Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 2, Episode 13 - Anything You Can Do - full transcript

A Canadian Mountie from British Columbia insinuates himself into a Toronto homicide because he believes it is related to another case, much to Murdoch's chagrin.

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Murdoch Mysteries S02E13

What on earth
are you doing here

in British Columbia, Father?

I understand how you might --

you might have a few questions for me.

A few questions?

You bet I have a few.

If you give me a moment here,

I'll do my best to come up
with an explanation.


Ow! Oh! Oh!

I believe an explanation
is in order,

but now might not be
the best time.

Why are they shooting at me?
It's got to be your fault.

My fault?

If it wasn't for you,

I never would have considered
coming out here for one moment.

That's not precisely true.

I believe your commitment
to the murder investigation

was an equally important factor.

Was it, now?

- Morning, sir.
- Morning, George.

This one appears to be
an accident.

I wouldn't have called for you at all,

except you've been requested
by name.

By whom?

I haven't met the chap.
Higgins has.

Well, whoever he is,

he'll have to wait
until I see the victim.

Do we have a name?

Humphrey Breen.
He's a geologist.


Also seems to be
an avid butterfly collector.

Spicebush swallowtail.
Extremely rare.

Well, it would appear
he fell out of the window

while capturing it, sir.



I've been ordered not to let anything
be disturbed.

On whose authority, Henry?

Thank you so much for these
very keen observations.

We greatly appreciate the aid

of an informed
and conscientious citizenry.

Ah, Detective Murdoch,
I presume.

Yes, I am.

And who might you be?

Sergeant Jasper Linney,
of the Northwest Mounted Police,

at your service.

What exactly are you doing?

the victim's neighbors.

And I shall be happy to share
my interview notes with you

in due time.

But first we must learn
what we can from the body.


There is no "we."

The Northwest Mounted Police
has no jurisdiction here.

Now, I must insist on
an explanation immediately.

The victim
is alleged to have fallen

from the third-story window --

An explanation
as to what you're doing here

and why you've inserted yourself
in this case.

Of course.

I am investigating a murder.

A murder?

Where? When?

Six days ago, in Chilliwack Landing,
British Columbia.

- British Columbia?
- Yes.

And you believe this death
in British Columbia

to somehow be related
to Mr. Breen's?

I do.

I see.

Sergeant, I must insist
that you terminate

your interference in this investigation

and keep yourself available
for questioning.

Of course.

And I shall be requiring
your presence

for interviewing as well,
Detective Murdoch.

I believe the shooter

is approximately 30 yards
away from us to the southwest.

The shooters -- And there are
at least three of them --

are approximately 45 yards
from here to the southeast.

For Christ's sakes,
they're shooting at the front.

We got to go out the back.

Okay, boys, there she is.

All right.


Well, geniuses, it looks like
we got four shooters

out there now, doesn't it?

And they all want us dead.


I'm deadly with a gun.

Give us one.

My sidearm is our entire arsenal,
I'm afraid.

Didn't you bring a gun?

What kind of copper are you?

In Toronto, police detectives
do not carry sidearms.

Further, I use my powers
of deduction to solve crime.

Well, it's too bad you didn't think
to bring a gun.

Might I suggest you try thinking
of something more productive?

Perhaps a way
of evening the odds?

You know what? I was poking around
in the mining office.

They got explosives in there.


That might give us
a fighting chance, huh?

If they're still good.

Who knows how old they are?

What are you doing?

Gonna stick a fork in them?

Oh, he was like that
the whole way from Toronto.

Yeah, you're daydreaming,
aren't you?

You were like that
as a little fella.

It's like he's thinking of something,
or perhaps someone,

other than this case.


Thank you for an absolutely
exhilarating experience.

Oh, it was truly my pleasure.

Shall we do it again later?

That would be wonderful.

Until then.

What do you have for me, Detective,
on this glorious day?

A fall
from a third-story window.

The result of an apparent
overzealous attempt

at capturing a butterfly.

An accident?

I assure you
this was no accident.

Sergeant Jasper Linney, ma'am,
at your service.

Dr. Julia Ogden.

And why do you think
this man was murdered?

There is no evidence
that this was a murder.

There's no signs
of breaking and entering.

No footprints inside or out.

And the victim's housekeeper

insists that nothing
was disturbed.

And yet I must insist
that you treat Mr. Breen

as the victim
of a heinous crime.

Based on what?

The other victim.

There's another victim?

What are you talking about?

The spicebush swallowtail.

It was also murdered.

I believe I can make everything
abundantly clear.

It all began with the death
of Uriah Doakes

in British Columbia.

Mr. Doakes was last seen in the company
of Mr. Humphrey Breen.

An assayer, Mr. Doakes
was hired by Mr. Breen,

most likely to evaluate
an ore sample.

And how exactly did
Mr. Doakes die, Sergeant?


That is where matters
become extremely interesting.

I have here
the coroner's report.

If you will.

Mr. Doakes was drunk,

unfortunately passed out
on rail road tracks.

Another untimely death.

But accidental, it would seem.

Ah, but you see,

Mr. Doakes, he hadn't touched
a drop in years.

A moment of weakness, perhaps.


But based on rigor mortis,
I suspect he was dead

even before he found himself
on those train tracks.

There's nothing about that
in this report.

I base that assumption
on my personal examination

of Mr. Doakes' left arm
at the crime scene.

His left arm?
Sergeant, why his left arm?

Because that was the largest part
of Mr. Doakes still intact.

Well, that is
extremely interesting.

Mr. Doakes' arm was encased
in part of a jacket.

In a pocket was a business card

with the name and address
of a Toronto policeman.

A Detective William Murdoch.

I've never met this man before.

Nevertheless, sir,
he did have your card,

and that is also
extremely interesting.

Thank you, George.

So, based on this, you decided to travel
all the way to Toronto

to investigate?

I have made a pledge of honor
to myself.

When a crime is committed,
I will always get my man.

- Murdoch.
- Inspector.

A word.

I've just had a quick chat

with Sergeant Linney's
commanding officer.

He requested that we extend him
every courtesy

while we look
into Breen's death.

Sir, I will do my best
to cooperate with the sergeant,

but he must remember that he is
in our jurisdiction.

I'm sure I can count on you
to remind him of that.

Yes, you can, sir.

And he also said
that while it's bloody annoying,

the man is almost never wrong.

I can't imagine having to put up
with this kind of behavior

on a regular basis.

Yet somehow I can.


I've been thinking
about Sergeant Linney's statement

that he "always gets his man."

It has a nice ring to it.

I think that could make
a catchy slogan

for us here at Station Four.

I don't think so, George.

But, sir,
we do always get our man.

Yes, but we don't feel the need
to boast about it.

Where is Sergeant Linney?

He's off to the morgue, sir.

The morgue.

Yes, he wanted to see
if he could be of assistance

to Dr. Ogden.

Of course he did.

Inspector, does Sergeant Linney

remind you of anybody
in particular?

Yes, he does.

Disturbingly so.

So, you agree with my suspicion?

To the untrained eye,

there's no indication that
a crime has been committed.

Oh, Detective, do join us.

You'll be interested to know
I've ascertained

that one of our victims
was murdered.

Is there
the slightest possibility

it's Mr. Breen?

There is a tiny indentation

where the butterfly's thorax
has been pinched.

Sergeant Linney explained
it's a method used by collectors

to stun their specimens.

So there will be
no visible damage

when the creature
is put on display.

Yes, I'm familiar
with the practice.

Well, I knew there was
something amiss

when I smelled bitter almonds,

suggesting poisoning
by potassium cyanide.

Now, just a moment.
Mr. Breen had no such odor.

And further, he would have been
reddish in color --

Sergeant Linney was referring
to the butterfly, not Mr. Breen.

Lepidopterists often use
potassium cyanide

in crystalline form

in the bottom
of butterfly killing jars.

Actually, they pour water
over the crystals

through plaster of Paris,

releasing cyanide gas
which kills the butterflies.

Regardless, gentlemen,

how often does a collector
have the good fortune

of capturing a butterfly
that's already dead?

So Mr. Breen is pushed
out of the window, then?

And the butterfly planted
in the net to allay our suspicion.

So I should continue
my examination of Mr. Breen.

Well, I look forward
to your results, Doctor.

- Good day.
- Good day.

Is there something else, Detective?

Yes, there is.

I was hoping to discuss
a certain matter with you.

Of course.

The topic
is of a personal nature.

I see.

Perhaps you should consider consulting
Mrs. Jones.

That's part of what
I wanted to discuss.


Ah, Julia.
Ah, Murdoch.

Mr. Poundsett.

I do hope I'm not intruding.

No, not at all.

I was just leaving.

Perhaps we could continue this
at another time?

Yes, of course.

Humphrey was passionate
about his butterflies.

I suppose if he had to die,

that's the way
he'd have chosen to go.

But why in the world are the police
looking into his death?

I'm investigating
the possibility of foul play.

I was wondering
if you might know of anyone

wishing to cause him harm.

No, no one.

He certainly
never spoke of anything

that one might interpret
that way.

Do you know a Mr. Uriah Doakes?

Doakes, the assayer.

Does he have something to do with this?

He was killed shortly after meeting
with Mr. Breen.

Have you any idea
why the two might have met?

Of course.

Humphrey hired Doakes to do
an independent assessment

of an ore sample.

Ah, and this ore sample,
what can you tell us about it?

It was for Arkona Mines.

A sample from their operation
in Pringle Creek.

Was there anything unusual
about this ore sample?

Not to my knowledge.

In fact, it was so ordinary

that Humphrey didn't even bother
reporting the details

when he returned.

So, we have two men
killed mysteriously.

Linked by an ore sample.

That is apparently
of little significance.

I don't care what you say.
We don't have any rats,

and I won't be tricked
into paying for something

we don't even need.
Now, off with you!

May I be of assistance, madam?

I don't need you sticking
your nose in

where it doesn't belong.

Yes, well,
where were we, Detective?

Two men linked by an ore sample.

And where there are ore samples,
there's often...

Big money.

Trust me, that's where this case
is gonna lead us.

However, these ore samples
were apparently of little value.

Or so this Vanderlay says.

It would speak to motive.

What else have we got to go on?

The killer's modus operandi.

Well-staged, well-researched.

Murder with a personal touch.

The murderer's enjoying himself.

I suppose.

This is starting to remind me
of something.

I'm going to make
a few inquiries.

And if I'm right, this case
just got a lot more dangerous,

me old mucker.

What are you doing
with that junk?

You said to come up with a plan.

What are you suggesting?

You gonna invite them to dinner?

Is that aluminium?


It's a new metal
revolutionizing manufacturing.

But more importantly,
it's the self-contained

exothermic chemical reaction
that's possible

when it's combined
with an oxidizer.

Potassium perchlorate.

We'll need to file down
the aluminium somehow.

The livery.

If there are any tools
to be found here,

that would be the place.


Oh, you'll be shot dead
as soon as you go out that door.

I'll go first.

No, I'll go first.

Give me that.

Let's go!

Hurry up, Harry!


I thought you said
you could handle a gun.

I might need eyeglasses.

Well, it's an ideal time
to discover that.

All right, ready?


Hurry! Hurry!

- Go! Go!
- Come on!

Get down!

Let's go, boys!

Wait! Harry!


Everyone all right?

Fine, fine.

Can you find a rasp?

I got two.

Harry, get down!

Here, Harry.

Start filing down the aluminium.

You don't need eyeglasses
for that.

Wait, wait.

Use this to catch it all in.

It's awful quiet out there.

They're probably taking up
new positions.

You poor fellas.

I feel sorry for you, though.

You must feel like
perfect fools, huh?

Why is that?

Leading those cutthroats here.

Perhaps it wasn't us
who led the cutthroats here.

I hope you don't think
it was me.

Now, look here,

we've traveled halfway
across this country

to investigate a crime.

And who just happens to be
right in the middle of things

when the shooting starts?

Oh, poor fella.
You still don't trust me, do ya?

All right,
what are you doing here, Harry?

Uriah Doakes.

You knew him?

Oh, yeah, I knew him
from the old days.

And then I run into him in a bar
in Chilliwack Landing.

He was drinking?

No. A sarsaparilla.

What's the matter with that?

Uriah gave me a hot tip.

He told me
that Arkona Mining Operation,

they were going to be buying up land
around Pringle Creek.

And, boy, I thought to myself,

"Oh, that's a chance to get in
at the beginning.

And make myself a dollar."

Poor old Doakes.

I guess he didn't know
what he was getting into.

I'm sorry, gentlemen.

I've never heard
of any Uriah Doakes.

Should I know him?

He was hired by Mr. Breen to evaluate
an Arkona ore sample.

We're a very large operation, Detective.

Forgive me if I don't remember
everyone we employ.

Am I to understand you are unaware
of an assessment

by Mr. Doakes regarding
your mine in Pringle Creek?

Yes, that's right.

Now, why are you asking me
all these questions?

Mr. Fremont,
we have reason to believe

that both men were murdered

and their deaths
made to appear as accidents.

Have you any idea why someone might want
to harm Mr. Doakes?

As I said,
I didn't know the man.

What about Mr. Breen?

He was a fine geologist
and a convivial lunch companion.

His firm had investigated
several promising sites for us

over the years,

but beyond that,
I have no knowledge of him.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

And you have
some basis, no doubt,

on which to suspect Mr. Fremont?

Of course,
it's not hard science,

but I have observed that people
frequently look to the left

when they are telling a lie.

And I have frequently observed
that people look to the left

when that is the direction
they are going in.

Do you notice something
oddly similar with those two?

Now that you mention it.

Fascinating, Detective.

Ah, George.

I need you to find out
everything you can

about an Arkona Mining operation

in the interior
of British Columbia.

Specifically, Pringle Creek.

Yes, sir.

A souvenir from childhood?

My father sailed around
Cape Horn on a ship like that

when he was a young man.

This was his.

Is he no longer with you?

In a manner of speaking.

My mother raised me on her own.

In fact, I only just met
my father for the first time

a few months ago.

Sergeant, might we return
to the issue at hand?

Yes, of course.

Have you found something?

On the contrary.

There doesn't seem to be
a Pringle Creek anywhere

on this map of British Columbia.

Perhaps if I take a look.

Does discussing personal matters
make you uncomfortable?

No, it does not.

You didn't glance to the left.

No, I didn't.

Well, then, I shall consider you

a statistical anomaly, Detective.

But it appears you are correct.

It is nowhere on this map.

Perhaps Pringle Creek
is like Germelshausen.

The mythical town
from the Friedrich Gerst?cker novel

that only appears
for one day every century.

Gentlemen, while you've been discussing
fairy tales,

I've managed to find
a real clue.

I've just had confirmation
that Alexander Wilfritz

is back in Canada

after plying his trade in the States
these last few years.

What trade would that be?

Killer for hire.

Goes by the name
of "Accidental Al."

Because he's a bloody artist

at making his murders
look like accidents.

He's as dangerous as they come,

and he's also
a master of disguise.

Disguise, you say.

Poses as a tradesman

to get close to his victim.

I don't care what you say.

There are no rats here,
and I won't be tricked

into paying for something
we don't need.

Now, off with you!

As I recall, his mustache
was thinner, his hair longer,

and it was brown not black.

I disagree.
I am certain of my observations.

As I am equally certain of mine.

- The rat catcher.
- The rat catcher.

The rat catcher?

Mr. Vanderlay.

It appears we're too late.

"The Collected Works
of William Topaz McGonagall."

It seems our Mr. Vanderlay
had terrible taste in poetry.

I suspect the cause of death
is nonpenetrating trauma.

- Any signs of a struggle?
- No.

But I'll know more
after the postmortem, of course.

Oh, he was reading McGonagall?

Oh, dear.

I know.

Those ridiculous verses
on railway bridges.

What a dreadful way to die.

Might I bring our attention
back to Mr. Vanderlay?

Is there anything suggesting foul play?

Well, it is highly unlikely

that anyone
would voluntarily reach

for a volume of McGonagall.

Suggesting he was killed,

then the book
was placed in his hand.

I suspect that would be
difficult to prove

in a court of law.

But it does, once again,
suggest the work of Accidental Al.

I don't care
what they call him back east.

If that Al gets ahold of us,

he ain't gonna bother
to make it look accidental.


That should be more than enough
aluminum filings.

Now, you're sure
that there are explosives

in that mining office?

Sure as shootin'.

My eyesight ain't that bad.


perhaps I should provide cover
this time.




Oh, William!
Boy, are you alive?

I believe I am.

Boy, you gave me a fright!

Where were you hit?

Well, Byron and Shelley.

Never underestimate the value
of a good book.

Blasting caps.

Blasting caps?

Why not some dynamite?

Blasting caps
contain potassium perchlorate.

Oh, I hope you know
what you're talking about.

Blasting caps.

Ah, what luck!

The bullet stopped
on the chapter

dealing with values,
themes, and symbols.

It's the best part,

as I'm sure
Dr. Ogden would agree.

I concur with you about Byron,
of course.

Such stirring depth
and darkness.

But I must tell you, Sergeant,
my heart belongs to Shelley.

"Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!

Bird thou never wert,
that from Heaven, or near it..."

"Pourest thy full heart

with profuse strains
of unpremeditated art."

Oh, hello, Detective.

have you information for me?

Indeed, I do.

It appears Sergeant Linney and I
share an affinity

for the poets
of the Romantic era.

What kind of poetry
do you prefer, Detective?

I have a fondness for poets
from the post-Restoration period.

Thank you.

Now, might we discuss
the victim?

Yes, of course.

As I suspected,

there's a nonpenetrating rupture
of the myocardium.

So we know how he died.

Yes, but there was something
I discovered earlier.

Both his eardrums
were perforated.

Tae Kwon what?

Tae Kwon Do.

And you can knock a man senseless
by using this?

It's one of a number
of mysterious defensive techniques

from the Far East.

Sounds a bit dodgy to me.

Ah, I myself have seen men
trained in the art

render an opponent unconscious

simply by simultaneously boxing
both ears.

I suppose Accidental Al
is quite capable

of picking up
a little trick like that.

The effect may only last
for approximately 30 seconds,

but that's more than enough time

to place Mr. Vanderlay's body
in a position

to drop the bookcase on him.

So, our three victims,

all connected by an ore sample

and all killed
by a professional assassin.

And you don't bring in
the likes of Accidental Al

unless the stakes are very high.

Arkona are running a swindle, gentlemen.

I can smell it.

- My...
- My suspicions exactly.

The problem is proving it.

Constable Crabtree, can you shed
some light on this matter?


May I?


If I may draw your attention
to the blackboard...

Don't push it, bugalugs.


Actually, all I've been able
to ascertain is that Arkona Mines

a sizable portion of land

in the interior
of British Columbia.

Land which encircles a small waterway
known as Pringle Creek.

Explaining why
you couldn't find a town

by that name.

So, if there is a swindle,

we have nothing concrete
tying Arkona Mines to it.

What's worse
is we still can't prove

that Fremont
commissioned the murders.

And Accidental Al
is still on the loose.

Gentlemen, our only concrete clue
is Pringle Creek

and whatever is going on there.

I shall depart immediately
and investigate myself.

Sergeant, be careful.

They've killed three times already.

I will, Inspector.

Would you like a drink
before you go?

I'm afraid I don't indulge.

Yes, well,
somehow I'm not surprised.

Sir, there is one other thing.

I have a list of everyone

who's recently purchased
a land claim near Pringle Creek.

No doubt having gotten wind
of Arkona's plan to invest there.

No doubt planning to sell those claims
for a profit.

My suspicions as well.

Sir, there's one name
on the list

that may be
of particular interest to you.

Sir, I believe I should accompany
Sergeant Linney.

It's his jurisdiction, Murdoch,
not yours.

I understand that.

But new information
has surfaced.

And that's what?

My father's name has turned up

on a list of Pringle Creek
land claims.

And you think the old boy's
in trouble?


Or worse,
he's involved in the swindle.

Get on the next train
with Linney.

But remember, this isn't just about
your father, Murdoch.

There are murders to solve.

Thank you, sir.
I will.

Oh, and what about Mr. Fremont?

You leave Fremont to me.

Dr. Ogden?

It's been a pleasure, Constable.


Constable, been a pleasure.

George, I need you to look
into something for me

while I'm gone.

Of course, sir.

I need you to find out
whatever you can

about a Mr. Reginald Poundsett.

Oh, a personal request,
huh, sir?

You're right, George.

I'm sorry.
I never should have asked.

Oh, no, sir, don't give it
a second thought.

In fact, if you'd like,
I could have some of the lads

suggest to him there's more than one way
to visit the morgue.

Oh, that won't be necessary.

A simple inquiry into his background
will suffice.

All I'm saying, sir,
is he needn't stay that pretty.


Appears to be deserted.

Doesn't look like anyone's lived here
for quite some time.

There's no way the ore sample
Uriah Doakes tested

came from this mine.


So, Arkona Mines buys up land,
dirt cheap no doubt,

and suddenly, they're testing
ore samples for gold.

And should they
suddenly find it...

The land's value
would skyrocket.

Investors buy in.

But, as we know, there is
no gold in Pringle Creek.

investors get the bad news

that the mine's vein
has dried up.

Everyone loses but Arkona.

So, that is how
the swindle works.

One question remains.

How do we prove it?

Make one move and I'll whack ya!

- Dad!
- Dad!



Did you just...

Call him dad, yes, I did.

I definitely could use a drink.

I have been waiting here
for one hour, Inspector.

And I do appreciate that,
Mr. Fremont.

Your patience is commendable.

Why am I still here?

I've already told your Detective Murdoch
everything I know.

You're here because I've seen
quite a few mining scams.

Innocent people losing
their life savings.

And I don't like it
one little bit.

Arkona is a reputable company.

We have holdings
on three continents.

I'm only interested
in one holding.

Pringle Creek.

What of it?

I think you've got a con
going on.

Big gold find
mysteriously goes dry.

Investors lose everything.

And to keep matters secret,

you kill the three men
that could expose you.

- That's absurd.
- Is it?

For your information,
Arkona have determined

that the Pringle Creek operation

has no chance
of being profitable.

Have they, now?

we have curtailed all attempts

to acquire investors.

Whatever losses were incurred
will be refunded,

so, you see, Inspector,
there are no victims here.

Simply three tragic accidents.

Am I free to go?

Thank you.

So, Fremont just walks away?

All part of a larger plan.

A plan, sir?

Crabtree, Murdoch isn't the only one
around here

who can think like Murdoch, eh?

If you say so, sir.

This father you met
just a few months ago, was it...


And what name did he give you?

Harry Smith.

Smith, eh?
How original.

I understand how you might --

you might have a few questions for me.

Now, if you give me
a moment here,

I'll do my best to come up
with an explanation.


Ow! Oh! Oh!

Whoa! Jesus!

I believe an explanation
is in order,

but now might not be
the best time.

Why are they shooting at me?

It's got to be your fault.

My fault?

If it wasn't for you,

I never would have considered
coming out here for one moment.

Whatever you're doing, boys,
be quick about it.

The sun sets,
they'll make their move.

That's precisely
what we're counting on.

Ah, perfect.

As policemen,
I believe the marshal's office

is a perfect place
for a last stand.

If we make it there alive.

Go! Go!

Let's go.


Think they bought it?

We'll soon find out.

This will work.

What are you talking about?

We're about to even the odds.


By letting them
make the first move.

While we wait,
perhaps there's a little something

you'd like to explain to us.

Yes, yes, I been looking forward

to having a little talk
with you boys.

In my younger days,
I was a bit of the seaman.

I sailed...

Sailed around Cape Horn.

Yes, we know.
Please continue.

Five times.
Shipwrecked seven.

By then, I'd had my fill
of the seafaring life.

I put in at Vancouver.

Wonderful town.

I thought, "it's a good town
to make a fresh start."

So I changed my name.

To Harry Smith.


And then I met Jasper's mother,
Lucinda Linney.

Remarkable woman.

Lucinda was an unusual woman
with unusual ideas.

She had no regard
for the legal bond.

Making it that much easier
for you to abandon them.

I didn't abandon her.

No, she abandoned me.

I didn't know
that she was with child.

I had no idea
that Jasper existed

until he was a grown man.

Is this true?

It is.

So, William,

once you and I reached
our little understanding,

I thought, "I've got to take myself
to Vancouver

and make things right
with Jasper."

Then I thought,
"I've got to make some money

so that I can feel worthy
of being his father."

You don't honestly expect me to believe
that last part, do you?

You were right
about the looking left.

I told you.

Inspector, I shall not tolerate
another interrogation.

All further questions should be directed
to my counsel.

Mr. Fremont,
three people have been murdered.

Two of them
were in my jurisdiction.

I'm here to make sure
there's not going to be another.

What are you talking about?

Well, it would be
a dereliction of my duty

if I didn't warn you.

Warn me?
Of what?

Not what.

Accidental Al.

When he finds out
the police are onto him,

he's gonna do
what he always does.

Clean up any loose ends.

You didn't know that, did ya?

It's Al's trademark.

The only person
who can point the finger at him

is the bloke who hired him.

And we both know
who's next in line

to have a little accident,
don't we?

I've heard quite enough, Inspector.

Yes, I'm sure you have.

He picked up the phone
as soon as you left.

I'll bet he did.

It's me, Fremont.

I have a problem
that we need to take care of.

Can't Wilfritz handle it?

No, he can't handle the problem.

He is the problem.

Got him.

While you're still
in a truthful mood, Harry.

Perhaps you can tell us
why you're really here.

I told you.
Uriah Doakes.

He gave me a hot tip
on Pringle Creek.

But something was wrong?

He came to see me,

and he told me
there was something fishy

about the Pringle Creek
land deal.

He told me about
a Toronto mining company

that wasn't on the up-and-up.

He said he was going to the police
about the matter.

So you gave him my card.

I did.

And then, Uriah's dead.

Broke my heart.

He was a good man, Uriah.

I felt I owed it to him
to look into the matter.

And that's how I ended up here.

How many of these have you got?

You know what to do.

Oh, this is too clean.
They'll never believe it.

Son, know your audience.

You out there!

My sons are dying in here.


Just let me bury them in peace!

Sun goes down,
they'll shoot this place full of holes.

Let's hope this works.

Aah! Aah!

- I can't see!
- I'm blind!

I can't hear anything!

Right this way, gentlemen.

Easy does it!
There we go!

So, you call that a grenade?

Derived from
the word "pomegranate,"

because of the shape.

Based on the Byzantine concept
dating back to the 8th century.

Of course, ours looked nothing
like a pomegranate.

Nor did it explode violently.
Rather, it was intended to stun.

The idea deriving from

a Tae Kwon Do-like
martial-arts blow.

Which disrupts
the inner ear's...

Now, boys, boys,
I'm not a scientist.

- Sorry.
- Sorry.

Fellas, this has been
one hell of a family reunion.

That it has.


So, what will you do now?

Oh, I thought
I'd stay on awhile.

Help young Jasper
put his life in order.

Sounds like a fine idea.


If he gives you any trouble, arrest him.

It's worked well in the past.




I suppose there is much
that we could talk about.

I suppose.

Would you rather we didn't?

Another fine idea.

There is one bit of brotherly advice
that cannot wait.

Very well.

Dr. Ogden.

Any woman that can recite
"To a Skylark"

while cutting open a human heart

is a rare woman indeed.

Make it right, William.

It seems there's a bit
of a jurisdictional battle

going on over who puts the noose
around Accidental Al's neck,

although we do have Fremont
to ourselves.

- Oh, that's good news, indeed.
- Yes, it is.

Oh, and there's one other thing.

Welcome back, sir.

Thank you, George.

Well, tell him.

Sir, I have the information
you requested on Mr. Poundsett.

Ah, yes, George.

I must apologize to you again
for asking you to do that.

I don't know
what I was thinking.


It's plain as day to everyone
that you've been pining.


Definitely pining, sir.

However, moving on,
I think you'll find the results

of my investigation
very interesting.

I still can't believe
I'm about to do this.

You'll never have a finer day.

Now, are you sure you're ready?


- Julia!
- Prepare the balloon.

What are you doing here?

I came to see you.

How did you find me?

I've had time to think
about matters,

and I must speak with you, now.


William, I have
a rather pressing engagement.

Yes, but...


Julia, it can't wait!

Is something wrong?


No, nothing is wrong.

But nothing is right, either.

It hasn't been
since our falling out.

I see.

Do you think it's possible
for us to start again?

I'm not sure.

Are you willing
to talk about it?

Are you willing to see
which way the wind takes us?

That could be anywhere.

Yes, William, it could.

Doctor, are you familiar
with the details

of the first recorded flight
of a hot-air balloon?

Pil?tre de Rozier
from the center of Paris

on November 21, 1783.

Ah. That was
the first manned flight.

Joseph and ?tienne Montgolfier

launched one
two months before that.

The passengers were a duck,
a sheep, and a rooster.

How fascinating!

Murdoch Mysteries S02E13