right. I just came by
to pick up some paperwork.

- I-I delivered everything
this afternoon.

- Oh, yes! That's right.

Right! We must have gotten
our wires crossed.

- Well, you came all this way.

Least I can do
is offer you a drink.

- You could probably
use one yourself

after the day you've had.

(sighs)
- It was a difficult day.

- For what it's worth,
I think the law

should be amended
to exclude murder

committed as a result
of infidelity.

Because you must have been
just furious

when you discovered
your wife's affair.

- Not at all.
- Oh?

- It gave me the freedom
to pursue my own desires.

- Oh.

Oh! Oh, I see.

So you didn't kill anyone?

(scoffs)
- Of course not.

I'm all about love, Miss Cooke.

- Right, right. But what about

the typewriter ribbon
and-and your car and-

If you didn't kill Billy
Randall, someone else

living in this house
definitely did.

- Well, aren't you
just the cleverest?

- Anna.

What did you do?
- She killed Billy Randall. Why?

- Because he left me,
that's why.

And I am not a woman
who gets left.

Calling your detective friend?
I don't think so.

- What are you doing?

- Making sure
she keeps my secret.

(whimpering)
- Stop!

- Oh! Oh!

- It's over, Mrs. Campbell.

- I had nothing to do with this.

- George!
- Not so fast, Mr. Campbell.

- Oh, no, you don't!

(grunting)

- Well done, Miss Longfellow.

- What a night.

- What a pair of nights.

- My goodness,
this has been fun.

But, you know,
there is one thing

that I still haven't
figured out.

- What's that?

- Well, how did you know
that I was in danger?

- I had Constable Crabtree
keep an eye on you

after your afternoon adventure
of evidence gathering.

- I don't know whether
to be offended or touched.

- While you take a moment
to consider that, uh,

thank you.

You saved my life.

If you'd acted
just a moment later-

- Oh, no, no, no.

I-I don't think I could
bear the thought.

(soft music)

(gunshot)

Was that a gunshot?

(George): Detective!
- George!

- Sir, come back.

- Mrs. Medland, put
the gun down.

- She's dead?

What did you do?

- I gave her what she deserved
for killing my Billy.

(gasping)

And now you can do
with me what you will.

- You'll be heading straight
to our cells, for a start.

- Take back what I said
about this being fun.

- Yes, this sort of scene does
tend to have that effect.

- Sir! You're up and out early.

- Morning. Yes, uh, planning
to get an early start

on the paperwork
for Mrs. Medland's arraignment.

- Good thinking.
Early bird and all of that.

Sir, I've been meaning to ask
how you're feeling

with Dr. Ogden insisting
that you remain in Toronto?

- Oh, to be honest I haven't
given it much thought

with all the excitement
of the past few days.

- Oh.

- That surprises you?

- I've just never known you
to be quite that lost

in your work, sir.

- George, have I told you how
glad I am to have you back?

- Always nice to hear it again.

- The truth is I miss
Julia and Susannah terribly.

But Julia's right:
my work is here.

- Indeed, sir.
And it sounds like

she's flourishing in London.

- She and Susannah both!

It's an impossible situation.

But I know who my heart is with

and we will find a way
to make it work.

- Very good, sir.

(soft music)

- Miss Longfellow.
- Detective Murdoch.

(theme music)

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