All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S10E04.HDTV.x264-KILLERS

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

Mr. Shanley, how does
it feel to be a free man?

Incredible.

I really can't describe it.

I'm just... I'm so glad
to have my life back.

Were you surprised the
judge ruled in your favour?

I'm innocent.

I fought this appeal
myself because I knew

if I stood in before the judge

and showed him what was in my heart,

he'd have to set me free.

What will you do with
your first day of freedom?

I want to see my son.

In fact,

he should be here with my ex-wife.

Father!

Philip!

Look at you.

You're all grown up.

I haven't seen my son in
twelve years, I'm sorry.

- Mr. Shanley...
- No more questions, please.

I'll be happy to speak to
all of you at another time.

Just one more question

Do you hold any ill will toward the
Detective who sent you to prison?

"I hold no ill will
toward Detective Murdoch.

The guilt that man must
feel for wrongfully sending

an innocent man to prison
is punishment enough."

- They've released him, have they?
- Yes.

- Do you feel guilty?
- Me? No.

The man is a murderer.

He deserves to spend the
rest of his life behind bars.

I can't imagine how he
could have been set free.

Nor I.

I had another look at the case file.

If you recall, Gus Shanley
killed his friend, Rex Landon,

by putting thallium in his
cocoa one night after dinner.

We found the cocoa tin in his home.

And my test proved that
it contained poison.

Are they thinking someone
else may have contaminated it?

His wife was out of town.

His co-worker testified that Mr. Shanley

purchased the cocoa and thallium
the day before the murder.

If the victim was a friend
of his, what was the motive?

Mr. Shanley believed the man

was being too forward with his wife.

We found a series of
threatening anonymous letters

that a handwriting expert
determined Mr. Shanley wrote.

Then the evidence was sound,
so why was he released?

Apparently, Doctor, you made a mistake.

Me?

Judge's report.

Seems that Shanley found
some lab man in New York City

who proved your initial
testing could have been wrong.

"Thallium mistaken for other,
non-poisonous elements"?

This is nonsense.

Well, it is a rather thick file,

perhaps it bears reading thoroughly.

But it's most likely baseless.

The Crown wants to take
another look at the case.

See if there's enough
evidence for a retrial.

Well, there is a preponderance here.

I'll have a full report
by tomorrow morning.

Right. The thing is, me old mucker,

they don't want you anywhere near it.

Detective Murdoch,

meet Detective Watts, new
man over at Station House One.

Ah, so you're the one who botched it.

Excuse me?

That's why I'm here, isn't it?

Listen, Detective
Murdoch did nothing wrong.

The Crown is just worried that
Shanley may claim prejudice

- if the same detective reinvestigates the case.
- Right, right, right.

You're just biased. The
coroner's the one who botched it.

Coroners. Odd lot.

Far from reliable, to say the least.

Not to mention the smell.

Our coroner has a flawless record.

And she also happens to be my wife.

Good god, man, you're
married to the city coroner?

- Yes.
- Oof. Is she pretty?

She'd have to be pretty,
I don't know how else

you could tolerate being
married to a colleague.

Why don't we leave you to review
the case files, Detective Watts.

Yes. Feel free to use my office

- if you must.
- Not necessary. The streets of this

fine city are my office.

This everything?

There may be an evidence box.

But given that the case
is twelve years old,

it may take some time to locate it.

Let me know when it's located.

Uh, you... let me know.

I'm afraid your involvement
has to end here, Detective.

You there.

How long have you been working here?

Ten years, more or less.

There's been time off here and there,
I was incarcerated for a short while...

- Were you here for the Shanley case?
- No.

Perfect.

Hopefully you'll be of more help
than the dullards at Station One.

With me, Constable.

Go on, Crabtree.

Oh, Detective...

no hard feelings on leaving

you out of the investigation, I hope.

In fact,

are you free for dinner? Good.

I don't understand a word of this.

Mr. Shanley was quite clever.

He understood that if
he could raise a question

about one key piece of evidence,

his entire case would
have to be thrown out.

But how can he challenge a
scientific laboratory test?

Well, the Crown claimed that he

poisoned his friend with thallium.

- And the man did die of thallium poisoning.
- Without a doubt.

And Detective Murdoch found
the cocoa tin in Shanley's home.

The final piece was to prove
that there had been thallium

mixed into the cocoa,

and that's where Mr.
Shanley found a weak spot.

And what is the test for thallium?

Well, today we'd test the
sample with a spectroscope.

There'd be no question.

Twelve years ago, I didn't
have a spectroscope. So...

That flash of green?

That's thallium.

The problem is that other
metals also burn green.

So you might've seen something
else and mistaken it as thallium.

Precisely. And that's
where it gets interesting.

Why would cocoa have metal in it?

- I can't think of a reason.
- Well, Mr. Shanley found one.

For a brief time in the 1890s,

Callahan Cocoa used tins
made of a copper alloy.

And then a scientist in New York

proved that small amounts of the copper

could leech into the tin's contents.

- And copper burns green.
- It does.

A different, much duller
green, but close enough

that Mr. Shanley and the judge
think I could've made a mistake.

Is that possible?

I have a way to find out.

- Where are we going, Detective?
- To investigate.

To investigate what exactly?

Should I read the case
files? Absolutely not.

The less you know, the
more pure you remain.

From purity emerges truth.

From truth emerges...

I...

- Justice.
- Justice.

So it's better if I know nothing at all.

Knowing nothing allows one to

- see everything.
- You there.

Detective Watts. Louise
Cherry, Toronto Gazette.

- Can you comment on the Shanley case?
- No.

- What's your name, Constable?
- Uh, George...

- Constable George Crabtree. But I...
- Spell that for me?

Uh, George.

Then "crab"... then

"tree." But I really know nothing
about the case, I'm afraid.

Can you comment on the previous
Detective's investigation?

Detective Murdoch?

Well, I can tell you he's a good man.

- He put an innocent man in prison.
- I highly doubt that.

He's the best
investigator this city has.

And an even better friend, mind you.

You know him personally?

Few know him better.

So you're top chums, then?

- Dearest friends?
- Top chums?

You didn't hear it from me.

Oh, uh...

Can I help you?

Detective Murdoch, what a pleasure.

Perhaps you don't remember me.

Geraldine Hanover. I
was your key witness

- in the...
- The Shanley case.

Miss Hanover, yes, of
course I remember you.

You were his co-worker at the chemist's.

That's right.

I heard that the case has been reopened

and I thought perhaps
I might be needed...

Oh, well, a new detective

has taken over the Shanley case,

but I'm sure he would be
happy to hear from you.

Oh, certainly.

If I'm needed, I will
help however I can.

What should I say?

I don't understand.

I can tell him whatever is necessary.

What's necessary is
that you tell the truth.

Just like you did twelve years ago.

Do you think I'll be asked
back to the courthouse?

- There were so many people there that day...
- Um,

Miss Hanover, you did see Mr.
Shanley purchase the thallium,

- did you not?
- I wore the prettiest dress.

I do hope it still fits.

Are you sure we couldn't
discuss the case?

It would be inappropriate.

Right.

You...

live in this hotel?

Yes. Temporarily.

I'm planning to build.

My wife and I would like
a place to call our own.

Our mind is where we live our lives.

The only home one needs is...

- the human skull.
- Hello.

- It's been a while. My son.
- Hello.

Detective Murdoch.

Mr. Shanley.

I wanted to say,

I know you're not the only
one to blame for all of this.

The past is the past.

I'm just glad I'm free and I can
spend the evening with my son.

So don't be too hard on yourself, eh?

I must say, I question his sincerity.

Why wouldn't you? The man's a murderer.

That remains to be seen.

I am perfectly capable of
admitting when I've made a mistake.

But given the volume of
the evidence in this case,

I find that nearly impossible.

Do you actually believe
the man could be innocent?

Mmm. This is very good.

Do you think they have catsup here?

Detective, please.

Have you made any headway in this case?

Have you spoken to witnesses?

I suppose it can

do no harm to sate your curiosity.

Shanley's ex-wife won't say anything...

That witness is now dead.

Oh, so is he.

Your handwriting man still thinks

- Shanley wrote those letters...
- Good.

Good. Those point strongly to motive.

... but I spoke to another
handwriting man. Young,

up to snuff on all the new

loops and so forth and he's not so sure.

And then there's the...

- Co-worker.
- The co-worker.

Miss Hanover.

Oh yes, I spoke to her as well.

Unfortunately, I no longer believe

- her testimony to be reliable.
- Oh no...

You interviewed a witness?

- Oh no. She called on me...
- Your involvement was to cease entirely.

Instead, it appears you are
continuing to seek a conviction.

And based on what?

A visual test

done twelve years ago
by a neophyte coroner?

Dr. Ogden is my wife.

Which makes it all the more likely
you are blind to her mistakes.

No, it appears this
dinner was a poor idea.

Good night, Detective.

What are you doing here?

I can take care of myself.

What have we here?

Those would be the son's parents.

Mr. Shanley's ex-wife
and her new husband.

This is no place for a boy his age.

It's all right, son. Go on, then.

Mr. Ramsay doesn't seem to
care much for Mr. Shanley.

I wonder if he isn't
worthy of suspicion...

How could Samuel Ramsay
be under suspicion?

He didn't even know the Shanleys
at the time of the murder.

- Copper.
- Correct.

The man wasn't even living
in Toronto at the time.

It sounds like Detective Watts'
instincts leave something to be desired.

His theories are as empty

as his meaningless philosophies.

He writes his case notes on detritus.
- Thallium.

Correct.

Let's say I was biased.

I sought out evidence and testimony

- to prove the man was guilty.
- Copper.

- Correct.
- What about the laboratory reports?

Science has no bias.

Copper.

Correct again.

It's obvious you can tell
the difference, Julia.

It seems absurd that some

wild theory could discredit your work.

Thallium.

Surely your reputation
stands for something.

Actually... that one was wrong.

It was copper?

Barium.

Barium?

- I hadn't even considered...
- I didn't intend to trick you, Doctor...

No, Miss James, you were right to do so.

But barium wasn't even
part of the investigation.

Yes, but that's not the point.

Today I didn't consider barium,

just as twelve years ago
I hadn't considered copper.

It's possible I saw thallium

because I was looking for thallium.

So it's possible we sent
an innocent man to prison?

Sir, Detective,

I've been instructed
not to let you inside.

Is something wrong?

They've found the evidence box.

Detective Watts has
asked that Mr. Shanley

be there to witness the opening.

Couldn't they have opened
the box somewhere else?

How long am I to be barred
from my own Station House?

Sir, I know. I'll alert you as
soon as it's safe to come inside.

George, George.

Has Detective Watts made
any progress on the case?

I'm afraid I can't
answer that question, sir.

- George.
- Sir, I don't mean it like that.

Although, he has asked
that I don't speak to you,

but I'll hardly heed that
directive. What I mean, sir,

is that he's largely kept me
in the dark about the case.

Most of the things he's shared with
me, sir, could be described at best

as abstract musings.

- The man is a fool.
- I don't think that's entirely fair, sir.

His methods are scattered, to be sure,

but I actually find working
alongside him quite inspiring.

Really?

Truth be told, sir, it evokes a feeling

not unlike when I first
began working with you.

Oh.

All set?

Go ahead.

There won't be anything
damning in there.

Ah, there she is.

The beautiful maiden that set me free.

Oh, so you agree this is in fact your

tin of cocoa from twelve years ago?

- Well...
- Evidence records show this box

has been untouched, Mr. Shanley,

and you've just witnessed
me breaking the seal.

- Not to mention it smells awful.
- Fine, yes,

of course it's the tin.

But there's no poison in it.

You won't object if we test it again?

I suppose not.

- Well, what are we waiting for?
- Not a thing.

The spectroscope awaits
us at the city morgue.

- Spectro-what?
- Spectroscope.

Science has advanced at a rapid pace

over the past twelve years.

A spectroscopic analysis will leave

- no doubt.
- Oh no, no, no.

I won't be railroaded by another
one of your "science" tests.

You want to do this...

spectro business,

I'll need to research it first.

Then we will wait until
you have had time to do so.

Why bother? We can test
it with or without him.

Inspector, if we take this
evidence out of his sight

even for a minute,

he might turn around and
accuse us of tampering with it.

The sample will be
kept under lock and key

until such time as you're prepared
to oversee its examination.

Tomorrow morning will be fine.

This is the only key,

and it will remain in this envelope

until all parties are present.

And why should I trust you?

You shouldn't.

The envelope will be sealed

with both of your fingermarks.

Gentlemen.

Happy?

Am I free to go?

The detective was wrong.

About what?

You're not pretty.

Excuse me?

Look at you...

Classic, Romanesque bone structure,

excellent physiognomic symmetry...

You're not pretty, you're beautiful.

Well,

- I suppose I'm flattered.
- Why?

It's merely an objective assessment.

But that necktie...

Big smile, son.

This is for the papers.

That one should be a pip.

Thank you, gents.

Ah, Detective Murdoch!

Join us?

Come now.

You take twelve years of my
life and you can't spare me

two minutes of your time?

I owe you nothing, Mr. Shanley.

I merely provided evidence to the Crown.

Of course, of course.

It's not your fault.

You were just doing your job.

I'm glad you agree.

And the lawyers were
just doing their jobs,

the judge just doing his,

the jury just doing their civic duty.

The armed guards who kept
me under lock and key for

3,996 days...

They were all just doing their jobs.

When the prime of my
life was flushed away,

no one was to blame.

Least of all the man who first

decided I was guilty.

You killed a man, Mr. Shanley.

- Your punishment was just.
- You have no proof.

You wrote the letters.

Well, your replacement doesn't think so.

The handwriting might
not prove anything,

but the contents still do.

Proves nothing.

Maybe whoever wrote them
wanted it to look like me.

Well, I suppose we'll
have to wait until morning.

If that tin does
indeed contain thallium,

then we'll know once and
for all that you are guilty.

It's sad, really.

You spend all your time
trying to prove I'm a villain.

Because if I'm not,

then the villain must be you.

Well, either you or your wife.

Watch your words, Mr. Shanley.

She wanted to see me
hang twelve years ago.

With this test tomorrow,

I'm sure that harridan
will try to do it again.

That's enough!

What can possibly be so
important as to have a man

out of bed before nine o'clock?

Mr. Shanley has filed a lawsuit.

Continued and undue harassment

by the Toronto Constabulary.

It was my fault.

He engaged me, I never should
have spoken a word to him.

Honestly, Inspector,

how does anyone work with this man?

He is some kind of renegade,

to whom "rules" are a foreign concept.

- Really?
- I hate to say,

but this case is looking more and more

like the personal vendetta
of a single police officer

against an innocent man.

I'm not in the habit of
letting guilty men walk free.

I was doing my job.
And yours, coincidently,

since you seem to be taking no action

- to solve this case.
- Murdoch, that's enough.

We have a report of another murder.

- We'll continue this later.
- Actually,

you'd better take
Detective Watts with you.

When did this happen, Mrs. Ramsay?

When I woke up this morning,

I found him like this.

- And you didn't hear anything?
- No.

I went to bed sometime before eleven.

I don't what could've happened.

The pick is missing from the ice chest.

That would be consistent with
the wound I'm seeing here.

It appears you have to step down

from this investigation too, Detective.

And I have to say you were right.

You believe Shanley is involved.

One of the neighbours saw him

arriving here late last night.

Just when I'd convinced myself

of his innocence...

Well, it would appear he's killed again.

So Ramsay was stabbed to death ***.

Two stab wounds. Likely an ice pick.

And we think Shanley did it.

Neighbours saw him at
the house late last night.

I spoke to him and the wife.

They both agree she
invited him over to discuss

custody of their son.

If it's about the son,
that could be motive.

Shanley got worried the new husband

was standing between him and his family.

Agreed. However, the victim was not

present at their
tête-à-tête. They spoke,

Mrs. Ramsay served martini cocktails,

then retired to bed, leaving Shanley

to see himself out.

And she never saw or
heard anything after that.

Nothing. It's possible
Shanley just left,

but it's also possible
that he stayed at the house,

had some altercation with Ramsay,

and he ended up killing him.

We don't have evidence
to confirm it either way.

Some of your men
searched Shanley's room.

Nothing.

Well, it's nearly eleven.

I believe we have a test to
run for Shanley's other murder.

I'm afraid we have a problem, gentlemen.

The key is secure, but the
cabinet itself has been breached.

I arrived this morning to
find that the front door

had been forced open.

I trusted you had this in hand.

I posted men to patrol the area
all night, Inspector, but...

Station One.

- Dullards, to a man.
- We should've tested it yesterday.

Can't test it now.

Anyone could have taken
that and put poison in it.

Or dumped the poison
that was already in there.

Fresh as a daisy.

What, you think I'm
responsible for this?

You may have scuppered
this case, Shanley,

but we'll have you dead to rights

over the man you killed last night.

This is incredible.

You have less evidence and you're
accusing me of more murders.

- I've had enough.
- You're not going anywhere.

I'm holding you till we get this sorted.

Dr. Ogden inspected the tin.

There's no residue of old cocoa

and no thallium in the new stuff.

Which further points
to Mr. Shanley's guilt.

And makes it impossible
to get a conviction on him.

I'm going to have to let him go.

I never should have let
Watts delay that test.

Detective Watts couldn't have
anticipated this. Where is he?

He's moved on to the second murder.

He's having another
look in Shanley's rooms.

Let us suppose for a
moment that Mr. Shanley

is guilty of this

current murder. Now,

does that make him more or less likely

to be guilty of the first?

More likely, I would say.

If a man kills once, it seems

logical he might kill again.

Are you the same man
today you were yesterday?

Yes. Of course.

Your hair is not the same.

You cut and discarded it.

Same with your fingernails.

Over time, our entire
body falls away and is

reconstituted.

How, then, can you be the same?

Well,

I'm the same on the inside,
I suppose. I have the same

thoughts, the same feelings.

But our thinking changes with

maturity, with experience. In truth, the

continuity of personhood may be

nothing more than a delusion.

So,

even if Shanley was a killer last night,

the man he is today could be innocent?

Why, yes.

Yes.

That's very good, Constable.

In fact, it makes me question
our whole profession...

Well, Detective Watts,

if Shanley's a different man,

looks like he'll be paying
for somebody else's mistakes.

Mr. Shanley,

is it true you've been
accused of a second murder?

Gus here has been
helping the constabulary

- sort a few things out.
- I can answer for myself.

In fact, I've been accused
of both a second murder

and of stealing evidence.

I'm just trying to lead my life,

and the police continue to harass me.

Is this retribution for your lawsuit?

You may have hit the nail
right on top, Miss Cherry.

Go home, Shanley.

You're a free man. For now.

I'm afraid not, Inspector.

Mr. Shanley is under arrest by order

of the Toronto Constabulary.

- What are you talking about?
- Murder weapon.

Found under a floorboard in your rooms.

That's impossible!

- I found it there myself.
- Then you put it there!

You want to see me hang!

You may not have been a
killer before, Shanley,

- but you certainly are today.
- This is a farce! I'm innocent!

Shanley's not saying a word.

In fact, he refuses to
speak to us altogether.

Surely we have enough
evidence to put him away.

We found the murder weapon

in Mr. Shanley's home
the first time, as well.

We shouldn't take anything
for granted in this case.

Well, Detective. The afternoon edition

says you've managed
to fabricate evidence

against Shanley once again.

Me?

Aside from setting
foot at the crime scene,

I haven't interfered at all.

The newspapers seem to think

the constable who found
the murder weapon is your...

"top chum."

I... I... I didn't exactly say that.

She said top chum and then I...

She is very sneaky.

She will ask you a question one day

and then apply it later in a
completely different context.

It is

truly impossible to investigate a case

outside of your influence,
isn't it, Detective?

Right, that's enough.

We're all on the same side here
so let's start acting like it.

Crabtree didn't plant that ice pick

and Murdoch didn't ask him to.

Yes, well, I tend to believe you there.

This one's a good egg,

without a doubt.

But the case is a shambles regardless.

Could Mr. Shanley be a
victim of fabricated evidence?

Impossible.

I've led the investigation myself.

Well, someone else could
have left the ice pick there.

That's right, there were two searches.

and nothing was found
the first time around.

The floorboard was

conspicuously unseated.

It's hard to imagine
anyone would've missed it.

Between the first search and the
second, someone could've gone in

and planted the murder weapon.

And if Mr. Shanley
was indeed the killer,

he had several hours to dispose of it.

Why bring the ice
pick back to his rooms?

I will take another
look at that ice pick.

I'll go with you.

Detective...

I've been held off of
this case for long enough.

And we are all on the
same side here, correct?

That is fair.

With me, Detective.

I suppose we'll never know if
you were right about the thallium.

Short of a confession,
I imagine we won't.

But perhaps we can
ascertain Mr. Shanley's guilt

in this latest murder.

Take a look at this.

Bruise from the hilt.

Deep.

Likely pierced the heart.

Almost certainly. Now
look at the second wound.

Same size,

probably the same implement.

Oh my...

These are Shanley's fingermarks.

That seals it then.

However, some of the marks are smudged,

as if this weapon was handled

with gloves or cloth.

I picked it up with my handkerchief.

No, these smudges occurred

while the blood was still fresh.

I think it's unlikely that Mr. Shanley

would have stabbed a man
with his bare hand, and then

placed gloves on his hands to handle

the weapon after the fact.

Gentlemen.

Mr. Ramsay was killed with a
single stab wound to the heart.

No, he was stabbed twice, as I recall.

Indeed, but the second wound

has no bruising or discolouration.

It was inflicted at least
half an hour after death.

I can only think of
one reason to stab a man

long after he is already dead.

To apply fresh blood to the weapon.

Let's piece together what we know.

On a blackboard?

Nonsense.

We need to get out of doors, Detective.

The truth is in the air.

We must breathe it in.

Someone else handled that ice pick.

Which means Mr. Shanley
was telling the truth.

About that, yes.

Release your suspicions.

If he told the truth once,

he may have told it again. And again.

About everything.

All right.

So he went to the house.

She had him make ice for
the martini cocktails.

Then Mr. Shanley left after
Mrs. Ramsay went to sleep.

Leaving Mrs. Ramsay in
the house with her husband.

We did find a report for that
address from some time ago.

But all it said was "Family
conflict, no arrest."

Is that so?

Indulge me, Detective.

Let us put ourselves in the mind

of Mrs. Ramsay.

It's late at night.

I've just met with my ex-husband.

I'm in the mood for another drink.

I need more ice.

I go down to the cellar.

- And that's when...
- ... My husband comes in...

- Can I give you a hand?
- I detest him.

The man has been cruel to me for years.

So much so that I once had
to telephone the police.

This is my chance.

I stab him through the chest.

I've killed him. I'm going to jail.

Unless...

unless I can lay the blame elsewhere.

I just happen to know a renowned killer.

But how can I make him look good for it?

The murder happened before
Mr. Shanley came to the house.

Of course.

I invite him over
expressly so the neighbours

can later say he was at
the scene of the crime.

But how can I get his fingermarks
onto the murder weapon?

She wiped the ice pick clean.

Then Mr. Shanley had to
use it to chip the ice.

Once he touched it, all she had to do

was stab the corpse once
more and cover it with blood.

Crackerjack! I believe we have it.

Are you going to ask me something?

Hm?

Oh, no.

What would be the point?

We both know you didn't do it.

Then why am I here?

We have to blame someone.

The function of the police
is to attribute blame

on behalf of the community. But

the community doesn't particularly care

if we blame the right person.

Of course they do.

- You can't put me away if I'm innocent.
- Why not?

Man has been using
scapegoats since Leviticus.

The sins were placed
upon the goat, the goat

was banished to the desert, but

no one cared that the goat was innocent.

You're the police.

You have to care.

Fine.

Then who did it?

- Gus Shanley.
- Oh.

- Was that why you tried to kill him?
- What?

I did no such thing.

You didn't try to kill
Mr. Shanley this morning?

No!

Then why were you at his building?

Witnesses saw you there. Do you deny it?

- No, but...
- If you knew he was the killer,

why would you go there
if not to seek revenge?

- I...
- What other reason could there be?

Oh yes.

There is one other reason, isn't there?

To plant the murder weapon.

Oh, and his little teeth are coming in.

Constable "Crab", then "tree".

I've been looking all over for you.

I don't have time, Miss Cherry.

You aren't angry with me, are you?

I only wrote what you told me.

You made it look like
I was planting evidence.

I posed a question.

My readers draw their own conclusions.

They draw their conclusions
based on what you write!

The written word is a
powerful thing, Ms. Cherry,

and you used it to paint
me as a gormless patsy,

aiding in a police conspiracy

headed by the vile and
corrupt Detective Murdoch.

You have to admit it makes a good story.

Just give me two minutes

- and then go back to hating me.
- No.

Good God.

All right, all right, two minutes.

Good.

This morning I was going
through the Ramsays' trash...

Their trash? To what end?

I was hoping to piece together
some details for a story...

"The Last Hours of Samuel Ramsay":

last meal, last cigar,
that sort of thing.

But I found something much better.

Cocoa?

There was fresh cocoa in that
old Callahan tin, was there not?

This could be the
source of the new cocoa.

But it's empty.

The only thing that
would've been of help

is the old cocoa itself.

Then it's a good thing

- I found that too.
- No...

Found in the same trash can.

Friends again, Constable?

If you don't try that
fake crying act anymore.

That's it, without a doubt.

So who stole it from the morgue?

It doesn't matter.

We'll never be able to
prove it's the same cocoa.

Can't we just test how old it is?

We don't have a method any more
scientific than your smell test.

Then this new tin is quite useless.

But thank you, Constable.

This man. He impresses, he impresses,

he impresses again.

How did you find it?

Interesting story, actually.
Remember the journalist,

who I said was very sneaky...

Apologies, Constable,

I look forward to hearing
the rest of your account in

all its detail, but I have the

overwhelming sense our
associate here has a

notion brewing.

There might be a way.

What am I looking at?

That is a spectroscopic analysis

of the cocoa found in the old cocoa tin.

After the break-in, of course.

So we can assume that cocoa is new.

And the reason you see nothing

is because it contains
no metallic elements.

Which fits with our theory
that Mr. Shanley swapped it out.

No surprise.

And this is the cocoa found
in the Ramsays' garbage.

The bright green line you see,

that proves that the cocoa
contains thallium. Poison.

Yes, yes, fine.

But this is of no help. Mr. Shanley

will argue we've merely found some

unrelated individual's cocoa
which just happens to be

contaminated with thallium.

We can't prove it came from his tin.

Have another look, Detective.

The bright green line you see...

to the right, there
is another green line.

All right... what of it?

That line, Detective Watts, is copper.

Copper?

The only way copper can
come to be found in cocoa

is if it came from a copper tin.

New tins

contain no copper.

So this cocoa is old.

We can say with utter
certainty that this cocoa

spent years in the same type of tin

as the one that sat in
evidence for over a decade.

Sweet Mary, you two are something else.

Good news, Mr. Shanley.

We have proof someone else
hid the ice pick in your rooms.

The police have finally
stumbled into the truth, eh?

Your ex-wife invited
you over that night.

Whilst there, she had
you make ice, did she not?

She did.

The martini cocktails needed a chill.

But you did not go down to the cellar.

No. She had a block in the sink.

Think back, Mr. Shanley.

Is this the ice pick
that you used that night?

Yes.

I think that's Dorothy's.

Oh, dear God...

You're not saying that she's the one...

She invited you over.

She arranged it so you would
handle the murder weapon.

- I can't believe it.
- She stabbed the corpse to cover it in blood.

And she planted it
under your floorboards.

The woman I married could
never do such a thing.

Well...

People change.

I suppose so.

- So, if that's all...
- I'm afraid it's not, Mr. Shanley.

What?

- Why not?
- The missing cocoa has been found.

And we have irrefutable proof

that it does indeed contain poison.

You might have some
powder with thallium in it,

but you can't prove it's mine.

Oh, but we've done just that.

You see, a doctor in New York City

has had a very unusual theory.

The particles from a copper alloy tin

can leech into the tin's contents.

You see, the same clever
discovery that set you free

is also the detail

that will put you back behind bars.

Who took it?

Who took what?

The cocoa.

Someone stole it, I
presume to protect me.

And I guess you found them out.

Who was it?

- Why would he say that?
- I can't imagine.

- Maybe he didn't do it.
- His ex-wife?

- But why?
- You're right.

Then who...

Of course.

They've proven it, have they?

You're hardly in a position
to look down on me, Dorothy.

I suppose they won't be letting
me out any time soon, either.

Actually, Mrs. Ramsay,

- you're free to go.
- What?

She killed a man and made
it look like I did it.

We know you covered up the murder

and planted the ice pick.

You will likely face charges for
obstruction of justice, but...

you didn't kill him, did you?

No...

Detective, please, you can't...

No!

Philip?

He's the one who broke into the morgue.

He stole that cocoa to
protect you, Mr. Shanley.

Philip...

- No...
- Dad, I had to.

- They were going to put you back in jail.
- Don't say another word.

I won't let you go to prison.

He's already confessed, Mr. Shanley.

To all of it.

I didn't mean for any of this to happen.

I took that cocoa to
protect you, father.

I was trying to hide it
when he came in. He saw me.

What have you done?

We're calling the police this minute.

I'll see to it your
father rots behind bars.

You did this.

This is your fault.

I didn't know anything about it.

I did nothing.

You're a murderer, Gus.

And instead of owning up to it,

you hid behind a bunch of lies.

Lies your son believed.

He thought he was saving you.

You made him a killer.

Hellfire!

Can I entrust nothing to those fools?

Is everything all right, Detective?

The ignorami at Station
One have done it again.

I clearly told them to release
the man who looks like Karl Marx.

They've let out some

fellow who's as clean-shaven
as bloody Kierkegaard.

Who?

Oh.

Maybe I wasn't clear in my instructions.

Ah well,

duty calls.

Fine working with you gents.

You as well.

We got it right in the end,

even if this case did remind us

that we are all fallible at times.

Fallible?

How so?

You were right all along.

Well... I...

So was your wife, as it turned out.

She is an impressive woman.

There is no doubt you were a
fool for marrying a colleague,

but I suspect that's one
blunder you won't regret.

Thank you.

She's not pretty though.

I don't know where you got that idea.

Should I be offended?

I haven't the foggiest.

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