Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 11, Episode 5 - Dr. Osler Regrets - full transcript

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

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.

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.

If hormones regulate the
activity and the growth

of the pancreas, 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

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.
- Not if I can get through you.

- 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?

SETTE inc.