Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 1, Episode 2 - The Glass Ceiling - full transcript

Gentlemen,
it is my distinct honor

to introduce
our keynote speaker,

Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.

Thank you.

Gentlemen, those of us
at Police Station Number Four

of the Toronto Constabulary

had never been confronted
by such a puzzling crime.

The victim was found
in a windowless room

that was locked from the inside.

But that was not
the most baffling part.

The victim
had been electrocuted,



yet the room had no electricity.

All that was out of the ordinary
was a shattered jar,

a chain, a wooden disc,
and some foil.

It soon became apparent
that the victim had been killed

by a Leyden jar.

A question, Inspector.

Chief Constable Stockton.
Of course.

What is a Leyden jar?

Uh, it's a device for storing
electric charge.

Then it's a battery.

No. No, it's...
It's a...

It's a capacitor.

What's a capacitor?

Uh...



A device for storing
electric charge.

- Then it's a battery.
- Well...

- Inspector, if I may interject
- Of course.

Detective William Murdoch,
gentlemen.

Gentlemen, both a battery
and a capacitor

do store electrical charge.

However, a battery creates
that charge internally

by chemical reaction.

A capacitor needs
an outside source of power.

So, in 1746, van Musschenbroek

had made the same discovery
that von Kleist had...

The foil inside the jar

could store
a significant electrical charge,

in the order
of hundreds of volts.

More than enough to kill a man.

So, in summary,
there was no foul play.

The cause of death
was misadventure.

Good God, man.

How did you ever come up
with such a conclusion?

Sometimes these things
just come to me.

Thank you, Detective.

Now, might I suggest
that we take a short break

for tea and cake
and maybe a wee dram, gentlemen?

Detective, might I have a word?

Yes, sir.
Of course.

"These things just come to me. "

I'm sorry.

I did not mean to commandeer
that meeting, sir.

Forget it, Murdoch. I'm used to
you and your ideas by now.

What did Stockton
want to speak to you about?

He suggested I apply
for the inspector position

coming open
at Station Number Three.

You, an inspector?

I think my record
speaks for itself.

Murdoch,
you're a bloody good copper,

and you've got a mind
like no one else I've ever met.

But trust me...

You're not cut out for the shite
that comes with the job.

Perhaps.

But I could use
the raise in pay.

And I suppose the change
in scenery could do me good.

What, are we not good enough
for you at Station Number Four?

No, no. Not at all.
It's just that...

Well, as you know, I've had
some challenges as of late.

Yes, yes.
Well, suit yourself.

But don't say I didn't warn you.

Thank you, sir.

Inspector, there was a trunk
delivered for you.

This note came with it.

Right.

Whatever's in there is,
uh, quite substantial.

Open it, Crabtree.

Oh, my God.

Have you finished
with the trunk?

Yes, for now.

Gentlemen.

His name is Pollack.
Percival Pollack.

- The lawyer?
- Yes.

When can I expect your report,
Doctor Ogden?

I'll perform the postmortem
right away.

Thank you.

Murdoch.

What kind of man delivers
a corpse to a police station?

"Dear Inspector Brackenreid,

have you missed me?

Percy did.
I paid him a visit. "

He's taunting me.

This note would suggest
you, the killer, and the victim

had a relationship of some sort.

Percy Pollack and I have
crossed paths with lots of men

who didn't particularly want to
see the inside of a jail cell.

Would any of them
want to see you dead?

Dozens.

Right, then.

Time to perform
the messy part of the job.

Hello, Molly.
We're here to see Clara.

No. No.

Clara.

Clara.

Shhh, shhh.

Hey.

Shhh, shhh.

Thank you.

This will help.

Why would anyone do this
to Percy?

We don't know, Clara.

Mrs. Pollack, had he any trouble
with any cases recently?

An accused, perhaps?

He was a lawyer.
There was always little things.

But nothing
that would suggest... this.

When was the last time
you saw him?

- A week ago.
- A week ago?

He was taking the train
to Montreal.

Something to do with some case.

Wait.

He was going to make a stop
before leaving.

Any idea where?

At a business meeting.

Outside of Mimico.

You have an address?

Thomas, I think
I'm going to be sick.

Thank you, Molly.

Will she be all right?

She has a sister
coming to stay with her.

There's no way Percy Pollack
was in that trunk for a week.

No.

We need to know when he died
and where he was in the interim.

Doctor Ogden will supply
the time of death.

I'll retrace his steps.

I'll go over the cases
Percy and I worked on,

see if I can come up
with a name.

Very good.

Murdoch...

I want this bastard caught.

Understood.

Excuse me!

- Excuse me.
- Yes?

Dr. Gilbert Birkins?

Yes!

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Police.

Police?

What are you doing all the way
out here in Mimico?

It's the way of the future.
Percy thought so too.

Mechanical power, I mean.

The horse
is a thing of the past.

Yes, well, a device like this
has some advantages.

Some, Detective?
Why, this is liberation.

Anyone can travel
wherever they desire.

Well, I understand,

but a world full of mechanized
vehicles like this...

The fumes alone, let alone the
roads needed to carry them...

It's all quite manageable,
if it's thought through.

Yes, "if. "

So you and Mr. Pollack
were business associates?

Partners.

Pioneers in the
mechanized-bicycle business.

Percy was one of the few men
I knew who shared my passion.

Mr. Pollack visited you
before he left for Montreal?

He came up for a brief meeting

about some milling work
to be done on a cylinder.

- Was anything bothering him?
- Not that I'm aware of.

No, in fact, he seemed
in exceptional spirits.

Do you know of anyone who might
have wanted to harm Mr. Pollack?

Harm Percy?

Couldn't imagine it.

And the last you saw of him?

Stepping into a coach
bound for the city.

Right, then. Should I need to
get in touch with you again...

I, uh...
I'm mostly here.

I still practice medicine
in Toronto.

Even Renaissance men
need to pay the bills.

Oh.
You have a telephone out here?

In case I'm needed
for my patients.

- If you'll excuse me.
- Of course.

Yeah, I remember him.

I took him out to a farm
in Mimico.

I remember it because there was
this noisy bike

that scared the tar
out of my horse.

- Then you came back to the city?
- Dropped him at Union Station.

Perfect timing.
Just finishing with our patient.

And?

The cause of death
was massive blood loss

due to a single puncture wound
to the heart.

- And the weapon?
- A narrow-bladed knife.

I think the killer
knew what he was doing.

What makes you say that?

There's no bruising
around the wound.

He realized there was no need
to drive the weapon to the hilt.

As if he had done it before.

Were there any defensive wounds?

None. Perhaps the killer
surprised Mr. Pollack.

That, or the victim
and killer knew each other.

Did you find any fibers
or hairs?

No hair.

But I did find this
in the scalp.

- Sawdust?
- Precisely.

Where did he pick that up?

Perhaps a construction site
or sawmill?

Anywhere where
there was carpentry.

And the time of death?

Based on decay,
discoloration, rigor,

I'd say 36 to 48 hours ago.

Interesting.
He was last seen a week ago.

That leaves five days
unaccounted for.

There's one last thing.
I found these in the wound.

Pupae.

- Any idea what species?
- Entomology is not my field.

Thank you for these.

It's my pleasure.

Could you have the operator

connect me
to Lawson's Butchery, please?

Right away, sir.

Sir?

Chief Constable Stockton's
office called for you earlier.

Mmh. Did they?

Something about
an appointment this afternoon?

Oh.

Yes, of course.
I almost forgot.

Thank you, George.

Yes, this is
Detective William Murdoch

at Police Station Number Four.

I'd like to place an order,
please.

Nova Scotia, eh?

Yes, sir.
That's where I was born.

- What'd your father do?
- He was a fisherman, sir.

- Still out there?
- We've lost touch.

Oh.

And your mother?

My mother passed away
when I was just a lad.

Ah.

You joined the force
10 years ago.

Where were you before that?

I worked in a lumber camp
up north.

I went there from Montreal,
stayed two winters.

I met a lumberman there who had
done a stint as a constable.

I liked the sounds of it,
so I applied.

What makes you think
you'd make a good inspector?

I spent five years
as a constable

before becoming acting detective
at Station House Number Four.

I was promoted to full detective
three years ago.

I've headed up
36 murder investigations

and achieved convictions
in all but two.

- I get on well with the men.
- Very impressive.

Marital status?

Bachelor.

I was engaged to Liza Milner.

She passed away
just over a year ago.

My condolences.

Well...

What else should I know
about you?

Sir, I like to read.

Mostly medical
and scientific journals.

I'm strong, healthy, punctual.

- Religious affiliation?
- Roman Catholic.

I can only attend
but once or twice a week,

but I try to make confession
as often as possible.

Well, Inspector Brackenreid
gives you a fine report.

I think that's all I need from
you at the moment, Detective.

All sounds very impressive.
I'll let you know.

Thank you.

Sir?

George, please don't
sneak up on me.

Sorry about that.
What are you doing?

Inspecting the note
the killer left with the body.

- Anything to be learned?
- Unfortunately not.

It was written
using a straightedge,

so it's impossible to link it
to a suspect's handwriting.

The paper's commonly available,
as is the trunk.

I could try to raise
fingermarks.

Already tried it, George.

No marks on the paper, and the
trunk is heavily smudged.

- What about on your end?
- I spoke with the stationmaster.

And?

Mr. Pollack did have a ticket
for Montreal,

but it was never used.

So he was dropped at the station
but never boarded the train.

- What became of him?
- Murdoch.

Get your hat.

Thomas.

- Where is it?
- In the study.

- Father!
- Father!

- Whoa!
- Guess what I did today!

I'll tell you what...
You can tell me later.

But at the minute,
Daddy's really busy,

so go to your mother.

You come here
and let your father be.

The missus found it when she got
back from the Ladies Auxiliary.

- I see.
- Is it for me?

John!
Get away from that trunk!

Listen, I didn't mean
to shout at you.

But that's a present
for your father.

Margaret.

Come.

It's addressed to you, sir.

First, Percy Pollack, lawyer.

And now Judge Henry Scott.

It would seem as though

someone has it in
for officers of the court

and that the next target
is you, sir.

Gentlemen,
I have preliminary results.

Judge Scott died from...

A wound almost identical to the
one that killed Percy Pollack.

That's right.

The weapon was a narrow-bladed
knife, possibly a...

- Stiletto.
- That would be consistent, yes.

Uh, the blow was delivered...

Between the third and fourth
vertebrosternal ribs.

Is there something you haven't
shared with us, sir?

Scotch?

No, thank you.

There was a case five years ago.

Small-time gangster
named Walter Ayotte.

Smuggling, gambling,
petty theft.

Yes, I remember.

He had no qualms
about getting rid of anyone

who stood in his way.

Stiletto.
That was his trademark.

- Ah, the knife wounds.
- Mmh.

We finally nailed him

on the murder
of his mistress's husband.

I brought him in.

Percy Pollack
was the Crown prosecutor.

Henry Scott was the judge.

He vowed that all three of us
would pay.

I made inspector
because of that case.

But Walter Ayotte
can't be our man.

I remember he died
in a jailbreak.

Did he?

You're suggesting he didn't?

I'm not suggesting.

Sir, if Ayotte is still alive,

then we should assign
a man or two to protect you.

What do you think I am?
A frightened schoolgirl?

No, sir. It's just that you are
the last name on his list.

The criminals don't dictate
to this police force.

I'll look after myself, Murdoch.

Cheers.

Listen up, lads.

This piece of filth's name
is Walter Ayotte.

I want every tavern,
every brothel,

every gambling den
in and around the city

scoured for Ayotte
and his cronies.

I want anyone
who's ever had anything to do

with this two-bit gobshite
questioned.

Sir, Ayotte's pals aren't
exactly the type to squeal.

If you can't make him talk,
I will!

- Now get out there!
- Sir.

- Sir, a word.
- What is it?!

Sir, I don't believe

that such a strong-handed
approach is the right one.

- Oh, you don't?
- No.

Perhaps it would be best
if we didn't let on

that we know
that Ayotte's still alive.

Is that what you think?

You'd rather wait
till Ayotte strikes again?

No, sir, but there are
dissimilarities

between the two murders.

The knife, the wound... They're
Ayotte through and through.

Granted, but I think
there's more to this

than meets the eye...

the pupae recovered,
the time of death.

Let me make this clear,
Detective.

If you want to spend your time
dilly-dallying

on your modern little theories,
feel free.

But I'm gonna find Ayotte
before he finds me.

The last of
the jailbreak files, sir.

Excellent.

Has something gone off in here?

- What?
- That smell.

I don't smell anything.

Here it is.

Don Jail.
June 10, 1890.

Prison riot and jailbreak.

Fire broke out in the kitchen,
spread to the cell area.

Two prisoners
managed to scale a wall.

Suspected escapees

are Carson O'Day
and Daniel Vitacelli.

I believe those two
are still on the loose, sir.

Badly charred body
of one inmate was found,

that of Walter Ayotte,
convicted murderer.

How badly charred, I wonder.

Badly enough that the doctor
doing the postmortem

may have mistaken his identity?

Only one way to find out.
I want that body exhumed.

Right away.
And you, sir?

I'm going to try to determine
Judge Scott's whereabouts

before he was killed.

Come on!
Come on!

Hey.
What's all this, then?

Well, well, well.
If it isn't Delmer Ward.

Pleasure to see you again,
Delmer.

I see the feeling's not mutual.

But I'm sure that I'll soon
win you 'round.

Get him in the back, lads.

Come on.

Judge Scott was a gentleman
through and through.

I can't imagine
who would want him dead.

Had he recently mentioned
a man named Ayotte?

No.

- Nothing unusual?
- No.

What about the judge's family...
his wife, children...

Might they be able to help me?

Mrs. Scott passed on
several years ago.

It was a great tragedy
for the judge.

They didn't have any children.

Female troubles, I heard.

What can you tell me about
the judge's activities that day?

He was in court
and then left at end of day.

- Nothing out of the ordinary?
- No.

Wait.

Wait, there was
that telephone call.

What about it?

The judge received a telephone
call about half past 4:00.

And there was something unusual
about this call?

Well, I-I'm just
the judge's secretary,

but, uh, it was from a woman.

Do you have any idea
who placed the call?

No. But, uh, whoever it was,
she sounded upset.

So, me old mucker,
anything coming back to you?

Any sudden rush of memories?

I can do this
a lot longer than you can.

Have it your way, then.

I relent.
I relent.

Good boy, Delmer.

Good boy.

George.

Judge Scott received
a telephone call

the afternoon he was murdered.

I need you to find out
where it came from.

- That can be done?
- I don't see why not.

Murdoch.

You may have your fancy-dan way
of doing things,

but sometimes my way
can be very effective.

He's been here recently.
It's still fresh.

Sergeant Mulligan,
I want every available man

searching the surrounding area.

Someone's tipped Ayotte off.

But who?

We've got Ward still locked up
tight down at the station, so...

- Sir, wait!
- What?

Trip wire.

May I see your walking stick?

Pardon me.

Bloody hell.

Aah!

Come here, Delmer!
Come here!

You set me up,
you shifty little bastard!

Now I'm gonna tell
you something, sunshine.

I'm gonna make you wish
you hadn't!

Now, where is Ayotte really at?!

Huh?!

Go ahead.
Do your worst.

I'd rather take my chances with
you than face Ayotte's knife.

Ayotte and Ward.

They were in this together.

They knew that I'd come to Ward
looking for Ayotte,

and they knew that I'd be eager.

Perhaps too eager.

But I won't be making
the same mistake again.

Sir, it's clear Delmer Ward

won't be telling you
anything further.

Oh, he'll talk, all right.

Should he not?

Well, then,
some other bugger will!

With all due respect, sir,

you can beat every crooked man
in this city,

but I don't believe
you'll find Ayotte that way.

He's covered his tracks
too well.

So, what do you suggest?

I suggest
we follow the evidence.

And just what evidence
might that be?

Well, there are
a number of leads.

But, to me, the key still seems
to be the time of death.

Yes, yes,
you keep telling me this,

but I've yet to see a result.

If you'll bear with me,
I just need a bit more time.

I will get
to the bottom of this.

Time.

Time's not something
that I have a lot of.

I believe
it's our best course of action.

Fine.

But I want to know everything
you come up with. Understood?

Yes, of course.

And, again, I suggest a couple
of men be assigned to you.

Sod that!

There might not be much
I can do right now.

But if Walter Ayotte
comes looking

and expects me to go quietly,

then he's got
another think coming.

Detective.

What on Earth is that odor?

Perhaps something
has died in the walls.

A mouse or a rat or something.

I don't think there's
any perhaps about it.

How can you stand it?

I suppose I've become
accustomed to it.

Yeah, or lost
your sense of smell.

- Shall we step outside?
- Yes.

Oh, much better.

I've finished
with the exhumed remains.

Ah. And?

The bone structure
is too small to be Ayotte.

But it is consistent with one of
the other escapees... Vitacelli.

So Vitacelli is killed,
his body burned.

The doctor performing
the postmortem

misidentifies the corpse as
Ayotte, allowing him to escape.

I find it hard to believe
a doctor worth his letters

would make that kind of mistake.

So do I.
Let me look into it.

I'd appreciate that.

- So is it true?
- Is what true?

That you've applied
for a new position.

Yes.

Well, I-I would be sorry
to see you leave.

Sir? Sir.

It took some work, but I found
Judge Scott's caller.

I think I'll call the technique
I used "tracing. "

I had the operator
literally trace the wires

from the switchboard.

Yes, yes, fine.
Do you have a name?

I do.
And it may surprise you.

So why did you call Judge Scott?

I needed some advice...
legal advice.

And so I called Henry, and he
agreed to come by the house.

When I saw the paper
the next day...

First Percy.
And now Henry.

What time did
Judge Scott arrive?

Straight after
he'd finished work.

- How long did he stay?
- Perhaps half an hour.

Did he give any indication
as to where he was going?

Home. I remember he said
he had had a long day.

- Did he seem anxious, off?
- No.

This advice you were seeking...
What was it?

Percy had made a large
investment just before he died.

Practically all of our savings.

An investment.
What kind?

That...

...pardon my language...
darned motorcycle business.

With Dr. Birkins?

What if the venture fails?
I could be left destitute.

And so I asked Henry for advice.

This investment...
It was a surprise to you?

I knew that Percy
was considering it,

but I hoped
that he had changed his mind.

Why?

He was concerned
about a previous venture

that had not gone so well.

This previous venture...
Do you know what it was?

I don't know.

Only that it was another one
of Dr. Birkins' inventions.

Look at this.

The self-pouring teapot.

Pours a steaming-hot cup of tea

without you ever having
to touch the pot.

Thank God.

What will they think of next?

Oh, you'll like this one, sir.

A bicycle tire
is engraved with lettering

so that you can
leave messages behind

when you ride
through the mud.

George.

So I heard you were interviewed
for that inspector's position.

Obviously,
a very poorly kept secret.

Well, on behalf of myself
and the lads, it's, uh...

It's been an honor
working with you.

It was just an interview,
George.

Oh, you're a shoo-in, sir.

Let's just concentrate on
the task at hand, shall we?

Ah, here it is.

"Dr. G. Birkins, applicant.
Patent number 405060."

- What's it for?
- Corn shards.

"A breakfast product made
from reconstituted corn pulp,

meant to be eaten
with cold milk. "

That sounds revolting.

You know, I had an idea once
to put meat in a can.

Think about it.

You could send it halfway across
the world if you wanted to.

Corn shards weren't a bad idea.

I'm sure they would have taken
off if that Kellogg fellow

hadn't got his product
on the market first.

Causing your venture to fail.

That and my backers
getting cold feet.

I think they made
a very large mistake.

But only time will tell.

Had Mr. Pollack gotten cold feet
about the motorcycle venture?

Percy had questions.
Any good businessman would.

Is that what you two discussed

when he came out
to meet with you?

It came up.

But we ironed out
our differences.

So he decided to make
a sizable investment?

$5,000.

- That's a fortune.
- Well, to some.

To others, those with foresight,

the rewards far exceeded
the risk.

And what was Mr. Pollack's
investment to accomplish?

The final adjustments
to the prototype

in the first phase
of production.

Look, the bank wired the money
through the day after we met.

So the money arrived
the day after they met?

Yes. Also the day after
he was last seen alive.

- Curious, isn't it?
- Mmh.

But how does it affect matters?

The time of death was determined
to be a few days later.

Something about that
is bothering me as well.

Surely you're not questioning
Dr. Ogden's finding.

Not at all.

I believe her interpretation
of the facts was accurate.

But she can only reach
an accurate conclusion

if provided with all of
the necessary information.

And how much information
was she missing?

I'm not completely certain.
Yet.

However, if I'm not mistaken,

I believe the stork
has paid me a visit.

Of sorts.

William.
You wanted to see me?

Oh, my!

I really must insist
that you do something

about whatever has died
in your walls!

Nothing has died.

It's liver rotting.

I've been conducting
an experiment,

and you're just in time.

The pupae recovered from
Pollack's wound have hatched.

June bugs.

According to this,
the pupal form

has an 18-day incubation period

before hatching
into adult beetles.

The june bug pupae virtually
all hatch on the same day.

Yes, I spoke to an entomologist
at the University of Toronto,

and he told me that
they all hatched five days ago.

But your june bugs
hatched today.

Yes.
What could cause that?

Well, there could be
a number of factors

that could cause a delay
in their development, I suppose.

A cold snap, for example.

But the weather
has been singularly hot.

Percy Pollack was stabbed.

His body was left on the ground
for some time.

That's how the june bug pupae
got into the wound.

But something delayed
their hatching.

Sawdust.

Excuse me?

You told me you found sawdust
on Pollack's body.

Sawdust is used as insulation
in icehouses.

Which means Pollack's body...

Was kept cold in an icehouse,

causing a delay in the hatching
of the june bugs.

But more importantly,

if we factor in the five days'
delay in hatching,

that would mean Percy
was actually murdered...

The very night
he was to have left Toronto.

And that changes everything.

Like I told you before,
Detective,

I took that fellow
out to the farm

and then dropped him
at the train station.

Yes, well,
now please think hard.

When your fare
came back outside,

did you actually see his face?

Now that I recall,
it was a bit strange.

- What was strange?
- Well, it was a warm evening.

But he had his collar turned up
and his hat pulled low

like he'd taken a chill.

So it may not have been
Mr. Pollack.

I suppose not.

So you're saying
that Pollack died

the night he was
supposed to get on the train.

I don't think Mr. Pollack ever
made it to the train station.

So he was killed
at Birkins' farm,

and then someone impersonating
him got into the cab.

Which would seem to suggest
some association

between Ayotte and Dr. Birkins.

Why would Birkins
want Percy Pollack dead?

Mr. Pollack
was having reservations

about the business deal.

I believe he wanted out.

So Birkins has Ayotte
kill Pollack

to keep him from backing out
of the deal.

Yes, but Dr. Birkins still
needed Mr. Pollack's money.

So he put the body on ice,
delaying the time of death,

until the transaction
was completed.

And then Pollack's found

tragically murdered
just days later.

Never to see the results
of his investment.

I'd like to revisit
the suspected crime scene.

Keep an eye out, me old mucker.

Ah, the Ayotte postmortem files.
Thank you.

Inspector?

Chief Constable.
Please come in.

- Can I get you tea, sir?
- No, thank you.

I'm looking
for Detective Murdoch.

He's off investigating a new
development in the Pollack case.

New development, eh?

Yes, we have reason to believe

that Walter Ayotte
wasn't acting alone.

He's looking into it
as we speak.

Murdoch.

Good copper.

But it'll be
a bloody cold day in hell

before a papist becomes an
inspector in my police force.

Sir, Detective Murdoch
is quite exceptional.

- The fact that he's Catholic...
- Thomas.

You're an ambitious man.

And I can see
someday you being an alderman

or maybe even a mayor.

But Toronto
is a Protestant city.

- You'd be wise to remember that.
- Yes, sir.

Give Murdoch the news for me.

Prick.

- Take no chances. Understood?
- Yes, sir.

Dr. Ogden.

Inspector, I was looking
for Detective Murdoch.

Detective Murdoch is conducting
an investigation.

- Can I be of any help?
- Perhaps.

I was puzzled by the postmortem

done on Ayotte's body
after the jailbreak,

so I began looking
through the medical records.

Did you find anything?

I'm not sure.
It may just be a coincidence.

Coppers don't believe
in coincidences.

The postmortem
was performed by Dr. Sherman.

He's dead now,
but Dr. Sherman...

He shared his practice
with Dr. Gilbert Birkins.

That's very interesting, Doctor.

Yes, I-I tried to get him
on the telephone,

but he's busy at his practice.

At his practice?

I think I'll pay
the good doctor a visit.

No one, sir.
They seem to be long gone.

George, is there
an icehouse here?

There is, but I've
searched it already.

As you can see,
there's no one here.

Give me a hand, George.

What are we looking for, sir?

I believe Percy Pollack's body
was stored somewhere cold.

Most likely here.

But how would Ayotte
know to keep the body cold?

He wouldn't.
But Dr. Birkins would.

Then they're in on it together?

Jesus Christ.

Well, we've found Walter Ayotte.

So if Ayotte's dead...

Then the killer must be
Dr. Birkins.

- May I help you?
- Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.

It's regarding the murder
of Percy Pollack.

I see.
Please, come in.

Thank you.

George, we have a problem.

Inspector Brackenreid is
conducting a personal interview

with Dr. Birkins.

He doesn't know that...
The inspector's in grave danger.

- We have to hurry.
- Wait, wait.

We don't have time for that.

I don't know what I can tell you

that I haven't told
Detective Murdoch already.

Well, I've uncovered
some information

that he's not aware of.

Oh?

It concerns Dr. Sherman.

What about him?

You two used to share
this practice, I believe.

What of it?

Well, Dr. Sherman carried out
a postmortem

on a man named Walter Ayotte.

The only problem is

that he didn't actually perform
the postmortem, did he?

What are you talking about?

Well, his name's
on the death certificate.

But you were the one
who actually performed it.

That's how you knew that
Walter Ayotte was still alive.

This is absurd.

Percy wanted to pull out of
your little motorcycle venture.

But you needed his cash,
so you tracked down Ayotte

and got him to do
your dirty work for you.

It was the perfect setup.

Ayotte got his revenge,

and you solved
your cash problems.

All you had to do
was alter the time of the death.

We were about to
change the world.

Percy was worried
about a few dollars.

You think I could
just let him back out?

What about Henry Scott?

He didn't have
anything to do with this.

I never meant for anything
to happen to him.

Look, I never wanted
anyone to die.

Not even Percy.

Where's Ayotte?

He had to be stopped.

Stopped?

Aah!

Sir?

Murdoch.
Good timing.

Well, maybe not.

- Detective?
- Yes, George.

He's coming in.

Hip, hip, hooray!

Hip, hip, hooray!
Hip, hip, hooray!

I'm not back from the grave,

so don't think will curry
any favors with me,

you bunch
of brownnosing bastards!

Murdoch.
Get in my office.

Close the door.

Are you all right, sir?

Course I'm not all right,
you daft bugger.

I've just been in hospital
for two days.

Get me a scotch.

Birkins?

He confessed.

Seems as though he was
in financial trouble

over this corn-shards fiasco.

He needed money,
fell in with a bad lot.

And that is how he met Ayotte
in the first place.

And the judge?

That was Ayotte
acting on his own.

Pull up a chair.

And it appears
you were to be next.

But Dr. Birkins didn't want
Ayotte's rampage to expose him.

- So he killed Ayotte.
- Yes.

And he was going to dispose
of the body,

making it appear as though
Ayotte had moved on or vanished.

Leaving me
looking over my shoulder

for the rest of my life.

I suppose so.

Have you heard about that
job yet that you applied for?

- Not yet.
- I see.

- I'd like you to reconsider.
- Sir?

This is a good station house.

And for reasons beyond me,

the men seem to think
the world of you.

And it's also plain to see

that I could clearly use
a good right-hand...

left-hand man,
keep me out of trouble.

I also suspect that,
as you warned me,

I wouldn't care much for the
politics involved with the job.

No, you wouldn't.

In that case, it would be my
honor to continue to serve here

at Station House Number Four.

I'll inform the chief constable
of your decision.

Thank you, sir.

And the raise, sir?

Don't push your luck, Murdoch.

Right, then.