Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 3, Episode 3 - Victor, Victorian - full transcript

THEY CHANT: Through the evening
shadows waning

dark is slain by light divine.

Mystic arts craft unrestraining.

Mighty architect divine.

Hailed eternal to the end,

the master of enlightened art doth
through all thy words extend.

To our initiate, let us depart.

Who comes here?

Mr Bernard, who has
long been in darkness,

and now seeks
to be brought to light.

Having been in a state of darkness,



what is the predominant wish
in your heart? Light.

Then let that blessing be restored.

In thy presence
doth this man be vying,

begging for they love undying,

so mote it be.

Great Architect of the Universe,

grant that this candidate
for Masonry

may so dedicate and
devote his life to Thy service.

May he be assisted by
the secrets of our Masonic art,

and enabled to display
the beauties of true godliness.

So mote it be.

So mote it be.

I most solemnly swear
my devotion to the secrets revealed,

obedience to the Craft,
and loyalty to this Lodge,



binding myself under
no less penalty

than to have my throat cut across,
my tongue torn out

and my body buried in the sea,
so help me God.

Brother Initiate, it is with
great pleasure that I extend to you,

on behalf of the Craft,
a hearty welcome.

HE SPLUTTERS

Brother Bernard?

Is Brother Junior Steward here?

Bloody hell, he's stopped breathing.

He's dead. Brother Senior Steward?

Yes, sir.

Send for Detective Murdoch.
Tell him there's a crime scene
in King Solomon's Temple.

His name is Victor Bernard,
a newly-entered apprentice.

He applied for his first
degree a few months ago.

And he died right
in front of you, sir?

Yes, hell of a thing.

It only took a few seconds.

He started foaming at the mouth
just after he took the blood oath.

Blood oath? Sir, he was drinking...?

Not actual blood, Murdoch. Wine.

Oh, and it's been secured.

Right, then. Who brought the wine?

Brother Boswell.
He opened it right in front of us.

And who was present during
this blood oath?

Lodge members exclusively. Crabtree's
got them assembled in another room.

Sirs, the brethren are
terribly distraught.

Would you like to speak to them now?
Yes, please, George, thank you.

Worshipful Master, Eugene Anderson.

Ah. You're not a Mason.

No. How did you know?

Er, there's a handshake, sir.

Brother Anderson,
this is Detective Murdoch.
I can personally vouch for him.

I understand that we need your
detective here, Brother Brackenreid.

But we would all
feel more comfortable if

your superior brother led
the investigation. You are joking?

Brother Crabtree, you may supervise
police proceedings within the Lodge.

George, are you superior
to the Inspector here?

Yes, sir. A Mason can
advance to the third degree
of Freemasonry by choice.

After that, a brother must be
expressly invited to ascend
to the next level.

And Brother Brackenreid's offences
have kept his invitations at bay.

Contemptuous language,
general disobedience...

Contemptuous language, mostly.

Brother Crabtree, the night is
getting long. Let's get on with it.

Yes, Brother Crabtree.

How do you suggest we proceed?

I suggest we send for Dr Ogden,

make sure the Brethren are
co-operative, and let Detective
Murdoch do his job. Very well.

I should also like to pass
the reins of the investigation
back to the Inspector.

Ah. Right. Excellent decision.

Very well then.

Where shall we begin? With you, sir.

Are you an atheist?

I beg your pardon?

Are you an atheist?
I ask only because,
as our constitution clearly states,

quote, "you cannot allow the
stupid atheist to infiltrate we who
are obliged to obey the moral law."

No, sir, I am a Catholic.

A Papist. I suppose that's better.

Sir, did you know the victim well?

No. But he showed promise -
a sincere wish to be serviceable to
the Great Architect of the Universe.

The Great Architect of the Universe?

God. Ah. I see.

Do you know of anyone who wanted
to harm Victor Bernard?

No - he was a decent,
orderly, quiet man.

Had he been having any troubles
lately? I wouldn't know.

Was he friends with anyone here?

I suppose the man who first
proposed him - Brother Winters.

We met six months ago.

My law firm is in the same
building as his accounting firm.

Victor was a clever chap.

Amiable. Very droll.

So you proposed him? Yes.

He was a genuinely great
addition to the Brotherhood.

Though I admit I had ulterior
motives in sponsoring him.

Oh? Such as?

Victor was a brilliant accountant.

Please don't share this with anyone,
but I had asked him to look
at the Lodge's accounts.

Doesn't the Lodge have its own
treasurer? Yes. Elias Boswell.

But let's just say
that when he drinks he tends
to brag about things he cannot

afford on a banker's salary.
You suspected him of skimming funds?

Yes. I thought Victor could
discreetly examine the books,
do a sort of internal audit.

Did he find anything?
I don't know. He wasn't finished.

I see.

There is a dead man in
the Temple and he wants
to look into our accounts?

Sir, there has been word of concern
over your bookkeeping methods.

Which could be mistaken as motive.

The accounts book is kept
in a secret, sacred place.

A place it cannot leave. I'm not
concerned with showing you the book.

I'm concerned with
revealing where it is kept.

Brother Boswell, don't make this
difficult. Just show us the book.

Sir... These shapes,
what do they mean?

I've seen them throughout the Lodge.

According to history, the architect
for each Lodge incorporates
the symbols into the design.

It's called the Masonic Cipher.

Cipher? So each shape
has a corresponding letter?

Mm. That's intriguing.

Sirs!

You must come. He's taking us
to the Hiram Room. The Hiram Room?
Bloody hell.

The Hiram Room?

Sir, the Hiram Room
was named for Hiram Abiff.

He was the legendary chief
architect of King Solomon's Temple.

He was murdered for refusing
to divulge the Master Mason's
secret password. Which is?

Oh, sir,
I couldn't possibly tell you.

Where I am about to show you,
you must share with no-one.

Particularly the others -
they will not be pleased to learn
that I let you see this.

The others, sir?

Only 33-Degree Masons have access
to the room. We have three of them.

Brother Boswell is one -
the other two are away overseas.

What about Anderson?

I thought he was
the head...pooh-bah.

Brother Anderson is
the Worshipful Master,

but he is not
nearly a 33rd Degree Mason.

Degrees and positions at
the Lodge are separate affairs.

And really, Murdoch, "pooh-bah"?
This isn't Gilbert and Sullivan.

You are all sworn to secrecy.

Especially the Papist.

Excellent.

Oh, my.

The accounts book you requested.

An original page of sheet
music from The Magic Flute.

Mozart was extremely enlightened.

And a good friend of the man
who founded the Illuminati.

But I thought the Illuminati
was considered heretical,
and officially suppressed.

Yes, of course they were.

Gentlemen, no disrespect intended,
but do either of you know
anything about accounting?

We've got dues paid, initiation fees,
charitable association deposits, and
not one withdrawal over ten dollars.

From my understanding of
the Lodge's practices, sir,
these look to be in order.

GONG SOUNDS

That will be Dr Ogden. Oh.

Brother Anderson,
open that bloody door.

Absolutely not.
There's a woman out there.

It's Doctor Ogden. She must come in.

This is outrageous. We have
accepted your Papist as a visitor.

But to ask us to allow
this woman to... Excuse me,
Brothers. Let her in.

It's too much. Sir,
a coroner must tend to the body,
and Dr Ogden is second to none.

At the very least, she should
swear an oath of secrecy.

I think my Hippocratic Oath
trumps yours.

Cheeky thing, isn't she?

Yes, that she is.

But she's hardly a thing, sir.

Any initial thoughts, Doctor?

He's quite flushed.
Could be a reaction to something.

His tongue is engorged.
From the bloody foam around

his mouth, I suspect his
throat is swollen shut as well.

He died of asphyxia then?

Yes. From poison, it would seem.

Sir, these Brothers of yours -
they're not the most
forthcoming bunch.

They're not a bad lot. We do
a great deal of work for charity.

I do admit, the rituals
are laid on a bit thick.

Ah, yes, the blood oath.

And this from a man who drinks the
blood of Christ every Sunday morning.

WOMAN SOBS FAINTLY

Sir, we interviewed
all of the Masons that were
present here this evening.

And none of you seemed to
know the victim very well.

Then we'll need to take
a closer look, won't we?

Yes, we will.

Sir, I spoke to a few of
Victor's fellow boarders.

And what did you learn, George?

Apparently he moved in
about eight months ago.

Buried himself in his work.
Pretty much kept to himself.

By all accounts, he was a quiet,
orderly, very amiable man.

Friends, family?
None that were mentioned.
Higgins is looking into it.

One interesting thing, sir.
Mr Bernard let on recently that

he thought he was being followed
by a mystery man of sorts.

That would explain the window.
It's been nailed shut.

Had any of the neighbours
seen this mystery man? No, sir.

Do you think he could be our killer?

Possibly.

HE WHISTLES

Sir, how many
pairs of shoes do you own?

Two.

Myself as well.

These were made in Italy.

The craftsmanship is sublime.

George, do you recognise
any of the men in this photograph?

No. Friends from his home town?
Wherever that is.

Have you seen anything that
would accommodate this key, George?

I haven't, sir.

I hope the Inspector is
having better luck with
Mr Bernard's employer.

I'm afraid not. Victor Bernard
joined Ashner Associates Accounting
Company seven months ago.

A first-rate accountant,
with a real flair for numbers.

And let me guess, he was described
as quiet, orderly and amiable.
Yes. Almost to the letter.

Sirs...

I have just been down to
the city registry office.

There is no record of Mr Bernard
beyond eight months ago.

Well, he didn't just appear
out of thin air, did he?

Sirs, Dr Ogden has requested an
immediate audience with all of you.

Do you have something
for us, Doctor? Yes.

As I first suspected, Victor Bernard
died of some sort of toxicity.
He was poisoned.

Other than the wine, the stomach
was empty, so no poison was
ingested prior to the initiation.

And there is no indication
of puncture wounds or
inhalation of gas.

As fascinating as this is, Doctor,
did you really need to drag us all
down here? Yes, I think I did.

There's one more very important
fact you're going to need to know.

Is that...? Are those...?

You mean to tell me that...
Gentlemen, Victor Bernard
was a woman.

I passed water with that... That
woman standing right beside me.

Fascinating, sir.

What's even more fascinating
was that she wasn't just
dressing as a man.

She was living her life as a man.
But for what purpose?
Clearly the woman was insane.

Or, sir, maybe she was an escaped
convict, on the run. Or a spy.

Crabtree, you've read
too many Penny Dreadfuls.

Not to be indelicate, sir,
but the Lodge is an exclusive club,

and where there is exclusivity
there are often secrets.

Where there are secrets
there are those willing to
do anything to keep them.

What do you think we are?

What kind of man do you
think would kill a woman
for infiltrating a Lodge?

No, no, no. This is ludicrous.

There's obviously been some
confusion at the morgue, or...
There is no confusion, Mr Anderson.

Victor Bernard was a woman.

And it's obvious that you
disapprove of women. Of course I do.

Emotional, erratic creatures.

But to know we were duped by one
is cause for humiliation, not anger.

Right, then.

What would have happened had a
woman been discovered in the Lodge?

She would have been dismissed
quietly and discreetly.

And if anyone knew this secret,
it would have been someone
who knew him well.

Or rather...her.

I don't understand.
I saw Victor several times a week.

He dined regularly at our house.

All that time you'd spent with her,
you had no idea she was a woman?
No. Never.

You say Victor dined
at your home frequently.

Perhaps Mrs Winters
sensed something?

Miriam and I have no secrets. None.

Perhaps when you discovered
her secret you felt betrayed.

After all, you had been
great friends with a man who
turned out to be a woman.

Damn it, sir, a friend
of mine just died. I...

I wouldn't...

I couldn't...
Apparently she was being followed.

Did you know that? No. It appears
I didn't know much at all.

So what are we looking for, sir?
We need fresh eyes on this.

While investigating the murder of
Victor the man, we may have missed

something significant about
Victor the woman.

I know exactly what we missed, sir.
Oh?

The shoes. Not the shoes themselves,
but the sheer number of them.

My 16-year-old cousin Penny has an
obsession with fashionable footwear.

Sir, I think all women share
a strange fascination with shoes.

Surely that's an exaggeration,
George. I wouldn't be sure, sir.

Wait, George. Something's different.

There. The picture of Victor
and his...her friends. It's gone.

The man with the cane.

George, we may have just passed
our killer in the stairwell.

Here, in here.

Carry on down the corridor, George.
I'll check out these rooms. Sir.

THEY SHRIEK
Oh, I, I...

Do not disturb. I believe that's what
the sign on the door clearly says.

I...

I apologise, Miss.

You know, it's trying enough,
sir, to have to endure these

second-rate facilities passed down
from the men's teams,

but to also be denied
privacy is quite unacceptable.

I'm very sorry. Or perhaps
you're some kind of peeping Tom.

Sir, there's no sign of, er... Hi.

Excuse me!

George, come here.

Er, just, er, just give us a moment.

Ah! Victor Bernard's
locker, no doubt. Yes.

Masonic Cipher.

Why would she record that?

Sir...

This list of charities...

Our Lodge has raised money
for each and every one of these.

Sir, I think this is the audit that
Brother Winters was speaking of.

Yes. It would seem Victor,
or whoever she was,

was comparing Lodge accounts against
those of the actual charities.

We have to get Higgins to find out
everything we can about
the Treasurer, Mr Boswell.

Excuse me!

That is private property.

Yes, the property of
a dead woman, I'm afraid.

Her name is Grace Read.

You know she died
in a Masonic Lodge.

Dressed in men's clothing.

Yes. How strange. And aside
from playing on this women's

basketball team, it appears she'd
been living out her life as a man.

Really?

She was also deathly afraid
of someone.

We followed that person
to this location.

Do any of you know who he is?

No, sir.

You played basketball with her,
yet you knew nothing about her?

I'm sorry, Detective, but
outside of these walls, none of
us knew anything about her.

They're lying. All of them.
So let me get this straight.

A man in the Lodge is killed.
Only this man turns out to be a woman

who is somehow connected
to a woman's basketball team
who seem to be hiding something.

And the thing connecting the two of
them is a mystery man with a cane.

With a goatee, sir.

It's complicated, to be sure.
Complicated?

It makes no bloody sense whatsoever!

If these basketball girls
do know something,
let's drag them down the station

and let's scare the living daylights
out of them.

A subtler approach might be more
effective with this, sir.

Perhaps we could send
someone in undercover?

That's a good idea.

But who?

Oh, no, no, no.

I'm not wearing a dress.
Not again, anyway.

Good evening, gentlemen. Detective,
this is all the equipment you should
need for testing toxins in the wine.

Julia, have you ever
played basketball?

As a matter of fact I have.
Why do you ask?

EXCITED SHOUTING

You're very good, Miss Ogden.
When you grow up playing with
country club boys,

you learn a thing or two.

Lucky for us you dropped in.

Back to it!

The Masonic Cipher.
Decoding something, sir?

Yes. And according to her notebook,
so was Grace Read.

She was particularly interested
in these five symbols.

That shouldn't be too difficult.
Five symbols, five letters.

120 permutations, very good, George.

But it's more complicated than that.

For instance,
this symbol could represent a P.

But, depending on its orientation,
it could also be a T, a V

or an N.

So, sir, if each of the five symbols

potentially represent one
in four letters, there must
be thousands of variations.

Over two quintillion, George.

Sir, I think we're going
to need a bigger blackboard.

Julia Ogden,
have I understood you correctly?

You're an unwed doctor living alone.

Yes.

A modern day bachelor girl.

That's the most blissful
thing I've ever heard.

Father would rather see
me married, bored and unhappy
than living a life so free.

He barely tolerates my secretarial
work at the law office.

It was a bit of a battle to get
where I am. But I have no regrets.

And the men with whom you work,
do they think you brazenly improper?

Who knows what men think?

How true.

Julia...

Would you be interested in coming
on a little adventure this evening?

Just a little fun amongst us girls.

Ah!

Not having much luck, sir? No.

I've tested this wine for every
toxin I can think of, and nothing.

How are you doing
with the bottle and cork?

Equally bad luck, sir.
If anybody's interfered with
either of these, I can't see how.

Yet Grace Read was poisoned.

But how and with what?

Sir, Doctor Ogden just
sent this by messenger.

We're to meet her at
The Albany Club on Colborne Street.

Sir, this is a gentlemen's club. Are
you sure Dr Ogden meant the Albany?

That's what Higgins wrote down.

Guests of Dr Ogden's.

What are we looking for, sir?

I have no idea.

Have either of you a light?

Sorry.

Thank you. Not at all.

Julia?

Dr Ogden, you look like a man.

Like a...pretty man.

I had no idea a man's suit
could be so comfortable.

It's delightful not
wearing a corset.

Julia, what on earth are you doing?

You wanted me to find out what
the basketball team was hiding. And?

Look around you.

Look closely, William.

Do you recognise any of
the men in this photograph?

The women's basketball team.

Those are women?

Sir, they're exceedingly convincing.

What are they doing here?
And why dress like that?

It's a sort of club.

They seek experiences that give
them liberties exclusive to men.

Sir. He's there.

It's our man with the cane.

That's enough!

Mrs Winters.

Mrs Winters, if you'll follow me,
please. Where are you taking her?

The rest of you please have a seat.

I have some questions
about Grace Read's murder.

Doctor. Yes, Inspector.
Let's talk in my office, shall we?

You, too, Murdoch. Julia?

You rat.

'Well, it's obvious.'

They either killed Grace Read
or had something to do with it.
In a Mason's Lodge?

I don't see how that's obvious.
But they did lie to me.

They were afraid.

Most of them have husbands,
fathers, even mothers, who would
disown them for doing this.

I don't understand it myself.

The Temperance League,
the Suffrage Association,
feminists... And now this.

Wearing suits as if dressing
like a man will make them one.

They don't want to be men.

They want to be equal.
No, they don't.

They have no idea what it takes to be
a man, and trust me, love,

when I tell you that
they couldn't handle it.

Well, have you
anything to say, William?

Yes. I believe these women are
our best key to finding out
how and why Grace Read died.

We need to speak with them. Right.

Let's get on with it.

Have you no opinion on this matter?

Yes, of course I do.
And yet you just stand there.

Am I in trouble?
Mrs Winters, I need to know
why you were following Grace.

I wasn't.
I saw you in her boarding house.

Only to get the photograph back.

So no-one would discover our secret.

Prior to her death, someone had
been following Grace. Was it you?

No. Not Miriam.

Someone else was following Gracie.

Who? I don't know.

But she was being followed.

And when she was murdered,
we were afraid we might be next.

Is that why, on the night of
her death, you didn't tell us
that Grace was a woman? Yes.

Plus my husband and all
his Brethren were there.

I couldn't risk the social
outrage it might cause.

If dressing as a man is so
outrageous, why were you doing it?

When Leonard introduced me to Victor,

I somehow sensed he was a woman.

He... She...opened the door
to a world I had never known.

We lunched together
and we took long walks.

And the respect
she commanded as a man...

It was so freeing, in a way that...

Well, that you'll never understand.

Were you also planning to
live your life out as a man?

Goodness, no.

Victor was the only one
so serious about it.

Gracie didn't care about
marriage or family life so much as
she wanted to have a career.

But no-one will hire
a female accountant.
So she interviewed as a man.

And she got the job. Yes.

And it was so exhilarating,
being independent.

But then several weeks ago she began
to feel like she was being watched.

At first we thought
she was being paranoid.

Why did she change her mind?

Well, then Miriam saw him, too.

Victor and I were lunching on King
Street when she pointed him out.

Had you seen him before?
No, but I clearly remember his face

because it was right
before her attack.

What attack? It was awful.

Victor took the tiniest bite
of my dessert.

And before I knew what was happening
her face grew red and she lost
her breath for a few moments.

Could the man have put
something in the dessert?

I don't see how.

He arrived after us.

And the bite she took
was from my plate.

There. That's the man I saw.

I demand to see my wife. Miriam!

Leonard!

Detective, may I?
Mrs Winters, just one more question.

Your dessert, the one that
Grace tasted - what was it?

It was vanilla ice cream croquette.

Rolled in crushed peanuts
and macaroons, I believe.

I see. Thank you.

Miriam? What in the world is
going on here? Who are these people?

Why are you dressed like that?

Leonard, please don't be angry. These
are my friends. What kind of friends?

Well, it's a club of sorts.
Victor introduced me.

And you kept it from me? Victor's
true nature, this secret club...

Yes, Leonard, a secret club.

Just like your secret Masons' club
and your secret gentlemen's club
and your secret country club.

Miriam, please.

I never meant to keep
anything from you.

Nor I.

Leonard, please take me home.

This is our mystery man.
Do either of you recognise him?

No. Crabtree? No, sir. We should
show this to our fellow Brethren.

I'll call an emergency meeting.

Where's Dr Ogden? I need her help in
testing something. Another poison?

Not quite.

Peanuts?

You think this she-man
died from peanut poisoning?

It's a possibility.
I can't think what else it would be.

Ice cream and macaroons
seem even less likely.

So death by peanut is
what you're proposing.

It would be exceedingly rare.

However I have read material
that supports theories of
hypersensitivity to food.

Peanuts are rare enough.
To be sensitive to them seems
highly unlikely.

Well, there are no traces of
peanut protein in the wine.

There you go.

Unless...

Unless we're testing
the wrong piece of evidence.

What if the killer
ground the peanuts into a fine,
liquid, soluble paste,

spread it in the skull, then, when
the wine was poured into the skull,

it would have mixed with the
peanuts, becoming lethal to Grace.

It's possible.
This mystery man could easily have
learned of Grace Read's sensitivity

to peanuts from the attack she had
while lunching with Miriam Winters.
Exactly.

Detective - a word?

What is it, George? Sir, I had
Higgins look into Elias Boswell.

He has not one but
three bank accounts.

He also has a safety deposit box
which he accessed after almost
every Masonic charity event.

So he WAS skimming
funds from the Lodge?

Yes, and not just for himself.
He has a woman of...loose character
that he keeps on the side.

Pays for her apartment. Detective!

Oh, and sir - your copies.

Thank you, George. Good work.

There is peanut residue
in the skull. Gentlemen, this is
your murder weapon.

A murder weapon that was
kept exclusively at the Lodge.

So now we have a Mason who had
access to the skull,

and a killer who knew of Grace
Read's sensitivity to peanuts.

Let's hope someone recognises him.

I've never seen him. Nor I.

Please look closely, Brothers. This
could be Victor Bernard's killer.

Is that...? Yes, it is.

And if I remember the layout of
the second floor correctly,

that's coming from The Hiram Room.

The morality of our Temple has been
tested. The Great Architect of the
Universe's vengeance is upon us.

Anderson, shut up.

Gentlemen, please step back.

Isn't that the man that
was following Grace Read?

Yes, sir. I believe it is.
So that's our killer?

It seems so.

According to this,
his name is Francis LaChapelle.

He's a private investigator.

Maybe he was following Grace at
the behest of the killer. Possibly.

George, find his office
and go through it with
a fine-toothed comb. Sir.

Constable.

Charming to be back here again.

Doctor. We found
the mace beside the body.

I assume it to be the murder weapon.

That would be consistent
with a blunt force trauma
to the back of the head.

There's minimal blood spatter.

It appears it only took
one blow to kill him.

For a religious order, this Temple
certainly has its share of problems.

It's not a religion, Doctor.

A set of beliefs embraced
with ardour and devotion.

Actually, sir,
by definition it is. Murdoch,
don't be such a smart-arse. Sir.

Sir, the door was locked
before we came in, was it not?

I know what you're thinking. Only
one man had access to the room.

The man who let us in.

Grace Read was onto you, wasn't she?

She was sniffing around.
Asking questions she shouldn't have.

But she didn't find anything.

The accounting book is kept
in The Hiram Room, as always.

This Victor, this Grace woman,
never saw it.

Apparently she did.
And you knew that.

So you put LaChapelle on the case.

And the two of you
killed her in the Lodge.

I've never heard of this LaChapelle.
LaChapelle was the only one who knew
about your involvement in the murder.

So you got rid of him, too.
Listen to me.

I'll admit that I've been skimming
funds from the charity fundraiser.

But someone else killed
that man in The Hiram Room.

How did they get inside?

You were the only member
present with access to that room.

That's what we tell everyone.
But anyone can get in if
they know where to look.

Brother Brackenreid, I swear it.
I swear it on the name of the Great
Architect of the Universe.

Great Architect of the Universe.

The code to the combination.

It's written on the floor of
the Great Room. In Masonic Cipher.

G-A-O-T-U. It's an acronym -
Great Architect of the Universe.

Grace Read broke the code. And the
code is the key to the combination.

Yes. Not much of a secret code
if you ask me.

If Grace Read figured out
how to get in, anybody could have.
Including Anderson.

Perhaps he suspected
she was a woman, had LaChapelle
confirm it, then killed her.

Then what? Killed LaChapelle
for blackmail? We're going round
in circles.

Ah, very good, George.

Is this everything from
LaChapelle's office?

Yes, sir. Someone had
definitely been there, sir.

His filing cabinet
had been rifled through.

So if there was anything indicating
LaChapelle had been investigating
Victor... It was likely stolen.

However, sir, these slides -
I found those buried deep
in another cabinet.

Take a look at this, George.

Sir, it looks like Victor, and he's
- she's - sitting with someone.

Let's find out who, shall we?

Sir, it's Grace Read
and Miriam Winters.

No, George. It's Victor and Miriam.

I believe I know who
murdered Grace Read.

Now all we have to do
is trap the killer.

What exactly do you mean
when you say you want to break
into The Hiram Room?

It's embarrassing,
but the Room had been locked before
key evidence was collected.

Brother Boswell is keeping
the combination close to his chest.
What key piece of evidence?

The murder weapon.

Can you not force Boswell's hand?

It would be blasphemous to smash
one's way into any room at The Lodge,
never mind The Hiram Room.

When were you planning this?
Sometime tomorrow.

I can see the Constabulary's
dilemma.

I don't like this one little bit.
Brother Anderson, it would
help us catch a killer. Fine.

Permission granted, if you must.

Mr Winters,

you are under arrest.

How did you know?
This photograph gave it away.

Anyone looking at this picture
would think these two were lovers.
You did, didn't you?

Yes.

Miriam and I were closer
than any two people could be.

Then she started spending
so much time with that man.

That's when you hired LaChapelle
to follow Miriam.

But he mistook their friendship
as well, and your worst fears
were confirmed.

You learned of Victor's
sensitivity to peanuts,
which led to poisoning the skull.

Then you learned
that she was a woman. Yes.

LaChapelle suspected you of killing
Victor, so you killed him as well.

I'm so sorry.

But why kill
LaChapelle in the Lodge?

He was blackmailing me.

I didn't have the money, but
the Lodge did. In The Hiram Room.

How very ironic, sir, since
this all began with your concerns
over Lodge finances.

I could do without the irony.

Leonard? Where is he? Leonard?

I can't see her now. I can't see her
face when she learns what I've done.

I will speak with her.

Sit down, Leonard.

Leonard believed that Victor and I
were intimately involved?

He had no idea at the time
that Victor was a woman.

I never should have kept that secret.

But then he never
should have doubted me.

Unfortunately,
his jealousy overcame him.

So because of jealousy,
I've lost both the love
of my life and my best friend?

I'm terribly sorry.

Leonard once told me that the biggest
difference between men and women
was that men can keep a cool head.

Women cannot.

What do you make of that?

I guess he was wrong.

CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYS ON RECORD

Am I interrupting?
No. Just catching up on my reading.

I'm quite interested in
this hypersensitivities to food.

Obviously, to some people,
the peanut can be extremely harmful.

Fascinating.

Is there something you need?

Yes.

I made you angry earlier.

Yes. I don't know why.

The Inspector was being
archaic and thick-headed,
and you just stood there.

Julia, that was your argument.

And for me to jump in as though
you aren't strong enough to
handle yourself in the situation

somewhat defeats that argument.

I only wanted your support.

And you have it. Completely.

But I will not rescue you, Julia.

Because from everything I know
about you, you don't need it.

Your logic is infuriating.

Not just a little bit winsome?

Perhaps a little. Good.

Now, would you like to tell me
more about these food sensitivities?

Yes.

But first,

I want you to kiss me.

Like a man.

THEY GIGGLE