Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 11, Episode 2 - Merlot Mysteries - full transcript

Murdoch and Watt find fraud in a new startup wine industry.

(theme music)

(violin music)
I'm sorry, sir.

If you don't have an invitation,
I cannot let you in.

It must be an oversight.
I am afraid not.

Mr. Firenzo and I
are life-long friends.

That may be, but it does not
change the fact that you are not

invited to this wedding.

And even if you were,
you are too late.

Mr. Firenzo's son
is now married.

Good day.

(indistinct speaking)

Today is a special day,

for it is the day
that a son takes a wife.

It may have taken my son
a long time to find her,

but it was worth it.
Carissima Karina,

it is my honour
to welcome you

to our family.
And now, to the wine!

Now Enrico,
you are not working today!

Si, si, amore.

Today, we toast
with a very special bottle.

If you bought it with money,
it would have been a pittance.

Almost free. It's the age

and the vintage
that have given this bottle

its special character.

Its colour...

the blood of noblemen.

Its bouquet...

the scent of the earth.

And its legs...

that of the finest ballerina.

What about the taste, Papa?
When are we gonna have that?

Va bene, allow me the honour
of the first taste, no?



Che cavalo!

What's wrong, Papa?
This wine... it...

(exclamations of shock)

Enrico! Oh!


He intended to pour everyone

at the head table a glass
from the same bottle.

(Julia): So someone wanted
the entire wedding party dead.

If the poisoning
was by design.

There is plenty of wine
left in the bottle.

Oh, good!
I'll take that.

For testing, of course.

Was it a heart attack?

I'm afraid not.

Then what?
We suspect your brother

may have been poisoned.
By the wine? But...

that is too cruel!
Wine was his life!

Please, sir, we'll
be with you in a moment.

And his death,
it would seem.

And what side of the family
are you with?

I think we can take them
one at a time, Detective Watts.

No, that was an attempt
at a witticism.

It certainly was that.


Once you've

finished questioning
the remaining guests,

you can let them go.
Sir, I've already started.

Terrible shame, sir. I mean,

this... happening
on his son's wedding day.

It is, indeed.
I imagine, sir,

it might put a bit
of a damper on the honeymoon.

The guests, George.


I have no idea
where it came from.

Enrico was the expert.

Papa was always
going on about wine.

None of it meant a thing to me.

It was all rather a bore

...until this.

He never told me a thing

about that wine.

Oh, Enrico...

you were so...

I'm terribly sorry
for your loss.

At least he got to see Ricardo
wed before God took him.

I suspect God
may have had help.

We believe the wine
was poisoned.

But we were all to drink it.

Someone wanted to kill all of us?

It's possible.

Does your family have enemies?

Don't all families?

This was supposed
to be a blessed day,

not a cursed one.
You have my sympathies.

Is it really possible that
some fiend wanted us all dead?

I think only your father.
Do you know where the wine came from?

I would imagine his cellar.
Could you show me?

His cellar is under lock and key.
I don't have access to it.

Who does?
Mr. Hatch.

My father's butler.

He shared more of his life with him

than he did his own son.

Criminy! This is amazing!

Please, don't touch.

Oh. Oh, is that a Le Corton?


Ooh. Exceptional.

Mr. Firenzo has bottles

from over 50 chateaus,

registered in
the Appellation of 1855.

Good lord. May I look around?

Detective Watts?
Are you sure now is a good time?

Of course.

This place is sacred.

Mr. Firenzo
thought so as well.

No one other than he
was permitted entrance.

No one? Are you sure?


Mr. Firenzo's supplier
comes here from time to time,

but only under
strict supervision.

Perhaps they shared

a taste.

And his name?

James Merchant.
He's the finest

wine provisioner
in all of Ontario.

In fact, all of Canada,

I'd wager.
And how long has he been

providing this service?

Ever since I have been
in Mr. Firenzo's employ,

at least 45 years.

Please, Detective Watts,

do not touch.


A poison that keeps
its efficacy for generations.

So it could have
been added any time?

Yes, but if it was meant

to kill Mr. Firenzo, I imagine
it was added more recently.

After it was opened.

That's for the detective.

Dr. Ogden?

Since I finished my schooling,


You're looking for another job.

Only if you approve.

Of course I approve.

Thank you. Professor Ferguson
has been making inquiries

on my behalf. He seems to think
that there might be

a position for me
at Queen of Mercy Hospital.

That's wonderful, Rebecca!

Although I can't say I won't miss you.

I haven't got it yet.
But you will.

Don't be talking
yourself down, Rebecca.

Mr. Desmond.

My girl is gonna be a doctor.

She already is one.
A real one,

workin' on live people.

No offence.

None taken.

It would appear
Enrico was unfaithful.

You aren't familiar with this wine?


No. It is unfamiliar,

and certainly not
something I stock.


Can you tell me anything about it?

It is an old bottle.

The label would suggest
Italian, not French.

I could tell you more
if it was the latter.

Why is that?

Sadly, to understand the lineage

of Italian wine, you have only

your nose as a guide.
Now, the French,

at least with regard
to the wines of Bordeaux,

are much easier to identify.

You are familiar

with the Grand Appellation of 1855?

I can't say that I am.

If this were French,

the label would tell you

exactly where and when
the wine was bottled.

All I can tell

from a bottle of Italian wine

is that it is...

well, Italian wine.

Well, it must be special.

If you say so.
Why do you say so?

It was opened on the occasion

of his only son's wedding.

It may not be special.

It may only have
sentimental value,

which is worthless.
Also, Detective Murdoch,

if this wine had been of note,

he certainly would have
written about it.

That Mr. Firenzo
wrote regularly

about wine in The Vine.

He was The Good Gentleman.

Certainly you have heard of him.

I'm afraid not.

The Vine is a quarterly

dedicated to the appreciation
of fine wine.

Mr. Firenzo, under the guise
of The Good Gentleman,

would pen a column which was

both entertaining and edifying.

If this wine had been of note,

he certainly would have
mentioned it.


George, I need you

to find out
where this came from.

Oh, that should be
easy enough, sir.

I think there are only three
wine merchants in the city.

No, I mean the winery.

This label is obviously a painting

of what I believe to be a winery in Italy,

but there is no other information,

save for the name Angolino.
Get yourself to the library

and see if you can find a winery
matching that name.

Sir! Right away!

George, I must say, you seem

in rather high spirits lately.
I am.

You think this is a democracy?
Now, don't say a word!

In fact, one more word out of
the pair of you, I'll fire you

quicker than Fred Spiksley
scored against the Wolves

back in '96. Now, bugger off
and make me a cup of tea.

Three sugars.

I think things are getting
back to normal, sir.

The world is in her usual orbit.


Save for Constable Jackson.

Well, I've been thinking
about that, sir, and...

I think he died doing
something that he loved,

serving a cause
that he believed in,

a cause that you and I
continue to serve.

I think he would have wanted that.

I'll be in touch
upon my return from Italy.

This is interesting.

What's that?

Enrico Firenzo was promising
the unveiling of a scandal.

"The Revealing of a Charlatan
of the Highest Order."

A bit flowery.

You're familiar
with this journal?

Well, I would guess that any
well-bred and informed...

I have many other interests
that don't include imbibing.

Of course.
Now, who is

this charlatan
that the good gentleman was

preparing to unmask?

A man by the name
of... Baron Trotter.

Oh, he's not a real baron.

No. Mr. Hatch,
the butler,

said that a Mr. Trotter was
denied access to the wedding.

Well, that makes sense,
especially if Mr. Firenzo had

accused him of creating
illegitimate wine.


Counterfeit wine, Detective Murdoch,

and according to Firenzo,
Mr. Trotter has been doing it

for years.
Right here,

in Ontario.

Wine is proof that God loves us

and wants to see us happy.
I highly doubt that.

Oh, you reject the words
of Benjamin Franklin?

Even a clever man is
capable of a bad idea.

No. Wine, like any alcohol,
is a depressant.

It hinders the mind.

But, "in wine there is truth."
Pliny the Elder.

Writers and philosophers are
seldom the best of judges,

especially when it comes to alcohol.

Well, no one less
than Louis Pasteur called wine

"the most healthful
and most hygienic of beverages."

Is it that you don't
enjoy the taste?


There he is.

(birds chirping)

Oh, I was aware of the article,

everyone was,

and it was going to ruin me.

He was telling the truth?

Of course not,
but once declared a fraud

by The Good Gentleman,
I would've been powerless

to fight the accusation.

I'd already had a number
of orders cancelled.

(horse whinnying)

Being a Canadian winemaker is
not an easy business,

and Mr. Firenzo is
intent on destroying me.

I don't think you can

speak of him
in the present tense any longer.

Mr. Firenzo is dead.

we believe.
He's dead?

Really? Dead?

Oh, that is...
the most wonderful news.

Oh, thank you!

Will his article
still be coming out?

(dramatic sound indication)

I had noth

Then why were you
at the Firenzo estate?

Mr. Hatch,
the Firenzo's butler,

told us he escorted you
off the property.

He did no such thing.
I left of my own accord.

Then why were you there?

I was there to ask him

to reconsider
publishing his column.

Oh. So, you are not a fraud?

I didn't say that.

I can create a wine

of as high a quality
as any European.

And put it
in fraudulent bottles.

No one would buy
a wine created in Ontario!

I created a fine wine

at a fraction of the cost.

And do you charge

a fraction of the price?

I charged what the market would bear.

But on my word,

I did not kill the man.

No matter how happy

I might be that he's dead.

Detective Watts,

why wasn't I asked
to help with this?

Oh, are you an aficionado
of the grape, Inspector?

Well, I don't mind
the odd tipple if there's

no scotch around. French.

Produced right here in Ontario, I'm afraid.

Mm! Some time ago, I'd wager.

That's what we are about to find out.

I'll keep hold of this.

These labels are all new.

They've simply
been bathed in tea

to create the illusion of age.

It's a common
forger's technique.

Now, this label

was aged by time alone.

Also, unlike the labels

from the bottles we obtained
from Mr. Trotter,

this label was affixed with
an adhesive no longer in use.

Current adhesives are
all rubber-based. This one... fish glue.

So the wine is as old
as Mr. Firenzo said it was.

So it would appear.
Well, then it follows

that the arsenic was added
at the time of its bottling.

Not necessarily.

This evening?
I most certainly can.

Thank you!

That was the hospital.

They want to interview me
in person.

Well, that is
the normal course of events.

Of course.
I'm just so excited!

Well, perhaps you should try not to be.

Most patients don't want an excited doctor;

they'd much prefer one
that's calm and professional.

That is exactly what I will be.

Calm and professional.

I'm gonna be a doctor!

(both giggling)

Now, it would be possible
to inject the arsenic

through a new cork,

but the old cork is

completely dried out.

It would have been very difficult.

But not impossible.
No, although

I believe your initial
assessment to be correct.

The poison was
added prior to bottling.

So... this was a lottery?

Years ago, someone poisoned
a bottle of wine

without ever knowing
who would purchase it,

but knowing they had just given
someone a death sentence.

An unsolvable crime.

Well, no crime is unsolvable.

Some simply take longer than others.

(Watts sighing)
Though there is one thing

that still confounds me.
And what's that?

The idea that counterfeit wine
exists at all.

After all, I doubt them to be

that much different,
one from the other.

They all use the same base ingredients.

Oof. You can't be serious?

I am.

Wait right there.
I'm going to show you

how wrong you are.

(indistinct speaking)


this certainly is
a progressive hospital.

That's one word for it.


Thank you for your patience.

I wonder if I could

have a word with Miss...

Rebecca James.

Of course.


I see.

You see, that is a Right Bank Bordeaux.
Its component grape is

the merlot, as opposed
to the Cabernet Sauvignon found

on the Left Bank that you drank earlier.

Do you notice the difference in sweetness?

I think so,

but can I try the Left Bank one again?


Oh, yes. The difference
is apparent, yes.

Now, this one is trickier.

A pinot noir versus a merlot.

Is that gooseberry?

More like red cherry.

"Wine can of their wits the wise beguile,

"the sage frolic

and the serious smile."


I can see it is doing just that.

Oh, my.

There we go.

(furniture rattling)



You're still awake.

That's nice.

What are you reading?

Oh, it's a new journal
about kinesiology.


Where have you been?

At work.

William... have you
been drinking?

I've been conducting

a number of scientific
experiments on alcohol.

And these experiments

involved consuming the liquid?

The results could
only be judged orally.

Julia, do you know

that there are several
different varieties of wine?

Each with its
own characteristics!

I did.

But it's not just

red and white.

Although all wine is
made from the grape,

some retains notes of tobacco

and prunes and mushrooms!

Mushrooms, if you could believe that!

Julia, do we

have any here?

Oh, ah...

I think you may have
had enough for this evening.

No, just a tipple.
I think it's time for bed.

Bed! Oh, I very much

like that idea!

William! Oh!




A drop of tomato juice,

one egg...

Ah. Maybe two eggs.

(phone ringing)

A splash of hot sauce.

Well stirred...

...and Bob's your uncle.

Right, then.
Get that down you

and you'll be as right as rain
within half an hour.

Trust me. I've been there.


So, did last night's investigations produce

anything other than a throbbing headache?


Ah, I mean yes.


We determined
that the wine was poisoned

before it was bottled,

but we may have been wrong.

Could someone remove the cork

and replace it
without damaging it?

Corkscrew leaves a hole.
Yes, it does.

But when I got on the trolley,
or maybe it was...

Doesn't matter.

I started thinking.
Of course you did.

What if someone were
able to remove

and replace the cork
without damaging it?

Could there be a device
that would enable you

to do such a thing?

Of course there is.

Have a look.
(exhaling slowly)


Two prongs...

...slide down either side

of the cork...

...enabling someone
to remove the cork

without damaging it.

Ah, so--
The same device could

then be used to replace
the cork, leaving little

or no trace at all.

So, the arsenic was

recently added to the wine.
Sirs. What's this?

Another of
Murdoch's inventions.

I just came up with it.
I've seen something

just like it.
What? Where?

Mr. Hatch, the butler.
I saw him using one.

A new invention, eh?

Looks like someone beat you
to it, me ol' mucker.

You told us you kept
this place under lock and key.

We can see very well
what you are doing.

What do you want?

We'd like you to accompany us
to the station house.

We have some things we'd like to discuss.

What things?

We believe you to have
been in possession

of a device crucial in
the poisoning of your employer.

He was more than an employer.

He was a lifelong friend.

Well, that may be, Mr. Hatch,

but we still have questions.

What are you doing with him?

Make way, Mr. Firenzo.
He did it?

He killed my father?

After all he did for you?
This is how

you repay him?
That's enough, Mr. Firenzo.

(dramatic music)

Yes. Yes, it's mine.

That concerns us,
Mr. Hatch.

As does the fact
that we found you

in the selfsame cellar
you claim never to set foot in.

I know how it looks.

I sneak down there

and pop some poison
into that bottle, yes?

That is how it looks.

The thing is, I didn't.

Then why do you own
one of these devices?

To steal wine.
That's why the thing's invented.

You expect us to believe that?

In the words of Diogenes,

"What I like to drink most is
wine that belongs to others."

Ahem. How long have you

been stealing
Mr. Firenzo's wine?

Since the beginning.

The man was kind to me

but he paid me a pittance.

So, I...

helped myself
to the occasional mouthful.

And, what? Replaced it with some malmsey?
Surely he would notice.

Firenzo thought himself an expert

but his palette was hardly without flaw.

One time, he said

an 1870 Lafite had notes of saffron.


So, you lied to the police.

A man has been murdered and you lied to us.

It was only a little lie.

I didn't want
to tell you I'd been, uh...


So, you know
Firenzo's cellar.

What can you tell us
about this bottle?

Yes, I recognize it.

He'd had it for some time.

How long?
I don't know precisely.

You see, the current house
is only 40 years old.

Before that,
Mr. Firenzo's cellar was

only a few crates stacked up
on a dirt floor.

But it's at least 40 years old.

Yes. It was there
from the beginning.

You know, I'd, ah...

I'd considered tasting it
myself many times,

but I could never
discern its provenance.

Imagine if I had!


(rapid footsteps)

Professor Ferguson said
he told them about me.

Well, you should've
seen the man's face

when he saw what colour I was.

Rebecca, I'm so sorry.

The man had the gall
to tell me that my presence

might upset the other patients.

What was his name?

I know people at Queen of Mercy,
I'll talk to someone.

You know that won't
change a thing.

The doctors there are
more likely to share his view

than yours.

You can stay here.

I'll bring you on full time.

I suppose our patients
won't mind my presence.

But no.

Thank you all the same,
Dr. Ogden.

It's important work
we do here, Rebecca.

Even though our patients may be dead,

our work saves lives.

I know...

but it's my dream to work
with people face to face;

to help ordinary people,
people who need me,

people I'll know
for the rest of our lives.


Once more, the inebriated mind
proves its worth.

"Wine makes a man
mistake words for thoughts."

Who said that?
Samuel Johnson.

Johnson, really?

I swear Boswell labelled him a drinker.

Perhaps he was
more of an ale man.

At any rate, we are no further
ahead than we were last night.

Now, hold on, Murdoch.
Just because that butler says

he didn't do it,
doesn't mean he didn't do it.

Yes, but we have no proof.

At least the butler confirmed
the age of the bottle.

But we still don't
know its provenance,

nor can we say with any certainty
when it was poisoned.

Sirs, I hate to be
the bearer of bad news,

but I'm not convinced this wine
is what it pretends to be.

Why do you say that, George?

Sir, I've been through
the catalogue of every

wine enthusiast in this city.
I've examined thousands of bottles of wine.

I've read through lists of hundreds
of wineries. I've even telegraphed

with experts in Italy.
Alright, Crabtree.

No need to relive
every heart-stopping moment.

Sir, my point is
as far as I can tell,

Angolino wine doesn't exist.

So, it's a fake.
I believe so.

A new wine masquerading
in an old bottle

makes sense
for the murder, but--

But the butler claimed
that it's been in his cellar

at least 40 years.
Could he be lying?

I don't see what he could
stand to gain from it.

He's lied to us before.
Perhaps he's hiding something.

I have an idea.

I believe there is a way

to determine the age
of the liquid inside the bottle.

I had the identical thought,

Detective, and I know
just the man.


Someone who can
unlock the truths that lurk

in the depths of the bottle.
I don't believe that will

be necessary,
nor will it be reliable.

I intend to prove it scientifically.



Spectroscopic analysis.
Ah, yes.

Not reliable in my experience.

How's it meant to help us?

By comparing
the wine in question

to the light profile
of other wines of varying ages,

we'll be able to discern
precisely how old it is.

The older the wine, presumably
the lighter the colour,

thanks to the blanching
effect of sunlight.

But it was kept in a cellar.

Depending on conditions,
two bottles of the same

provenance could be wildly different.

There's absolutely no way to determine--

Thank you, Detective.



(fast-paced piano music)

It's a four point three.

It's a five point two.

Eight point five.


...they are all different.

Every grape,

every year, every bottle.
You don't say.

It compares to an 1880 merlot,

a 1902 tempranillo and...

several others.

I suppose you told us so,


Call in your expert.

Ah, not my expert.

My sommelier.



May I introduce Jean Michel LaRoche Couture III.

Le vin, s'il vous plaît.
Mon temps est précieux.

Ainsi que le mien,
Monsieur Couture.

Ne le gaspillons pas.

I see you know the language,
but not the wine.

How do we know you'll be able

to determine the vintage?

Were you the same
at 13 as you were at 30?

Just as a man changes over time,

so too does a wine.

And you can see these changes
at a mere glance?

Well, this eye has decades
of training, Detective.

This is the finest eye
in North America;

one of the finest in the world.

This is the wine in question.

Oh, my.

It's quite old.

45 years if it's a day.


So 1860 then?

If only an eye test could
establish provenance.

That's not a problem.
I can tell you what it is

from a small taste.
No. No. No.

This wine has been
laced with arsenic.

Oh, my. That will
make it difficult.

Some of the subtleties
may be overshadowed

by the adulterant.

This is a fox grape.

Catawba, I would venture,

but as I say, the subtleties
may be obscured.

So where is Catawba grown?

Catawba is from right here.

This wine is not from Italy,
it's from Ontario.

(dramatic music)

There are over 35 wineries

but only one of them goes
back as far as 1860.

Barker Family Wines and Spirits.

"Barker Wine."
Lacks a certain je ne sais quoi.

Does Barker use fox grapes?

Well, sir, as I understand it,
nearly all indigenous grapes

are fox grapes, but the variety
in question, Catawba,

only grow
in certain soil conditions,

such as the area
around the Firenzo estate.

So the vintner
could be local, then.

Well, that makes sense.
A neighbour, a friend.

Someone he knew who had intended

to kill him back in 1860.

Except none of
the Catawba-growing wineries

go back that far.
Well, perhaps it's one

that existed then
but doesn't now.

I'll go to City Records
and get any files that
might be of interest.

But we can comb through them
back here, Constable.

No. Let's meet halfway.

Café Lorraine. This is work
to be done over a glass

of fine red. Ah...

I'd invite you to join us,
Detective, but...

well, perhaps it's best
you stay on the watercart.

I love you
for not giving up, Rebecca.


I'm just wonderin'
how long you're plannin'

on not givin' up for.

You don't think I'll succeed?
I know you will!

But even Rebecca James can't
change the world overnight.

Well, I don't care
how long it takes!

I'll be a doctor
even if I have to wait

for the whole world
to catch up.

Alright then.
In the meantime,

I'll stay on at the morgue.
No, you won't.

We can make do on my wage.
I want you spending

every waking hour going after
what you're going after.

Now, what we really need is
for all them white doctors

to disappear,
just for one day.

Once people give Doctor Rebecca James a try,

they'd never let another doctor
see them the rest of their lives.

How would you know?
You won't even

let me take a look at that cut
you got on your elbow.

This little scratch?
Oh, come on, girl.

(birds chirping)

Murdoch, we found it!

Murdoch! We... oh!
Sorry, sir. I'm not drunk.

Oh, really?
We had a few.

Just speak for yourself.
I had half a glass.

Well, two half a glasses.

May I ask exactly what it is
you two have found?

Look here.

Business license application
for a winery.

Filed in 1859.

All the details line up, sir.
It's the right region

for Catawba.
Who is the owner?

the form is incomplete.

It's blank.

There's one intriguing detail,
though, sir. Have a look

at where the address is.
Avalon Road.

Where is that?

Steady, Crabtree!

The Avalon Road,
sir, is now known

as Rural Road 2,
and it intersects
with this laneway.

On which sits
the Firenzo estate.

So the winery is
right around the corner.

A neighbour. Shall we?

Oy, Crabtree!

Where do you think
you're going?

Well, sir, we're off to...

This is my favourite part.
We're off to catch the culprit.

I mean, there might
be a chase or a...

a tearful,
heartfelt confession.

You're not going anywhere.
What? Sir, perhaps

I deserve to be punished for
drinking on the job, but I hope

you will consider that it was
Detective Watts' idea.

You're not about to
be punished. Sit down.

I need someone
to help me kill this bottle.

Awful business, drinking alone.


From here, you can
see the neighbouring lot.

There is nothing here,

certainly no winery.
What about in 1860?

Do you recall?
I married Enrico in 1864.

There was nothing here
back then.

The map.
Did you bring the map?

In the carriage.

Mrs. Firenzo,

if this is Avalon Road,
what's this building here?

Our home, surely.

This is our estate.

Begging your pardon,
but your home is located

much further west
along Avalon Road. Here.

Oh, of course.

This map was made
before the new house was built.

The old house was
in the east end of the property.

So... none of this was here.

(dramatic sound indication)

This is it. The label.

The image on the bottle.

What? Impossible.

Look. In 1860,

the home was located much
further along Avalon Road.

When he built the new house,
the address changed.

The Firenzo estate is the vineyard.

The wine was made here!
So, it was special

because he made it himself.
But what can that mean?
He made a batch of wine,

forgot he poisoned a bottle,
and drank it?

Not something you'd
be likely to forget.

This doesn't make any sense.

My husband never made any wine.

No. You didn't know him then.
This was four years

before you married.
Who knew him back then?

Likely someone
who was close to him.

Someone close to the wine.

Detective, I believe we have

the identical thought.

I told you,
I didn't kill the old boy.

Well, someone did, and
that someone knew him in 1860.

If not you, who?

1860? Most of the people
who knew him

back then are
probably dead by now.


(birds chirping)

Oh! Good afternoon, gentlemen.

I suppose you're here
to take me away?

You know why we're here?

Of course.
You poisoned your brother.


He and I were partners...

but it was me
who poured my heart and soul

into our business,
into our wine.

Enrico took one sip
and he spat it out.

He said, "No one would
ever drink this!"

You were going to
pass it off as Italian.
I tried to tell him that we

could use the profits to make
a better wine the next year.

But he wouldn't listen.

He drained every single cask.

I was left with nothing!

Well, not quite nothing.
You had a bottle.

Mr. Firenzo, you realize...

we are going
to have to arrest you.

Of course...

but allow me a drink?
No! Wait!

Don't worry, Detective.

The second bottle was
never poisoned.

In fact,

it has aged quite nicely.
Would you like a taste?

That's quite enough, Mr. Firenzo.

You're coming with us.


You see?

All we needed was time.

Not half bad.

As I'm sure you've guessed
I have good news to announce.

I've taken a position as a physician.

That's so wonderful!
What hospital?

No hospital.

In fact, Nate and I are leaving
the city altogether.

Oh. I'm sorry to hear that,
Miss James.

Doctor James!
Quite right.

Doctor James.
Where will you be going?

Well, it was Nate's idea.
If the city of Toronto

doesn't need a doctor,
I'll go somewhere that does.

I have cousins in Chatham.

They're always short of physicians.

When she telephoned
to suggest it, they all almost

lost their heads!
Congratulations, Doctor.

Thank you, Constable.
I have to admit

my disappointment. It felt like
things were just getting back

to normal, and now we're
losing a colleague.

You've acquitted yourself
admirably these last two years.

The morgue won't
be the same without you.

The inspector is quite right.

Perhaps we'll call on you
if we ever find ourselves

short of an investigator.

There's always a place for you here.

I couldn't have done any
of this without you, Julia.

That's not true. It may have
taken you longer without

my help, but you were always
going to be a doctor, Rebecca.

Thank you.

To Doctor James.
Here, here.

Here, here.

I must admit,

I'm happy to have another
wine drinker in the house.

Oh, no! You've gone off it already?

In the words of Shelley,
"I have drunken deep

of joy and will taste
no other wine tonight."

What is that supposed to mean?

I believe it means,
who needs wine

when you have joy
in your life?

Shelley killed himself
before the age of 30,

or so it's been said!
It was also said

that he was a great lover.

William, the wine! The wine!

Oh, I don't mind.

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