Original subtitles

Subtitling made possible by RLJ Entertainment.

[ Door opens ]

EDGAR: ♪ You can hear them sigh and wish to die ♪

♪ You can see them wink with the other eye ♪

Edgar?

♪ At the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo ♪

Edgar Leeman, where have you been?

I have been to England to visit the queen.

You left two hours ago to buy soup bones!

Why have soup...

when you can have this?

[ Laughs ] Chicken!

- We can't afford chicken. - Ah.

And then...

there's this.

Edgar, what in heaven?

I bought it at a thrift store. 50 cents.

But it looks brand-new!

Happy anniversary, dear.

You haven't been gambling, have you?

You swear on your mother's grave?

On my mother's grave

and a stack of Bibles up to my chin,

I swear, these were not bought with winnings.

Oh, Edgar!

- [ Knock on door ] - EDGAR: I'll get it.

[ Door opens ]

Can I help you?

I'm sorry, no!

Edgar, who is it?

[ Gunshot ]

Edgar!

Oh, God! Edgar! Oh, Edgar!

Mrs. Leeman?

He left the house to buy bones.

We had $1.04 to last us through the week,

so we were making do with soup.

And yet he came home with chicken

and a fancy hat.

He always had a keen eye for a bargain.

Well, then, perhaps you can tell me how it is

your husband came home with more money than he had when he left?

BRACKENREID: "I'm sorry, no."

Those were his last words?

According to his wife, yes.

That's what I say to all those bloody door-to-door salesmen.

Maybe one of them just cracked.

A man can only take so much rejection.

Sir, I think it has more to do with the money.

After all, he did come home

with more money than he had when he left.

Perhaps he was a gambler.

He assured his wife he wasn't.

[ Laughs ]

I assure the wife that the bottle in my desk

is the same one I was working on last week.

Men lie, Murdoch.

You may not, but the rest of us bloody do.

Yes, I'm aware of that, sir.

But if he was gambling,

why call attention to it

by buying his wife an elaborate gift?

Well, if he had more money, someone else had less,

and maybe that someone was unhappy about it.

Right, then, any new insights into the Pastor Henshaw murder?

I'm afraid not, sir,

although I believe I've identified the murder weapon.

According to the bruising,

it's consistent with the pastor being beaten to death

with a cane.

- Any fingermarks on it? - MURDOCH: Only the pastor's.

And there's also this blood smear.

BRACKENREID: Is that it?

MURDOCH: I'm afraid so.

Well, Murdoch, I think I'll take a crack at this one.

Maybe there's something that the old Thomas S. Brackenreid nose

can sniff out.

Hmm, have at it, sir.

[ Knock on door ]

Gentlemen.

MURDOCH: Good morning, Doctor.

You're having a busy week.

First, the Pastor Henshaw murder and now another one.

Yes, I've asked the doctor for any insights she may have

into what possibly motivated the pastor's killer.

I'm afraid I don't have any insights that aren't obvious.

Given the amount of bruising on his face,

it's apparent he was struck repeatedly

even after he collapsed.

So he was killed in anger.

That would be my analysis.

BRACKENREID: Well, you're right, that is bloody obvious.

But who would be so enraged as to kill a pastor?

DR. GRACE: Cause of death,

a bullet wound through the left aorta.

Death would have occurred within seconds, I should think.

Did you retrieve the bullet?

Yes! .41 caliber.

A Derringer.

The gambler's choice, I believe.

May I take this?

We already know the caliber and the make of gun.

What more is there to discern?

Every gun barrel has rifling

which leaves striations on every bullet.

These striations are as distinctive as fingermarks.

Oh, yes, I see. How interesting!

[ Clears throat ]

I beg your pardon.

Thank you.

Crabtree, have a look at the picture.

Move your left arm.

- Yes, that's it! - Sir, I'm trying!

MURDOCH: What's all this?

BRACKENREID: Ah, Murdoch. Just working on a theory.

I don't believe that this was the murder weapon.

But I thought the pastor's bruising

was consistent with the shape of this cane.

Watch this. The victim was hit eight times.

- 1,2,3,4,5,6, 7, 8! - [ Grunting ]

And yet there is only blood on the middle portion of the cane.

I think that the cane belonged to the pastor,

who used it to try to defend himself,

but the killer drove it, drove it into his face!

Very good, sir.

You're welcome, Murdoch.

Right, up you get, George.

Any progress on the hat?

Sir, we've checked with every thrift store

this side of Yonge Street.

None of them have sold an Italian straw hat

with ostrich plumage and champagne ribboning.

That's a very detailed description, George.

CRABTREE: Oh, sir, my Aunt Primrose

used to send me to fetch hats all the time.

One had to be very specific. There was a great many hats.

Right, George, perhaps Mr. Leeman lied

about where he obtained the hat

to conceal from his wife that he had suddenly come into money.

Check all the other hat shops.

CRABTREE: Sir, we have,

and there is one store that sells that exact hat,

with the ribboning also available in plum and raspberry.

Where is this?

CRABTREE: On the corner of Carlton and Parliament.

PREACHER: I believe this to be a reasonable exchange.

Let me tell you what hell is like.

Imagine placing your hand over a candle

at the tip of the flame.

After a second, the pain is already unbearable.

BILLY: I don't care! I'm the one who's talking!

That's right! She's the one. She's the one. She's the one.

She begged me. She begged me.

You're going to love it. Honestly.

Thank you so much. Okay, bye-bye.

- Keep walking, Grimsby. - As ugly as ever.

Thank you. If you need some rope to hang yourself...

Fresh pizza pie!

Pizza piel! Fresh pizza pie!

BUTCHER: Beautiful day today! Come on in and get your meat!

All right, George. Show this photograph around

and see if anyone recalls seeing Mr. Leeman yesterday afternoon.

- Sir. - Pizza pie, don't be shy!

Come on over, everybody!

Pizza piel! Fresh pizza pie!

Pizza pie! One cent a bite!

PALMERSTON: Oh, yes. I remember him.

He came in to buy a hat for his wife.

What time was this?

Just after closing, around 6:00.

We weren't going to let him in, but he was in such good spirits,

we couldn't say no.

Came in singing, kissed our hands,

even tried some of the hats.

How much was the hat that he bought?

$4.15.

It was our most expensive hat.

Hmm.

Paid using a brand-new $10 bill.

You don't see many of those.

BILLY: I don't care.

I don't care. I don't care.

She wanted me to, but I don't care.

PREACHER: The devil tempts you all the time.

BILLY: She wanted me to. I don't care, don't care.

Excuse me, sir.

She wanted, wanted me to go ahead and do it.

Sir, did you see this man yesterday afternoon?

He's dead.

Yes, but did you see him yesterday afternoon?

It wasn't my blood on him. Him. He knows.

He knows what?

Ooh, he's one of them. And then, then, then,

she just told me to do it. She wanted me to do it.

I just didn't want to. I didn't want to.

Pizza piel! Fresh pizza pie!

Excuse me, sir.

Did you see this man yesterday afternoon?

Hmm, sorry. Pizza pie! Fresh pizza pie!

This chap seems to think that you did.

That man's a bloody lunatic!

Ah, who knows? Maybe I did see him.

But if he didn't buy a bite, I'm not going to remember, eh?

What is this pizza pie?

It's a tomato and cheese pie.

If you want meat, you have to wait for the next one, eh?

Well, a penny a bite, eh? Well, there you go.

PREACHER: Trust no one but your Lord.

- It's delicious! - Yeah!

- That's very good! - Yeah! Pizza piel!

Fresh pizza pie!

Anything, George?

Ah, sir. Nothing yet, I'm afraid.

LYND: Constable Crabtree!

Mrs. Lynd, it's good to see you.

You still have your purse, I see.

Yes, thanks to you.

Two weeks ago, I left it on this bench right here,

and when I came back, it was gone!

Along with the only photograph of my dear Jack.

Higgins and I did a search of the alleys.

Yes, and you found it!

You know, someone just took what they wanted and tossed it away.

I mean, can you believe that?

I was just so grateful I brought a pie to his house.

Yes, you did. It was excellent as well.

Mrs. Lynd, did you see this man yesterday afternoon?

Oh.

Yes. Yes, a nice man.

He tipped his hat to me. People don't do that anymore.

In my days,

everybody greeted everyone with a little tip of the hat.

Mrs. Lynd, did you see where the man went?

Why, yes. Of course.

People think I'm half daft, but I remember everything.

Yeah, he was here.

Came in with 4 cents wanting to buy soup bones,

like I'm some kind of charity.

Charity?

Hey, you want soup bones for less than a nickel,

find 'em somewhere else.

But he bought a chicken from you, did he not?

Yeah, that was later.

Comes in smiling like he's my best friend,

puts down two bits and buys a chicken.

Didn't you find that strange?

No, I call that business.

You give me two bits, I give you a chicken.

That's about market price for a chicken, sir.

[ Clears throat ]

Sir, do you know of anywhere near here

where a man might be able to gamble?

Right next door. Name's Robert Grimsby.

Runs the tailor shop,

but he's really a two-bit bookie.

Never seen him before.

[ Clears throat ]

So he wasn't here yesterday afternoon?

If he was, I would have seen him.

That's odd,

because we believe this man won some money gambling,

and the word on the street is

that your business doubles as a betting shop.

Who told you that? Oh, wait, let me guess.

Runs a butcher shop next door?

Do yourself a favor and don't listen to anything he says.

Why would he lie?

He owes me money.

Oh!

Well, I suppose that explains

why he told me you were running a betting shop.

It's in your best interest to let us take a look around.

GRIMSBY: Well, Detective, I can assure you

that there is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary

for you to find here.

CRABTREE: Sir?

Here's a book

with some interesting-looking measurements.

Why, yes! Oh!

And here is an E. Leeman right here.

That's odd.

You say you don't know him, but his name is right here.

All right, I knew him.

He was here yesterday.

He put one dollar on Wishbone to win.

Said he had been given a tip.

- And he won? - No, he lost.

Wishbone came in third.

CRABTREE: Sir.

[ Gunshot ]

He lost?

Where did he get the money, then?

I don't know, sir.

BRACKENREID: Is it the one that killed Leeman?

Doesn't appear to be.

Bloody hell.

Sirs, there's been another murder.

Mrs. Thelma Greene.

DR. GRACE: The victim died from a gunshot to the heart.

Right ventricle this time.

I found some powder residue on her dress.

She was shot at close range, then.

Indeed. I extracted this.

From a Derringer, I expect.

Perhaps the same one that killed Edgar Leeman.

Would you like to confirm it yourself?

May I?

They're a match.

Same gun, same Killer.

Two very different victims.

Edgar Leeman was a coalman, a bon vivant, drinker, gambler.

While Thelma Greene was thick as thieves

with the Temperance League.

They both lived in very different worlds,

professionally, socially, and geographically.

So what's the connection?

It's yet to be determined.

Is there any chance the pastor's murder could be related?

Not likely, I think.

The pastor was beaten. The other two were shot.

Yes, but all three victims were found murdered

inside their own front doors.

There could be something to that.

Higgins!

George, what have you?

Sir, according to household staff,

Mrs. Greene left her home on Jarvis Street

yesterday afternoon

to attend a Temperance League luncheon

on Broadview and Gerrard.

Right. We'll need to find out if any of the luncheon guests

had a connection to Edgar Leeman.

Sir, if I may, I believe I have already found

a connection between the victims.

It lies in their names.

Their names?

Yes, sir. I had time to ponder this on the streetcar.

As you know, sir, I enjoy a good word game.

Actually, no, George, I didn't know.

Well, I do, and I found, sir,

that if you eliminate the common letters

in both of the victim's names,

you are left with.

D... E.. A... T.. H.

Death!

Surely, sir, you don't think that's a coincidence?

George, do we know when Mrs. Greene left the luncheon?

2:45 or thereabouts.

Do we have any idea where she went?

According to witnesses at the luncheon,

she grew tired of waiting for a hansom cab

and walked home.

Walked home. Right.

If I'm not mistaken, George,

the shortest distance

between the luncheon and Mrs. Greene's home

is through Carlton and Parliament.

PREACHER: The lion's den.

All right, Higgins,

you take this side of the street and I'll take this one.

Well, why do you get this side of the street?

Well, what's the difference?

PREACHER: It shall come to pass

to all who are not written in the Lamb's book of life...

It's these fire-and-brimstone types, George, they...

It makes me uncomfortable.

Well, I'll gladly switch with you, Henry,

but I've got a demented beggar on my side

who talks night and day to heaven knows who.

So, it's your choice.

[ Sighs] Fine.

MAN: Pizza piel! The family's gonna love it!

Mrs. Lynd!

LYND: Hello, Constable.

How are you?

I'm very well. Come have a seat.

- Piece of cake? - No, I mustn't.

I'll pop the buttons off my tunic.

Mrs. Lynd, I'm afraid there's been another murder.

Oh, no!

Do you remember seeing this woman?

MAN: Pizza pie!

Everybody, come and get the best pizza in town!

- Was she wearing a pink dress? - Yes.

I would have called it more a coral tone, but that's her.

I miss wearing color.

Ever since my dear Jack died,

I only wear black. It's only right.

Do you remember where she went?

Oh, yes. She went into the hat shop.

Oh, I know her all right.

Wish I didn't.

CRABTREE: Why is that?

She comes in all the time,

treats everyone like a servant,

tries on all the hats one by one.

And if she ever does buy,

she tries to haggle with the price,

like she can't afford it.

It's my observation that rich people are often the stingiest,

which I suppose has something to do

with how they became rich in the first place.

What happened to her?

She was murdered.

Oh, my Lord!

She didn't deserve that, no matter how miserly she was.

Does it strike you as strange, Mrs. Palmerston,

that both victims passed through your store

shortly before their deaths?

Are you suggesting I had something to do with this?

It's a routine question, ma'am.

I hardly think I'd still be in business

if I were in the habit of killing off my customers.

Yes, of course. Thank you.

Revelations 21:8 makes it clear.

"The fearful and unbelieving

and the abominable and murderers..."

Sir.

"...and fornicators and sorcerers and idolaters

and all liars..."

Sir!

"...shall find their part in the lake which burneth with fire!"

Sir, if you don't pay attention to what I'm showing you,

you'll be preaching atop a jailhouse bunk.

Never seen her before.

This is the second death,

which shall come to pass to all...

HIGGINS: George?

I've just spoken to the pizza man. He says...

- Did you have a bite? - No, I didn't have a bite.

I don't want a bite of something someone else has chewed on.

Oh, honestly, Henry, you're so particular sometimes.

Anyways. He remembers her.

Really? From where?

He saw her outside the Bank of Toronto

counting money.

BRACKENREID: The Bank of Toronto?

- That's what he said, sir. - What is it?

Well, I was going through Pastor Henshaw's finances,

and he does his banking

at the Carlton branch of the Bank of Toronto.

Look at the final transaction.

MURDOCH: May 11th.

BRACKENREID: The day he was killed.

That connects my murder to your two.

It could be just a coincidence.

Or it could be good news.

You said so yourself, Murdoch,

all three victims passed through this neighborhood

the day they were killed.

So let's keep this quiet, Murdoch. No need for a panic.

What kind of person would randomly target people

as they walked by?

I suspect we're looking for a sequential killer.

- A sequential killer? - It's my coinage.

It refers to killers who murder multiple victims,

one at a time, usually separated

by a period of a few days to several months.

Jack the Ripper.

The most famous, but there have been others.

Joseph Vacher killed 11.

H.H. Holmes killed dozens, possibly hundreds.

Were there any similarities between the victims?

Jack killed only women.

Vacher tended to kill teenagers.

Holmes killed anyone who would cross his path, it would seem.

But why? Why did they do it?

No one knows.

The Ripper was never caught,

and the others were executed before they could be studied.

Were they insane?

Some maybe, but not all.

The only thing we can say with certainty

is that they felt a compulsion to Kill.

All you who walk in the shadow of ignorance,

who deny the true light of God.

All you who stare at the ground

in contemplation of your own selfish wants.

You have no idea what I'm capable of.

The blood on my hands. No. I'm the one who's talking.

Good day, Billy. Take care of yourself, now.

- CRABTREE: Mrs. Lynd. - Oh, Constable!

I'm sorry to show you such a frightful picture,

but we need to know if you've seen this man.

Oh, dear heavens, not another one.

This man was killed two weeks ago.

Oh, dear. Let me see.

Yes.

I know him. He was a pastor.

My dear Jack was in the ministry as well.

Anglican, he was.

Mrs. Lynd, do you recall seeing him two weeks ago

on May the 11th?

- That was a Friday. - Um...

Yes. He went into the tailor shop.

Yes, Pastor Henshaw was a customer.

And was he here on May 11th?

He put $10 on Spendthrift to win. He lost.

- BRACKENREID: Was he a regular? - Every week.

MAN: Thank you very much. How are you doing today?

Come on in. Come on in.

Bloody preacher playing the ponies.

Not what you'd expect.

I know what you mean, sir.

I used to think of this corner as being so bright and lively,

and now it just seems full of menace.

Repent now!

On your knees and pray!

You have no idea what I'm capable of.

Pizza pie.

What are you hoping to capture here, sir?

Unusual behavior.

Does our killer stand and watch?

Does he argue with his victims?

Does he follow them? That sort of thing.

And if there is another murder?

Well, then, I'll have the evidence I need

to catch him, won't I?

- Sir, I have another theory. - Go on.

Well, we know that we're looking for a sequential killer

like Jack the Ripper,

but something you may not know, sir,

is that Jack the Ripper's last victim was a prostitute

who was favored by none other than the Prince of Wales.

Indeed!

Oh, it's a fact, sir.

It's also established

that at the time of her death, she was with child.

And of course, it's widely suspected

that the child was the prince's.

Now, of course, the monarchy couldn't have

some bastard pretender to the throne running around,

so many people believe they had her killed.

George, why are we discussing Jack the Ripper?

Pass me the film magazine.

To illustrate my point, sir.

Perhaps only one of these murders was truly motivated.

The others were simply committed

to deflect our attention from that one true motive.

And what would that motive be?

Well, sir, the very fact

that we haven't discovered a motive yet

leads me to believe

that perhaps the one truly motivated killing

has yet to happen.

That's an arresting theory, George.

[ Click ]

[ Camera shutter clicking ]

Ah! [ Chuckles ]

So, where are we going to put this, sir?

Well, George, we know for certain

that all of the victims, at one time or another,

passed through the intersection of Carlton and Parliament.

I suggest that the scrutiny camera

would be best set up there.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

HIGGINS: So he's hoping to film a murder, then?

Good grief, Higgins! He's not hoping to.

But if there is another murder,

it is incumbent on the detective

to gather as much evidence as possible.

I just thought film was very expensive.

Well, it is, but he's rigged it in such a way

that it takes a picture every 4 seconds.

That allows us to capture a full day on a single roll of film.

All right. Right there.

[ Click ]

- [ Camera shutter clicking ] - There we go.

Now I suppose the rest is up to the camera.

- I'm hungry, George. - Are you, now?

You're right, George. That's really good.

Henry, would I ever steer you wrong?

Still seems a bit unhygienic.

George.

George, there's $10 in here.

It's half my month's salary!

CRABTREE: What are you suggesting?

Hmm.

Oh, for heaven's sake, Henry, you can't keep the money.

What if we couldn't find the owner?

Well, at least have a look inside.

"If found, please deliver to 349 Parliament Street."

Oh, not this chap again.

Stay away! It's not time! Not time!

Sir, we're on official police business, if you don't mind.

It wasn't my fault. They wanted me to do it.

Shut up. Shut up! Okay, I'm just...

Okay. Shut up. Shut up.

Lunatic!

[ Knock on door, door opens I]

We're not open until 6:00.

What's this about?

We found your wallet.

Well... thank you.

You don't want to keep your wallet?

Consider it your reward.

There you go, Henry. Virtue is its own reward.

You've got a nice new wallet.

I would have preferred the $10, George.

Anything?

Nothing I can discern, sir.

It's been two days since we set this up.

- He's due to strike again. - I know.

Sirs.

DR. GRACE: Like the rest,

Robert Grimsby was shot through the heart.

And the markings on this bullet match the others.

The time of death?

Difficult to tell precisely using body temperature.

But I've analyzed his stomach contents

and can say with confidence

that he ate his last meal 45 minutes before his death.

Corned beef on rye bread.

Sirs, I spoke to the owner of the Sumach restaurant.

Grimsby stopped by last night for corned beef on rye.

- What time was this? - Between 8:15 and 8:25.

That puts our murder sometime after 9:00 p.m.

Sir, stop the projector!

That's Robert Grimsby there, arguing with the butcher.

- BRACKENREID: So? - This is proof of my theory.

What is he rabbiting on about, Murdoch?

Sir, George suspects that the first three murders were random,

to disguise the true motivation of our killer.

There's only one truly motivated murder, and this is that murder.

So, what is the motivation?

Hatred. Pure and simple.

The butcher killed the tailor.

The final blow in an ongoing feud.

I never said I hated him.

MURDOCH: But you turned him in to the police.

He was operating a gambling business right next to my store.

Yes. And you owed him money.

You wouldn't have to pay him if he were dead.

Where were you last evening?

Minding my own business.

MURDOCH: You have no alibi?

I keep to myself. No crime in that.

What about May the 11th, 17th, 24th, and 26th?

What about 'em?

Can you account for your whereabouts on those evenings?

Why? You think I had something to do with those other murders?

Why would I kill those people? I didn't even know 'em.

That was precisely the point, wasn't it?

You randomly murder three people to throw us off the scent.

What?

It's our belief that you killed the others

in order to disguise your motive for killing Mr. Grimsby.

You two are crazy!

He's a gruff old bastard, I'll give you that,

but to cold-bloodedly Kill three innocent people

to throw us off the scent?

Call it copper's instinct, Murdoch,

but I just don't think the old bugger has it in him.

Anything, George?

Possibly, sir. Watch this.

Here's Robert Grimsby going into the bank.

And here he is coming out.

And then he stops to pick something up,

but I can't figure out what.

Right, George, enlarge this section.

Sir.

Sirs, it appears to be a wallet that Grimsby is picking up.

The thing is, Higgins and I found a wallet

in almost the exact same location.

Crikey.

Help yourselves.

Really? I find this one quite handsome.

George.

None of these wallets belong to you?

People have been finding them on the streets

every couple of days.

I've been thinking of building a drop box.

Save me from having to answer the door.

Hmm, and they all have your address in them?

And money usually.

BRACKENREID: How much?

If it's there, $10.

Did that not strike you as a little odd?

Of course it does.

But I'll take donations any way I can get them.

How many of the wallets had no money in them?

Four.

Edgar Leeman had recently come into money

and was in good spirits.

Thelma Greene was seen counting money outside of the bank.

Pastor Henshaw made a $10 bet.

He must have thought that he had God in his corner.

Four wallets, four deaths, sir.

If you returned the money, you lived.

If you kept it, you died.

On the face of it, it seems to be some kind of morality test.

A morality test?

Designed by a murderer?

It's less ironic than it seems.

Cold-blooded killers can have strict codes of moral behavior.

Heavens, God himself wasn't above smiting people

who didn't measure up to his standards.

Could our killer be a religious zealot?

There is one on the corner.

CRABTREE: Oh, my goodness! He stands on a soapbox

and preaches hell and damnation all day.

And he was less than cooperative

when it came to the investigation.

Now, there is also a beggar who mills about

outside the Parliament Street Mission.

I don't know if he's religious, but he's definitely off his nut.

Yes. We know our Killer is angry.

What could he be angry about?

It's hard to say. He may not even know himself.

Anger of this magnitude is often displaced.

Sigmund Freud has speculated that our subconscious mind

prevents us from expressing our anger directly

to the person responsible,

forcing us to take our anger out on persons unconnected

to the true source of our rage.

So, say if a police inspector was yelled at by his wife,

and then, in turn, takes it out on an unsuspecting constable...

- George. - Suddenly makes sense, sir.

This could explain why sequential killers

pick their victims apparently at random.

Exactly.

CRABTREE: Sir, what are we looking for?

Well, George, if we can see who placed the wallet,

then we'll have our murderer.

CRABTREE: The soapbox preacher just went by.

As did two dozen others.

Any one of them could have dropped it.

For all we know,

the wallet could have been lying there for hours.

BRACKENREID: Then we'll set up a surveillance.

We know exactly where the wallets is dropped.

Crabtree and Higgins will be on the street. Civilian clothes.

We'll watch from upstairs.

"We," sir?

It's my bloody case, too, Murdoch.

Honestly, George, this is so tedious.

Do you remember the time we had to crawl through the sewer

and look for the evidence

that Detective Murdoch thought had been flushed?

Ugh! How can I forget?

This is worse than that.

How is that, Henry?

Endlessly walking in circles

just hoping we see someone happen to drop a wallet.

Well, look on the bright side.

At least, we get to wear our civvies.

That's the best you got?

Well, you know, it could be worse for you, Higgins.

How's that?

You could be me having to listen to you complain.

Should have got Margaret to make us some grub.

George was telling me about this new Italian dish, sir.

"Pizah" pie.

Italian? Oh.

I'm strictly a meat and two veg kind of fellow, Murdoch.

Oh, where's your sense of adventure, sir?

LYND: Why, Constable Crabtree.

- Ah! - You're out of uniform.

CRABTREE: Well, you know, Mrs. Lynd,

even coppers get a day off every now and then.

Well, you're very smartly dressed.

Oh, thank you.

Not like some these days.

BUTCHER: We have a big sale going on

on all the meats I have in the shop.

CRABTREE: Henry.

$10.

Blast! I'm calling the detective.

PREACHER: He's better because he is everywhere.

What is his address? Where does the devil live?

[ Telephone rings ]

Yes?

CRABTREE: Hello, sir.

We found the wallet, but we didn't see who dropped it.

That's all right, George. Stick to the plan.

Make a big show of counting the money, and then spend it,

as if this is the greatest day of your life.

Yes, sir.

Sin is not just killing and stealing.

Sin lies in the very thoughts that slither through your mind.

BILLY: It wasn't my fault. She wanted me to do it.

Evil. Hoo hoo! Hoo hoo! I know when I see it.

Mm-hmm!

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Absolutely, sir. Inside.

He's off to buy a bloody hat.

I didn't tell him what to spend the money on, sir.

Excellent selection, sir.

That is one of our finest.

Well, you know I've always been partial to a Leghorn Flop,

and nothing but the best for my gal.

I've just come into some money.

Come back anytime.

I will do. Thank you, ma'am.

Well, thank you kindly.

You enjoy that, now.

Ah, thank you, sir.

BUTCHER: There goes another happy customer, folks.

George.

Stick to the plan. Head on home now.

Sir.

Were you followed?

Oh, sweet mother of... Sir!

Yes, there was a chap about a block behind me,

but he appears to have veered off.

Do you think he knows where you live?

I imagine so.

Put this on.

The bulletproof vest, sir?

Do you really think that's necessary?

Oi, bugalugs! If you get shot, do you want to be dead?

Good point, sir.

[ Bell tolling ]

[ Knock on door ]

- Who is it? - MURDOCH: It's me, George.

I've been watching from across the street all night.

I haven't seen anyone as much as slow down.

I don't think our killer is coming tonight.

Do you think he's figured out it's a setup?

I don't know.

Perhaps he recognized you as a constable

and decided not to follow through.

Ah, I'm sorry, sir.

It's not your fault, Crabtree.

Get some sleep, lad. We'll try again tomorrow.

[ Knock on door ]

LYND: Constable Crabtree?

I have a treat for you!

Mrs. Lynd, you've brought me another pie!

You shouldn't have.

Oh! And plum. You know, that's my favorite.

You'll have to come in for a slice.

BILLY: She's still talking to me.

She knows I'm telling the truth.

Hey! Hey, come on!

One of these people is our killer, Murdoch.

Possibly, sir.

Think about it.

Whoever dropped the wallet had to wait

until the next victim picked it up.

Who better to do that

than somebody who made it their business to be here?

Do you think that's the old dear's?

PALMERSTON: Belongs to Mrs. Lynd.

She's always leaving it here.

Where is Mrs. Lynd?

How could you?

Such a nice young man and a police constable, too.

All right, Mrs. Lynd.

What hope is there for the world

if even the police aren't honest?

Mrs. Lynd, you've got it all wrong.

I didn't steal that wallet.

I saw you!

You bought a hat and a ham.

The same ham that's sitting right there.

No, Mrs. Lynd, this was all a setup.

A what?

We knew all about the wallets that you've been dropping.

I took that money to set myself up as bait.

We were trying to catch the killer.

- Oh, I don't know about that. - Mrs. Lynd, look at this.

This is a bulletproof vest.

I wore this last night

in case the killer showed up and tried to shoot me.

But you're not wearing one now.

This time of morning,

she's usually visiting the grave of her "saintly" Jack.

You don't think he was a saint?

Sorry, did I just betray my thoughts?

He preyed on every widow in his congregation.

He even made a pass at me one time.

My. Did Mrs. Lynd know this?

She found his letters after he died.

Some people just can't face up to the truth.

MAN: Come and get it while it's hot!

Because you know it won't last long!

About the same width as a cane, Sir.

Very unlikely, Murdoch.

She always had her nose in the Bible.

And she's an old woman.

I doubt she'd be a murderer.

George.

So now you have a decision to make of your own, Mrs. Lynd.

You can either give me that gun...

or kill an innocent man.

It's not fair.

Mrs. Lynd, please give me that gun.

- George! - CRABTREE: Sir, it's all right.

Hello.

Back in my day, people were honest.

If you found someone's purse,

you just gave it back to them,

never even expecting a reward.

But now they just take the money out,

and they throw everything else away.

The world changed when your husband died, didn't it?

Yes, it did.

It got mean and ugly.

And the more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

- So you set up a test? - LYND: Yes, I did.

I wanted to see. I mean, who would do such a thing?

I thought at first a...

a vagabond, a prostitute.

But a pastor?

A minister of the church!

He should have known better.

Like your husband.

He was a pastor, too, wasn't he?

Jack never let me down.

He saw that I'd be well taken care of.

Your husband violated your marriage vows.

This isn't about Jack!

This is about thieving and hypocrisy...

people who have no sense of common decency...

people who think they can do anything and get away with it!

They deserved to die.

All of them!

BRACKENREID: She's as batty as they come.

Imagine killing someone over a wallet.

It wasn't about a wallet.

Her husband was a church minister.

She believed he was morally infallible.

When she learned otherwise,

her conscious mind just couldn't face the truth.

Yet her subconscious was still seething with hurt and anger.

Which she had to direct somewhere, hence the moral test.

Like I said, batty as they come.

Pizza pie is more of a meal than dessert,

but it tastes just as good as pie,

so, in my opinion, it could be your meal and your dessert.

What kind of food is this?

It's Italian.

Italian! How exotic, George.

- How much for a slice, sir? - A nickel.

Two, then, please.

Oh!

Mmm! It's delicious!

And practical.

- Practical? - Emily, think.

Pizza pie serves as its own plate. No dishes.

Hmm, it would be handy to have at home.

- Perfect for a bachelor. - Or a working woman.

You know, if that man used his bicycle...

He could deliver it right to your door.

Exactly, George.

We really should starting writing down more of our ideas.

MAN: Pizza piel! Fresh pizza pie!

I still, I still talk to her.

PREACHER: And pure in God's footsteps...

BILLY: I still talk to her.

PREACHER: It shall find you.

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