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Calm yourself, Nancy,
or you'll be chipping the fine china.
Imagine the trouble then!

Don't joke at a time like this!
Don't fret. All will be well.

Billy, I'm worried...
Three cups, Nancy.

Make it four.
Another's expected.

So...did you do it?

GASPS

Did you do it?

Your tea, sir.

Wonderful.
Much thanks.

Two lumps, yes?
Yes, sir.

Oh, my, lovely aroma!

Good morning, Constable Crabtree.
Ah, sir!

Detective, this is Mr Heward.

Mr Heward, Detective Murdoch.
Mr Heward is the butler.

I take it you'll be forgoing tea,
Detective? Yes.

That'll be all, Billy.

What have you, George?

The housekeeper discovered...
SPOON DROPS

I'm very sorry, sir.

The housekeeper discovered the body
at 8.30.

The victim's wife was the last
to see him alive at a quarter past.

A difference of 15 minutes.
A small window of opportunity.

Any sign of an intruder? No, sir,
the windows and doors were intact.

Possible murder weapon, sir.

Yes. But there's no blood on it.
A killer could have wiped it clean.

I'll have it dusted for finger marks
in any case. Very good, George.

Gentlemen, if there's nothing
further required for the moment?
No, Mr Heward, that will be all.

If the house was locked up tight,
the killer must live here.

Yes, we'll need statements
from the staff and family. The lads
are seeing to that now. Good.

Have you notified Dr Francis?
He's on his way, although I fear
I interrupted his breakfast.

He was less than pleased? As usual,
sir. What will he say about
the cause of Mr Jenkins' death?

With his gift for stating
the obvious, he'll conclude that
this was not a case of poisoning.

Men's clothes exclusively.
Yes, sir. Mrs Jenkins has a bedroom
down the hall.

I believe that's common practice
with these upper-crust folks.

Yes, well, two people slept
in this bed last night.

At last! I was running out of rooms.
Dr Francis, good morning.

For some it is, I suppose.

That said,
if we take this gentleman...

His condition frames my unfinished
boiled egg in stark perspective.

Dead less than two hours.
Nasty little hole in the head.

Would you say the gaff from
a fireplace poker is in keeping
with what you see here? Why not?

I'll know better when I flush and
drain the wound back at the morgue,
my home away from home...

away from home.

Constable Crabtree! Sir?

Has the house been secured? It has
and I've posted a man here, sir.

Very good. What have you? Well, sir,
we have nine people in the home
at the time of the murder.

Carry on.
The deceased is Percival Jenkins.

In relation to him, we have
his mother - Mrs Jenkins Senior,

his wife Nora,
the youngest son Nicholas

and his fiancee Clara Thorn.

The older son Victor is upstairs.
He'll be along shortly.

As for servants, we have
the housekeeper Miss Allen,

Nancy Booth the scullery maid,
Florence Cullwick the parlour maid
and Billy Slater the footman.

You've left out Mr Heward,
the butler.

Mr Heward was at the tailor
between 8 and 8.30 picking up a suit
for Mr Jenkins. Or so he says.

Thank you, George.
Please confirm that. I will do, sir.

Also, the parlour maid, Florence
Cullwick, says she heard Mr Jenkins
and his wife arguing at about 8.10.

Indeed? Thank you, George.

CLEARS HIS THROAT

Is that the new coachman?
Hush, Mother-in-law.

My name is Detective William Murdoch
of the Toronto...
I hope I haven't kept you waiting.

..Toronto Constabulary.
Please carry on.

How like you, Victor,
the grand entrance, even
on the morning of Father's death!

I'm sure you'd prefer I slink in
guiltily as you would have, Nicholas,

but unlike you, I didn't kill Father.

Take that back!
Boys, for God's sake!

All right,that's quite enough, both of you.
The Detective has something to say.

A man was murdered in this house.

I offer my condolences
and my assurance

that the Constabulary will bring
the perpetrator of this crime
to justice.

You've given your statements. We'll
compare them and gather evidence.

Are you saying we're all suspects?
I'm asking that you keep yourselves
available for questioning.

That will be all for now. Thank you
very much for your co-operation.

Mrs Jenkins, if you could remain.

Will you be needing anything, madam?

Mrs Jenkins...
My sincere sympathies. Yes.

You and your husband were having
an argument shortly before he was
found dead? Who told you that?

What was the argument about?
It was a personal matter.
It had nothing to do with this.

Please answer the question.

He'd been rude and impossible
as always.

Is that enough of an answer for you?

Did you sleep in your husband's bed
last night, Mrs Jenkins?

No. I did not.

Thank you for your time,
Mrs Jenkins.

Oh, good, a chart(!)

Sir, in a case with ten suspects,
careful organisation of information
is paramount.

I'll make a note of that.
First, we determine who had
opportunity to kill Mr Jenkins.

Of those who had motive
and with evidence, I hope the list
is narrowed down to one.

Do you have any evidence? No, sir.

Yes, George? Sir, I've confirmed
the butler's alibi. Bravo, Murdoch(!)
One down, nine to go.

Also, sir, I found two sets of
finger marks on the bedroom poker,

the first set belonging to Florence,
the parlour maid... Parlour maids
tend to fires in the big houses.

The other set belonged to Nicholas,
the youngest son.

Yes, I used the poker, attending
to the fire in my father's room last
night. Isn't it the job of the maid?

How absurd to ring for the maid to do
something I could easily do myself!

What were you doing
in your father's room?

We were having words.

About?

He had insulted my fiancee Clara.

How so? A servant told him
that Clara had gone down to
their quarters to fetch some thread,

instead of ringing them
to bring it up.

And?

He intimated that's
where Clara belonged - downstairs.

My parents feel she's not good enough
for me, but my family, to my shame,
is not good enough for her. I see.

And where were you between 8.15 and
8.30 this morning? In the library.

Can anyone confirm this?
Billy brought me tea and the morning
papers, but that was before 8.

You don't think Nicholas did
his old man in? Sir, the guilty
rarely volunteer their motive

or undercut their alibi.
More than anything,
he appears to be a man in love.

That's him finished with!
That leaves the parlour maid?

Yes, Florence Cullwick
who, as you said, tends
to every fire in the household.

If the murder weapon was a fireplace
poker, perhaps it just wasn't
the one in Mr Jenkins' room.

George, see to it that every fire
poker in the house is brought in
and dusted for finger marks. Sure.

Now then, I need some certainty
about this murder weapon.

Murdoch, with your usual impeccable
timing. I'm off to an early dinner
with my wife, then a recital.

Musical saw and spoons, no doubt!

I only require a moment
of your time.

Cause of death - wound to the head.

Approximately three and
five-sixteenth inches deep. I think
your poker theory has some merit.

Could you make a mould of the wound,
so I can compare it to potential
murder weapons? I've never done it.

And I'm not about to start now.
Why not?

You know, Murdoch...

There is more to life than this.

This is all of them, sir.

No two are alike.
I assume they've been checked
for blood and finger marks?

Yes, sir. No blood and most of
the handles have been wiped down.

Perhaps the killer forgot
which one he used.

The parlour maid could have cleaned
all of the handles
during her daily duties.

So this is a model
of the Jenkins' house, sir?
After a crude fashion, George.

The dark chess pieces represent
the Jenkins' family and the white
ones stand in for the servants.

So this is Victor Jenkins
in his bedroom?

Yes, and Victor's brother
Nicholas Jenkins in the library.

This is Clara Thorn, the fiancee,
in the morning room.

And Nora Jenkins
in the conservatory and so on.

George, I think if we can determine
which room the murder weapon
came from, we might have our killer.

I can imagine this to be
some sort of board game.

Players would get clues pertaining to
certain suspects. Whoever figured out
the murderer would be the winner.

People find murder too grave
for it to be the subject
of frivolous entertainment.

I hope not, sir.
I'm 12 pages into my murder mystery.

I've set it in Toronto
where an Ancient Egyptian curse
wreaks havoc on a...

George, have a look at this.

From this position,

the black Queen can see anyone
entering or exiting this hallway
area from either set of stairs.

Who's the black Queen, sir?

Mrs Jenkins, you were in your chair
this morning having your tea.

Do you remember? Of course
I remember. Why shouldn't I?

Did you happen to see anyone go into
or come out of your son's bedroom?

Yes, it was Alma going
to stoke the fire.

Alma was a maid here many years ago.

Your ladyship,
Alma's been gone a very long time.

It was Alma. Has everyone
gone stupid except from me?

Percy always liked Alma.

Pretty, she was. Looked like a swan,
but walked like a duck.

Oh, where is Percy anyway?

He was supposed to take me
to the opera.

Mrs Jenkins does get confused
at times.

I see.

Thank you very much for your...

What are you doing?

I was just looking
for my father's...watch.

Oh, and here it is.
Please put that back.

And you, Miss Cullwick...
I asked Florence to assist me.

You have no business being in
this room. This is a crime scene.

Apologies. I had no idea.

Mr Jenkins, you say you were in bed
between 8.15 and 8.30 this morning?

Sleeping off a drinking binge,
I'm afraid.

And Miss Cullwick, you say you were
in the morning room cleaning
when Mr Jenkins Senior was killed?

Yes, sir. Oddly, Miss Thorn made
no mention of seeing you there
in her statement.

I work so quietly,
I'm sure she didn't notice me.

Are we free to go? No.

What did you mean
when you said to your brother,
"Unlike you, I didn't kill Father"?

I was getting a rise out of him.
Nicky could no more kill Father
than swear in front of a woman.

Anything else? Yes.

Stay out of this room.

Julia! Detective!

I thought I might see you here.

It's wonderful to see you,
though somewhat unexpected.

I dropped by to offer my condolences.
Our families are acquainted.

You couldn't have come from Buffalo
in such a short time?

No...

I was already in town.

Oh. Yes.
For the rest of the week, actually.
To introduce Darcy to my family.

Your fiance. Yes, of course. He's
just saying goodbye to Mrs Jenkins.

William, they're saying
that Mr Jenkins was murdered.
What have you found?

The cause of death was
a single blow to the head.
I believe a fire poker was used.

I've asked Dr Francis
to take a cast of the wound.

To determine the murder weapon.
But he's refused. Why?

The brain matter will cling to the plaster,
so you can only do it once, but...

Is there another casting material
that would not disrupt the brain
tissue? What are you suggesting?

If Dr Francis were
to never find out...

William! I couldn't.

Such conspiratorial whispers! Darcy,
I believe you know Detective Murdoch.

A pleasure to see you again,
Detective. And you.

Detective Murdoch was asking me
to help him with a case,

but I'd like to remind him
that the last time he did that,
the feathers hit the fan!

Well, Dr Francis has gone home...

I would love to help you,
but I can't. My family
is expecting us for dinner.

I'll tell them you've been called
away. I'll charm them so that they
won't even notice you're not there.

Darcy, that's lovely. but...
I can see you want to do this.
Go on, darling.

Detective, I think I may know
of the perfect moulding material.

Jell-O? It's made of gelatine.
It should take the form of the wound
without adhering to the brain tissue.

And you say this Jell-O
is served as dessert?

It's all the rage in Buffalo.
I brought some home for my family.

Hmm. How long does it take to set?

Not too long if refrigerated.
Julia... Yes?

It's agreeable to see you
working here again. You are missed.

Yes, of course. You're still at odds
with Dr Francis.

True, but aside from Dr Francis,
I meant. Actually, he and I are making headway.

Oh!

Really? Yes.

At last!

How well did you know the Jenkins?
My mother and Mrs Jenkins were
bridge partners. I played there.

What were they like?
Victor was a hellion.

He was mean to me
and even meaner to poor Nicholas.

And the parents?

Mrs Jenkins was ruthless,
her mother even worse. They treated
their servants shamefully.

And Mr Jenkins?

I stayed away from him.
He was disturbing. How so?

Well, one day
I was in the upper hallway
during a game of hide and seek.

Mr Jenkins' bedroom door opened
and a maid ran out sobbing.

Jenkins was standing there
in a state of partial undress.

I see.

I think it's done.

Now let's see what we have.

It's somewhat stubborn.

What exactly is going on in here?

Dr Francis...

Dr Ogden.

At last! The famous Dr Ogden!

I've grown to expect duplicity
form Murdoch, Doctor,

but from a colleague...
Yes, it's quite unforgivable.

I've come to make that mould
you asked me for earlier, but I see
you didn't trouble yourself to wait.

You told me you had no intention
of making the mould.

I said I had no intention
of making it at that moment!

Surely, even here on the edge
of civilisation, a man has
the right to dine with his wife?

I misunderstood.

You know, Detective...

From the first day I arrived,

you have almost without exception
shown a complete lack of faith
in me.

I'd like to ask you now
why the hell that is!

It's not a lack of faith in you.

Look...

I see.

15 years in Scotland Yard
to reach the top of my profession,

all gone for blackflies
and snowstorms, all in the service
of my wife's happiness.

I've moved to her home town.
I valued that above all else,
her happiness, or once did.

I should never have left.

I don't belong in Toronto.

You can have your morgue back,
Dr Ogden.

No, Dr Francis,
that's not what I'm here for.

I've no doubt
you actually believe that.

But we belong where we belong.

Good evening to you.

I was the one who convinced
the top brass to bring Dr Francis
over here in the first place.

Now, thanks to you,
I look like a bloody fool!
He's booked his passage home.

His wife telephoned
Chief Constable Stockton in tears.
If Dr Francis was not happy...

Of course he's not happy here,
but he might not have noticed
if it wasn't for you!

Why does everyone want to be happy
these days? I don't care if he's
as happy as a pig in its own filth.

I care if I'm happy
and I'm bloody well not! And...

Bloody hell,
I've lost my train of thought!

Well, then, sir,
perhaps we should discuss
the Percival Jenkins murder case.

Aside from dancing the two-step
with Dr Ogden, you'd best have
something to show for this.

I do, sir. The murder weapon from
the main floor parlour. Who said the
killer was in the parlour? No-one.

The point is, the shape of the gaff
is the same as that of the mould
that Dr Ogden took.

Any finger marks?
Yes, a thumb print on the shaft
belonging to Clara Thorn.

So she's your murderer.
I don't think so. Of course not.

Clara Thorn was in the morning room,
as observed by the footman
who was serving tea at the time.

She could have snuck out. Yes, sir.

But the handle was wiped clean
of marks.

If Miss Thorn was the killer,
she would have wiped off
the entire poker.

So who wiped off the marks?
The killer. You've lost me.

I believe the killer wiped off
several fireplace pokers
to obscure which room he came from.

And which poker he used.
We know which poker was used
and we're still not further ahead!

Now I've got a missing coroner
and you've got nothing!

Actually, sir,
there is something else.

Percival Jenkins had been taking
liberties with some female servants.

Right, well,
the big toad in the puddle, eh?

Someone shared Percival Jenkins' bed
the night he was killed. Maybe she's
our killer. You'll need a name.

May I announce you, Detective?

Before you do, Mr Heward,
I have a question.

A rather sensitive one. Of course.

I suspect that Mr Jenkins had carnal
relations with some of the female
servants. Can you confirm this?

I really cannot say, sir.
But you have your suspicions?

Forgive me
if I appeared to imply that.

Heward! Is that that nosy
police detective? Yes, madam!

Mrs Jenkins has her moments
of lucidity. Rather unpredictably.

Interesting.
Might I announce you now, sir? Yes.

I'll speak with the female servants.
Very good.

Mr Jenkins came to my room once.
I told the old coot I'd scream
the house down if he tried it again.

And did he? No.
He left me alone after that.

However, I believe there were others
who weren't so lucky.

Forced himself on me?
Why would you ask such a thing?

Miss Booth, I believe Mr Jenkins
made advances toward you.

I understand you fear for your
employment in speaking of this...

If it was anyone, it was Miss Allen.
The housekeeper?

I saw him put his hand on her bottom
once. She let him keep it there.

What utter nonsense!
Mr Jenkins conducted himself with
absolute decorum at all times.

He never made advances toward you?
Never. Yet he did
toward some of the maids.

Did he?

Perhaps you should ask his widow.

My principal preoccupation
is the smooth operation
of a large household.

Certainly not my husband's frivolous
urges. You knew nothing?
Emphatically not.

If you have any further questions...
What did you and your husband fight
about yesterday? I answered that.

Mrs Jenkins, we only have your word
that your husband was still alive
when you left that room.

It makes you a likely suspect
in this murder investigation.
Now what were you fighting about?

My husband told Nicholas he'd be
disinherited if he married Clara.

Nicholas threatened to move
to Boston.

I couldn't have that.

Clara's family wasn't aristocratic
enough. What presumption! Clara is
educated, intelligent, caring.

What's more important - the pedigree
of a wife or her character?

But your father threatened
to disinherit... I didn't want
the old bastard's money! Nicky...

We would have made do.

And did you feel the same way, Miss?

Of course. I come from humble
circumstances. In fact,
I'm not much at ease in this world.

At any rate, I doubt my father would
have disinherited me.
He had already disinherited Victor.

Did he? My brother is a gambler.
He would have squandered
the entire estate.

Of course I have debts. Expediting
your inheritance would resolve them.

Perhaps, but I didn't kill my father.
Certainly not at that ungodly hour.

Besides, my father
had already disinherited me.

I would have nothing to gain
by his death.

Unless you were to destroy the will.

That's what you were looking for
in your father's room.
Very good, Detective.

Yes, that's exactly what I was doing,
but I'm not so stupid
as to kill my father

without having found
and destroyed the will first.

Nevertheless, your father's room
is right next to yours

and you have no alibi.

I told you I was in bed
at the time of my father's murder.

I never said I had no alibi.

So Victor the lush was milking
the maid, was he? Florence Cullwick.

The apple doesn't fall far from
the tree. At least we know why she
didn't mention seeing Clara Thorn.

We also know why she said she heard
the Jenkins arguing. Victor's room
is right next door. Carry on, then.

Detective?
Souvenirs from the victim's pillow.

Trace evidence, George. Thank you.

Grey ones are presumably
the victim's. These longer ones,
I believe I recognise the shade.

Also, sir, we found a handkerchief
in the housekeeper's fireplace.

I think it was used to wipe
the blood from the murder weapon.

It's monogrammed.
Yes, sir. VA.

George...

Bring Miss Allen in for questioning.

Why would I burn it? It's not even
mine. Your initials are stitched
into the corner of it, Miss Allen.

Good Lord!

My late aunt embroidered this.

I haven't seen this
in I don't know how long. Years.

I didn't kill Mr Jenkins.
Why would I?

We also found these hairs
in Mr Jenkins' bed.
I believe they're yours.

I...sometimes go to his bed
in the middle of the night. It's...

It's shameful, I know, but...

I was lonely and...

In love with him?

You see, I could never have harmed
Percival. You must believe me.

Now you don't think she did it
either(!) I'm not certain of that.

It is possible that in a panic
she used her own monogrammed
handkerchief,

but then to leave it half-burned
in her own fireplace? A frame-up?

KNOCK
Sirs? Constable Worseley just called
from the Jenkins house.

I mentioned this handkerchief
business. He swears he saw it in the
waste basket in Jenkins' bedroom.

When was this? When we arrived.
And he never mentioned it?!

He didn't want to disturb it.
But it wasn't there, George.
We checked after Dr Francis left.

Who else was in that room?
Detective Murdoch and myself.
And Heward. He has an alibi.

I'm very sorry, sir.

George - Billy Slater, the footman.

You recognise this?
Should I?

I would have thought so, Mr Slater.

We believe that the killer moved
this from Mr Jenkins' bedroom to
Miss Allen's fireplace to frame her.

I'll take your word for it.
One of my constables saw this in
the wastebasket of Mr Jenkins' room

before I arrived there.
Only you and Mr Heward were
in that room while we were there.

Mr Heward has an alibi that rules
him out as the killer. Leaving you.

Why would I kill Mr Jenkins?

Because he made sexual advances
toward your sweetheart, Nancy Booth.

She's not my sweetheart.
I saw you linking hands.

All right. I took the handkerchief,
but I didn't kill Mr Jenkins.

Then why did you move evidence?
I saw it there and I said to myself,

"I'll get that old cow."
Miss Allen?

You dislike her enough
to frame her for murder?
I sincerely dislike her.

You've got Slater in the cells? Yes.
But don't think he's the killer? No.
Go ahead.

Consider, sir. If Mr Slater
is the killer and planned to frame
Miss Allen with her handkerchief,

placing it in the wastebasket
would have done the trick.
Why then move it to her room?

Why frame her twice? Exactly.
He's a footman. Not many geniuses
in that line of work.

I don't believe Mr Slater
when he says he moved it
out of dislike for Miss Allen.

But if he's not the killer, he took
an awfully big chance to frame her.

He could hang for that.
So either he's a reckless fool

or he had motive for moving it
that he hasn't admitted to.

Why would Billy do such a thing?
I've never done him any wrong.
Perhaps someone he's partial to? No.

Nancy Booth comes to mind.

I might have done.

She's the reason I went to talk
to Mr Jenkins when I found him dead.

Nancy was proving to be unsuitable.
Oh? How so?

She wasn't doing her job properly.

I've forgotten the cutlery.

She's lying.

There's no harder worker than Nancy.
She does whatever Miss Allen asks.

Then why would she want Nancy
dismissed? Nancy wouldn't
have been the first.

They've fired more than a few girls
over the years who were...in trouble.

Three months, I'd say.
Has your morning sickness subsided?

Mm. Who's the father, Miss Booth?

Was it Percival Jenkins?

And Miss Allen knew?
Of course I knew.

Nancy was sick in the mornings
and looking fuller in the face.

I've seen that too many times. That's
why you went to speak to Jenkins?
You knew he was responsible?

He certainly was not. Nancy is
no better than all the other dolly
mops who paraded in front of him.

Seducing him with their glances
and their smiles.

These dolly mops, as you call them,

were coerced and made pregnant
by a man you are so eager to defend,

then thrown out onto the streets
with child by you!
How many were there, hm?

What became of them?

It appears that in the Jenkins
household there is a history
of young girls meeting this fate.

What options would such a girl have?
Not many. More than likely
take to the streets.

George!

Sir? Find out what you can about
young women who have been dismissed
from the Jenkins household.

I'll make some inquiries.
To what end? There's no law against
it, no justice to be found here.

Except the one that would put
a noose around Nancy Booth's neck.
You think she did it? She'd motive.

Scullery maids don't normally go
upstairs. It's a hell of a risk.
Not if Billy Slater kept watch.

He was serving tea and would have
known everyone's whereabouts.

Why let Nancy do the old man in?
And in full view of old Mrs Jenkins?

They probably thought she was
too senile to be a reliable witness.
Was she?

Mrs Jenkins has moments of lucidity.

It's possible old Mrs Jenkins knows
more than we've been led to believe.

Ah, Detective Murdoch.
There's been a...development.

Yes. Thank you. Bye-bye.

Well, you've got your wish.

The College of Physicians grants
Dr Ogden special dispensation
for this case.

Excellent. Thank you, sir.
You've got some cheek.
Sir? Dr Ogden is calling for you.

Very good.
Only temporary, Murdoch. Yes, sir.

Dr Ogden, what have you?

As I suspected, Mrs Jenkins' heart
did indeed give out.

Natural causes? I thought so,
then I found haemorrhages
on the surface of the lungs.

Asphyxiation?
Usually in the case of smothering
it's around the face and the eyes.

With her age, the trauma
likely induced a heart attack
before she suffocated. Murder, then?

Thank you, Doctor. Excellent work
as usual. My pleasure, I'm sure.

'Murdered?'

Bloody marvellous.

Actually, sir, assuming the same
person committed both murders,

anyone lacking opportunity to kill
old Mrs Jenkins can be stricken
off our list for the first murder.

Billy Slater was in our cells,
so he couldn't have done it. George?

I've confirmed that Nancy Booth
and Miss Allen were in the kitchen
at the time of Mrs Jenkins' death.

Victor Jenkins was drinking
in a pub. Nicholas, Clara and Nora
were discussing funeral arrangements.

Leaving only Mr Heward. The butler
has an alibi for Percy Jenkins'
murder. It's a waste of chalk.

My theory might be flawed.

Really? Also I obtained
servant records from Nora Jenkins.
Not without protest, I might add.

Over the past 20 years or so,
seven girls have been dismissed.
On what grounds?

Two for insubordination,
two for poor work habits
and three for loose morals.

Meaning they were pregnant.
Irrelevant. I'm not so sure, sir.

Have a look at the third name.

Alma Parsons,
dismissed August 30th, 1876.

It was Alma! Has everyone
gone stupid except for me?

I haven't seen this
in I don't know how long. Years.

George. Find out what's become
of Alma Parsons. Sir. Then I will
return to the Jenkins mansion.

What's going on? I believe I know
who committed both murders.

Good afternoon.

I have asked you all here
because an arrest is at hand.

Miss Allen, you told me
that it had been decades

since you last saw this.
It's true, I swear it.

What day, specifically,
did you last see it? What day?

Could it be August 30th, 1876,
by any chance?

Do you recall what happened
that day? But...how would I?
It was so long ago.

Hm.

Alma Parsons, were she here,
would be able to tell you.

Because that day Alma Parsons was
relieved of her duties here.

By you. Do you remember that?

Yes.

It was such a flood of tears.

I gave her the handkerchief
to mop up her face.

I just couldn't have her
leaving this house in that state.

Do you know what became
of Alma Parsons, Miss Allen?

I heard that she passed away
a couple of years ago. This has
nothing to do with a former servant.

Well, Mrs Jenkins, Alma Parsons
was sent from this house

for becoming pregnant by your
husband, very much against her will.

Police reports from the day confirm
that Alma turned to prostitution

so that she and her child could eat.
That's what this has to do
with a former servant.

Now old Mrs Jenkins was adamant
that it was Alma she saw
walking down the hall.

But her eyesight was too poor
to make out any detail,
so why did she think she saw Alma?

We all know that we inherit
our physical appearance, mannerisms,
smile, the way we walk.

It wasn't Alma returning from
the grave to avenge the wrongs she
endured at the hand of your husband.

No, it was the child
that Alma bore. And by my count
she would be 23 years old now.

Isn't that right, Miss Thorn?

This is absurd! Clara is not
a murderer. Sit down, Mr Jenkins.

Miss Thorn, you never imagined
that the woman who was too blind
and senile to even recognise you

would mistake you
for your own mother.

Pretty she was, looked like a swan.
But walked like a duck.

I was in the morning room with Nicky
and his mother when she died.
I didn't kill her.

I know you didn't, but someone did.

Someone who recognised you
as Alma's child the moment
you walked in this house.

Mr Heward, would it be correct
to state that you came to care for
Miss Parsons during her time here?

Yes, sir.

Very deeply.

That's why you felt responsibility
to protect her daughter.

You'd overheard my instructions
to dust the fireplace pokers
for fingermarks.

That's why you wiped them upstairs,
not knowing which Clara had used.

Then when you and I witnessed
that moment of lucidity,

it occurred to you that Clara's
secret would never be safe. When I
called to re-interview Mrs Jenkins,

you killed her
to ensure her silence.

I'm sorry for all of it, Nicky.
I truly am.

Come along. We mustn't
keep the Detective waiting.

You didn't have to
do this for me, Heward.

On the contrary, Miss Clara.

It revolted me,
what Mr Jenkins did to Alma.

We lived in such fear of him
and there seemed nothing to be done.

Nothing?

Yes, I know.

If I'd gone with her,
or helped in some other way...

Were you there
the day Alma was let go? Yes.

Coward that I was, I stood mute.

The murder of an old woman
is hardly an act of bravery.

She knew what her son was doing
to those poor girls all those years.

She raised him into what he became.

She gave the carnage he caused
not a second thought.

In other words,

Detective Murdoch,

she deserved it.

'My mother kept that handkerchief'

because she didn't want to forget.
After she died, I swore I'd get
revenge on those responsible.

So you hatched a plan.

When I read Nicholas was at Harvard,
I moved to Boston, encountered him,
"by chance",

and allowed him to pursue me.

I genuinely came to care for him.

Of all of them, he's the only one
that didn't deserve to be hurt.

That was the price
of keeping my promise. Constable.

William?

We've come to say goodbye.

It may be some time
before we're in Toronto again.

We still need a coroner, Julia.
I can't convince you to extend
your leave a little while longer?

I'm sorry.
Julia, please answer me honestly.

If it were possible, would you want
to come back here to this work?

Darcy...
my future is with you in Buffalo.

You don't seem entirely happy there.
Not as happy as you seem here.

Victoria Hospital for Sick Children
here is one of the best in the world.
I'm sure I could secure a position.

But your home is in Buffalo.
My home is wherever you are.
From what I've seen, you belong here.

Are you sure? Absolutely sure.

In that case, I...
I would love to stay on.

I would have to apply for the job,
of course.

I'm certain the Inspector would
give you a strong recommendation.

Well, Detective.

It appears we'll be seeing
a great deal more of each other.
I look forward to it.

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