All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - 8x14 - Torontoâs Girl Problem.HDTV.KILLERS.en

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Listen up, everyone.

I'd like to introduce my
nephew, Charlie Brackenreid.

He's just arrived from London
and has passed his training day

with flying colours. Make him feel at home,

- but don't go too easy on him.
- Always good

to have another man on the
blue team. George Crabtree.

- Pleased to meet you, Crabtree.
- Detective William Murdoch.

Welcome to Station House Number Four.

I hope our fair city won't disappoint.

- Thank you. Happy to be here.
- Higgins.

- Charlie, have that desk.
- But, sir...

It's only a desk, Higgins. It
doesn't have your bloody name

on it, does it? Go on, Charlie.

Thank you, Constable. George, with me.

A body's been found off Amelia St.

- Sir.
- Murdoch. Take Charlie instead.

It can be an informative first day for him.

Of course, sir. Constable Brackenreid.

Your uncle seems very
glad to have you aboard.

I hope I can match his
standards, sir. He's a hell

- of a copper, I'm told.
- I'm sure you'll do just fine.

Your initial assessment of
the crime scene, Constable?

It's not a nice part of town, but she seems

- like a genteel sort of lady.
- I concur.

She's in evening wear, so
I'd say she died at night.

There's no bugs, so likely last night.

With all that jewellery still on
her, she didn't die for her money.

Excellent observations, Constable.

Detective Murdoch.

- This is Dr. Grace, our coroner.
- First day on the job,

- Constable?
- Brackenreid.

- Charlie Brackenreid.
- Yes, I can see the resemblance.

If you would.

Doctor?

Detective... I know this woman.

I simply can't imagine it.

She was very much alive
at the party last night.

Tell me about this party.
Everything you can remember.

It was in a small space off Cherry Street.

A mixed crowd.

Lillian said she heard about the
gatherings through a friend of a friend.

This is going to be a fun night.

Oh!

- To friendship.
- To us.

Do you recall anything untoward?

We mostly kept to ourselves all night.

I never thought a place like this existed.

Stick with me and I'll show
and show all sorts of secrets.

Let's dance.

- Together?
- Why not? I'll lead.

I love this music.

- When did you first see the victim?
- She welcomed us.

- We took her to be the hostess.
- Hello, ladies.

Welcome. Hello.

I trust you're enjoying yourselves.

- Indeed.
- Just be sure to keep this place to yourselves.

We wouldn't want to begin attracting
the "right" sort of people.

That's all I saw of her.

Have you determined the cause of death?

A single stab wound to
the heart. I found fibers

matching the victim's clothing in the
wound, as well as traces of charcoal.

The weapon was approximately

half an inch wide and no
more than three inches long,

- with a tapered point.
- Sounds like a stiletto blade.

My conclusion as well. And there's these.

Diagonal cuts.

I believe she may have tried
to pull the knife out herself.

- Anything else, Doctor?
- Yes.

I examined the rings on her right hand.

I found blood and tissue on each of them.

- She tried to fight off her attacker.
- And left a nasty row

of cuts behind. But I saw no one
with such a wound at the party.

Where exactly was this?

Do you think Dr. Grace
got the right address?

In my experience, Dr.
Grace is seldom wrong.

Hello?

We're closed.

- You'll be open when we say you're open.
- Thank you, Constable.

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

- Is this your establishment?
- Yes.

Good. Do you know this woman?

Miss Diana White.

Rents the place out every now and again.

I guess I won't be paid my eight dollars

for last night then.

Would you happen to
have an address for her?

601A Jarvis Street.

Address like that, you'd think
she'd be renting the ballroom

at the Queen's Hotel.

The housekeeper says
the "A" is around here.

This must be it just ahead.

Not exactly the dwelling
of a well-to-do woman.

These dresses, sir.

Each one more fancy than the last.

A lot of very expensive jewellery.

And this, sir.

A Tiffany lamp.

That's worth a bobble or two.

Fine jewellery, silver,

clothes,

nothing in the larder

but a bottle of champagne.

She's no thief either, sir.

Got receipts for the lot.

Where did she get this kind of
money, living in a shack like this?

Who was this Diana White?

She sounds to me like a
young woman more interested

in finery than survival.

Why waste money on frivolous things

like fancy dresses

and jewellery when one
is starving and cold?

She's a young woman who's
been given gifts and money,

- perhaps the patronage of an older man.
- Patronage?

For talents that many young women possess.

This type of girl isn't thinking
about her future, William.

She isn't interested
in marriage or security.

She's had a taste of a life she
thought was forever beyond her grasp,

and she'll do anything to keep it.

Hm!

- So that's her then.
- Yes.

Her name is Diana White.

Alive last night and then...

our existence is truly fleeting.

All the more reason

to follow one's true
passions while you can.

Emily,

I picked up someone else's coat last night.

And you won't believe what I found in it.

I bought the coat at Eaton's,

along with a hundred other girls.
And I can assure you, Detective,

it didn't come with hidden pockets.

Well, these are obviously well-cut stones

in expensive settings.

The most likely explanation
is the owner of this coat

was attempting to secret away stolen goods.

Where do you believe the mix-up occurred?

I wore it to the party last night.

I did notice a blond woman
wearing the same coat,

but I paid it no mind.

I imagine I took hers and she took mine.

You didn't notice
anything amiss at the time?

It was a warm night.

- I didn't put it on until today.
- Perhaps the jewels belonged to Miss White.

Then the blond woman could be her killer.

Yet Miss White's body hadn't been robbed,

so thievery likely wasn't the motive.

I'll attempt to trace these
pieces back to their origin.

Perhaps the jeweller who made them
will be able to shed some light

on their unusual journey.

Thank you, ladies.

So what's that Dr. Grace do when
she's not hanging about dead bodies?

Ah, so you noticed her then, did you?

- It's hard not to.
- I know it's not been easy for you.

But you're here now, doing
the Brackenreid name proud.

- Thank you, Uncle Tommy.
- Inspector,

when we're in the Station
House, alright? Oh. Half a mo...

Dr. Grace.

- What a happy coincidence.
- Inspector. What can I do for you?

I was hoping that you could
come to dinner this evening.

Oh, how kind, but...

Charlie thinks very highly
of you, and he could use

some friends his own age.

- I'm afraid I have to work this evening.
- Tomorrow then.

- Uh... Perhaps, but I...
- Perfect.

Seven o'clock.

- Sounds lovely.
- Good day, ladies.

- Miss White was an excellent customer.
- Can you confirm

that Miss White purchased
these items from your store?

Mr. Jamieson?

These were stolen a few days ago.

Oh. And you didn't report it?

My clientele,

they tend to shop elsewhere if they
catch a whiff of the underclass.

I would rather suffer the loss
than face the bad publicity.

Did you ever at any point

see a blond woman wearing a coat like this

- in your shop?
- I couldn't say.

But I can tell you

not all these pieces are mine.

- Oh?
- Whomever the thief was,

I was not the only target.

The victim was present at the Jamieson
robbery. And likely the others as well.

- She played a part in the thefts.
- Which would explain

where she got her money.

Right then. Crabtree, you
take Jarvis and Church Streets.

I'll take King Street,
Murdoch Queen, and Charlie

Wilton Street and above.
Report back as quick as you can.

Sir.

Let's try this other tray over here.

- Excuse me, sir. I have a couple of questions...
- In a moment.

Oh. Surely you have
better pieces in the back.

Hello, ma'am.

Rather forward, don't you think?

- Hey, now.
- Oh!

- Excuse me!
- Hey!

Hey, stop there!

- Hey, you! Come here!
- Leave me be!

Give me that box!

Give it to me!

Give it!

- But I saw you.
- I don't know what you mean!

Her name is Elaine Henshaw.
I've given her a dose of heroin,

- which has finally managed to calm her down.
- Thank you, Julia.

She's of a nervous constitution.

I can't imagine her a
successful shoplifter.

Constable Crabtree believes
she had an accomplice.

And Dr. Grace confirms

that she was at the party last night.

You believe she may know something
in relation to Diana White's death.

A murder, a shoplifter,

a coat full of stolen jewellery,

all of which point back to that party.

There's something else
going on here, Julia.

Miss Henshaw may be the
person to tell us what that is.

Good luck.

You found nothing. Let me go.

This isn't about

the jewellery store.

Do you recognize this woman?

You attended a party last night.

So did the woman in the photograph.

And it was the last
place she was seen alive.

You don't understand.

The girls will kill me, too.

- What girls?
- I can't say.

I can't say anything.

We can protect you,

but you have to be truthful with me.

The night Diana was killed,

she said she was meeting some man.

That's all I know. I swear.

I'm still waiting on your report, Crabtree.

Charlie, come and sit in.

See if you can offer up some good
old fashioned English insight.

My desk, and your position.

Might as well call this
Brackenreid House Number Four.

You believe there is an organized gang
of shoplifters operating in Toronto.

Yet it takes a murder
before we hear about them.

If they are focusing their
attentions on jewellery shops alone,

they likely know that the shop
owners would rather suffer the loss

- than the damage to their reputation.
- Miss Henshaw mentioned

"the girls" and Constable Crabtree
saw two women conducting the theft.

I'm wondering if we're
talking about a gang of women.

There may be one or two women involved,

- but I highly doubt...
- There is such a gang of girls

in London. The Forty Elephants.

Been around for a hundred years.

They operate in broad daylight, steal up
half a shop, and almost never get caught.

Regardless of gender,
this gang had a leader.

Let's assume it was the
party's hostess, Miss White.

- Then there will be a new leader taking her place.
- There's your motive.

- Right, let's find these lasses and bring them in.
- A gang of women

is still a gang. They live in a
culture of fear and consequence.

I can't imagine any of them
will speak with you freely.

If we can't talk to the ladies,
we'll talk to their fence.

And I know just the one.

Constable Brackenreid.

What are you doing in here?

Is there something I can help you with?

I'm sorry, I hope I didn't startle you.

I just wanted to apologize for me uncle.

- Oh?
- For insisting that you come to dinner.

You see, once a Brackenreid
gets an idea into his head,

it's almost impossible to stop him.

- I wouldn't disagree with that.
- Well, I just wanted to say,

you needn't feel obliged on my account.

Well,

Mrs. Brackenreid is an excellent cook...

It's settled, then.

We might even have fun.

- Eddie, put the gun down.
- Sorry.

You ever seen this girl before?

- Sorry, Tom. Never seen her before.
- Of course.

- How's business these days?
- Can't complain.

- Any jewellery coming through?
- I get the odd bit now and again.

- Can't keep them on the shelves, though.
- Where were you last night?

I was at a party with about
a hundred other people.

- Which party was this?
- Off Cherry Street.

I was there all night,
Tom. You can ask anyone.

I most certainly will. Good day.

Crawford wouldn't admit it, but
we do know he was at the party.

The event that everything
seems to point back to.

And if Eddie was the man Miss
White was supposed to be meeting...

- Then perhaps he is our killer.
- I could get Charlie to stake him out,

but we need hard evidence,

and that's unlikely to be
found by following him around.

I considered having Miss Henshaw followed,

but the same problem arises.

We need someone on the inside.

So I'm to attend tonight's party, and
return the coat with the jewellery intact.

And then once inside, I
will attempt to ascertain

any knowledge the women
have about the murder

and hopefully find some evidence

- connected to the crime.
- The murder weapon would be ideal.

Or a person wearing scratches
from the victim's diamond rings.

- Miss Moss will have to join. It was her coat.
- They should have an escort.

- In case something goes wrong.
- Good idea, Crabtree.

- Charlie will go.
- Sir,

I was thinking myself.

No, George, you've been seen
in uniform by at least two

- of the gang's members.
- Constable Brackenreid,

you are to intervene only
if Miss Moss or Dr. Grace

- are in distress.
- Understood, Detective.

- We'll meet later this evening, then.
- Yes, we will.

Listen. Just to be clear,
work's your priority.

But seeing as you're going
to a party, you might as well

show Dr. Grace a good time.

Emily, this is so exciting.

For the first time, I can see the
appeal of a life in law enforcement.

- Remember, we are looking for a murderer.
- I remember,

but I can't pretend I'm having
a good time unless I really am.

You'll have a good time. I'm here.

Seeing as we're trying to
get in with a group of women,

we might not want a man too close by.

Suit yourselves.

There a lot of places like
this is Toronto, is there?

Now ladies, I'll be right here, okay?

- We can handle ourselves, thank you.
- Well, if you get yourselves

into a bother, you just give me a nod.

That's her.

The woman with the coat.

I believe this is yours.

And I'd like to have mine back,

if you still have it.

It's all there.

You didn't take it. Why?

- We want in.
- I don't know what you're talking about.

I think you best be leaving.

Listen, I don't know what your game is,

but I'm not interested.

He's been following me all evening.

Honestly. Do I look like that sort of girl?

We could have gone to
the police, but we didn't.

Wait here.

- We did it.
- Maybe.

Oh, Emily,

you can't tell me you're not a
little bit excited by all of this.

No. I can't tell you that.

Your hair...

Perfect.

Put it in the back.

Oh, thank you.

I wouldn't waste my time.

- What do you know about it?
- Those women,

they're devoted to each other.

You know, "devoted friends."

You two.

- Emily,
right? - Mm-hmm.

And Lillian.

I'm Helen. That's Elaine
and Mary. We don't stand

- on ceremony around here.
- Hello.

Why did you bring them back
here? The last thing we need

- is a couple of new girls messing everything up.
- You're one to talk,

- getting caught up by that constable.
- So,

how did you hear about our parties?

- From someone named Diana.
- Must have been before she turned up dead.

- She's dead?
- Murdered, just down the street.

No one knows who did
it. Not even the coppers.

- But my money's on Beatrice.
- Shut up, Mary.

- Who's Beatrice?
- If she likes you, you're in.

And if she doesn't, you'll
end up like Diana. We all will.

Here she comes.

I hear you've come bearing gifts.

The coat belongs to Helen Conroy, a widow

who relies on the gang as
her main source of income.

Mary Puddle is with them for
fun. She's a bored society girl.

If a salacious story is a
motive, she could be your killer.

Elaine Henshaw, whom you
already know, is a nervous sort.

She seems to be in fear of her roommate,

Beatrice Crawford. The new leader.

Crawford? As in...

Yes, her brother, Eddie Crawford,
who fences their stolen goods.

And you believe Beatrice
Crawford has the strongest motive.

I do.

Most importantly, she bears the
scars that match Diana White's rings.

Right. Very good work, Doctor.

- Thank you for your help.
- I'd like to have a little chat with this Crawford woman.

See if we can't squeeze out a confession.

Oh, I doubt she'll confess to
anything, sir, without evidence.

If I may,

Miss Moss and I have been invited along

to a shoplifting scheme at two o'clock.

Perhaps if you caught them in the act?

- We could always use it as leverage.
- Beatrice may not confess,

- but the other girls may say something of use.
- We may as well

use the diversion to search
Beatrice Crawford's rooms.

We'll get something out
one way or the other.

These would look beautiful on you.

You should try this.

I don't like any of this.

I would like to see
what's in the case, please.

I require immediate service.

I have a function this evening and
not a single necklace worth wearing.

In a moment, madam.

Oh, that would really bring
out the green in your eyes.

Oh, miss, I believe this is yours.

- Yes. Thank you.
- I know you.

- You tried to rob me.
- Me? I... Yes, you and the other one!

Get back here!

- Go. You have to leave, now.
- I can't take it. If I take it,

the whole plan will be ruined.

You don't have a choice. Come on.

- Come with me, young lady.
- What, can't a girl spend money?

You and your cohorts had no
intention of buying anything.

I've never seen these ladies

- before in my life.
- Get in the wagon. In the wagon.

Bollocks.

Was that really necessary, Doctor?

- Overplaying it a bit, don't you think?
- I'm afraid not.

Crikey.

So, how are you finding it here?

Must be a bit boring
compared to London, England.

Yeah, it is, I suppose.

Why is it again that you came?

I can't recall the Inspector saying.

Seemed best for everyone
I left London for a while.

Besides, my uncle is a good bloke.

He treats me like a son.

And there are some very pretty girls.

Yes, there are indeed.

I'll take this bedroom.

Talking of girls,

I've been here a few days and the only
women I've come across are two lady doctors

and a female gang.

Well, perhaps we're
not so boring after all.

Say, what do you know about
this coroner, Dr. Grace?

I know she's excellent at her job.

She's not likely to be wrong, is she?

Almost never.

And what about fellows?

I don't know, Charlie.

Our relationship is professional.

I expected as much.

What do you mean by that, exactly?

I just mean I wouldn't
expect a woman of her quality

to hang around with a copper, is all.

Though every rule does have an exception.

Did you find something?

Some blood on a handkerchief,

and a soiled glove that
might be significant.

They might be.

But likely not as significant as this.

- How did they know to find us?
- We shouldn't have hit the same shop twice in one week.

- I told you it was a bad idea.
- Shut up.

Just keep your mouths shut

and we'll be out of here in no time.

- Except Emily, you mean.
- A pretty girl like her

will get a year in the workhouse at most.

It goes by quickly enough.

- A year? And you're alright with that?
- She's new.

She got caught.

- She won't get caught again.
- Why were the coppers there

at exactly two o'clock with a paddy wagon?

- They must have known we would be there.
- How would they have known?

Yes, how would they have known?

- The new girl. Did you squeal?
- I didn't say a word!

- It was me.
- What?

- I work for the police.
- Oh, what?

- I work for the police.
- Oh, what?

- The police!
- I guess your plan didn't go too well.

- What's the racket in here?
- Constable Higgins.

Would you please escort Miss Moss and I

to Detective Murdoch immediately.

I'm laughing now, but be warned:

you and your little
girlfriend best stay away.

- And you know that's no idle threat.
- Enjoy the workhouse.

It's only a year. It'll
go by quickly enough.

So, Doctor. That was a bit of a cock-up.

I don't know why the plan
changed. Miss Moss and I

were supposed to be the
distraction, never the runners.

It was an admirable attempt, Doctor.

- Thank you.
- So we've managed

to not only lose our man on the inside,

but we most likely don't have enough
leverage against any of the girls.

We'll simply have to find a
different course of action.

- Any suggestions?
- Maybe this'll be

of some use. The murder weapon.

Oh, good work, son.

- I just got lucky.
- It's nothing to do with luck. Eh, Crabtree?

- He's a natural. It's in the blood.
- Natural indeed, sir.

Well, George,

we'll have to test that
for fingermarks. No need.

I found the knife in the
room of one Beatrice Crawford.

You appear to have taken
up Miss White's mantel.

That's motive.

Also, the marks on your neck

are an exact match for the rings

that were found on Miss White's hands.

And there's this.

The knife that was used to kill Miss White.

It was found in your room.

Motive, and evidence.

That's not mine. I didn't kill Diana.

Besides, she wasn't stabbed. She was shot.

- Shot?
- Yes,

shot. After she hit me,

she left. Some business meeting with a man.

I knew it wasn't Eddie

and I was annoyed she would
ally us with someone else.

So I tried to find her.

I heard a gunshot. I followed the sound.

I found her dead in that laneway.

Shot dead.

That's your story?

That's the truth.

Sir.

Full report on the search
of Beatrice Crawford's flat.

Mine and Constable
Brackenreid's, wherever he is.

I don't feel like you're
getting on with my nephew,

- Crabtree.
- Some people just don't get on, sir.

- He's not a bad sort.
- If you say so.

Did he tell you why he came here?

Well, I asked him, sir, but
his answer was a bit vague.

This is for your ears only, understand?

Charlie saw his best pal, a young
lad by the name of Harry Keating,

murdered right in front of his own eyes,

in fact right in front
of half of London's eyes,

- for that matter.
- Sir, that's terrible.

He was the only one with
the guts to come forward.

It came down to his word
against the killer's.

Some fancy lawyering made it look like
Charlie was lying. The murderer got off,

- and a price was put on Charlie's head.
- Sir. I had no idea.

He tried to do the right thing, George.

He deserves a fair shot.

I would appreciate it if
you would give him that.

Sir, of course.

Now's as good a time as any.

Rafferty, crack open this champagne.

Charlie, come here, son, come here.

Lads, I'd like to announce a new record,

a constable solving a case

within his first
forty-eight hours on the job.

Well now, Inspector, I
can't take all the credit.

If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have
been here to find the knife, so...

Quite right, quite right.

I always knew that Charlie
would be a good copper.

It's just something that you're born with,

and a Brackenreid is
as born to it as anyone.

Lads, a toast.

To Constable Charles Brackenreid.

Blood?

Dr. Grace.

May I call you Emily?

- It's a shame you missed the champagne.
- Constable Brackenreid.

What can I do for you?

I was wondering what
time I should escort you

to my Uncle's house
for dinner this evening?

Dinner. I'm sorry, I'm distracted.

I can't imagine how blood found
its way onto Miss White's finger.

From when she pulled the knife
out. You said so yourself.

But I distinctly remember
cleaning her hand.

I suppose you missed a spot.

What were you doing in
the morgue yesterday?

I was being friendly.

- You remember.
- You were in here alone.

Were you tampering with the body?

- What are you talking about?
- I'm talking

about the blood on the victim's finger I am certain I cleaned.
- Now, Emily, I...

If you'll excuse me, I have a few
things to discuss with your uncle.

You should watch yourself, Doctor.

You see, I know what you are.

I saw you and that Moss woman.
"Devoted friends," as they say.

- Pardon me?
- Wouldn't go over too well

- with the men who employ you.
- How dare you...

You best shut your mouth
about what you think you saw,

and I'll shut mine about what I know I saw.

Ah, Dr. Grace. Do come in, have a seat.

Hope you've worked up a good appetite.

Mrs. B's been slaving
over a hot stove all day.

I believe Constable
Brackenreid has done something.

What do you mean?

I believe he has tampered with
a body. Diana White's body.

I found him in the morgue yesterday,

alone.

As are all of your attendants
at one time or another.

Yes, but I found blood

on a finger I had already cleaned.

What are you suggesting?

It seems a great coincidence, Inspector,

that your nephew should
find the murder weapon

with the victim's fingerprint on its hilt.

That's one hell of an
accusation to make, Dr. Grace.

You can't go around
maligning a man's good name

with only vague suspicion as proof.

I regret that my word

is not enough to convince you.

Autumn is most certainly upon us.
You can feel the chill in the air.

- Mmm. Very warm.
- William!

What are you thinking about?
It certainly isn't the weather.

I'm sorry, Julia. I'm having trouble

reconciling Beatrice Crawford's
account of the murder.

She could well be lying. She is a criminal.

Yes, but why say she was shot

when we know she was
stabbed? Why be so specific?

A diversionary tactic?

It relies on a completely
different set of circumstances.

It's ill-conceived.

No, if, as Beatrice Crawford says,

there was a gunshot, then
there would be evidence of it

- at the scene of the crime.
- Then perhaps you should look,

- if only to satisfy your curiosity.
- It so happens

we find ourselves in the exact
location the murder occurred.

What an unlikely coincidence.

Hmm.

William, you do realise that Miss
Crawford is a master of manipulation.

She could well be simply insinuating doubt.

I don't see how that could work.

You've shown yourself to be a man of
reason, so any unreasonable element

would likely prey on your mind.

Or there could be a simpler explanation.

What would that be?

She was telling the truth.

Dr. Grace missed an excellent meal.

- What exactly was the reason she gave?
- She was busy.

Nothing to do with you being
in the morgue alone, then?

As she well knows, I was waiting for her.

I was trying to be friendly.

How was I to know my attentions
would be so unwelcome?

- Did she say that to you?
- She didn't have to.

I can't believe she told you.

What, about you being in the morgue?

- were supposed to be secret.
- You're gonna believe her?

And just what do you think she said?

You do believe her.

You take the word of a Sapphist
over that of your own blood.

A Sapphist?

- You don't know that about her?
- I don't give a toss.

If you've been up to anything
untoward, I will find out.

So, have you anything to tell me?

Of course not, Uncle Tommy.

- Dr. Grace.
- I felt the need

to re-examine the evidence
I lifted from the body.

Inclusive of that, I tested the
charcoal traces I found in the wound.

- And?
- It was charcoal,

sulphur, and saltpeter.

Gunpowder.

Likely dragged into the wound

from traces found on Miss White's clothing?

No. The residue was found only

at the insertion point of the knife.

It must have been transferred
to the wound by the knife itself.

So the killer was holding
the knife in close proximity

when he fired the gun.

- That looks rather awkward.
- It certainly does.

Could one person have done this?

Not one person. One weapon.

Take away the barrel, fix a
blade in the brass knuckle handle,

and you've got yourself an Apache.
A three-in-one weapon from Paris.

Last time I saw one was
in the East End of London.

Sir, that can't be.

We know that this stiletto
found in Miss Crawford's room

- is the murder weapon.
- No, Murdoch. It isn't.

That's what Charlie
was doing in the morgue,

wasn't it? Putting Miss
White's fingermarks on the hilt.

I feel as though I'm missing
a vital piece of information.

Charlie planted the
weapon. I'll deal with him.

But our first priority is
to find the real killer.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

I know there's an Apache in Toronto,

and I bet my whole kit and
caboodle that you've got it.

You know me, Inspector.

Lover of curiosities and collector's items.

It's right over here.

It's a terrible weapon.

No barrel, no sights;
it's practically useless

unless you're right on top of the person.

I can't bring myself
to part with it, though.

The ladies love to hear stories
of the fearsome Parisian gang,

Les Apaches.

- And you're just handing it to me.
- Why wouldn't I?

Well, this may well be the weapon

that killed Diana White.

Oh.

It's been recently
fired. Gunpowder residue.

Blood residue on the stiletto blade

which matches the wound on the victim.

No sign of a misfire. So
why would the killer shoot

at Miss White, and then stab her?

The gun is only good at close range.

Assuming the killer didn't know
that, he may have shot first,

missed, lost his advantage

and then been forced to
close in for the kill.

Beatrice Crawford is still
our strongest suspect.

And she had free access
to her brother's pawn shop.

Did you find the first set
of fingermarks on the weapon?

Nothing legible.

Unlucky for us.

Regardless, we need to
find some genuine evidence.

Sir, isn't there a box

of Beatrice Crawford's items
we've yet to go through?

There is indeed.

Where's the rest of the evidence

- from Miss Crawford's rooms?
- It's here.

Crabtree. Bring it in.

Well, chop-chop.

Yes, sir.

Sirs.

I'm not entirely sure how useful
any of this is. But may I ask,

- why the need for additional evidence?
- You may not.

Well, there's a handkerchief with
a small amount of blood on it.

Too small of an amount
to link to the crime.

A pocket watch that's stopped at 8:47.

Because it's unwound.

And the victim wasn't killed at 8:47.

Which leads me to believe that
Miss Crawford will get away with it.

That's more or less it, sir.

Besides this soiled glove.

George.

Gunpowder residue.

We may still have enough evidence

to link Beatrice Crawford
to the murder, sir.

Sir, that's not Beatrice Crawford's.

That glove belongs to Elaine Henshaw.

You almost had us fooled, Miss Henshaw.

I know the how.

I just don't know the why.

Will it change anything?

Juries have been known to be merciful.

I did a job on the side, by myself.

I fenced it through Eddie.

Diana found out

and was going to kick me out of the gang.

I couldn't let that happen.

And for that she had to die?

You wouldn't understand.

I knew Beatrice would be next in line.

She would take care of me.

Those girls are all I have in the world.

We're family.

I couldn't survive without them.

And yet they will probably
survive without you.

You wanted to see me, Uncle Tommy?

I am not your uncle.

I'm your Inspector.

There are no second chances
in this line of work, lad.

What we do affects people's lives.

You almost sent an innocent
woman to the noose. Innocent?

She's a criminal. She
deserves to be punished.

- She doesn't deserve to be executed.
- This is London all over again.

Is that why you did this? To
make right what went wrong?

I watched Harry die.

I saw who killed him.

No one said anything.

I risked my life to do
what was right for Harry.

- But I had no evidence.
- Just like we had no evidence.

What I did was right.

- It had to be right.
- No, it wasn't, son.

And because you don't know that,

I can't have you in my
Station House. Or my home.

You can't send me back.

- I'm a dead man.
- I've got you a job

on a merchant ship sailing to New Zealand.

You have a cousin in Auckland.
He'll be expecting you.

Your friend Harry would have
been a good and honest man.

Walk in his footsteps,

don't live in his shadow.

Crabtree? See through that
Higgins takes back his desk.

Sir, I will.

And may I say I'm very sorry
about everything with your nephew.

- He'd have made a good constable.
- Yes, well.

This Station House already has better.

I thought you'd like to know that
my nephew's been sent on his way.

I'm sorry about the whole thing, Inspector.

Please, Doctor. I should
be the one to apologize.

I should have believed you
when you first came to see me.

One more thing.

I don't know if it's true,
and I don't want to know.

- But Charlie said something...
- Oh?

I don't want to lose you
as city coroner, that's all.

I appreciate your concern, Inspector,
but what I do in my free time

has no bearing on my work.

That's not the way the world works,
young lady. These kind of shenanigans

- are not for a woman of your position.
- Shenanigans?

You know this to be true.

Now, you've had your fun.

It's time to grow up and
act in a proper fashion.

Emily. What's the matter...

Is this what you want?

- Yes.
- I'm not a toy.

I'm too grown up for toys.

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