Original subtitles

Good morning, Lillian.

Last day as Dr. Grace.

Just because I'll no longer be Toronto's coroner

doesn't mean I'll cease being a doctor.

Of course.

How are you progressing next door?

My room is packed up.

Only some final errands to see to.

Then could I trouble you to pick up my dress

from the seamstress?

Of course.

To think, in a only a few days we'll be crossing the Atlantic

for London, England.

I cannot wait.

I love you.

Good, good.

Yes, we look forward to having you, Dr. Slater.

Have a safe journey.

I said, "Have a safe journey, Dr. Slater"!

Yes, yes.

You will need a substantial coat for the winter.

Oh, I'll have to cut you short. My detective's calling.

Sir, I can return.

Uh, I will, I will. Thank you, Doctor.

That was Dr. Peter Slater, our new coroner from Vancouver.

- He's en route. - I see.

Lovely man, but perhaps a bit...

A bit talkative, sir?

Talkative?

He's got more bloody rabbit

than all of Margaret's female relatives put together, Murdoch.

Well, he comes highly recommended,

and he is very experienced.

He's deaf as a doornail.

And he's worried that his arthritis

will flare up in the cold.

I do wish Dr. Grace would stay on.

Yes, well, she's made her mind up, Murdoch.

Perhaps it's for the best, anyway.

- How do you mean? - Sirs.

There's been a shooting.

Sirs. No witnesses.

Right here is fine.

- She's here. - Thank you, Worsley.

Good day, Inspector.

A fresh corpse and a crime scene.

What more could one ask for?

I'll get someone else to attend the body.

I'm not yet in London.

Besides, I'm rather glad that my last day

has offered some excitement.

- Let me do my job, Inspector. - I can't.

Why?

Does anyone come to mind who may have wished Miss Moss harm?

Not specifically.

What about friends? Family?

She attended an embroidery group.

I never went, but she said she had friends there.

She never talked about her family.

I took it to be a sore spot. I...

I did meet her uncle once.

Yes, Lillian arranged for me to meet him last year.

He was sympathetic to our campaign.

Wayland Porter, I believe.

I know him. He's a fellow Mason.

Right.

Henry.

Anything interesting from Miss Moss' room?

I found her appointment book.

I found this key.

I think it might be a safety deposit box.

Can you think of anything else, Dr. Grace?

No, I...

We were packed for London. She was excited. I...

Emily, I'm so sorry.

Sorry to hear about your friend, Dr. Grace.

- Terribly sorry, Emily. - Thank you both.

Will you still go to London?

Henry, I'm sure Dr. Grace has plenty to think about

without worrying about that.

I can't decide which to take.

Then bring both of them.

We're starting anew, Emily.

We should only take what we must.

I prefer that one.

You were wearing it when we first met.

- Oh, was I, now? - Mm-hmm.

And not only will you bring it,

but you will wear it on the boat for me.

Or else?

You wouldn't dare to find out.

Emily.

You all right?

George, look at this.

It was in her datebook.

"Morris Kerr, private investigator."

Maybe Miss Moss was looking for someone.

Thank you for seeing me, Wayland.

What can I do for you, Tom?

Your niece, Lillian Moss...

I'm sorry to tell you that she's been murdered.

We had just said our goodbyes prior to London.

Do you know who did it?

I was hoping you could put me in contact with her family.

I don't know her family.

But you're her uncle.

Well, I'm not actually her uncle.

Not by blood, at least.

Well, then what are you to her?

Merely a friend, Tom.

I'm sorry I can't be of more help.

A single .38 caliber

between the sixth and seventh true ribs.

Given the presence of gunpowder residue,

I say she was shot at close range.

So this wasn't a random act.

She was deliberately targeted.

It would appear.

William, I received more than a few angry letters

during the election.

I imagine Lillian did too.

Why didn't you tell me?

I knew our campaign would result in rancor,

but I guess I didn't take the threats

as seriously as I should have.

Julia, if you could send along those letters

when you have a moment?

I want to see her, Julia.

Funny, if we had gone to London four months ago

when she wanted to, none of this would have happened.

There's nothing you could have done.

- Instead she waited for me. - She was targeted.

If this was related to our suffrage efforts...

Should have just left when she asked.

Emily...

I know what Lillian meant to you.

The inspector told you. He's the only one who knows.

Women's intuition.

What about the others? George? The detective?

No. At least not by my lips.

Lillian Moss may have hired this man

as a private investigator.

His name is Morris Kerr.

Well, what did Mr. Kerr have to say?

Nothing, sir. He appears to have vanished.

Now, I did gain entry to his office

and I confiscated all his files,

but there doesn't appear to be one for Lillian Moss,

nor does she appear as a client in his receipt ledger.

And what about the key we found in Miss Moss' room?

Were you able to find the safety deposit box for that?

Not yet, sir.

Were you able to glean anything

from the letters Dr. Ogden received during the election?

They appear to be empty threats.

- Thank you. - Sir.

Dr. Grace.

I wanted to apologize for my abruptness earlier.

It's not necessary.

You lost somebody close to you. I understand.

Any progress with the case?

Not worth mentioning, but we're working diligently.

You don't happen to know where Lillian did her banking, do you?

The Imperial, I believe.

I think she may have had a safety deposit box.

We will get to the bottom of this, Emily.

I just received a letter

from a close friend of mine in London, England.

A friend of hers, Mrs. Pankhurst,

is forming a suffragette union,

and she's just put out a call for international supporters.

Oh, that's wonderful.

Going there to join them could be the adventure of a lifetime.

- Going there? - Together.

Emily.

When Lillian first brought up the idea of moving to London...

...she said that a friend had written,

encouraging us to join.

Mrs. Pankhurst's suffrage movement.

Yes, I... I recall you telling me.

Yes, but in fact, Lillian wrote to her first.

Her friend didn't even respond until three weeks later.

I shouldn't think anything of it, Emily.

Perhaps there's a missing letter explaining the discrepancy.

No, look at the date, Julia.

Lillian wrote the initial letter only after

she brought up the prospect of London with me.

And not only that, her friend replied saying that.

Mrs. Pankhurst suggested that we remain here in Toronto

to continue the cause here.

I suppose she was very keen to go to London.

It's an understandable desire.

Yes, but why would she lie to me?

She made up a story

and then tried to make the letters match it after the fact.

Why did she lie, Julia?

So far we don't know much about anything.

No witnesses to the shooting, no known enemies,

and an uncle that's not even a bloody uncle.

And she had the business card

of a private investigator who is now missing... Morris Kerr.

Do we know the connection to the missing sleuth yet?

There's no indication that he was looking for her

or that she had hired him to look for someone else.

Sirs, I have something.

Lillian Moss had a safety deposit box

at the Imperial Bank.

I found this.

It's $400 in cash.

That's a tidy sum for a young girl to squirrel away.

And I know who gave it to her.

This is your seal, is it not?

Yes.

Mr. Porter, this money was found

in Miss Moss' safety deposit box.

- Why did you give it to her? - She seemed desperate.

I just wanted to help.

How did you know one another?

Well, we traveled in similar circles.

Perhaps you were paying her for favors.

Favors a man such as yourself could afford

and that ladies such as Miss Moss could offer.

- Perhaps. - Bollocks.

Lillian Moss wasn't that type of girl.

She was a sapphist.

A devoted one at that.

You say you traveled in similar circles.

Perhaps if Miss Moss' desires were unconventional,

yours are as well?

It won't go beyond this office, Wayland.

You have my word.

Having Lillian on my arm at the right events

kept such rumors at bay.

But that's not what the money was for.

I don't know why she needed it, only that she did.

We had become good friends, and I just wanted to help.

Do you recall when you gave it to her?

Around four months ago.

We attended a Christmas gala that evening.

Um, December 10th, I would say.

Thank you, Mr. Porter.

Tom, the Masons...

I said you have my word.

Sir, how did you know that about Miss Moss?

A lucky guess.

December 10th.

"Christmas ball at the Queen's Hotel with Mr. Porter."

And the next day?

It just says "Chartwell Pond," nothing else.

Ah, Dr. Grace. Thank you for coming in.

Hope I can be of some help.

Doctor. Please, have a seat.

Doctor, approximately four months ago,

Miss Moss was in desperate need of $400.

Do you have any idea why?

No.

Although she was quite anxious around that time,

which would coincide with her pressing me to go to London.

But that urgency seemed to pass.

Sounds like the money was to get you two across the Atlantic.

No.

I never asked for her to pay my way,

nor was I even willing to go right then.

Borrowing money for London would have been premature.

Unless she planned to travel without you

and then changed her mind.

She wouldn't have done that.

Doctor, were you aware that Miss Moss was a sapphist?

Yes, I was aware.

Murdoch, why don't you look into this Chartwell business?

Sir.

Why did you not tell us?

It could be pertinent to the investigation.

I don't see how it is, Detective.

Well, a victim's lover is often the first person we speak to.

Then I suppose you would want to speak to me.

Is there anything you would like to ask me

that you haven't already?

Thank you for your candor, Doctor.

George, Chartwell Pond.

I imagine that's a weight off, Doctor.

I suppose so.

May I help you?

Oh, uh, pardon me.

I wasn't expecting anyone.

Who are you?

Daniel Miles. I just moved in.

They rented the room already.

I was told it was vacant.

It is. [It is.

My friend used to live here.

- I live next door. - Oh.

Well, very nice to meet you, Miss...

Emily Grace.

And welcome.

This is so exciting!

Transatlantic passage to London for a Dr. Grace and a Miss Moss

on the RMS Carpathia.

One might think us a wealthy doctor and his mistress

when you say it that way.

Running off to start a new life together.

I wonder what Lillian Moss was doing in a place like this.

In the dead of winter, no less.

The human heart certainly is a mystery, isn't it, sir?

Indeed.

All that time I spent with Dr. Grace,

I never would have guessed.

We don't have to discuss it, George, if...

I don't mind.

I just... I would hate to think I did something wrong.

I mean, what could Lillian possibly have to offer

that I do not?

Or... You know what I mean. Any man, for that matter.

I really wouldn't know, George.

I suppose men do tend to be brutish, uncouth creatures,

as where women tend to be refined, caring.

- They certainly smell better. - Yes.

In fact, if you think about it in those terms,

it's a wonder all women don't choose to be with other women.

Well, for one, George, we would perish as a species.

Unless, sir, in the future we devise a way

to procreate without the man,

without the man actually having to...

I really don't think that's possible, George.

Sir.

Look here.

A boot.

I suppose there's any number of ways

a boot could have gotten here.

It's an awful weight though, Sir.

The foot's still in it.

Do the police know who's responsible?

Not yet, I'm afraid.

Miss Elms, may I ask how you knew Lillian?

We became friends through our embroidery group.

She helped me through a difficult time.

And you?

We both worked together on an election campaign

last year for Margaret Haile.

Oh, yes.

I do recall Lillian appealing to our group for support.

I should give you some privacy to open her letter.

Stay.

You must be curious.

It's a wonder you didn't open it yourself.

I'd never been to Toronto Island.

Lillian took me there for the day.

When was that taken?

Quite recently.

You two must have been very close.

I'm sorry for your loss.

My condolences to you as well.

As you can see, George, the boot has water damage.

So it's been in there some time, then?

When a body decomposes,

the extremities usually detach first.

It was likely dragged off by an animal of some sort.

- Sir, the smell is unbear... - We got something!

Right here!

Sounds like they found something, sir.

My God.

Good job, Lutz.

There's a calling card, sir.

Look who it is.

Morris Kerr. Our private investigator.

Mr. Kerr was struck fatally on the head,

perhaps with a rock or a club of some sort.

When did he die?

I'd say four or five months ago

would be a fair estimate.

Her datebook places her at the scene of the crime

around the time that Mr. Kerr is said to have perished.

That coincides with her wanting to leave Toronto.

Do you think Lillian killed him, Detective?

There's a strong possibility.

Have a look at this, George.

That's her, Henry. That's Lillian Moss.

But it's filed under Miss Helen Walker,

868 Jarvis Street.

I'll let the detective know.

This is it, sir. 868 Jarvis Street.

You again.

Mr. Porter, we found your address

in a private investigator's file linked to Lillian Moss.

Well, Miss Moss did live here for a short time.

Why didn't you bloody mention that before?

- How long ago? - About a year ago.

She was new to Toronto and needed somewhere to stay.

Do you know where she lived prior to that?

No. She never said.

Do you know Helen Walker?

No, but that name is familiar.

How so?

Several months ago, a man came here

looking for a Helen Walker from Port Credit.

He came by twice, in fact.

Is this him? Morris Kerr.

Yes, I believe it is.

You know what this means?

Helen Walker and Lillian Moss could be one and the same.

Helen Walker?

You had no indication Miss Moss

was living under an assumed name?

Of course not.

But then, we don't know anything about her

before she arrived in Toronto.

The 1901 census confirms there was a Helen Walker

in Port Credit at that time.

Included is an address and a date of birth.

February 17, 1877.

We're taking a trip to Port Credit, me ol' mucker.

I fell for her without meaning to.

Just because she wasn't who she said she was,

that doesn't mean that what you had with her

wasn't genuine,

what you felt for her wasn't real.

I'm afraid I've lost sight of what was real and what wasn't.

Miss Walker had been renting my coach house

here on the property until just over a year ago.

This Helen Walker?

Yes, that's her.

What sort of trouble is she in now?

Well, she's been murdered.

Well, that's fitting.

What do you mean by that?

Whatever ills befell her were earned twice over.

Get to the point.

She seduced my sister into a perverted relationship.

When Gladys came to her senses and tried to end it,

Helen Walker killed her, along with her husband, Joe.

Was this investigated?

Constable Conroy could barely be bothered to look into it.

But I know what she did.

Bit different to Yorkshire, Murdoch.

I imagine it is.

Mr. Horsely belongs in the asylum.

You can't believe a word he says.

Tell us what happened, Constable Conroy.

Miss Walker, along with Joe and Gladys Holler,

took their boat out for a sail.

The weather turned ugly.

They lost control and hit a rock, puncturing their hull.

They went overboard.

Joe and Gladys perished. Helen made it to shore.

Mr. Horsely contends that you were negligent

in your investigation.

Joe Holler was a childhood friend.

I was every bit as eager to solve the case as Mr. Horsely,

but there was no case to solve.

It was an accident.

One of many we have each summer here.

Yet two people died

and the third changed her identity and fled town.

You can appreciate why Mr. Horsely is suspicious.

Her leaving town and assuming a new name

can be explained quite simply...

Nicholas Horsely.

Go on.

He harassed her in the ensuing days.

He even threatened to kill her.

Can we see the report?

This includes Helen Walker's account of the events.

Where's the rest?

As I said, it was cut and dried as far as I was concerned.

Look at this. "Ideal sailing conditions."

Ideal!

And I'm to believe that Helen swam back to shore

but not Gladys or Joe?

It's ridiculous. She killed them.

Did you present this evidence to Constable Conroy?

Repeatedly. "Case closed," he says.

Where are you leading us, Mr. Horsely?

You said you wished you could see the boat, Detective Murdoch.

Well...

This is what I was able to salvage from the Gladys.

The Gladys?

Named after my sister by our father.

Pieces of her started drifting ashore weeks later,

a mile down the coast.

Constable Conroy said this boat hit a rock and sank.

That's right.

But these slats are broken in the opposite direction,

here, here, and here.

The hull was punctured from the inside, not the outside.

I knew it.

After Helen killed them, she scuttled the ship

and set it adrift to sink far away.

That doesn't necessarily prove that she killed them.

Actually, sir, it might.

There's blood on this sailcloth.

I'm terribly sorry about this, Dr. Grace,

but Lillian may have murdered two people

in Port Credit last year.

She was in a relationship with a married woman

named Gladys Holler.

When Mrs. Holler had enough of the tryst,

she tried to put a stop to it.

According to Mrs. Holler's brother,

a Nicholas Horsely,

Lillian didn't take well to being abandoned.

So she contrived a final boat trip

and murdered Gladys and her husband, Joe Holler.

After she'd done the deed, she rolled the bodies overboard.

She then scuttled the boat, swam to shore,

and reported the incident to the police as an accident.

Are you sure, William?

Fatal boat accidents happen frequently.

There was no poor weather that day.

The lake was perfectly calm.

Blood was found on the sailcloth

and the wood splintered in the opposite...

It's fine, Detective. I believe you.

I'd rather not hear any more.

Emily.

I was about to upset my entire life to be with a murderer.

There's nothing you could've done.

What confuses me is that I still love her

even though I so badly want to hate her.

Sirs, I've found a correspondence

between our man in Port Credit, Nicholas Horsely,

and the private investigator.

He hired Morris Kerr to track down Helen Walker...

Lillian Moss, as we knew her.

He was convinced from the start

that Miss Moss murdered his sister and brother-in-law.

And since the police weren't doing anything,

he took matters into his own hands.

We know that Horsely threatened to kill her

before she fled to Toronto.

We also know that the private investigator found Miss Moss.

In that case, Horsely would have known of her assumed identity.

It would have been easy enough to track her down.

And, sirs,

Horsely's secretary puts him in Toronto on business

the day of the murder.

We need another trip to Port Credit, Murdoch.

Well, I suppose I should be relieved

this is coming to a close.

As am I, Emily.

Your presence has brought me much comfort

these last few days.

Thank you.

I should tell Lillian's friend we've found her killer.

Yes, of course.

We know you hired

private investigator Morris Kerr to locate her.

Yes, I hired him, but I never found out where Helen was.

Mr. Kerr stopped returning my calls months ago.

He... He took my money and vanished!

We also know that you were in Toronto on Tuesday,

the day Miss Moss was murdered.

We spoke to your secretary.

She said you were there looking at your factory that day.

Not true. I sent my assistant that day.

Mr. Horsely, if you weren't in Toronto, as you claim,

then where were you?

Here in Port Credit at the local police station,

trying to convince Constable Conroy

to look at the evidence again.

Miss Elms? It's Emily Grace.

I have some news for you about Lillian.

May I visit?

See you shortly.

Sorry to intrude, Miss Grace.

I couldn't help but hear that you were in the hall.

How can I help you, Mr. Miles?

Your friend forgot this.

It had fallen behind the dresser.

Not sure if it means anything to you.

It does. Thank you.

And you're certain Nicholas Horsely

was here Tuesday morning?

Harassing me to reopen the Holler case, of course.

He wasn't in Toronto the day Miss Moss was killed.

Sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen.

Explain to me how some crackpot

comes nearer to solving a double murder than a copper.

I take great offense to any suggestion of negligence.

Joe Holler was a lifelong friend.

Nobody would want to see his murder avenged more than me.

Constable, you've now provided us with your very own motive

for wanting Miss Walker dead.

I was here the morning she was murdered in Toronto,

Horsely told you so himself.

The boat accident was a terrible tragedy,

and I'll forever regret I was not able to recover the body.

- "Body"? - Excuse me?

You said "recover the body," singular.

Yet by your own account, there were two victims.

Are you now saying there was only one?

An innocent slip of the tongue.

Perhaps not so innocent.

Constable, did either Gladys or Joe Holler survive?

No.

Stop right there, Constable.

You're lying. You've been lying all along.

What are you hiding?

Constable, you failed to investigate.

You ignored key evidence,

which I'm certain your superiors would be very interested in.

Now, I suggest you tell us what happened.

We believe a man named Nicholas Horsely killed Lillian.

He was the brother of Gladys Holler,

one of her victims.

Are you certain?

The police are in Port Credit arresting him as we speak.

I thought the news would bring you some relief.

We can finally put all of this behind us.

It's just all been so overwhelming.

Will you please excuse me for a moment?

George.

Nicholas Horsely is not Miss Moss' killer.

The real killer could still be living in Toronto

under an assumed name.

Take this down.

Right.

I'll have a look through Morris Kerr's files

and see what I can find, sir.

You're Gladys Holler.

You two were lovers. You've been lying to me this entire time.

Yes.

What happened on that boat?

It no longer matters.

It very much does. What happened?

My husband Joe insisted the three of us go for a sail.

What Helen and I didn't realize

is that he had discovered we were lovers.

But after a couple of drinks, I fell asleep.

I awoke to a scream.

Joe was strangling Helen.

He was in a rage.

You killed him.

I picked up an oar.

From behind, I...

broke Joe's head open.

I watched him bleed...

...facedown on my boat.

That monster.

He was still breathing.

But not for long.

Helen and I rolled the body overboard.

You saved her.

She saved me.

We knew the police wouldn't believe what really happened.

Helen convinced me to disappear.

She then staged the boat accident,

told the police I'd died too.

I was to start a new life elsewhere.

We were never to see each other again.

But I couldn't stay away from her.

I had to see her.

You found her in Toronto and resumed the relationship.

No.

Because of you.

She didn't look at me the same way she used to.

You killed her.

No.

You found out that we were going to London, and if...

If you couldn't have her, no one else could.

I'm not lying to you anymore.

I'm so very lost, Emily.

Oh, my God.

Emily.

Hello, Gladys.

Joe.

You're alive.

How could you leave me for dead like that?

You killed Helen.

It was all her fault, Gladys.

She seduced you, tried to break us apart.

- You gonna kill me too? - No, Gladys.

I'm here to take you back, to start over together.

I'm gonna make you my wife again

without Helen to get in the way.

You're a monster. I want nothing to do with you.

You don't have a say in the matter.

I'm taking you, and I will do with you as I wish.

You're my wife, Gladys.

But first you'll tell me where your new lady friend is.

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

Don't lie to me!

Where is Miss Grace?

I know she's here. It's how I found you.

- I followed her. - She's gone.

Why did you make me do that?

Please leave me, Joe.

Tell me what you did to Lillian.

Do it, Emily.

Tell me!

Now!

I'd been looking for her a long time.

I didn't need anyone else knowing I was alive.

And your Lillian,

or whatever she was calling herself,

sure was surprised when I found her.

Hello, Helen.

I thought you were dead.

Where's Gladys?

Leave us be, Joe. Leave us all be.

Where is my wife?

Suit yourself.

I'll find her.

Dr. Grace!

Emily.

Give me the gun.

He killed Lillian.

Emily, don't take the law into your own hands.

Take it from me, it's a mistake.

Please, Emily, give me the gun.

Emily, it's all right.

Emily.

You're under arrest.

- To England. - Yes. To England.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

Change will do you good, Doctor.

It's what Lillian would have wanted.

It's what I want.

Sorry to intrude. I've put a call through for you, sir.

- It's urgent. - Oh. Right.

Well, if this takes some time, please remember...

Your heart will mend.

- Good luck. - Thank you, Inspector.

You know, I've always wanted to visit London.

- You take care, Dr. Grace. - Thank you.

London, England.

I must say I'm somewhat jealous.

Perhaps you'll find occasion to visit.

I would very much like that.

Doctor.

You made me better at my job, Detective.

I can say the same about you.

Well...

Goodbye.

- Good luck. - Good luck.

We have a spot of bother, Murdoch.

- What's that? - We have a body on the way.

- When does Dr. Slater arrive? - It is Dr. Slater.

The old codger kicked the bucket on the train.

Oh, my.

Well, it would appear we are in need of a coroner, then.

What?

Would you like to drive?

I would rather you did, George.

Next stop, Union Station.

So I suppose this is it.

I suppose it is.

Thank you.

You have to let go, Emily.

But what if I don't want to, George?

What if...

What if this is a mistake?

Well, that's what you need to find out.

All right?

Goodbye, George Crabtree.

Goodbye, Emily Grace.