Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 3, Episode 4 - Rich Boy, Poor Boy - full transcript

Hoist the main sail!

Aye, aye, Captain.
There's a fair wind blowing.

They'll not catch us now.

There's treasure beyond your
wildest dreams on Skeleton Island.

My lord, it's hot an oven today,
Mrs Brackenreid.

I hear it may go
as high as 98 degrees.

Hotter here than in the city
of Los Angeles, California.

Waves are blowing in.

Your son's a fine young boy.
Kind of you to say, Miss Williams.

Can I wear your hat? It's my turn
to be John Silver. Aye, Captain.

My husband says Bobby



lives in a dream cloud.
And he's not far wrong.

It's their time for dreams.
That ends soon enough.

Captain.

Land ahoy!

Help! Help me!

Someone! Hurry!
Whatever's that?

Help me! Someone! Hurry!

Looks like we're on our own.

That's all right.

Pirates can do anything alone.

What happened? My wages!

He's got my wages.
My goodness, are you all right?

A man stole my purse!
Which way did he go?

That way, I think. What am I to do?



There, there, dear.
Would you recognize the culprit?

I think so.

Then you must report this.

The sooner you do, the better
chance of recovering your wages.

I'll tell the first constable I see.
All right.

What a terrible thing to happen.
You see it more and more these days.

It's not fair, Miss Williams!
It's not fair.

Robert, what's not fair? Why can't
I go on the adventure like Bobby?

What adventure is that?
The man said only Bobby could go.

The man? What man? Bobby?!

Bobby?! Bobby!

Bobby! Bobby!

Bobby!

Thomas! Thomas, come quickly!
Margaret? What's happened?

Bobby's gone. What do you mean
"gone"? He's been taken.

Murdoch!

Nothing. Bloody nothing.

Sir, it occurs to me, not knowing
the motive for the abduction,

concerns arise for your other boy.

I appreciate that, Murdoch.
Fortunately John's staying in
Grimsby with Margaret's sister.

Very good, sir.
A crime scene as dry as a desert
and not a clue to be found.

Then we must rely on what we know.

Mrs Brackenreid and the other
boy's nanny were sitting here.

No passers-by in the vicinity.

Then the victim of
the purse-snatching cried out.

The young woman was assaulted
by the purse-snatcher here.

The sight lines to where the
boys were playing are poor.

This thief clips a passer-by,
causing a commotion...

Exactly, while a second man...
Grabs my son.

One crime disguised as two.
At least a possibility. Sirs, this
was found in the bushes yonder.

The thief has relieved the girl
of her money.

The young woman who was assaulted?

Miss Evie Dewar. She hailed
Constable Hoover on Carlton St.
Given a statement.

I'll need her to look
at some photographs.

Yes, sir. We'll need to talk to
the nanny and the Stanton boy.

Sir, that is Stanton
as in Stanton Breweries, is it not?

Are you all right, sir?

What? Let's get on with it.

A young boy taken in broad daylight?

This city's going to the dogs. My
sympathies, Inspector Brackenreid.

Much appreciated, Mr Stanton.

Now, is your boy's nanny about?

I assumed you'd be stopping in.

She has instructions
to speak freely with you.

We'll need to speak with
your boy, Robert, as well, sir.
My wife will arrange that.

You sent for me, sir?
See the officers to the sitting
room, Lucy. Right away, sir.

Commiserations aside, gentlemen,
business awaits.

Nothing unusual, Inspector.
We were commenting on the heat,

watching the young boys play,
then we heard
the young woman call for help.

Did you see the purse snatcher,
Miss Williams? I'm sorry, no.

Do Bobby and Robert usually
play together at the fort?

The wife says it's pirates,
morning, noon and night.

He's right. Robert is
fascinated with Treasure Island.

Thank you, Miss Williams.

Mrs Stanton, I presume?

Inspector Brackenreid.
Detective Murdoch.

This is so worrying.

How are you faring, Inspector?

Fine.

And you must be Master Robert.

Are you a real policeman?

Yes, I am. And I need your help
to find Bobby. Yes, sir.

Robert, what do you remember
about what happened in the park?

A man came over to us.
Did he talk to you?

It's all right, Robert.

He wanted to take Bobby on an
adventure with real pirates.

He said I could go next time.

Did he hurt Bobby?
No, sir. What did he look like?

He had a big hat.

Was he old or young? Old. Like you.

Did he sport a beard or moustache?

Glasses, perhaps? No, sir.

You've done very well, Robert.

There's a policeman coming by to help
you make a picture of him. Yes, sir.

Time for lunch, Master Robert.
Thank you, Lucy.

Please pass on my sincere
thoughts to Mrs Brackenreid.

I'll be sure to.

This must be such a
terrible time for you.

I never thought
I would have a child.

The day Robert came into
our lives was a miracle.

The very thought of losing him...

Yes, madam.

Bobby's disappearance
was a planned abduction.

One man could have carried out both
crimes, snatching the purse here,

Then running through the woods
to the boys' fort.

It's a distance,
but it could be done.

We're more likely looking
for two men working together.

I've arranged for Miss Dewar
to look at police photographs
for possible suspects.

Young Stanton's portrait?

Our sketch artist got
an excellent likeness, but
only of the kidnapper's hat.

You being funny, Crabtree?

No, sir.

What do you think, Murdoch?
I've been in this job enough years
to have a few enemies.

A logical place to start.

I'll pull together a list.

George, also look into any recent
child abduction cases, as well.

Sir.

You heard him. Let's get moving.

The chances of Bobby's safe
return diminish by the hour.

We must consider all possibilities,
sir, some quite distasteful.

I know what you have to do.

If they've touched one single hair
on his head... Thomas.

"They"? Do you know who took Bobby?

Not yet, love. I was just saying.

Mrs Brackenreid, we'll not
rest until your son has returned.

It's all my fault.
I should never have left him.

I'm going out of my mind.

Margaret, listen to me.

I swear to you that
I'll bring Bobby home.

But you must have faith
in me and the department.

But now, there's work to do.

You go right ahead.
I'll wait here until there is news.

William, I just heard
about Bobby Brackenreid.
Is there something I can do?

At this point, I'm not sure.

Julia, should we hear the worst...

Thomas had just come out of the army
when father asked him to join the
family's plumbing business. Really?

He'd have been a good plumber,
I thought, but his heart
was set on the police force.

I'm sure it's not easy,
married to a policeman.

I knew what I was getting in to.

No point in complaining about
the long hours. And the worry.

But still... I worried more
after we had the two boys.

If something should happen to Thomas.

I never dreamed it would be
one of the boys in danger.

Can I interest you in a stroll,
Mrs Brackenreid?

The air's so still in here.
Do you think Thomas would mind?

I'm sure it would be perfectly fine.

Do you recognize
any of these men, Miss Dewar?

I only saw him a moment.

Take your time.

I didn't expect so much fuss
over me and my purse,

me being a duster girl and all.
It does the heart good.

We try to be thorough.

It might be this man, Detective.

But I can't be on my life certain.

You were seen
in Seaton Park this morning.

I don't go to Seaton Park.
Mr Carson, this is a serious matter.

A seven-year-old boy is missing.

I had nothing to do with it.

If you know what's best for you,
you'll tell us where the boy is.

Seven-year-olds
are a little young for me.

Where the bloody hell
have you got my son?

I wish I had seen your lovely boy.

Inspector.

Sit down.

Sir, if we don't keep our wits
about us, mistakes will be made.

Keep my wits?
Is that what you suggest?

I realise this is difficult, sir.

I find out Jeb Carson was within
half a mile of that park, I'll
put the noose around him myself.

We'll keep him until
we speak to his alibi.

I don't care if the Archbishop
of Canterbury can vouch for him.

He's staying till Bobby's back
safe and sound.

These types makes my flesh crawl.

We're tracking down
as many as we can.

The thought of Bobby
with somebody like that...

Sirs, Mr Stanton to see you.

This arrived in the morning mail.
Frankly, I am mystified.

"We are wanting
$10,000 for your son.

"Our instructions
we will soon deliver."

They've snatched your boy, too?
No.

Robert's at home with his mother.

Sir, I believe the kidnappers
think they have Mr Stanton's son.

They took the wrong boy
from the park... Margaret.

It was a mistake?
So it seems. Thank God.

They'll let Bobby go the moment
they realise their error. Maybe...

I should go. He'll be home
any minute, tired and hungry.

Yes, you go home.
I'll be along shortly.

I'll go with her. Thank you, Doctor.

Margaret's got one thing right.

Bobby's no use to the kidnappers.

But if they find out who he
really is, they won't let him go.

They'll kill him.

Thank you for your cooperation,
Mr Stanton.

It's critical that
the kidnappers believe that
it's your son they've taken.

Not too bright, taking the wrong
boy. Amateurs. Makes them dangerous.

Whatever the case, could there
be a personal motive?

Would a former business associate
be capable of this crime?

I suppose. I didn't raise myself up
in business by courting popularity.

Anyone else come to mind?

Former household staff,
with a grievance?

I recall
a disgruntled employee or two.

We'll need that list, please.

You shall have all
the names you need.

Mr Stanton,
we would like you to deliver
the ransom, if you're agreeable.

Of course.
This is a matter of civic duty.

Good. I'll put the money together.

All you need do is drop it
off under our watchful eye. Fine.

Now, if that's all, I will
contact you once I've heard
from the kidnappers. Good day.

How long can we keep up
this pretence?

Bobby himself
could have let it slip.

Then we must work quickly. "Our
instructions we will soon deliver."
What kind of clap-trap is that?

"We will soon deliver."

The time qualifier comes
before the verb. It's cocked up,
but what does it signify?

If I recall my secondary school
language lessons, the wording
suggests German syntax. Syntax?

The German language is very precise.
Unique in some ways.

The kidnapper's German?
Or pretending to be.

What are you looking at?

The watermark.

Sir, Ramsden's Printers supplies
stock with this watermark to
a number of different companies.

Thank you, George.
You may want to draw your attention
to the bottom of the list, sir.

The Stanton Brewery.

Stanton?
Everything's on the cheap with him.

Not an easy man to work for, then?

Talk to anyone here, Inspector,
they'll tell ya. Hey, Pete?

Yeah, Ned?

Pete Morgan.... Shift foreman.

Inspector and Detective here
want to know about the boss.

They say Stanton's son's
been kidnapped. Get off!

Gentlemen, we are eager
to speak with any workers who
may have wished Mr Stanton harm.

Hell of a long line, that would be.
See those barrels?

Try heavin' them onto the drays
day in day out without crippling
yerself. Stanton doesn't care.

Lose fingers, your pay
gets docked for time off.

And don't go getting sick
or yer out, friend.

No free beer, neither. Yes, well,
that's all very well and good,

but we're looking for someone with
a real grievance against him.

Maybe they should talk to Otto
Schroeder. The brewmaster.

Hates Stanton like a hornet soup.

Didn't show up today till noon.

Schroeder... A fine German name.

If you would just sign your name.

It is true,
I have no love for Herr Stanton.

Why is that, Mr Schroeder? Ten years
ago, we were to set up a business.

He wanted to open a brewery,
but he knew nothing.

I am a brewmaster, trained by my
grandfather. I have the knowledge.

But he had the money? We signed
an agreement for my recipe.

$25 he paid.

My recipe, a fine German lager,
built his fortune.

?25! So he cheated you.

He sees it not like that. I paid
you, he said, fair and square.

A swindle like that needs to be set
right. Yes. So you kidnapped his son.

Was? Nein.

We found the same paper
in your office, Mr Schroeder.
Many people come into my office.

Who were you working with?
No more "was ist das?".

Who's your accomplice?
I know nothing!

Why weren't you at work
this morning? I felt ill.

Where's the boy?!
You have the wrong man!

Stanton fleeced Herr Schroeder
out of his fair share of a fortune.

He had access to the brewery
stationery, he missed work,

and he's a bloody Kraut
He wrote that note.

But the handwriting doesn't match.

Oh, come on, he knew you were taking
a sample. He disguised his hand.

In handwriting analysis,
attention is paid to the stops

and starts in the formation
of the letters, the pen-lifts.

If someone is consciously
trying to write differently...

They'll hesitate as they write.
Exactly. A person's natural hand
has a smooth flow.

Schroeder was not trying to fool us.
So?

You said yourself
there were two of them.

His partner could be
the literary genius.

Check Schroeder's alibi
and tear his house apart.

But, sir... Just do it, Murdoch!

Yes, sir.

Deal with this, Sergeant,
immediately.

There was nothing
at Schroeder's house.

You're sure, Murdoch,
absolutely sure?

His wife and a neighbour
confirmed his alibi. I'm sorry, sir.

All right, all right.
What else do we have?

Nothing new, sir. The maid and
the gardener have airtight alibis.

The pederast, Jeb Carson, is in
the clear, too. At least for this.

The delivery from the bank.

At least the bank's
agreed to front the ransom.

Helps to have a bank manager
who owes you a favour. Don't ask.

What about Stanton's
business associates?

Every hops supplier in town
has had run-ins with him.

And a builder
who claims he was never paid,
but they all have solid alibis.

The ransom note links
to the Stanton brewery,
but if Schroeder wasn't involved...

That narrows it down to what,
100 suspects at the brewery?
Interview them all, would you?

With all respect,
I've been thinking...

I don't want you to think,
I want you to act!

My son has now been missing
seven hours. Yes, sir.

I want some bloody answers, Murdoch.

We're all working
as hard as we can, sir.

This Stanton.

You can't treat people like
slaves and not expect consequences.

The man's put my boy in
mortal danger. Inspector.

You, Stanton.

One spark of decency in you and
none of this would have happened.
Inspector. Please.

Do you have news, Mr Stanton?

This came in the afternoon mail.

What does it say? "The bag you
must leave in the 15th pew... "

There's that bloody
German syntax again.

"In St Michael's church. 8.00pm."

That only gives us half an hour!

I came here as quickly as I could.
That wasn't quickly enough, was it?
What are you implying?

Inspector, I realise
you're under a great strain,

but you must understand I am
being as co-operative as I can.

Sir, they obviously mean to deny
us sufficient time to devise a...

A plan. I'll tell you the plan.

Mr Stanton drops off the bag.

We jump the ... that picks it up
and I'll beat him to a pulp until
he tells us where Bobby is.

Sir, I really don't think...
That's the plan, Murdoch.
We don't have time to debate it.

Mr Stanton.

Where's the boy?

Boy? What boy?
Don't try that with me. Where is he?

Lay off, will ya?

I got paid two dollars
to pick up the bag.

Who paid you? I just saw the money.

Sir! I know this man, sir.

Yes, George? His name is Jack,
a sot from down the docks.

He wouldn't hurt a soul,
unless you're in the way
of his next bottle. That's right.

You, where were you to take the bag?

Harvey's Lane. Under the walkway.

Sir. What's it say? It seems
they've anticipated our actions.

They want 20,000.

Sir, I've tried, but can't lift any
fingermarks from the ransom notes.

Where am I going to get another
$10,000 before the next drop?

Don't lose heart, sir.

The most recent note. What about it?

It's evident the kidnappers still
think they're holding Stanton's son.

They don't realise they have Bobby.

Where is he, Murdoch?

We'll find him, sir.

You want children some day?

I hope to have a son some day.

I've not had a lot of time for mine,
what with this bloody job and such.

I've left it to Margaret.

That's understandable.

If I was to be totally honest,
I've never understood Bobby.

He lives in a fantasy world.

At the moment,
it's pirates and buried treasure.

Games of imagination.

A good father makes time for his boy.

Shows him the way.

I swear by Almighty God,
if I can have him back... You will.

Not without $20,000.

I don't understand.
Why hasn't Thomas telephoned?

Margaret, I'm sure you'll be the
first person the Inspector
calls when there's news. No.

He's keeping me in the dark to
protect me. I'm sure Detective
Murdoch does the same thing for you.

Actually, despite the often
gruesome subject matter,
William and I talk quite openly.

Lucky you.

But all that changes when you marry.

And have children.

I suppose.

Though I'm not sure
children are in my future.

Still, Thomas is as fine a
father as one could want.

When the boys had the croup
last winter, Thomas went days
without sleep tending to them,

and went to work without complaint,
near collapse, as he was.

That sounds like him.

I was so grateful,
but he wouldn't hear a thank you.

Policemen. They have their moments.

Some reserved for you,
if you're lucky.

You're a steadfast
and loving wife, Margaret.

I admire you, I honestly do. I...

Margaret?

We could use counterfeit bills.

That would take too long to arrange.

This looks like $20,000.
Surely they are going

to want to get back
to their hiding spot,
rather than linger to count it all.

Let's hope so.
We have no other option, George.

The drop is in one hour, gentlemen.
Are we set?

The money's ready, sir.

What's this? We improvised.

$20,000 is a bit rich on
an inspector's salary.

It's too big a chance.
What choice do I have? None.

It's why I brought this.

The additional 10,000.

I know what it is to be a father.

Mr Stanton,
you are a gentleman, sir.

If you insist, Inspector.

Now, to business.
What's the plan, Detective?

Mr Stanton, you will drop the bag
at the mill, as instructed.

I've studied the area and believe
I can observe from a distance,

without being discovered.

You and only you, Murdoch.

But back off if there's
any chance you've been seen.

Yes, sir.
This time it's got to work.

Stop! Police!

I think he's got the scent.

Come on, Murdoch.

We're heading south, sir.

The old mill, sir.

Perhaps Bobby has been here
all the time.

Murdoch?

Sir?

Sir!

It's Bobby's shoe.

Bobby! Bobby!

It shouldn't have been my boy.

I'm sorry, Margaret.

You promised to bring him back.
You were to bring him back!

SHE SOBS

Sir, I'm sorry, we've found nothing.

The body must have been swept
down the river.

George, I need you
to find a butcher's.

Just as I thought. Sir?

George, stay here.
Don't let anyone on this dock.

KNOCK ON DOOR
Inspector? What is it, Murdoch?

I've examined the dock... Stop it.

It's finished, it's over.

He was dead long before
we delivered the ransom.

Sir, I believe... I failed, Murdoch.

I failed everyone.

Sir, I believe Bobby may still
be alive.

Don't.

Please.

Don't you dare give me false hope.

Inspector...

I don't say this lightly.

The geometric shape of a
bloodstain determines the direction

it was travelling in
when it hit the ground.

As you see, the tip of the oval
points towards the shore.

What does that prove?

I created a second blood trail,
this time travelling
from the shore to the dock.

You see, the tip of the oval
now points towards the water.

They don't match. Exactly.

Whoever created this blood trail was
travelling from the dock to shore.

But the blood on the floor?

The pattern of the bloodstain, a
small spread with no fine droplets,

suggests it was poured onto
the floor from a low height.

What about Bobby's shoe?

These are rough fibres I found
in the blood from Bobby's shoe.

I believe a piece of sackcloth
was used to rub blood on the shoe.

Bobby's death was staged, sir.
He's alive.

Right then.

It was staged.

So we would stop looking.

William. Perhaps one of
the kidnappers could be a woman.

Go on.

A woman, perhaps unable
to have a child of her own,
and desperate for one?

It's not unheard of.

Just any child? Or young
Robert Stanton in particular?

I never thought I would have a child.

The day Robert came into
our lives was a miracle.

If the kidnapper is a woman,

perhaps she was in
the park that day.

I didn't expect so much fuss
over me and my purse.
It might be this man, Detective.

We should see if Evie Dewar has had
any sudden need to leave town.

Do you really think she could be
one of the kidnappers?

She's cleaned out her flat
and skipped out on the rent.

Not the actions
of an innocent victim.

But she walked right into
the station and...

And pointed us to the pederast,
Jeb Carson. We'd be sure
to take that bait.

So after the so-called attack,
her accomplice doubles back
and takes Bobby? Possibly.

Who exactly do you want to show
this sketch of Evie Dewar to?

If I'm right, to a woman
who was once desperate
for a child of her own.

Detective, I don't understand
why you're showing this to me.

You don't recognize this woman?
No. Darling?

Detective, what's this got to do
with anything?

Mr and Mrs Stanton. The safe return
of the Inspector's son
may depend on your willingness

to speak of something I believe
you've held secret for many years.

A word, sir... No, dear.

It's all right.

No, detective,

I did not give birth to Robert.

I couldn't have...
We couldn't have children.

I'm terribly sorry.

If I may - how did you come
to find your son?

This is Molly Morgan.

She's Robert's... she was the one
who borne him. You knew her?

She lived in a tenement near me.

No more than 16, all by herself,
and in trouble
in more ways than one.

She was going to prison for
thieving and the little fella
would end up in an orphanage.

I knew Mrs Stanton wanted a baby
very badly.

And Molly was willing
to give up her child.

Oh, that was powerful sad
to see, that day.

But it was better than
the children's home.
Where would we find Miss Morgan?

Oh, sir, I've no idea. None at all.

Crabtree.
I want to hear you found something.

Inspector, I believe I have. There
are three Molly Morgans on file.

I don't know if any of them gave
birth seven years ago, that being
Robert Stanton's age,

but one of them
just got out of jail.

Seven years for larceny.
She's got to be the one.

Seven years is a long time to
think about the child she gave up.

And a long time to plan
to get him back.

But she didn't pull this off
by herself, Murdoch.

And whoever wrote the ransom notes
has a connection to the brewery.

Crabtree, how many more of Stanton's
employees have we questioned?
A dozen. Is that all?

Can we connect any of them
to Molly Morgan?

None that I can think of, sir.

Hold on. The name of the shift
foreman we met at Stanton's brewery.
What was his name?

Hey, Pete. Pete Morgan.

Pete Morgan. George,
telephone Stanton brewery.

Find out if Pete Morgan showed up
for work today.

This Morgan fellow - as I remember,
there was no love lost for Stanton.

No, sir. So you're telling me
we almost had him.

There's no way we could
have known at the time.
Sirs. Pete Morgan quit yesterday.

Get an address.
205 Brunswick Avenue, thank you.
Come on, Murdoch.

Get the telephone
for 205 Brunswick Avenue.

Sirs! Stop. What is it, George?
I've just talked to his landlord.

Pete Morgan moved out three days
ago. It's not over, sir.
Let's think.

He may have moved out three days
ago but he worked at the brewery
until yesterday.

He must be staying nearby.
But where?

George, the city directories
and survey maps.

Sirs, I think I have something.
This survey map of Etobicoke,

a lot belonging to M and P Morgan
near the Humber River.
Molly and Pete.

It's less than a mile from where
Bobby was being held.

Irving, grab the map.
Get the carriages.

This must be it, sir.
Pray to God that Bobby's in there.
It's the only cabin on the lot.

Right then.
Sir.

We don't know what we're in for.

That's Morgan all right.

Sir, let us take care of it.

Once he's in custody, I'm straight
in that cabin. Yes, sir.

Toronto Police. Quiet.

Is the boy in the cabin? Well?

Are you taking me home now,
like you promised?

You're going to a new home,
a wonderful new home.

Daddy! Who are you?

I'm Thomas Brackenreid, Miss Morgan.
I've come for my son.

Sorry, mister, this is my boy.
Get out of here. Daddy?

It's all right, Bobby.

You made a mistake.

You took the wrong boy.

No, he's mine. You can tell,
he looks just like me.

This isn't the Stanton boy, Molly.
He's not yours. Get back!

No-one's taking him away from me!
I won't lose him again. I won't.

It must be terrible to have to
give up your own flesh and blood.

What my wife and I have been through
these last two days, we know
how you must have felt.

What would you know? I have him
back, that's all that matters.

This boy has a mother.

She's waiting for him. This is his
father, come to take him home.

I don't believe you.
Why are you lying to me?
This isn't your boy.

You know it, Molly.
A mother knows her own child.

You are my boy, aren't you? No.
He's my daddy.

I want to go home.

You go on home, then.

Ready to sail! He seems no worse
for wear for his adventure.

Took it in his stride.
Chip off the old block.

You're a good man,
Thomas Brackenreid.

Daddy, are you coming?

Excuse me, Margaret,
I think my ship is about to sail.
Hold on, me hearties, hold on!

Thank you.

Throw me a sword!

En garde!

It's clear the thought of reuniting
with her son sustained Molly Morgan
while she was in prison.

Becoming something of
an obsession, I would think.

Her only wish. The ransom demands
were her brother's idea.

Taking advantage of your own
sister's desire to have her
son back. It's monstrous.

You do feel some sympathy for her.
It's understandable.

If we hadn't arrived when we did,
the Brackenreids may never have
seen their son again.

The Inspector seems to be
adjusting well to pirate life.

What an ordeal.

Indeed.

Being a parent carries
such heavy responsibilities.

Though it appears
to have its rewards.

Yes, so it seems.

Over here, Mummy. Thank you, son.

Thank you. Is she seaworthy, son?

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd