- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -
The pace of change is incredible.
The Temple Building is twelve storeys high!
Progress in motion, I suppose.
When was the last time you were in Toronto?
Well, nearly 10 years ago now.
Speaking of the pace of change.
How have the lectures been?
There is always some resistance when it comes
to the discussion of aging, I find.
People are generally uncomfortable discussing mortality.
And... experiencing it, I'd wager.
But your lectures are more about the stigma of aging, are they not?
In part.
Far too many people resent the simple truth:
as we grow old, we weaken in both body and mind.
This recent outrage in the newspapers is a perfect example of that.
I saw the headlines. There is an air of frenzy about them.
Yes, well...
"In Dr. William Osler's lecture at the University of Toronto,
he put forth an audacious theory
that men over 60 should be euthanized with chloroform."
Well, it's a... bold assertion.
I was being facetious, of course.
Now every paper on the continent is printing this falsehood as fact.
Perhaps you should write a letter clarifying your position.
Oh, I can't imagine that'll be necessary.
It's sensationalist nonsense. Now, enough of that.
I'm so pleased to see how far you've come, Julia.
Due in no small part to you.
For a time at McGill,
I considered leaving medical school entirely.
Dr. Osler encouraged me to continue,
reinvigorated my interest in medicine.
Oh! I didn't know that.
You just needed a bit of prodding, from what I remember.
A gifted student.
And I would be remiss if I didn't ask
such a handsome couple about children.
- Oh... - Oh...
unfortunately, that hasn't been in the cards for us.
- Do you have children, Doctor? - A boy, Edward.
- And how is Mrs. Osler? - Oh, fine form.
Dr. Osler's wife is the great-granddaughter of Paul Revere.
- Is that right? - Yes, yes,
quite an accomplishment, riding a horse for an entire evening.
Osler!
Murderer! You killed him! You killed my father!
- Calm yourself sir! - He killed my father!
That bastard murdered my father!
_
Perhaps Dr. Osler didn't realize the influence his words would have.
He's been here for some time, by the looks of it.
For at least eight hours.
Norman.
Oh my poor, sweet Norman.
I'm terribly sorry for your loss.
My husband would never do this to himself. Please, believe me.
We will investigate every avenue, I assure you.
Detective, please. My son, Archie,
he wouldn't have hurt Dr. Osler. He was just emotional.
He and Norman had been arguing.
I know that he blames himself for this...
We'll be keeping him overnight.
I'll have a word with him in the morning.
Excuse me.
What is it?
This window latch is broken.
The window appears to have been jimmied from the outside.
Mrs. Doyle, do you know anything about this?
I've never noticed it before.
William...
Perhaps this wasn't a suicide after all.
Put it in the jar behind you.
Heavier than I would have thought.
So what do you think?
Are you able to finish here? Stitch him up?
Of course. I used to stitch up my brothers all the time.
If I can stitch them up while they're squirming,
- I'm sure I can do it while they're still. - Good.
So Dr. Osler was your teacher.
This was some time ago, but yes.
I must confess, I'm not quite certain what his contributions have been.
Oh, there are a great many,
chief among them is his belief in not only treating the disease,
but also caring for the patient as well.
It's quite a departure from the singular nature of traditional medicine.
So is counseling old people to take their own lives.
That was twisted completely out of context.
It was never meant to be taken seriously.
Actually, I thought there was some validity to it.
How so?
Well, people in their later days
can be a drain on a family's resources.
Perhaps allowing the aged to choose their final day is a...
compassionate act.
There may be some truth in that,
but that is not the role of a doctor.
Our job is to do no harm.
This is madness.
That poor man.
I should never have made such a callous remark, even in jest...
Actually, Doctor, we believe it may have been murder.
So the killer staged the suicide?
- So it would seem. - How depraved.
Not to worry, Doctor.
Even if the story had been the catalyst,
the man was getting quite old.
Probably didn't have far to go till the end, anyway.
You and I are rapidly approaching
that final curtain ourselves, Inspector.
Is that so?
By the time a man hits 40, he's on the decline.
There is not a medicine in the world that can cure that.
Mr. Doyle.
Ahem.
If you could please describe the events
leading up to the discovery of your father's body.
I went over to the house last night
to discuss a business matter.
- You were in business together? - Doyle's Footgear.
When I arrived, there was no answer.
I entered, I found him lying dead. I saw the chloroform,
I saw the newspaper, and I knew what happened.
I read the story myself.
Where was your mother?
With her church group, I believe.
She said my father didn't want to get out of bed that day.
Was this a regular occurrence?
Yes.
His spirit had been dampened.
Tempered, after turning 60.
Often, he would slip into these dark moods,
sometimes refusing to leave the house for days at a time.
That must have been quite trying.
For my mother, especially.
He confided in me that...
he was afraid of becoming useless.
I think that article is what pushed him over the edge.
Your mother mentioned an argument you and your father had recently.
It was also a business matter.
She seemed to think it was part of the reason why you were so upset.
I was upset because I'd found my father dead,
and I knew that Osler was the cause.
Why are you asking me this?
Mr. Doyle, we have reason to believe
that your father's death may not have been a suicide.
But... but I saw with my own eyes.
Do you know of anyone who may have wished him harm?
His old partner,
Oliver Linehan.
They had a falling out a few years ago, before my father brought me in.
He always threatened he'd ruin us.
He even threatened violence, if I recall.
Hello, George Crabtree.
Miss Cherry.
This has gone long enough.
I harbour no animosity towards you,
and I hope you bear none towards me.
No, of course not.
I'd like to move on.
As professionals.
I heard Dr. Osler is here.
I'd very much like to speak with him.
I can't imagine he feels the same way,
not after what the newspapers have been printing about him lately.
Is it true that a man committed suicide
- because of the doctor's comments? - I can't say.
Just a quote.
Why don't you wait until the investigation is finished
before continuing with this?
You always were a stickler, George Crabtree.
Only when it comes to the truth.
The truth?
People infer the truth.
Please, if I could only speak with him for a moment,
it's an international story. It would mean a great deal to me.
Louise, I can't help you.
Mr. Linehan, you and Mr. Doyle
were business partners, is that right?
Yeah. We started our company together nearly 20 years ago.
Made a good go at it.
Became quite successful.
What happened?
I wanted to change the way we produced our shoes,
he wouldn't consider it.
Stubborn old buzzard!
- I see. - We dissolved the partnership,
but the division of the assets fell heavily in his favor.
That was no accident.
I was left with next to nothing.
Did you threaten him?
Oh, multiple times.
But I started my own company instead.
Linehan Soles. And I made it my mission
to destroy his company.
Our company.
Were you successful?
I surpassed him
very quickly in sales.
That was my revenge.
Doctor! Oh, won't you join us?
Just a drink; I've lost my appetite. Look at this.
It proposes that I was the impetus behind the man's suicide.
This journalist doesn't realize he was murdered.
I know the woman who wrote this.
A ploy to sell more papers, it would seem.
Well, clearly it's working.
Tonight I was booed at my lecture,
and the university has canceled the remainder of the engagements.
Oh, I'm so sorry.
I know how horrible it is to be attacked in the press.
This matter will be resolved quickly,
and the record will be set straight.
Don't misunderstand me;
I realize mine isn't the tragic role in this story.
But what an odd thing,
to be completely powerless as to the way the world views you.
So you think it's this Linehan fellow, then?
Possibly. Their dispute is years old, though.
What about the son, Archie?
He has shown a propensity for violence.
But you're not sure.
Well sir, he seemed genuinely devastated at the loss.
- Many a killer is, Murdoch. - Sirs,
I spoke to some of the employees at the Doyle factory.
I think the argument between Archie and Norman
was worse than Archie let on.
- Apparently threats were made. - What sort?
Well, someone said that they heard Archie
threaten to smother Norman in his sleep.
Right. George, bring Mr. Doyle back in.
- Sir. - There you have it.
Right then.
I'm nipping out for a couple of hours.
Gotta go and see a man about a dog.
Are you all right, Inspector?
I'm fine.
Did a few sets of press-ups this morning.
It gets the old blood flowing.
I set a new personal best.
Honestly Murdoch, I feel I'm getting stronger with age.
- Well sir, biologically that is a... - That'll do, Murdoch.
You threatened to kill him. It was overheard.
You think I murdered my own father?
Is this what passes for police work these days? This is outrageous!
- Sit down, Mr. Doyle. - There is a killer out there!
Sit down, Mr. Doyle.
Please.
We argued about the company.
The future of the industry is in glue.
- Glue? - As opposed to stitching.
Glue is less expensive to produce, and faster.
But father wouldn't hear about it.
You insisted on making the change,
he refused, it got heated.
I went over to the house that night to apologize.
That's when I found him.
At first I was afraid that he...
that he had done what he did because of our argument.
And then I saw the newspaper there.
That's when you went after Dr. Osler.
I was blind with rage.
What is it?
Miles Borden, sir, age 65.
Everything seems to be quite the same.
The chloroform, the newspaper,
the victim's vintage. Roughly.
- He was a clock maker? - No, a lawyer, in fact.
This seems to be something of a hobby of his.
- Some impressive work though. - Really?
Yes, well some of the pieces on the mantel here
are particularly sophisticated.
Did you know, sir, that I'm a bit of an amateur horologist myself?
I made this pocket watch I'm carrying.
- You made this, George? - Yes sir.
- Does it work? - Yes. Well...
at least twice a day.
Hm.
No evidence of forced entry.
No blood, no sign of a struggle.
Perhaps this really was a suicide.
Look at that.
Some sort of discolouration.
Bruising, George.
Chloroform was held forcefully over his mouth.
This man was also murdered.
Bruising indicates the cloth was held forcefully.
Two of his fingernails were broken,
suggesting he was fighting back.
So two murders made to look like suicides.
Both made to appear inspired by Dr. Osler's comments.
What's the connection?
Aside from their ages, none that we know of yet.
- Could be a sequential killer. - But what is the motive?
Both men in their 60s. Both still working.
Perhaps the killer's sending a message.
Maybe that old people shouldn't work?
Miss Violet Hart,
allow me to introduce Inspector Thomas Brackenreid
and Detective William Murdoch.
Miss Hart will be assisting me in the morgue
for the foreseeable future.
Your theories on the elderly are way off, young lady.
Detective Murdoch.
I've heard quite a bit about you. It's an honour.
How do you do.
I'll ask George to look into their records.
We can't discount the possibility that there's some connection.
Ladies.
Inspector.
- I taught him everything he knows. - I heard that, sir.
Hello, George.
Miss Cherry. I'm in a bit of a rush, I'm afraid.
Is it true there's been another Osler related suicide?
Miss Cherry,
sometimes the way that you ask a question,
it's impossible to answer.
Well, is it true?
They were both murders.
The killer, or killers, masked them up to look like suicides.
You would do well to be more careful about what you write.
I didn't realize you were such an authority on journalism.
Just a piece of advice.
I was quite disappointed things didn't work out between us.
But then, as now,
I was simply doing my job.
Crabtree.
- Sir. - What did Nosy Nelly want?
- Sir, just fishing. - Hmm.
- Where are you off to now? - Oh, joining these two on their beat.
Fresh air and a long walk.
Affirmation of life, eh lads?
Are you all right, sir?
Just a few too many curl-ups.
Right. Let's crack on, lads.
... Curl-ups.
Detective Murdoch?
Jack Borden.
Ah, Mr. Borden, thank you for coming in.
Please, have a seat.
My sympathies for the loss of your uncle.
Are there any suspects?
We're investigating all possibilities.
What can you tell me about him?
Uncle Miles was a great man.
Caring, highly intelligent,
- generous to a fault. - A fault?
Yes. He was always taking on cases for free,
helping out those less fortunate, however he could.
More so as time went on.
You worked together?
We were partners.
We run...
ran our own law firm.
I returned from a business trip yesterday,
I assumed I'd see him in his office this morning.
This is devastating.
Of course.
This may sound odd...
are you certain it wasn't suicide?
Quite certain. Why do you ask?
It's just Miles was always so full of life. Verve.
But he changed when he turned 60.
It's as if a dark cloud were following him.
That's when he started with those damned clocks.
Ah. Yes, I noticed.
He joked it was the only way he could control time.
He became obsessed.
I suppose some part of me had been expecting him
to take his own life these past few years.
I see.
Do you know of anyone who may have wished him harm?
Strother Campbell.
He's a junior partner at our law firm.
Miles was the one to recruit him, actually.
He rose very quickly, but over the past couple of years,
- he became quite antagonistic. - How so?
He thought Miles should step down.
Strother would be the one to take over his cases, his standing.
Things got heated at a company meeting a few weeks ago.
- Strother threatened him. - What did he say, exactly?
He told Miles if he didn't step down,
Strother would remove the element of choice.
"The Doctor has directly inspired at least two murders,
which bear a striking similarity
to the macabre theory put forth at his lecture."
It's all just so ridiculous.
There is an old expression about doctors:
"The sun gives light to their successes,
and the earth hides their failures."
That's a lovely sentiment.
We are fortunate to do what we do.
This too shall pass.
You have made quite a life for yourself here. The city suits you.
As you said, I've been very fortunate.
And your Detective Murdoch seems like a fine fellow.
He is.
At dinner the other night, you asked about children.
- I hope I wasn't untoward. - Oh, not at all.
I just wasn't able to elaborate at that moment.
We've been unable to conceive up till now,
but I believe I have a solution.
Are you familiar with Ernest Starling and his recent work
- on pancreatic secretion? - Somewhat.
Hormones, I believe,
- was the word he proposed for the secretion. - Yes.
Well, I believe the same principal
can be applied to the reproductive sciences.
of the pancreas, If hormones regulate the activity and the growth
it stands to reason that the same principle
could be applied of the ovary.
Perhaps...
I've been researching a treatment that would boost hormone efficacy.
If all goes well, I would be the first test subject.
Has the treatment been scrutinized?
There are still more tests to be done,
which is why I haven't told William. I want to be sure, first.
Julia.
I wish you nothing but the best.
But if I may provide a slight guiding principal.
Of course.
Caution over exuberance.
Children are the greatest gift anyone could receive,
and we should all know the joys of parenthood.
But you mustn't allow your scientific judgment
to be clouded by your desire.
The risks must be heeded.
This is the life, lads.
Wind at your back, comrades at your side,
the authority to arrest who you please.
- Serve and protect, that's what I always say. - Yes, sir.
These are the salad days, son.
- Enjoy them while you can. - Sir.
You there, you there!
Oi, you there! Stop!
Get him!
Good work, son.
Thank you, sir.
These shoes are too bloody tight,
otherwise I would have been right there beside you.
Sir. I've never seen such speed!
Where were you, Higgins?
I'm giving you 20 bloody years!
25, sir.
I have statements from a number of witnesses, including his nephew,
that you threatened Mr. Borden days before his murder.
In a fit of anger, my mind may have trailed my mouth.
But I did not kill the man.
On the contrary, I admired and respected him.
What was the argument about?
The old man took me under his wing,
and I will be forever grateful.
But his time had passed, and the work was suffering.
It was merely hubris that kept him going.
You seem quite certain of that.
I'm a pragmatist, Detective.
The law is about performance and ability, not emotion.
I brought in more clients than any other lawyer at that firm.
I should have been the senior partner.
Where were you this morning, Mr. Campbell?
Meeting with a client.
I went directly from home to his office, then to the firm.
I'll be needing his name and address.
Of course. But you should be talking to Miles's nephew, Jack.
Why do you say that?
Jack was always complaining about the pro bono work
his uncle was doing for the firm.
They were constantly arguing about it.
Miles had become somewhat of a...
philanthropist in his later years.
And you believe that gave Jack cause?
I believe Jack to be unstable, vindictive and greedy.
Interesting.
He said much the same about you.
Sir.
Bloody epidemic, this.
So it would seem.
Why does he look like that?
And why would a man save his own waste?
He was a recluse of some sort.
Sir.
- Bloody hell. - Mr. Paul Adelaide.
He was found by the woman who cleans here,
an Eleanor Webster. She's waiting for us.
A maid?
Had her work cut out for her, didn't she?
I went through the usual ritual:
knock thrice before entering,
remove shoes on, not near the doormat,
hair in a net, pillowcases on my feet.
I stepped into the living room, and there he was.
How long had you worked for Mr. Adelaide?
Nearly 10 years.
And how would you characterize your relationship?
He was my employer.
He paid well...
but the man should have been put in a sanitarium years ago.
I did his cleaning, shopping, took in his laundry... everything.
I was the wife he paid.
I see.
Did he have enemies?
I should think so; he could be a right bastard.
But he was ill.
It's a wonder he didn't do it sooner.
Ms. Webster...
it wasn't suicide.
Mr. Adelaide was murdered.
The result is the same.
When did you last see him alive?
Yesterday.
He screamed at me for leaving
streaks on his dining room table...
a table he never used.
Threatened to withhold this week's pay, and then paid me double.
Generous.
Demented.
What kind of person keeps someone on edge that way?
10 years of that.
He was a sick man, Detective.
He refused help and pushed away
whatever friends and family he did have.
As much as I pitied him, death should have come sooner.
Looks to me like a sequential killer
choosing victims in the autumn of their years.
That is a distinct possibility.
A possibility?
You still think there's more than one killer?
Sir, there are differences between the first and the other two murders.
What, the bruising as opposed to the head wound?
I find it difficult to believe that someone would
kill three men solely based on something
Dr. Osler supposedly said.
Stranger things, Murdoch.
- Stranger things. - Sirs,
the latest edition of Miss Cherry's column has just come out.
What now?
She accuse Osler himself of the murders?
Well, not quite. She's published a letter
from somebody calling himself "The Mercy Killer."
He's taking responsibility for all three murders.
I'm not one to say I told you so, Murdoch.
So I won't.
Ah, Miss Cherry.
Come in.
Please, have a seat.
I imagine you'll be wanting this, Detective.
Yes. Thank you.
Typewritten,
no return address or signature, plain stationary.
I can see that.
It's quite nondescript.
How did you obtain this?
It came in the day's mail.
- Miss Cherry, if you know who... - I have no reason to lie, Detective.
Well, that's not exactly true.
- How so? - Reveal the killer,
lose your exclusive.
You must think me quite the monster,
to put my career above the lives of innocent people.
You should have come to us first.
The public's right to know is equally as important as yours.
Besides, I'm giving it to you now.
Yes, well,
- next time. - I meant no harm, Detective.
I was simply doing what I thought
was in the best interest of the public.
As I will continue to do.
"The aged have been a blight on our society for far too long.
Until they realize the burden they place on the young,
the killings will continue."
He's baiting us.
The letter sheds no light on how he's choosing his victims.
It's right here in black and white: they're old.
Yes, but why these ones?
I don't believe a man who goes through the trouble
of staging such elaborate murders would choose his victims at random.
Not everything's a puzzle, Murdoch.
Sometimes people are just crackers.
He has to find them somewhere.
It may be as simple as following old people home.
But how does he know their schedules?
Or the exact right time to strike?
We've found no familial, social, or financial connections.
I have George retracing their steps over the past few days.
You do that, then. And while Crabtree pushes paper,
more geezers are at risk.
Hope you're all behaving yourselves today, gentlemen.
You did well today, son.
- I'll get the drinks, sir. - Good lad.
Sir?
- What? - Would you like to sit?
- Are you speaking to me? - Yeah, there's a seat right here.
Why would I need a seat?
- I don't know, I just thought... - Do I look like an invalid to you?
- Uh, sir? - Why you think I need to sit down?
I've been walking around all day and I feel as fit as a fiddle.
Unlike you, who looks like a stiff bloody wind'd blow you over.
- I just thought... - Thought what?
- Well, speak up, you dopey-lookin' sod! - Father,
we'd best be heading home.
Never get old, son.
Mr. Stanley Bingham.
His name's familiar.
He was Professor Emeritus of Biology at the university.
Of course.
He was a colleague of Dr. Osler's, if I'm not mistaken.
Bruising and chloroform is consistent with the others.
If there's anything else...
We'll let you know.
Sir.
- Find anything? - Not much I'm afraid,
the professor's wife died years ago and he has no other family.
No one at the university had so much as a bad word to say about him.
But there is something else, sir.
Afternoon edition. There's another letter.
He claims responsibility, but doesn't mention Bingham by name.
That doesn't mean he didn't do it.
He may not even know their names.
Sirs, this may be nothing, but I found laundry receipts
belonging to our latest victim, Stanley Bingham.
It appears he used the same service as our last victim,
Paul Adelaide. They both went to Churchill's Laundry Service.
So they'll both have clean shirts for their burials.
Is this all we've got?
- Well, also... - What is it, Crabtree?
There's something about this letter, the way it's worded.
What about it?
Well, the killer uses the phrase, "lays down the knife and fork."
It's an antiquated expression for dying.
"Until the last sexagenarian lays down the knife and fork."
- Never heard it before. - I have.
Well good for you, Crabtree.
Must be one of your Newfoundland sayings that I'm unaware of.
Newfoundland, sir.
But no, I heard it from Miss Cherry.
"Lay down the knife and fork".
That's a fairly specific expression, don't you think?
I suppose so.
Miss Cherry, is there anything you would like to tell us?
I have no idea.
What are you insinuating?
Have you altered, or tampered with this letter in any way?
Absolutely not.
Need I remind you that four men are dead?
If you've had contact with the killer, you must tell us.
Are you helping him to write these?
Louise, tell us the truth, please.
I've heard you use the phrase before.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Well, then. Perhaps a night in the cells
will help to refresh your memory.
Wait.
It's me.
I am the Mercy Killer.
Explain yourself, Miss Cherry.
Of course I didn't kill anyone,
but I did write those letters.
Why would you do that?
I was simply trying to give a voice to the killer.
But you don't know anything about him!
Or if it's even one killer.
I know that whoever he or they are,
they were putting the aged in danger.
And using Dr. Osler's comments as fuel.
Comments that you took out of context.
You are dangerously close to seeing the inside of a cell, Miss Cherry.
I've committed no crime, Detective.
Impersonating a killer, for a start.
- It was merely a performance. - A performance?
I was attempting to fuse a persona into the story,
as the journalistic essays of Mark Twain or Daniel Defoe might have.
Giving the killer an identity, as it were.
You have ruined the reputation of a great man,
and possibly aided a murderer.
Louise, this goes beyond the pale.
I'm sorry you feel that way.
I'll be telephoning the senior editor of the Gazette .
At least we'll have the satisfaction of seeing you fired.
That is your right.
George, take Miss Cherry to the cells.
- On what charge? - Obstruction of justice.
Don't touch me.
I still think it's a sequential killer.
Just because Louise Cherry invented one out of thin air
doesn't mean a real one isn't out there.
But that still leaves the question of motive.
And I've had a nagging thought, although
it might be somewhat unorthodox.
It's all fair game at this point.
Well, sir, what if it is a single killer,
but the motive isn't madness?
What if there was only one true target?
And the others were distractions?
Killed to make it look like a pattern.
Misdirection... decoys, if you will.
Well, if that's true, which one was the intended victim
and which were the decoys?
Henry, you and George gather the alibis
of everyone that may have had motivation.
Times, dates, locations. As quickly as possible, please.
Sir.
Right. Strother Campbell?
He was meeting with clients the day of Paul Adelaide's murder.
Oliver Linehan?
I was able to confirm his meetings the day of Norman Doyle's murder.
And he was out of town the day Stanley Bingham was killed.
It's like tic tac bloody toe.
Eleanor Webster?
She was at the hospital with her son
the day Doyle was killed, and attending Adelaide's funeral
the day of the Bingham murder, sir.
All right. That only leaves one person without alibi
- for all of the murders. - Well, that's it, then.
He's the one.
Ah. Have you found the killer?
Archie Doyle, you're under arrest
for the murders of Norman Doyle, Miles Borden,
- Paul Adelaide and Stanley Bingham. - What?! Are you're joking?
Come quietly and don't make a scene.
I didn't kill my father. I didn't kill anyone!
- We'll talk about this down at the station. - Stop!
Ma'am, you're welcome to come down to the Station House, but...
My son didn't murder Norman.
No one did.
- Norman... killed himself. - What?
I never thought he was capable.
- No... - I left that morning to go and fetch eggs.
He didn't want to get out of bed.
I decided that I would cook his favorite breakfast.
But when I returned, I found him
... dead.
By his own hand.
That doesn't explain the blow to his head,
nor the window latch that was tampered with.
This is a god-fearing home, Inspector.
If the church discovered the truth about Norman's death,
they never would have allowed us to be buried in the same cemetery.
I did what I had to so that we could be together.
I wanted to be with him in this life and the next.
- Oh, Mother. - Oh, my boy.
Oh, my son.
I'm so sorry.
What now?
All of the other suspects have alibis.
Not quite.
- Mr. Borden. - How did you get in here?
You're coming with us to the station house. Suspicion of murder.
That's preposterous!
I told your constable the same thing I told you.
I wasn't even in town for the first murder!
That's what gave you away.
- I don't follow. - Oh, you will.
You had an alibi for the first murder,
that of Norman Doyle,
but none for the others.
I see. And that isn't enough?
Norman Doyle's death wasn't murder. It was suicide.
You didn't need to be in town.
And this is your proof? Scheduling?
Detective, please, I'm embarrassed for you.
Save your energy, Mr. Borden. You'll need it.
Why would I kill my own uncle?
Miles wanted to give back later in life.
He'd been emptying the company's coffers.
You asked him to stop, and he refused.
- Ridiculous. - Strother Campbell didn't think so.
Oh, you mean the man who threatened to kill Uncle Miles?
He's lying, obviously.
Be that as it may, you're coming with us.
Unbelievable.
Get your hat and coat, Mr. Borden.
The clocks are ticking.
Fine.
If only to put this silliness to rest.
Completely absurd!
When this is all over, you can expect
to have a costly lawsuit on your hands.
Fine, just fine.
This is how you conduct an investigation?
Just waltz into a dead man's home
and accuse his grieving relative of murder?
- Sir, where are we going? - Not long now, Murdoch.
Why are we going in this direction?
Isn't the station the other way?
Do you recognize the area?
I... have a client who lives near here.
Oh, really? What's his name?
Jonathan Mac... Madder... horn.
That's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?
Do you mind if we stop, Mr. Borden?
I could do with a minute's rest. Not as young as I used to be.
Actually, do you mind if I pop in to the laundry?
Need to pick some shirts up.
- The wife couldn't make it today. - Sir?
Do you ever use them, Mr. Borden?
They do excellent work.
- Stop! - I've got this one, Murdoch.
It's over, son.
Give it up.
Do you have any idea how expensive it is to maintain a law firm?
We need to be billing all the time just to stay alive.
Miles didn't care.
- He would have ruined us! - That's why you murdered him.
I have good years left!
Just 'cause his clock was running out,
he needs to destroy things for the rest of us?
So you killed him,
- and two other innocent men as decoys. - They were useless.
Yes, I killed them. God help me, I killed them all.
You'll hang for this, Borden.
- Come on, then. - Fine.
What's one more dead old bastard?
Well done, sir.
But I'm curious,
how did you know about the launderers?
Intuition.
It was the only connection.
Stood to reason that's how he found them.
I knew he'd give himself away.
The one thing you learn with age, Borden,
is never wait for the other fella to square off.
There's no such thing in life as a fair fight.
I'm sorry all this has happened, Miss Cherry.
I'm not sure you deserved it.
Even though,
what you did was rather dreadful.
In any case, you're free to go.
Thank you,
I suppose.
What will you do?
I suppose you could find work as a typist. I have a...
- friend Sam who works in a bank... - That won't be necessary.
I appreciate your interest, but it is both
misplaced and ill-timed.
Excuse me?
I've been hired by another paper.
You're joking?
I received a visit from the editor of The Telegraph,
less than an hour ago.
His offer was quite generous.
Title and wages significantly more substantial than at The Gazette.
Congratulations.
What's more, your opportunity to comment on my affairs has passed.
You made your choice, George Crabtree.
Now, if you'll excuse me,
I need a quote from Detective Murdoch.
And you must come and visit us in England.
- Oh! - What's all this about England?
Dr. Osler has been offered the Professorship of Medicine at Oxford,
by King Edward himself, so he's moving there.
But not before I finish my speaking tour.
That's quite the schedule for a man of your years.
There's no fixed period for usefulness, Inspector.
The trick is to accept the cycles of age as they come
and to enjoy them. That's all I've ever promoted.
- Sound advice. - Inspector.
Julia, do take care.
And please, send word when you know.
Strength and faith.
It was so wonderful to see you again.
Thank you for your diligent work, Detective.
As trying as these past few days have been,
I was grateful to have you on my side.
The pleasure was all mine.
Oh, and I'll be happy to have a rest from these for a while.
Well done, sir.
There's plenty of life left in me yet, Murdoch,
so don't be getting any ideas.
Shall we?
- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -