Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 3, Episode 1 - The Murdoch Identity - full transcript

Stop him!

Stop that man!

Out of the way!

Down here, this way.

Try the pub!

Please.

What are you doing,
barging into my pub?

Did a man just run in here, miss?
He's a killer. A killer?

Special agents from London.

We need to catch this man
before he harms someone else.

I didn't see anyone.



You don't mind if I look
around a bit? Suit yourself.

He's not here. Let's go.

Who are you?

Did I just help a murderer? No.

I don't think so.
You don't think so?

No, wait! I don't know
who those men are, I don't know
why they are after me, because

I don't know who I am.

I don't even know my own name.

I believe someone
sent for a detective?

Constable George Crabtree,
Detective Hamish Slorach
from Station House Number Five.

Ah, you're Crabtree, yes, well...

There you have it.
Chief Constable Stockton feels

that Detective Slorach is just
the man to take over from Murdoch.

Take over, sir?
Just until Murdoch is found and
returns to his duties, son.



Of course.
Welcome, Detective Slorach.

Thank you,
Inspector Brackenreid.

Now then,
where shall I locate my receptacle?

Ah, this will do.

Fair bit of clutter, I see.

Sir, where would you like me to
locate your "receptacle"?

Here we go, put it over here,
move some of this junk,

it's not that difficult.

That's quite the blunderbuss
you've got there, sir.

Old Betsy. More reliable than
any woman, I'll tell you that.

Sir, we discourage
pointing firearms at the inspector.

Right then, gentlemen.
Our most pressing case.

Detective Murdoch's
disappearance, obviously.

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

He's been gone a week then?
When he didn't arrive at 8am

sharp Monday morning, we
knew that something was amiss.

The detective is never tardy.

And he was last seen?
His landlady saw him

going to church Sunday morning.
That's the last anyone saw of him.

And you've checked the uh...
Sir, we've checked everywhere. Twice.

Twice.

Well, gentlemen,

it's been my experience that when
a man chooses to disappear,

he stays disappeared.
Your meaning, Detective?

He's off on a bender.

Sir, Detective Murdoch
is a teetotaller.
He practises teetotalism.

Well...

Then it's a woman.
A vacation between the sheets.

You've got him all wrong, Slorach.

Detective Murdoch is
probably the most buttoned
down man you'll ever meet.

Seven days ago, I woke to a railway
guard hauling me out of a coal car.

I had no idea how I'd gotten there,
where I'd come from, nothing.

That was in Montreal, Canada.

How did you end up in England then?

The only thing I had on my person
was a steamer ticket to Bristol.

So you sailed the ocean
on a guess and by golly?

Not exactly.

There was a name on the ticket.

John Dawson.

DOGS BARK OUTSIDE

There was an address
written on the folder.

I thought maybe I was Dawson.

But you're not?

I went to the address.

One of those men answered the door.

I asked after Dawson,
and he told me he was dead.

I caught a glimpse of a weapon.
I told him I'd made a mistake.

I tried to leave,
but they followed me out. Hey!

I ran.

They followed. And here I am.

They said you might be a killer.

Is it possible that
you killed this Dawson?

I don't think
that's something I would do.

But...

I keep having this nightmare.

I'm standing over a body,

with blood on my hands.

Perhaps I should turn myself in.

Yeah, go to the cops with,
"I might be a killer."

What do you think they'll do?

You don't even know who you are.

They might know my identity.

They'll throw you
in the clink and put the boots
to you for good measure.

'Sides, I've met killers.

Met two this evening.

And you don't have the look.

You've soft eyes.

Kind eyes.

You hungry?

I'll make you something to eat.

Constable?

Doctor, there's been
a body found in a field
near Detective Murdoch's church.

And from the initial description...

There's a carriage
waiting for you outside.

Doctor Ogden. I believe you've
met Detective Slorach. Of course.

We've worked cases together.
I understand you've been assigned
to Station Four, Detective.

Temporarily, of course.
Of course.

Shall we go?

All right, Crabtree.

It's not Murdoch.

That's a relief. Not for him.

He's been shot clean
through the temples.

The body appears to have been here
for several days, possibly a week.

That's one big bullet hole.

I'm done for now.

We try to avoid directly
touching items at the crime scene.

Finger marks. Finger marks?

Never put much stock in them myself.

No identification.

Doctor. Sirs!

Come take a look at this.

It looks to be bone fragments
and brain matter.

What kind of bullet drives bone and
brain matter 30 feet after impact?

Oi. I'd done my specials
for tomorrow on that!

That's all right, I'll
put it back as it was. Really?

Your memory being so reliable?!

Mutton stew, three pennies.
Sardines on toast, two pennies.

Treacle tart, one and a half
pennies. A bit dear, if you ask me.

I didn't.

I'm sorry.

It just felt like
something I would do.

Work out a problem on a blackboard.

Could it be you're a teacher?

No. Not a teacher.

Clean shirt. Thank you.

So, what have you
and my menu board figured out?

When I woke up
on that train in Montreal,

my head was injured, possibly
from an altercation of some sort.

My left side was very bruised,
suggesting a fall, perhaps

from a railway bridge or some such.
Railway bridge where?

It was early evening when
I arrived in Montreal.

My watch had been broken,
it stopped at 11:14.

Perhaps in the fall?

Yes.

Accounting for a train's top speed
of 47 miles per hour, travelling
for between eight and nine hours,

that means somewhere between
376 to 423 miles, making me from

either New York City or Toronto.

You've a head for numbers.
Perhaps you're an accountant?

Oh, I hope not.

Well, you've had quite a week, Mr...

I need a name to call you by.

You pick one.

Harry. I've always liked Harry.

Good. Harry it is.

What's yours? Anna. Anna Fulford.

That's lovely.

Your name.

I feel a bit light-headed.

That's only your second pint. You're
not much of a drinker, are you?

Perhaps I should rest my eyes
only for a minute.

Come on, Harry,
you need to lie down.

Excuse me, Doctor. Do you mind if
I take the victim's finger marks?

Oh, yes.

George, I'll do that.

Doctor, I'm sure we'll find him.

I hope you're right, Constable.

Look at this scar.

It looks like an "S".

It's completely symmetrical.
How odd.

So, the victim's unidentified.

There are no witnesses,
no murder weapon.

Exactly.

Sirs, I checked the finger
marks on our victim's silver
case against our police files.

I found two matches
excluding the victim's own.

Now, one was yours, Detective.

But the others
were Detective Murdoch's.

Murdoch?

You mean the one
who pulled the trigger?

No, sir.

Regardless, he left
the scene of the crime.

Sounds like a job for Betty.

Betty? Your rifle? No, that's Betsy.
Betty's my hunting dog.

She smells something awful
but she has got a nose of gold.

We'll leave at first light.

What the bloody hell was
Murdoch doing at the murder scene?

Excuse me.

THUDDING AND BANGING AT THE DOOR

Open up in there!

I said open up!

Harry, quick, get up!

Move and we'll shoot.

Now both of you, let's go.

Move!

Down!

Anna!

Anna. Get on it.

Hurry!

Bloody hell, he's got me! Hang on!

Ha!

Sir, are you sure this will work?

Not in the least!

No, Betty's desire to track is only
exceeded by her desire to sleep.

She seems like a fine dog, sir.

Her gamey odour notwithstanding.

You're a dog lover, Constable?

Indeed, sir.

Good man. All right, let's go.

Find Murdoch!

What am I going to do about the pub?

Anyone could walk in
with that door busted.

You can't go back there now.

No, I can't, can I?

This is all my fault.

We need to find some place safe and
lie low until this all blows over.

And what are you going to do?

I have to find out
why those men are after me.

How do you propose to do that?

Harry?

I've seen this bridge before.

Of course you have. Clifton
Suspension Bridge, it's famous.

We need to find
a safe place, a sanctuary.

All right, Betty, come.
Find that scent, find it.

Good. Come on.

DOG WHINES

What is it, huh? Where is that
Murdoch? Where is he?

Sir, look here.

Blood.

There seems to be some sort

of, um... altercation.

That's a way down, that.

Sir, do you think Murdoch
could have gone over here?

Is that why Betty lost the scent?

We really need a place to stay.

He's a decent chap,
perfectly harmless.

He's been injured.

I promise we'll be no trouble.

He's a good person.

It will be just for one night.

It's all right, yeah. Hi.

Harry.

Nothing.

Like he vanished into thin air.

Detective, there is
some good news in that.

Sir, I've found
several more items here.

An empty whiskey bottle.

A biscuit wrapper.

A photograph of a bridge.

This is a hotel key,
from the Gladstone.

All those years attending
Mass, I never thought
I'd get use out of them.

But the Father couldn't refuse
the request of a good Catholic girl.

Are you Catholic?

I believe I am.

I felt at home in the church.

You're not a priest, I hope.

Are you worried
I took a vow of celibacy?

Aren't you brash!

That train you fell into must
have come from New York City.

They come brash from New York?

The ones I've met.

Always wanted to live in New York.

Be nice if I knew someone there.

What about your pub?
It was my dear dad's,
but it's not where my heart is.

Nothing left for me in Bristol.

Thank you.

For what? Fixing your bandage?
Or saving your life?

Both.

For everything.

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

So what now, Harry?

I go back to the house
where I encountered those men.

I should slap you for that.
You're going to get killed.

I'll be careful.

It's the only way
I'll find out what they're after.

The victim's personal effects
from the Gladstone Hotel.

His name is John Dawson.
He was a guest at the Gladstone
on and off for the last six months.

A week ago, he disappeared.

Ah. One of

those new-fangled matchbooks.

Gentlemen. Dr Ogden.

Post mortem complete?
No surprises.

I must say, I have never seen
a bullet wound so wide and clean.

The bullet all but cauterised
the surrounding tissue.

We need to find that bullet.

Sir, there are some numbers
inscribed in the matchbook.

An equation of some sort?

I've seen numbers like this.

I believe these are
lens specifications.

What kind of lenses? Eye glasses?
Actually, it seems to be something
much more powerful.

A glass grinder would know.
A glass grinder.

You and I need to find out
who he is and what he knows.

Keating's afraid he may be
working for Treadstone,
putting the whole plan in jeopardy.

So we damn well have to find
the slippery bugger and fast,

cos Keating will be here
inside three hours.

Bloody Treadstone. Only good news is
Charlie's watching the girl's pub,

and if the bugger goes
back there, we'll have him.

Excuse me!

DOOR CLOSES

Don't move.

What do you know about me?

Nothing.
Who was John Dawson?

You tell me. I will kill you.
All I know is Dawson went soft.

Couldn't be trusted.

Why all the pictures
of Clifton Bridge?

I tell you and I'm dead anyway.

DOOR SLAMS,
FOOTSTEPS APPROACH

THUD!
GROANS OF PAIN

Sir, we've walked hundreds of feet.
There's no way the bullet could
have travelled this distance.

I don't know about that,
Constable... Crabtree.

No, I think that's an elm.

Ah, there it is.

Isn't that a beauty?

60-calibre. Pointed, lead core,
copper-iron jacket to
withstand the friction.

Three inches long
when fired at least.

The casing must have been,
you know...

Big. Yes, right.
No question, it was specially made.

As was the rifle.
To fire this, you can be sure.

Sirs, the glass grinder recognised
the figures from the matchbook.

He said a man came in claiming they
were for a telescope. Telescope?

Yes, sir,
it's for scanning long distances.

I know what it is!
How does it relate to the case?

We're talking about a weapon
of considerable range.

Bloody hell, it's for the gun.
Crabtree,

this customer? The glass grinder
said he gave the name Quinn,
and I have an address.

If "Quinn" has a gun that can shoot
a bullet that size that far,
we'll need ammunition. Crabtree...

Break out the armoury.
Break out the...armoury.

Anna?

Anna?

Harry!

Anna.

You're safe.

Where did you get to? I went
to block up the pub door.

I couldn't afford
to lose everything.

But they'll be watching the pub.
Nobody saw me. I was careful.

I was worried about you.

Were you?
I brought you something back.

It was my father's. I thought we
should even out the odds. Right.

Let's get inside.

Higgins, Fisher, on the left.
Morris, Graham, right.

WHISTLE BLOWS

We need him alive, Slorach.
Hold your fire, you lot.

Decent shot.

Sirs, look at this.

That's our murder weapon.
Now that's some rifle.

You know your way around a gun.

Seem to.
You are not an accountant, Harry.

Those men think I'm affiliated
with someone named Treadstone.

Lord Treadstone? You know him?
He's some high-up Government type.

We need to find out
all we can about Treadstone.

Harry, don't you ever relax?

We're safe here.

'William!'

Oh, Julia.

Julia?
Who's Julia?

Don't move a bloody muscle.

Anna, run. Leave her!

Leave him to me, boys.

I believe we've met.

Excuse me.

Keating will be here
inside three hours.

You're Keating.

Edmund Keating, yes.

Well. You know me,
but I don't know you.

There's an imbalance we must rectify.

So, let's you and I
have a little chat.

I'll give you credit.

I had you for dead when you
tumbled into that coal car.

So... let's start with introductions.

Who are you? I don't know.

The fall must have jarred my brain.

I have no memory of anything. Hm.

Well, we both know
you were following Dawson.

So I want to know what you know
and whom you've told.

Or there will be
unpleasant consequences.

It's a gun.
I can see it's a gun, can't I?

Now what's a bloke from the Dales
doing in Canada building a gun
that can shoot as far as a mile?

That's my own business, isn't it?

Not when it puts a bullet
through someone's head.

Now what have you done with Murdoch?
Who? He was at the murder scene.

I don't know what you're on
about, mate. Oh yes, you do.

You don't think I'll break you?

You know who I am.

You know my reputation.
Last chance.

Who are you working for?

VOICE: 'Keating's afraid that
he may be working for Treadstone.'

Treadstone.

He's hiring colonials now?

Typical.

I was hired to follow Dawson.
Why?

We'd heard
he'd gone soft on the plan.

You thought you could turn him?
What did Dawson tell you?

He knew about the Clifton Bridge.
What about it?

The assassination.

That bullet could only have
been fired from your gun.

But you didn't fire it, did you?
You didn't know Dawson was dead.
Who are you working with?

I don't remember.

HE CRIES OUT IN PAIN

The scar on Quinn's hand

is the exact same shape and in
the exact same place as Dawson's.

It's not just a scar.
When I was on the Khyber campaign,

elite corps chaps had this sort
of thing. The whole thing stinks
of military intelligence.

Oh great, er... Scot, sir. Yeah.

I'll call my contact at
the British consulate. Sirs!

Detective Murdoch is alive!
Canadian Pacific sent this!
One of their guards

pulled him off a coal car in
Montreal last week! I knew it!

I had his photo distributed
to each station on the line.

Bloody good work, Crabtree. Higgins,
contact Montreal Police and ask
where Murdoch went from there. Sir.

But the question remains.
Why hasn't he contacted the station?

It is puzzling, sir. I'm sure he had
a hell of a good reason, Slorach.

You've heard of Quinn, of course.

This is his work.

60-calibre.

One in ten twist.

I dropped Dawson from 500 yards.

Did you even hear the shot?

Not that I recall.

Of course, neither did he.

Shame he had to die.

It's a shame you have to die.

But such is war.

I'll be in position
in exactly one hour.

Sir, who knows who he's told.
He knows everything.

No. He doesn't.

Kill him.

Give an idea of what it was about.
I've got an unsolved murder and
a missing police officer down here.

Fine. Thank you very much.

And I'm sorry to have woke you.

What's the news, sir?
He'd only give me part of it.

Dawson and Quinn were agents at
the War Office Intelligence Branch.

They were banished to Canada
about six months ago,

after an internal shake-up
that my contact was
not at liberty to discuss.

There was a third agent sent here
about the same time, an Edmund
Keating. The three were associates.

Ah. Could this Keating
be our shooter?

What if that's why Detective
Murdoch was on that train?

What if Keating was on his way
back to England?

With the gun? Yes, sir.
Detective Murdoch jumps on
to follow him. Crabtree...

There's only one way
to travel to Britain. I'll check
with the steamship companies.

KNOCKING ON DOOR

Well, if it isn't your pretty
little sidekick. Anna!

Careful, you wouldn't want
to do anything foolish.

Your boyfriend's in
a rather awkward position.

Now give me the gun.

GUNSHOT,
HE MOANS IN PAIN

Thank you very much.
..Inspector!

Last Monday evening, a man
travelling by the name John Dawson
boarded a steamer in Montreal.

Dawson was already dead by then.
Was it Edmund Keating? No.

Edmund Keating was booked on
a ship from Halifax the same day.
Both ships bound for Bristol.

We'll have to get a telegraph
to the Bristol police.

Tell them one hell of a big gun
is heading their way.

Who's travelling as Dawson?
Well, perhaps Detective Murdoch.

If he had seen Dawson killed...

Constable.
There's to be an assassination
at Clifton Bridge in the next hour!

I don't know who I am, Chief. But
I can only tell you what I do know.

And how did you know the Queen
would be travelling through Bristol?
It was a closely-guarded secret.

I didn't mention the Queen.

Only that there's to be
an assassination.

Sir...
Telegram from Toronto Police.

Toronto? It's Canada, sir.

They say there's a sniper
on the SS Mayfair bound for Bristol.

The Mayfair docked earlier today.
They also want to know

if we've been contacted by
a Detective William Murdoch.

Murdoch! Murdoch!

Murdoch! Bloody hell, Murdoch!

William. William.

William.

Harry?

Chief. I am Detective William
Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary.

And I implore you to listen
to what I have to say.

The Queen is on her way to a private
conference at Ashton Court.

She'll pass over the bridge
in 25 minutes.

You're sure that's where the
assassination attempt will be?

Yes, sir.
I've seen maps and photographs.

The best vantage point is on
either of the two support towers.

Ah, perfect line of sight.

No. The shot won't come from there.

All of the images of the bridge
I saw were from the side,
from a much greater distance.

What's this here?
It's the Observatory, sir.

Then that's the spot. Impossible.
That's over half a mile off.
Sir, they have a very special rifle.

There's no rifle that special.
I want all available men now.
I want those towers secure.

But sir, can't you delay
the procession?

You obviously don't know your Queen.
After four assassination attempts,
she thinks she's invincible.

Besides, the Secretary of War
will be with her.

And Lord Treadstone always
travels with tight security.

Lord Treadstone? Sir.
He's the intended target.

What? Yes, it's Lord Treadstone
they're after, not the Queen.

Sir. The carriages are ready, sir.

Let's go. But, sir,
it's Lord Treadstone, I...

Go and do what you've got to do,
William.

Go.

GUNSHOTS

Who the hell are you?

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

A bloody copper?

That's right, sir, a bloody copper.
And you are under arrest.

Britain owes you a great debt,
Detective.

And you too, Miss Fulford.

I must admit, Chief, I am perplexed.

If Keating sought to destabilise
the British Empire, why not simply
choose the Queen as his target?

Because he was after more
than simple disruption.

Keating and his people wanted
to control a more aggressive,
expansive military.

And Lord Treadstone
stood in their way.

One can only imagine the
consequences, not only for Britain,
had Lord Treadstone been killed.

Her Majesty was informed
of the role you played
in averting this situation.

This contains a letter of thanks,
and a modest recompense.

Oh, sir, I was simply doing
my duty as a police officer.

I couldn't possibly accept payment.

Although I believe...
Miss Fulford could.

Thank you.

I suppose this is goodbye.

Anna, I have obligations
in Toronto.

My position, my men.

And Julia?

It's all right, William,
I understand.

And I admire your loyalty.

I want to thank you.

Thank me? If it weren't for you,
I'd have spent my life in that pub.

The Queen just bought me
a ticket to New York.

If I like it, I'll sell the pub.

Well, you'll have to watch out
for those brash New Yorkers.

They'll pale in comparison
to my Harry.

BELLS TOLL

I'd best be heading to the harbour.

Come and visit sometime.

Right, Crabtree.
I want it level and taut. Taut.

Higgins, up at your end.

No, no, not down! Up.

Oh, for God sake's!

Murdoch!
MEN CHEER

Welcome back. It's about time
you turned up for work.

We hear you had quite
an adventure over there. Sir...

Perhaps what transpired in
England should remain in England.
You saved the Queen's life. Oh!

Oh, that? Sir!

Good to see you, sir.
It's good to see you too, George.

You know Detective Slorach,
of course. He was instrumental in
discovering where you'd gotten to.

Don't forget Betty, Constable...
Crabtree. Crabtree, Crabtree.

You've got a good team here,
Detective. Thank you.

I'm almost sorry you're back.
HE LAUGHS

Oh, William.

THEY LAUGH AND CHEER

Welcome home, Detective.
Thank you, Doctor.

EVERYONE CHEERS