All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S10E13.A.Murdog.Mystery.720p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.h264-jAh

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -

Horace, dearest, lunch is ready.

Where are you?

Would you like me to bring it to you?

Horace?

Oh, there you are. Are you napping?

Wake up, Horace. I've
brought you your lunch.

Horace?

Horace?

Horace! Oh!

As you know,

Inspector Brackenreid
has joined Mr. Pendrick

in his quest to recover
a scientific formulation

that could be of great
benefit to mankind.

- Have we had word from them yet, sir?
- I received a postcard

only yesterday from the Port of Havana.

Apparently they're bound for Panama.

He didn't go into great detail,

but it's clear that his absence
will be of some duration.

Accordingly, I have been appointed

Acting Inspector until his return.

To that end...

Then do we refer to you
as Inspector or Detective?

Or Acting Inspector?

That would just sound silly, Henry.

Why would it sound
silly? It's what he is.

- Acting Ins...
- We can just stay with Detective.

Please. Now, back to what I was saying.

During the Inspector's absence,

I will be making some organizational...

changes...

that I believe will make our operations

run more effectively,

starting with our filing system.

But we can discuss that another time.

Talk amongst yourselves.

- Detective Watts.
- Ah, Detective.

- Actually, it's Acting Inspector for the moment.
- Oh.

Will you be wanting this office
then? I'm happy to take yours.

- No, I'll be keeping my office. Thank you.
- Good, good.

I prefer this one. Separate
entrance. Very handy.

- Detective Watts...
- I was asked to vacate Station One.

Personality issue.

Mine, I suppose.

Then I heard that by happy coincidence

this space was available.

Excuse me, sir.

There's been a murder.

Oh, my Horace.

My dearest, dearest,

my best and only companion.
The love of my life.

How can this be?

My Horace is dead.

He's been murdered!

Oh.

Mrs. Frizzle, I understand
the death of your dog,

must be a terrible loss.

I offer you my condolences.

He was my closest family.

Nonetheless, it isn't
really within the purview of

the Toronto Constabulary to
attend to the death of dogs.

Is it possible your dog
died of natural causes?

Absolutely not.

He had just been thoroughly examined

by the finest vet in the country.

Right. Did Horace have
any enemies you know of?

- George...
- The Toronto Dog Show is in two days.

The owners of the dogs
nipping at Horace's heels

for the championship would all have
loved to see him out of the running.

Sir, that sounds like motive.

Everyone knew that Horace

was the odds-on favourite
to win Best Dog In Show.

And the next stop was
the show of shows...

Westminster at Madison Square
Garden in New York City.

Excuse me.

Hello.

Yes, it is.

I can't believe it.

It's just so appallingly horrendous.

George,

this is not a murder. This is...

- canicide.
- Exactly, sir.

Like homicide or suicide.

An unlawful killing.

But there is no law against
the killing of an animal.

You know that. Now, stay with her

- and help her bury the dog.
- Bury him?

Without a funeral?

My caller wishes to
speak with you, Detective.

With me?

Detective Murdoch.

Yes, Mr. Mayor.

No, I understand.

George,

see that the body

is transported to the morgue.

And find out everything you can

- about the other competitors.
- Sir.

You there.

Ah, Detective Watts.

Constable George Crabtree. We
worked together some time ago.

Oh yes... eager fellow, weren't you?

What does the Detective
have you working on today?

Actually, I'm trying to
ascertain the killer of a dog.

- A dog?
- A very important dog, mind you.

And you're all engaged on this... case?

You there. Can you read and write?

Of course.

Your demeanour suggested that might
not be the case. Do you have a name?

- Does my demeanour suggest that I don't?
- Ho-ho.

Very good. Backbone. Wit.

With me, Constable.

- Have you seen this?
- _

I have.

We should not be wasting valuable
police resources on a dog,

regardless of its relationship

to the sister-in-law of the Mayor.

People like dogs, William.

Now we add a little peroxide
of manganese to the solution.

Eureka.

The cause of death was
strychnine poisoning.

So it appears you do
have a murder to solve.

Canicide is not murder, Ms. James.

Only humans can be murdered.

Be that as it may, we also found
veronal in the dog's intestines.

Meaning?

Death by strychnine can be very painful.

The veronal would have
eased the symptoms.

As if the poisoner was attempting

to minimize the dog's suffering.

Maybe the dog killer
was also a dog lover.

It's been suggested that
this may have been motivated

by a dog competition.

A rival dog owner, perhaps.

I imagine the stud fees of a
champion must be quite high.

Dogs were bred for a function.

Not to be household pets

or show animals of the rich.

People of all classes
own dogs as pets, William.

I believe they can be very beneficial

to the health and
well-being of their owners.

Hm.

Have you anything else to report?

Yes. In examining the
dog's stomach contents,

we found a barely digested
piece of beef steak.

Yes, I believe it was filet mignon.

Filet mig... for a dog?

That is ridiculous.

- Do you have any idea what that would cost?
- Yes,

but it does taste good.

Anyway, that's all the
information we have for you.

We have to finish up. The dog's
been requested for the funeral.

I imagine you'll be attending.

Thank you. I appreciate it.

What have you, George?

Sir. It's a who's who of the
Toronto canine competitive society.

This is Sebastien Melrose.

His dog, Kaiser, once
took Best in Breed.

He also has some of second
and third place finishes

in group categories.

This gentleman is Buck Christopher,

he's a sheep farmer, sir. He
just started showing his dog Duke.

Some people question Duke's pedigree,

but he's already charmed his
way into a couple of ribbons.

Oh.

Isn't that Ruth Newsome?

Yes, sir. And her dog,

who she's named Roger,

after her late brother.

Something of an unusual tribute.

Thank you, dear friends,

for being here

on this unbearably sorrowful occasion.

Horace Frizzel was my
beautiful, beautiful boy.

Among his peers, he was a champion.

And in every ring he entered,

he would carry his one
hundred and fifty pounds

with ease and grace.

Now, Miss Newsome and Roger

are new to the scene, sir, but they've
already picked up a couple of ribbons

and are considered a real
threat by the other owners.

... we won at Westminster
in New York City.

George, which of these
dogs is likely to become

- the new champion now?
- Sir, they're all strong entries,

but the lead contender is not here.

- Where is he?
- She.

Pistachio, sir. A Labrador
Retriever of unequalled perfection.

Or so I'm told. Her owner
is Beaumont Stoddard.

I pray that his killer
will be found and punished.

What more can be said

of a creature so beautiful

and noble...

... and beloved?

Actually sir, he's just arrived.

Is that Beaumont Stoddard?

The man walking Pistachio is
the trainer, Michael Dubois.

Stoddard is the man just behind.

- Good
- night, sweet prince,

and may flights of angels
sing thee to thy rest.

How dare you!

I've come to pay my
respects to a great animal.

- That you've killed!
- George.

I understand you're grieving.

Get out!

Come, Pistachio.

You too, Dubois.

We know when we're not welcome.

Beaumont Stoddard couldn't
stand the fact that

Horace bested Pistachio
in every category.

Surely some of the other
contenders felt the same way.

- None who could have done this.
- How can you be sure?

I have given this a lot of thought.

Now, Kaiser is a great competitor,

but his owner, Sebastien
Melrose, is a friend of mine.

He never would have done such a thing.

And what of the Basset Hound?

Duke?

That hound is an imposter.

And his owner, Buck
Christopher, is a simpleton.

He lacks the sophistication
to perpetrate a dog murder.

- Ruth Newsome?
- Hmm...

Roger has potential,

but Ruth herself is
an ineffectual nitwit.

No,

Stoddard is the murderer.

And now that terrible
man stands first in line

to win the competition.

What do you notice?

They're all from different years,

- but they describe similar circumstances.
- Mm-hmm.

Read this one.

"Maybelline. If you're
reading this, please come home.

Your children miss you
and I've changed my ways."

How many are like that?

There's four from this year alone.

Last year, six. Before that, four.

Three in 1900.

Women are leaving their families.

A reasonable conclusion.
Except, look at 1899.

No such advertisement. 1898, none.

1897, none.

You grasp the implications, Constable.

- Indeed.
- A woman leaves her family,

she goes somewhere else. To
her parents. To her sister.

Word gets back, no need
to place an advertisement.

But these woman have vanished.

Kidnapped? Murdered?

All I know is women are going missing.

There's more every year.

And it all began in 1900.

And you'd like me to help you find them?

Oh no.

I want you to take notes.
I tend to lose mine.

Or you could rejoin your
colleagues on their dog case.

- I'll get my pen.
- Mm-hmm.

Mr. Stoddard, a word?

What can I do for you, Detective?

I understand Mrs.
Frizzle's dog was poisoned.

Yes, and Edith is convinced I did it.

Frankly, with her for an
owner, it's entirely possible

the poor creature took his own life.

Do you know of any reason why she
would suspect you in particular?

She's labouring under
the delusion that her dog

stood in the way of my victory,

when it's obvious that
Pistachio is the superior animal.

That's not the way the judges saw it.

That was last year,
before I hired Mr. Dubois.

You believe it to be
strychnine poisoning?

Given the symptoms you've
described, there seems little doubt.

Although vomiting after
strychnine poisoning

would be unusual, wouldn't it?

I'll take the sample back to Miss James,

- get her to analyze it at the morgue.
- Thank you.

It was you. You did this!

- Mr. Stoddard.
- I'll kill you.

- I will kill you!
- Mr. Stoddard, that is quite enough.

You are coming with me.

This is an outrage! She is
the one who should be in here.

I've done nothing wrong.

You uttered a death
threat, Mr. Stoddard.

- Where's Pistachio?
- She's been entrusted to the constabulary.

You'd better take good care.
She has a tendency to wander.

- Good girl, Pistachio.
- George.

You and Henry will
need to mind the... dog

- while Mr. Stoddard is in custody.
- Sir, when will that be?

Once he's had a chance to calm down.

She's taken a real shine to you, sir.

You know, they say that a dog
can sense a true dog lover.

Well, they are wrong.

Shoo. Shoo.

I think Pistachio might need
to take care of some business.

- Where are we going, sir?
- Here.

- Are these the missing women?
- Yes.

With whatever details I've learned.

What does this say?

Lynn Clark, 40s, new to Toronto.

You assured me that you could read.

Those are all my notes, by
the way, so don't lose them.

I've decided the best way to
approach this is to concentrate

on one missing woman at
a time, starting with...

Natalie Sykes. Twenty-six years old.

Her family hasn't heard
from her since the fire.

- Why her, sir?
- She's first on the list.

Oh, right. That makes sense.

My aunt Primrose and
Azalea are big dog lovers.

I bet they never had any
of the breeds they have

- at these high class dog shows.
- No, they're all mongrels.

But it's said that mongrels
are not only smarter,

but healthier than these purebreds.

What is it?

We might as well take a break.

Oh.

You thirsty, Pistachio? Come on.

Come on, Pistachio.

- That should be him there, sir.
- Mr. Harding?

Who wants to know?

It's my understanding
a Miss Natalie Sykes

- lived across the hall from you earlier this year.
- For a time.

When was the last time you saw her?

- Early May.
- May?

That was after the fire.

Did you not know she was
reported missing in mid-April?

She didn't look missing to me.

Do you have any idea
where she might have gone?

- Church.
- Church?

Saint Stephen-in-the-Fields.

That's where she was
heading when I last saw her.

And weren't you concerned when
she didn't return from church?

It was not my business.

You said you read, Jackson.

- Sir.
- Do you know the works of Karl Marx?

- Can't say that I do.
- He said the more industry grows,

the quicker it destroys community.

He may be right.

Do you think the Detective
will make us do more work

than the Inspector did?

He may implement some efficient systems.

- So we may do less?
- Give it back!

I don't know what you're talking about.

- What's the trouble here?
- Thank you.

This barkeep has stolen my travel
journal, and it's irreplaceable.

Travel journal? Where
are you travelling from?

All across the country. I'm a historian,

telling the true tale of this great land

as her iconic birthday fast approaches.

- Canada is having a birthday?
- Oh yes. Look at this.

This is from an eleven-year-old
girl in Lunenberg, Nova Scotia.

And this...

a celebratory birthday
song from Newfoundland.

- Newfoundland is not a part of Canada.
- Oh, it will be.

Oh, really? When exactly
will this transpire?

George... his irreplaceable book.

When did you last see this book?
I'm sure it didn't just disappear.

Well, I was sitting right here.

I turned to admire that
lovely dog you have over there,

who's no longer here, by the way.

I turned back and
there was me book, gone.

Pistachio!

Why else was Edith at the dog show?

It was revenge. An eye for an
eye. It's as simple as that.

By poisoning your trainer?

- My trainer?
- Mr. Dubois.

Good God. I'd hardly be this
upset if she was after Dubois.

After Horace was poisoned,

Dubois wasn't taking any chances.

He was eating Pistachio's food?

It was his idea. He's very dedicated.

- So the dog was the intended victim.
- Of course.

That's why I find it so appalling.

A self-confessed dog lover.

Mrs. Frizzle did not
try to poison your dog.

How do you know?

The poison that was used was strychnine,

the same that was used on Horace.

I'm sure she sees it as ironic justice.

She was never told
that it was strychnine.

The same poison used in the same manner

would suggest the same poisoner.

Unless you believe that Mrs. Frizzel

- poisoned her own dog...
- Who then?

Who had access to your dog's food?

Dubois buys meat from the local butcher

who holds the highest standards.

And where was it kept?

In a crockery pot in the stall.

Was it ever left unattended?

During Pistachio's training run.

Anybody could've had access.

What time was that?

Three o'clock, thereabouts.

- George?
- Sir, I hate to tell you this...

- Where's Pistachio?
- Well...

Well, what? Where is she?

We were breaking up
a disturbance at a bar

- and we turned around...
- You jackasses!

I told you she has a tendency to wander!

- We'll find your dog, Mr. Stoddard.
- You are all useless.

I'll find my dog and
the poisoner by myself.

Sorry, sir.

Get Constable Jackson
and get out there looking.

- Jackson's not here, sir.
- Where is he?

Detective Watts

needed some help with a case.
Jackson's been working with him.

Has he, now?

Well, get other Constables
to help you look.

- And don't come back without that dog!
- Sir.

- Pistachio!
- Pistachio!

Pistachio!

Pistachio!

Pistachio!

Have you seen a golden retriever?

I'm sorry. I didn't notice anyone

at Pistachio's stall besides Mr. Dubois.

And where were you during
Pistachio's training run?

I was here with Kaiser all afternoon.

Can anyone confirm this?

I can.

I was in the next stall
clipping Duke's toenails.

- Miss Newsome.
- Oh, did you see Roger's run?

- Yes...
- Isn't he something?

My dear brother would be so proud.

Indeed. Miss Newsome, I must ask,

where were you at three o'clock?

I was around here somewhere.

I'm afraid I'll need you to
be more specific than that.

Oh. Well, alright.

- Three o'clock, I was with...
- Pistachio!

No. Not Pistachio.

Pistachio! Come back here!

Do you have any idea of
the trouble you have caused,

you unruly mutt?

Half of Station House Number
Four is looking for you.

Let's go.

Stop that.

Let go.

What is it?

Come.

Pistachio, there's nothing out here.

Oh...

Good dog.

When they body was brought in,

the temperature had fallen
no more than seven degrees.

Rigor mortis hadn't fully set in yet,

so I'd estimate he died no more than
an hour before you discovered him.

So shortly before I
arrived at the arena.

Were you able to identify
the weapon that was used?

The wound appears to be inflicted

by a curved blade
about four inches long.

As in a pair of grooming scissors.

These are the only scissors in your kit?

Yes.

I distinctly recall seeing

a pair of curved ones in
your possession yesterday.

They seem to have gone missing.

I see.

And where were you between the hours

of five and six PM last evening?

I would have been on
my way to the arena with

Kaiser.

You blame Beaumont Stoddard
for the death of your dog.

I do.

I see.

And you've brought none of the
grooming items as I requested.

They were all buried with Horace,

along with his favourite toys.

I would never use those
things on another dog.

Horace cannot be replaced.

And where were you between the hours

of five and six PM last evening?

I was at Horace's graveside.

My servants can confirm my whereabouts.

How do you explain the fact

that there are no scissors
in your grooming kit?

I leave Duke's hair natural.

I never use scissors at all. I just...

brush him for the shine.

Ooh! Here they are.

So Ruth Newsome's scissors
were not the murder weapon, sir?

Not unless she did a very
good job of cleaning them.

- Ah, Detective Watts, a word.
- Of course.

I agreed to let you work out
of Station House Number Four,

- but there are limits.
- Have I done something to...

It is not proper protocol
for you to commandeer

one of my Constables without
checking with me first.

- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep...
- Next time, ask.

- Mm-hmm.
- Sir.

I'm wondering what to do with
Pistachio, now that her owner's dead.

Can't her handler take her?

I understand Mr. Dubois is still
recovering from his recent poisoning.

Right. Then perhaps she could
stay with you for the night?

Sir, I'd love to, but my
landlord no longer allows animals.

Well then, I'm sure one of
the other owners can keep her

until Mr. Dubois can reclaim her.

Sir, one of the other owners
is likely the poisoner.

We can hardly take that chance.

Right.

What are you suggesting?

I believe your hotel allows pets, sir.

They may. I do not.

All right, I suppose
I'll stay here with her.

Here?

I'll bunk down in one
of the cells, I suppose.

Very well.

I won't get much sleep tonight, sir.

I may not be at my best tomorrow.

George.

This way. This way.

Pardon me. Pardon me. This way.

Terribly sorry. This way.

Oh, what a delight.
I've always wanted a dog.

It's for one night only. Let's be clear.

Mr. Dubois is released from
the hospital tomorrow morning.

Oh. What a clever good girl you are!

Hardly clever.

Julia, Julia, if the dog
chews through the socks,

they'll be no use to me anymore.

- I'll buy you another pair.
- That's hardly the point.

Be nice, William.

Pistachio's been very
helpful to you so far.

She may even help you
find your murderer.

I think you overestimate
this dog's intelligence.

I believe she wants you
to take her for a walk.

No. Absolutely not.

You know, I haven't
really stopped to think

how this must be affecting you.

Eh, Pistachio?

Who do you think killed
your Mr. Stoddard?

Hello.

Well, you seem a lot calmer.

Well, the walk was pleasant enough.

But let's make one
thing perfectly clear:

under no circumstances

is that dog to be
allowed in that bedroom.

No.

You, Pistachio, will sleep

on this bed.

You lie down here.

Come.

Alright. We know the murder weapon to be

a curved pair of grooming scissors,

and three of our suspects have
been unable to produce theirs.

Mr. Melrose claims that he has lost his.

Mr. Christopher denies
ever owning a pair,

and Mrs. Frizzel claims
that she's buried hers.

She was probably telling the truth, sir.

We dug up the dog Horace;
these were buried with him.

- Oh.
- And the other contestants

claim that Mr. Christopher took
pride in not cutting Duke's hair.

- Bragged about it, in fact.
- Leaving Mr. Melrose with

no scissors and no explanation
as to where they have gone.

And sir, with Horace out
of the way, his dog Kaiser

could possibly leap right to the top

of the podium.

Pistachio!

- Why would she do that, sir?
- I have no idea.

- What did you just say?
- I said...

Kaiser could

- leap to the...
- Pistachio!

- Well-trained animal, sir.
- Detective,

would you mind if I borrowed
Constable Jackson again?

I'm sure he would leap at the chance.

Alright, George. That's enough.

Take this dog, and these.

Come on, Pistachio.

Detective, this case of yours...

Cases, actually. Plural.

- You believe there to be a connection?
- I don't know.

You've of course considered
that these may be people

- who don't wish to be found.
- I have.

But I'm not sure I believe
that to be the case.

Still, with no new evidence...

That is what I am endeavouring to find.

And as far as I'm concerned,
finding a missing person

is of equal importance
to solving a murder.

Are you saying you would rather
I didn't squander your resources?

No, no. As long as you understand that

there may not be a solution.

I don't expect any of this to end well.

But with murder, there is certainty.

Without certainty, there's hope and...

Well,

hope can be a terrible thing.

- Doctor.
- Detective Watts.

William. I have something.

When we further investigated
Mr. Stoddard's body,

we discovered this in the
coagulated blood around his wound.

A hair?

The hair of a dog.

And I believe I know
which dog it belongs to.

Now, be careful with those.

- Henry Higgins!
- Hello, Miss Newsome.

How perfectly wonderful
to see you again!

- I knew you'd come around.
- It's not like that.

You don't have to play
shy with me, Henry.

Come along. Perhaps we could
share a martini cocktail.

It's not a social call.

Oh. Then what did you
want to talk to me about?

Ruth Newsome,

you're wanted for questioning

in the murder of Beaumont Stoddard.

A strand of your dog's hair was found

in Mr. Stoddard's wound.

How do you explain that?

I really can't say.

I believe your grooming
scissors to be the murder weapon.

You don't believe I
could do something so

horrible?

Yesterday, you showed
me a pair of scissors

that were not unlike the ones used.

Did you procure a second
pair to cover your tracks?

Oh.

Oh, this is rather embarrassing.

I dropped my pair somewhere in the arena

and Roger was in desperate
need of a little trim.

I searched everywhere
but I couldn't find them,

so I borrowed Sebastien's.

I completely forgot that they
weren't mine when I brought them in.

I hope I haven't caused
you boys too much trouble.

Excuse me.

Henry, please ask Mr.
Melrose if the scissors

that Miss Newsome
surrendered are indeed his.

Sir, I think Miss Newsome
may be telling the truth.

She's not the sharpest tack in the box.

Well, the case remains that her
scissors killed Mr. Stoddard.

Are we really gonna charge her?

She doesn't seem capable
of stabbing anyone.

Miss Newsome, you're free to go.

Oh, thank you. There's just
enough time for Roger and I

to get ready for the
competition tonight.

Now please remember, a
killer is still at large.

Be mindful of your dog,

and also of yourself.

Perhaps Constable Higgins
could accompany me home?

Absolutely.

Come on.

- Let's go.
- Uh...

Do you remember Miss Sykes?

She was one of a dozen or so homeless

who stayed here after the fire.

Did you know that she'd
been reported missing?

That she had a family that was

desperately seeking her out?

- I had no idea.
- She's still missing.

I'm sorry to hear that.

When was the last time you saw her?

Sometime mid-May.

- Where was this?
- On the street.

She was walking with a woman.

What woman?

I don't know her name,

- but I'd seen her before in the church.
- Describe her?

Tall,

maybe in her forties.

Blonde?

Yes.

Thank you. Would you
mind coming to the station

- to assist with a sketch?
- Certainly,

after Mass.

My notes. Where are they?

Sir, I transcribed them.

Brilliant.

Let me see here.

Lynn Clark. Last seen in the company

of a tall blonde woman
in her middle years.

- We have our first suspect, Jackson.
- And it's a woman.

Sugar and spice and everything nice.

- Excuse me, sir?
- I always wondered how they came up with that.

Never believed it myself.

So Ruth Newsome took
Mr. Melrose's scissors

without asking, which is
why he didn't have them

and didn't know where they were.

And a hair from Miss Newsome's
dog was found in the wound,

making her actual scissors

almost certainly the murder weapon.

Somebody else could have picked them up.

Perhaps Mr. Stoddard
discovered who the poisoner was,

confronted him,
threatened to expose him.

The poisoner then followed Mr. Stoddard,

picked up Miss Newsome's scissors,

once they were out of
the arena, stabbed him.

So that would mean the dog poisoner

and Stoddard's murderer

- are one and the same.
- Exactly.

Pistachio looks to have made
herself quite comfortable.

Mr. Dubois. Glad to see
you've made a full recovery.

Well, not full, but

hopefully well enough
to keep up with Pistachio

on the course tonight.

Pistachio, come!

Oh, we won't be needing any
of those items. Just the leash.

Oh, right.

Have you determined

- who poisoned Pistachio's food?
- Not yet.

And Mr. Stoddard's murder?

Unsolved, unfortunately.

Well, Godspeed,

and thank you for taking such
good care of her, Detective.

It was no trouble at all.

Take care, Pistachio.

You be a good dog now.

She always is.

Thank you again. And good-day to you.

Good luck with the competition tonight.

Sir.

You must be a little sad to see her go.

Not in the least.

Now that she's back
in proper hands, we can

concentrate on more important things.

Right. There are two
possibilities, George.

The killer and the poisoner
are one and the same,

or they are not.

But either way, we know for certain

that both of these crimes are connected

to this competition.

Well, Pistachio and Kaiser

are the two main contenders
for Best Dog In Show,

with Roger and Duke
following closely behind.

Maybe the perpetrator will
make another attempt today.

And now to the bulldogs,
ladies and gentlemen.

Particularly handsome group
this year, as you can see.

Beautiful breed.

You are distracting the dogs, Detective.

This area is designated
as a calming area for dogs

- and handlers only.
- I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Dubois,

but it is necessary that I be here.

- I'm on police business.
- Nonetheless. Come.

Thank you to the bulldogs.

And now we have the hounds.

First up is Duke,

a three-year-old Basset Hound.

Weighs in at sixty pounds,

height at shoulder fourteen inches.

Owner and handler Buck Christopher.

What in the blazes?!

What are you doing?

I was returning this
undercoat rake I had borrowed.

With permission.

- Julia.
- William.

Miss James made a discovery that
could have some bearing on this case.

- What is it?
- She analyzed Mr. Dubois's stomach emissions

and found that, along with a
minuscule amount of strychnine,

there was a large quantity of ipecac.

- Ipecac.
- Yes, it's an emetic.

It would have caused
the vomiting, ensuring

that he didn't die from
the strychnine he consumed.

So what you're saying is...

Mr. Dubois was never actually in danger.

He was trying to throw
suspicion off of himself.

Thank you to the hounds.

Mr. Dubois, stop right there!

It was you!

You poisoned Mrs. Frizzel's dog.

- I did no such thing.
- I believe you did.

And I also believe you
killed Mr. Stoddard.

- You have no proof of that.
- I have enough.

- Oh, my goodness!
- Mr. Dubois.

- Stand back.
- Let her go.

- You're coming with me.
- I don't think so.

Pistachio! Leap!

You stay.

Good girl.

Sit.

Mr. Dubois killed Horace,

motivated simply by a desire to win.

But why kill Mr. Stoddard?

Mr. Stoddard discovered who was
responsible for the poisonings.

As competitive as he was, he
believed in playing by the rules.

He confronted Mr. Dubois,

threatened to expose him

and was killed for it.

It's a shame Pistachio
won't get to compete,

after all her training and hard work.

Oh no.

No, no, no. Absolutely not.

No.

Owner Miss Ruth Newsome

and her very distinguished American
Staffordshire Terrier, Roger.

Looking fine, Miss Newsome.

Of course the dog will need a new home.

It just, it seems a little soon.

- I know.
- Mr. Sebastien Melrose

and his English Setter, Kaiser.

But do remember that Mr. Dubois

is the villain in all
of this, not Pistachio.

And finally, Pistachio,
the Labrador Retriever,

squired by novice trainer

- Detective William Murdoch.
- Oh!!

Sir.

Still looking for your travel journal?

Well, the trail has gone cold,

but I am not one to give up.

The CN Tower.

Looks like a spaceship on a stick.

Once the world's tallest
free-standing structure

built right here at Front and John.

You, my friend, have
a vivid imagination.

I didn't dream this stuff up.
Now I must stay the course.

Canada is turning one hundred and fifty

and I am not gonna miss the party.

Did he say Canada's turning

- one hundred and fifty?
- He did.