Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 4, Episode 13 - Murdoch in Wonderland - full transcript

A man is found murdered at a Lewis Carroll costume party. All clues point to the guest dressed as the Mad Hatter.

It's all right, dear.


Ah! Morning, Higgins.

What have we...?

Sweet mother of...

Is that a turtle costume?

He's Randolph Littlefair, a guest
of the Reda family last night.

They had a costume party here.
Has Detective Murdoch been notified?

No, I telephoned his boarding house
and got no answer. That's odd.

You'd best help with the interviews.

George, I just found
Detective Murdoch. What?


Sir! Ah!




There's been a murder
in the next room.

What are you doing here?
Are you all right?

Why are you dressed like that?

George, did you say
someone's been murdered? Yes, sir.

A Mr Littlefair. He's been beaten
to death. Just through here.

No sign of the rest of it so far,

Perhaps the killer used the mallet
until it broke and then finished him
off using this clock?

William! Are you all right?

I'm not sure. I believe
I'm still experiencing the effects.

More than eight hours later?
The effects of what? Something
I drank last night, George.

Oh, my! It's the Mock Turtle. Yes.
The Mock Turtle?

Dr Ogden and I were attending
a party last night in honour
of the late Lewis Carroll.

Alice's Adventures In Wonderland?
I was the Mad Hatter.

Lividity suggests he died
roughly eight hours ago.

I'd say 11.35, to be precise,

Which means that Mr Littlefair died
when we were all here.

Sir? I believe this is the handle
to the croquet mallet. Very good,
Henry. Where did you find it?

Sir, it was under the bed
you were sleeping in.

How did part of the murder weapon
get under your bed?

Oh, and why were you sleeping there
in the first place?
It's a long story, sir.

Bad news, I'm afraid, sirs. There
are only two sets of finger marks
on the mallet - the victim's...

And the other set was mine.
Someone's trying to pin this on you.

That would appear to be the case,
sir. Well, we'll get
to the bottom of it.

I can't be a part of this
investigation, sir. We should get
someone from outside the station.

In the meantime, it would appear
we have our prime suspect
in this murder case...


Giles? Why Giles?

Yes. No, I understand.
Yes, sir.

Chief Constable Stockton
is sending Inspector Giles
from Station House number three.

He's to have complete authority
over the investigation. I suppose
there are worse fates, sir.

Inspector Giles is
a thorough investigator.

Once he sets his sights on a suspect
that's usually the end of them.

I'm sure you're over-stating
the case, sir.
Well, we'll see, won't we?

How are you feeling, William?
Somewhat more like myself.

It goes to my theory. I think
you were drugged. I'd like to take
a blood sample to prove it.

I would appreciate that. But with
your wedding so close, I'm sure
you have more pressing concerns.

More pressing than clearing you of a
possible murder charge? I think not.

Doctor, did you come into my room
last night?

I looked in on you at about 11,
but I didn't enter the room.

That must be it then.
I seem to remember someone...

Did you speak to me?


Sir, we found this tucked
into your hat band.

It's the poem. What was it doing
in your hat band?

It's written in reverse writing.
I can't make any sense of it.

Murdoch, Dr Ogden, I believe
you know Inspector Giles?
Doctor. Detective.

Well, I'm done here. If you'll
excuse me... Actually, Doctor,
I would appreciate a word.

I understand you were also
at the Reda house last night? Yes.

Then as a material witness
I would ask that you refrain from
communicating with the suspect.

Is that really necessary? Yes, it
is. When you're ready, Detective.

I conduct all my interviews
in private, Inspector,
without exception.

You're under my roof, Giles. If you
like, I could move the interview
to Station House number three.

Fine. But this is a waste of time.
If you please, Inspector?

Shall I start at the beginning?
Let's start with the facts.

Time of death has been established
as 11.35pm. Where were you then?

Sleeping in the room next door.

You'd been invited
to spend the night?

No. I wasn't feeling well.

And where was Mr Littlefair
when you last saw him?

He was on the floor in the parlour.

At least, I think so.

It may have been an hallucination.

Dr Ogden believes I was drugged
at some point.

And who gave this drug to you?

I don't know. They were coming
around with trays of drinks
all evening.

The frog footmen, that is.

Frog footmen?

I'll tell you what, Detective...
Why don't you start
from the beginning?


'I received an invitation
ten days ago.'

Thank you.

"Mr and Mrs Jack and Alexandra Reda
request your presence
as the Mad Hatter at a Costume Party

"to be held in honour of the late
Lewis Carroll." How wonderful -
you get to be the Mad Hatter.

Darcy was supposed to be the Hatter
but he'll be in Buffalo
visiting his family.

Oh, you'll be attending as well?

I'm to be Alice.
I'm going as the White Rabbit.

How did they get my name?
That was my doing.

I said you were the most interesting
conversationalist. That's very
flattering, but... You have to go.

They'll have no Mad Hatter
if you don't.

I'm not much for wearing costumes.
I... What costume?

It's a top hat and a bow tie.
Polka-dot bow tie.

Yes... Do come, William.

It'll be fun.

'Did you know anyone at the party?

'No. I don't travel
in those circles.

'So this was the first time
you met Randolph Littlefair?
That's correct.'

I feel ridiculous. Trust me
when I tell you, you'll be
the least ridiculous person here.

A frog footman, how perfect!

Julia! Ruby! Oh!

Oh, how good to see you! And you
must be Mr Murdoch. I've heard
so much about you. Jack Reda.

Glad you could come.
It's a pleasure.
So are we playing croquet?

You can't have a Wonderland party
without croquet! Come.

Oh, lovely!

Julia, Ruby Ogden, this is
our friend, Constance Gardner.

And this is our son, Bradley. This
whole party was Constance's idea.

Such a pleasure. Oh, and this is
Mr Murdoch who so graciously agreed
to take Mr Garland's place.

Let me introduce you to our guests
of honour. Mr Randolph Littlefair
and his lovely wife, Eleanor.

Pleased to meet you. Say hello to
Tweedledum and Tweedledumber here.

Ha! I believe he's mocking you!
I believe he's mocking YOU!

I am the Mock Turtle. I love it
when people get into character.
Off with his head!

Here. Your turn.

Everyone, have fun.
This is delightful.

'So that's how your finger marks
got on to the red mallet? Yes.'

What was your impression
of Mr Littlefair?

I found him overbearing.

You didn't like him? I'm not
in the habit of killing people
I don't like, Mr Giles. Fair enough.

What happened next?

'After that, we went inside.'

"Drink me." How delightful.
Oh! No, thank you.

Come on, Detective, one drink won't
kill you. It's a Wonderland party,
after all. All right.

'Was your drink ever
out of your sight?'

I don't remember. So someone
could have slipped the drug in
at any time? Possibly.

Do you think you were specifically
chosen to receive the drug?

I can't think of a reason why.
Tell me more about Littlefair.

'Frankly, I wasn't the only person
who found him objectionable.'

You don't belong with these people,
do you? I'm sorry?

I don't belong with them either.

Aren't you the hosts' son?

I'm a communist.
I'm intellectually committed
to loathing them all.

Especially Littlefair.

Why him?

Because my father, also a despicable
capitalist, is in debt to him,
and he's taken full advantage.

And he's an ignorant bore.
He's never read Lewis Carroll.

The Mock Turtle's supposed to be
doleful, not mocking. The fool.

And what did you make
of Bradley Reda's diatribe?

The disquiet of youth?
The passive, intellectual variety?

I'm told there was some sort of
parlour game. Yes, a word game.

May I have your attention, please?

As we all know,
Lewis Carroll enjoyed inventing
his own nonsense words.

You'll be asked to invent a nonsense
word of your own, describing
the person standing next to you.

Then we'll put all the words into
a hat and invent a nonsense poem
of our own.

How lovely!

Thank you.

'And what was this poem about?'

I'm not sure exactly.

That's when the drug started
to take effect.

Oh! Oh! How wonderful!
Ladies and gentlemen,

may I have your attention?
We have our poem!

I need to use a mirror
because it's written backwards.

"'Twas twilly
and the grumbly snifters
burbled in their moonly sned!

"While the brilluitiful Noomava
lay smomfy in her bed."

Julia? What is it, William?

I'm having the oddest sensation.

Are you tipsy? No.

Everything seems distorted.

"Gone he was and so it was
the Oafenfat came sneeling."

Splendid! Splendid!
It's the maiden who slays the ogre.
Isn't that refreshing?

And to think we made it up
all by ourselves!

'From that point on,
the distortions grew more intense.'

May I offer you another drink?
We have a light one.


'Time no longer made sense.'



I have half a mind... William!

You hit him?
I honestly don't know.

But I suspect I did.

And what happened then?

I believe I was helped up to bed.

Ah, look!

A smomfy room just for you.

Right. Very...





Well? The murder weapon has
his finger marks. He has no alibi.

And no motive. He had an altercation
with the victim. Bloody hell!

I'd like to say that I don't believe
he killed the man, but I'm subject
to the same prejudice as you.

Normally with evidence like this,
charges are laid.

You lay a charge, the race is on
to find evidence supporting that
charge. I don't want that to happen.

We should investigate the
possibility that he's being framed.

Detective Murdoch must be
incarcerated for the remainder
of the investigation.

This is just temporary till we solve
this thing. I understand, sir.

"'Twas twilly
and the grumbly snifters
burbled in their moonly sned

"while the brilliutiful Noomava..."

George, what does this mean?
It doesn't mean anything, Higgins.
It's nonsense!

Oh. And your novel? I've finished
Curse Of The Lost Pharaohs.

It's so good, I'll write another.
And there'll be a character
based on you - the village idiot!

Everyone gather round.

Detective Murdoch has been placed
in custody and will remain there
until we can prove his innocence.

It's up to us, lads.

We have a time of death - 11.35pm.

I want to know where everyone
at that party was in the minutes
before and after that.

I want to know who had a motive.
Crabtree, find out who had a grudge
against Littlefair. Sir.

And no-one outside
this station house,

and I mean absolutely no-one, can
know that one of our own is under
suspicion of murder. Is that clear?

Yes, sir. Yes, sir.
Well, what are you all standing
around for?

Inspector Giles!
Allow me to be of assistance.

Do you mind? No.

You have post-mortem results,
Doctor? Yes. Mr Littlefair
was struck twice with the mallet.

His temple area was shattered with
shards of bone entering the brain.

Hmm. That sounds decisively fatal
to me. Yes. My feeling
is the clock was just...

For good measure? Quite so, yes.

And have you found evidence of
a drug in Detective Murdoch's blood?

Yes. His glucose levels
were depressed, suggesting
the presence of mescaline.

Mescaline? It's derived
from the mescal cactus.
It was isolated quite recently.

And does this drug make you violent?

No. Its primary effect is
intense visual hallucinations.

Nevertheless, Detective Murdoch
did become violent, did he not?
There was an incident, yes, but...

I apologise. This is the wrong venue
for this conversation.

When you're finished here,
I'd like to interview you properly
at the station.

Constable? What?

You're staring.
No, Miss Gardner. I...

Sorry. I was kicked by a horse
in the face as a young girl.

Where were you at 11.35?

We were playing a game in the
parlour. Well, most of us anyway.

And he hit him.

I'd gone to bed by then.
I felt I'd fulfilled my obligations
as the son of the hosts.

We were counting on Mr Littlefair
to buy a larger share of my company.

We threw the party in his honour.
It had all been going so well.

My husband could be...overbearing
at times, it's true.

It's no reason to kill a man,
though, is it?

We assumed William had been
the victim of a prank.

I thought it might've been oil
of hashish or something harmless
like that.

It was a Wonderland party after all.

Oh, for the love of... I bent
my nib. One moment, Miss Ogden.

I believe the detective keeps
some extra nibs in here.
Is that a ring? Give me that back!

It's beautiful. You can't just take
items out of the detective's...

"Julia, as long as you exist
in this world..."

Oh, my, it's a proposal! What? He was
going to propose? I have no idea!

And I insist that you...
No, don't put them in there!
Ruby, this is none of our business.

I beg to differ, George.

At first I assumed
he'd had a little too much.
William is not used to liquor.

But then over the next hour, he
became more disoriented. And you saw
a personality change? Rather, yes.

Are you feeling any better, William?
No. Thank you. No.

Hey! Frog man!

'Mr Littlefair had been drinking
heavily all evening
and it was beginning to show.'

One more drop and I'm sleeping
in another room. You snore
when you are drunk, Randolph! Fine!

Froggy! I said no more!


Everyone was in shock. And then...


I've half a mind to... Yes?
Come now, Mr Turtle.

Let's help you to your bed.
Come on.

What's come over you, William?
We need to get Mr Murdoch upstairs
as well.

We can get him home.
No, no, no, I insist!

Believe me, Inspector Giles.
William was in no condition to leave
his room, let alone kill someone.

Well, thank you, Dr Ogden.

I believe that's all for now.

Would it be possible to see him?

Doctor, do you have a romantic
interest in the detective?

I notice that you sometimes refer
to him by his Christian name.

We did have a relationship, yes,
but that is... Well, I wish you'd
been forthright with me about this.

You must see how that past
relationship casts every statement
you've made in a different light.

And no. No, you can't see him.

What have you learned, Inspector?
Well, between 11.30 and 11.45,

most guests were gathered
in the parlour to play games.
And who was not in the parlour?

There were two servants
in the kitchen and one was loading
supplies on to a carriage.

Jack Reda was in his study and
Bradley was in his bed. Interesting.

If Detective Murdoch's recollections
are truthful, the Reda family has
good reason to dislike Littlefair.

Littlefair had queered a business
deal on Jack Reda and Sonny Boy
was letting the whole world know.

Yes, this is promising.
Let's bring them in.

Am I seriously under suspicion?
You expressed contempt for
Mr Littlefair. He was contemptible.

And your communist philosophy
advocates the violent overthrow
of capitalist society, does it not?

Through spontaneous revolution, not
one capitalist at a time. Bradley!

You claim to loathe
your capitalist parents, but
their financial future and yours

had been put at risk by Littlefair.
I call that motive.

Call it what you will.

My son feels that any commercial
venture is, by definition,

The fact is, we needed
Mr Littlefair's money.

He may have pressed his advantage,
but I stood to lose more by his death
than I could gain. But not much more.

Several speculative land deals
of yours had just fallen through.

Your construction business
is bleeding badly.
Oh, yes, I checked.

You were using Littlefair's money
like a bank.

But he held all your IOUs.
In a short time
you would've gone under.

Littlefair would've owned
every last thing that you owned
for pennies on the dollar.

He was a damn bastard, is what
he was. That's why you killed him.

No. Killing him
is what I wish I'd done.

"Julia, as long as you exist
in this world, there will be
no-one for me but you.

"We can adopt. Julia Ogden,
please say you'll marry me."

No. It can't be.

He had every opportunity
to say these things to me
before I left for Buffalo.

I don't understand!

Jules... I love Darcy.

I'm happy. I've made my choice.

Doesn't the fact that you're
so upset about this tell you
that your heart feels differently?

Don't you see it's too late?
I can't walk out on Darcy now.
It would break his heart.

Heartbreak is temporary.
Marriage is for life.

For the rest of your life.

This receipt is dated a year ago. He
may not even feel that way any more.

Then why keep the engagement ring
and his thoughts on the proposal?

He would've said something.

Would he have? The problem is
that he's a fine man who loves you.

But he sees how you've prepared your
future. He's going to remain silent,

no matter how much it hurts him,
and honour your choice,
unless you talk to him.

Jules, you have to say something.
You have to go to him.

I can't.

Inspector Giles has forbidden it.

Well, as I see it,
you'll have to do something.

My money's on the communist son.
I don't think so.

He may well have expressed a dislike
for the man, but so did Murdoch.
Have a seat, Giles. Ah, thank you.

And who attacked Littlefair minutes
before he was killed? Whose bed
was the murder weapon found under?

What about the boy's father?
Well, I would agree,
except that by killing Littlefair,

Jack Reda would only have hastened
his own financial collapse.
So you're back on Murdoch?

You've had that in your head from
the start, like a dog with a bone.

Look, I appreciate your loyalty
to Murdoch, Inspector. I truly do.

But don't ever question
my objectivity as an officer
of the law.

He's one of us, Giles.

And that makes it all the more
difficult. But it doesn't mean
that he's innocent.

It's not looking good.
I need you to think.

Someone must've come into your room
to plant the evidence against you.

Do you remember anything?
Nothing clearly, sir.
Well, that's not good enough.

Someone may have come into my room,
but I can't be certain.

Bloody hell, Murdoch,
you have to remember. Who was it?

Your neck is on the line.


Do you remember me, William?

Was it a dream you had or a memory?

Perhaps a dream of a memory.

Who was it?

The Cheshire Cat.

Mrs Littlefair, did you enter
Detective Murdoch's room
on the night of the party?

No, why would I? You were dressed
as the Cheshire Cat, correct? Yes.

And were you in costume the whole
evening? Hmm... No, I had my mask
off for most of the time.

And where did you leave the mask?

On the table downstairs.

Very well.
Thank you, Mrs Littlefair.

You and your husband weren't exactly
living in marital bliss, were you?

And now here you are, newly single,
and ready to inherit
quite a few bob! Inspector!

You think I killed my husband?
Murdoch saw you come into his room.

That's when you planted the evidence
under his bed. How dare you! I've
just lost my husband. I'm grieving!

Grieving? Grieving all the way to
the bank! Inspector, that's enough!

A word.

I made it perfectly clear, I conduct
my interviews without interference!

You barely asked her the time
of day! She was downstairs in the
parlour with witnesses at 11.35.

Someone came into Murdoch's room
with that mask on. So says Murdoch.

And he's got every reason to lie
if he's the killer. This is Murdoch
we're talking about.

Policeman don't commit murder?
Wasn't it Murdoch
who disproved that theory?

I can't handle the evidence, sir.

Then just look, all right?
I don't need to remind you
that Giles is closing in.

Right then, George,
fit the pieces together.

Now, rotate it.

It's broken to the side, sir.
If the mallet had broken from
the force of striking the victim,

the handle would have broken
back to front.

The mallet was broken deliberately?
Part of you being framed.

That would be my assumption.

Now then, what other evidence
might have been tampered with?

This is a striking clock.
Regardless of what the hands say,

the striking mechanism must be set
to chime on the hour.

Now we can check the status
of the mechanism to see
if it matches the displayed time.

You see here?

The position of the rack
and snail cam. Rack and snail?

It's what determines
the number of chimes.

This clock had already struck
midnight by the time it was stopped.
Can we tell what time it stopped?

Yes, by counting the number
of notches on the gear train.

One, two, three, four,
five, six, seven, eight...

This clock was stopped
at ten after midnight.

12.10? That was the time
of the murder. Not 11.35pm.

That puts Eleanor Littlefair back on
the suspect list. Bloody hell, that
puts everybody back on the list!

We'll have to re-interview them all.
So tell me, Inspector, how did you
figure out this clock business?

It was Murdoch, wasn't it?

At no point did Detective Murdoch
come into contact with the evidence.
No, he just told you where to look.

And that didn't strike you
as suspicious? How?

Are you suggesting Murdoch
framed himself? He plants evidence
pointing to himself as the killer,

knowing when it's shown to be false,
it will exonerate him - brilliant!
It's idiotic!

It's brilliant. And Murdoch
is nothing if not that.

Sir, we have a problem. Now what?
I've checked police records
going back more than a decade.

It seems Randolph Littlefair changed
his name some years back.

He used to be Michael Cudmore and
he had a few run-ins with the law,
including murder. Who did he kill?

An innkeeper was found stabbed
to death. Cudmore was charged
but later acquitted.

So what's the problem? The arresting
officer was William H Murdoch.

Michael Cudmore?
Do you recall the name?


I am the Mock Turtle!
Do you remember me, William?

Murdoch! Cudmore? Does the name
Michael Cudmore ring any bells?

Michael Cudmore, yes.

I arrested him shortly after
I started with the Constabulary.

So you're saying it's coincidence
that 12 years later

you just happen to be at a party
with Cudmore and someone
frames you for his murder?

It's the only explanation I have.

What do we tell Giles? Nothing.
We don't say a bloody thing.

Sir, I've spoken with Bradley Reda's
laboratory partner.

He's a chemistry major.
They've been isolating mescaline.

It was meant to be a prank. So by
chance the man you slipped this drug
to ended up being framed for murder?

I planned to spike the whole
punchbowl, but we couldn't produce
enough in time,

so I slipped the mescaline
into Randolph Littlefair's drink.

And how did it end up in Murdoch's
glass? He must've picked up
the wrong glass.

I wouldn't have done this to your
detective. He was the one person
at the party I liked.


You interviewed Bradley Reda
without my permission, Inspector.

If I hadn't, we wouldn't know where
the mescaline came from. I thought
that might be important, Inspector.

It is, marginally.
But I've been doing my own digging.

I learned that your men had
discovered these arrest reports
concerning Murdoch and Cudmore.

Were you planning on telling me
about these? Of course, sir.

But we're still following
that line of enquiry. Save it!

You've interfered with
my investigation, so I will remove
Murdoch from your custody

and conduct this investigation
from Station House number three.
But you can't!

It's not a negotiation!

Detective Murdoch?

Have you any idea how THAT happened?
Bloody hell, if I know.

Sir, he must've picked the lock.

Why would he do it, Crabtree?
Why would he run?

Maybe he lost his faith in us, sir.
Maybe he thought the evidence
against him was so strong that...

Well, anything on the murder
of that innkeeper?

Sir, I've gone over all the files
for Cudmore's murder charge.

No-one at the Wonderland party
connects to the trial.
I might have something here, sir.

A witness later claimed that Cudmore
assaulted her in the days following.
What was the name?

Miss Ava Moon, an actress. Cudmore
was arrested, but never charged.

Ava Moon?

What? Have you heard that name
before? Not heard it. Seen it.

The poem.
Sir, this is the nonsense poem
from the Wonderland party.

It tells the story of a maiden,
Noomava. She's attacked by an ogre,

but she fends him off
and slays him. What are you
showing me this for? Look here.

"Noomava" is Ava Moon backwards.

Who wrote this?

But we all wrote this.
We made up nonsense words.

What about this Noomava mentioned
in the poem? Ava Moon?

That wouldn't be you, Mrs Reda?
Inspector, there's no such person.

So these nonsense words magically
became a story about a maiden who
killed a beast that attacked her?

It wasn't magic. We had to work
at it a bit. "We"? Constance and I.

Well, it was all her idea. It was
quite ingenious the way she pieced
the story together out of it all.

Constance? The woman who helped you
with the party?

Yes. You wouldn't happen to have
her address, would you?

I didn't expect to see you in person.

I assumed you'd be in jail.

But I knew you would figure it out.

I was hoping to have been gone
by then.

Of course, I was never very lucky,
was I?

Ava, I needed to see you

to tell you that I understand
why you framed me.

And how truly sorry I am
for what's happened to you.

Well, it's a bit late for that,
isn't it?

I suppose so. Now I'm afraid
you'll have to come with me
to face the murder charge.

You would do that to me?
I'll argue for leniency.

I'll tell the judge that Littlefair
hurt you deeply, savagely.

Perhaps you didn't realise,

I wasn't his last victim.

Brigitte Marlowe from Montreal.
He held his knife against her cheek
while he raped her. She lived.

Mavis Hedge from Belleville wasn't
so lucky. He was there. I checked.

It was Cudmore or Littlefair,
whatever you want to call him.

And this was just a month ago. How
many others that we don't know about?

Why didn't you bring this
to the police? I tried that
once before, didn't I?

Didn't work out so well for me.
Taking the law into your own hands
has repercussions, Ava.

So does raping and killing women!

Or butchering them so badly,
they cannot have children.

But the law doesn't always work
the way it should.

Haven't you seen that in the 12 years
since this happened to me?

Have you not changed in that time?

Is the letter of the law
still all you care about

even when it's wrong?

Michael Cudmore
would have kept on killing.

He deserved his fate and worse.

You know what I did was just.

What choice do I have?

Then will you watch my hanging?

If that's the verdict, yes.
It's my duty.

Then I will see you on that day.


She was an actress.

She rented a room at an inn
along my beat.

One night she heard cries coming
from the innkeeper's room

and then saw a man leaving.

She didn't see his face, but she
recognised his coat, his walk.

I arrested Cudmore. And my inspector
at Station House number one
beat a confession out of him.

Ava was terrified of Cudmore
and refused to testify against him.

But I convinced her that it was
her duty, that she should trust
in the law.

But he wasn't convicted?


That wasn't your fault.

Actually, it was.

My inspector testified
that the confession was voluntary.

But I, zealously, told the truth.

The confession was thrown out.
And the case collapsed.

And then Michael Cudmore
took revenge on Ava Moon.

Why wasn't he arrested for that?

Insufficient evidence.

It was dark, the middle
of the night, etcetera.

The prosecution didn't believe that
Ava's identification of Cudmore
would stand up at trial.

So you can see why
she doesn't trust in the law.


What the devil's going on here?

Cudmore took his knife to me.

Not just my face.

He did things...

I couldn't begin to describe to you.

Everything I ever wanted in life,

marriage, children...

..ended the night he came
into my room.

He moved out of Ontario after that.

Then a few months ago, I saw
his picture in the newspaper.

Oh, he'd changed his name
to Randolph Littlefair,
but I knew it was him.

So you plotted to kill him?

I have friends in common
with Alexandra Reda

and when I learned the Redas were
going into partnership with Cudmore,

a plan materialised.

I suggested the party for that
reason. How did you know Detective
Murdoch would be there? I didn't.

It was just...

one of those strange things
in life.

I realised if I pointed the suspicion
on him, it would give me time
to make a clean break.

But I wouldn't have let him hang.
I was going to leave a confession
in my room.

But he arrived
before I could make my escape.

And now it's me who's going to hang.

It seems the law's finally
done with me.


Escaping from police custody
is a serious offence.

I had to inform Chief Constable
Stockton. And as you're no doubt
aware, there may be consequences.

I had to see Ava again.

To make amends somehow.

Bring her in with dignity
to get at the truth.

The truth at all costs.

She'll likely hang.

Her sad story may sway the judge.

But it was premeditated murder,
there's no getting around that.

A lesser policeman than yourself
might have been inclined
to look the other way.

But you and I are not arbiters
of justice.

We are merely servants
of the law.

It is no simple task
to remain incorruptible,

especially in defiance
of one's own conscience.

Cold comfort, eh, Inspector?

Sir, good to see
you're a free man again.

Thank you, George.
This was left at my desk. I'm quite
sure that's Dr Ogden's handwriting.

I didn't really have an opportunity
to get it to you until now.
Thank you.

Well, we're off to the wedding.
Will you be attending?

There's something I need to take
care of, but if there's time, yes.

Well, sir, I...

should get going, I suppose.

I do hope to see you there, sir.

"Dearest William, I am writing this
during what should be
the happiest time of my life.

"And yet my heart has never been
more troubled."

"I have learned of the marriage
proposal you intended to make to me.

"If your feelings are the same,
you must let me know
before I make my vows.

"If they are not,
then I will marry Darcy
and we will never speak of this.

"Either way,
I will know your true feelings
and my heart will be in peace.

"Love, Julia."


Take the CP Rail to Hamilton

Don't stay on the train any longer
or they will catch you.

Here. Take a carriage from Hamilton.
Find a boarding house. Try not
to draw any attention to yourself.

Wait a month and cross the border
at Windsor on an overnight train.

Detective, I... The station watch
is at a wedding ceremony.
They'll be back shortly.

Why are you doing this?

If I had acted the way
I should have back then, perhaps
none of this would have happened.

It's one mistake I can set right.

But this could cost you your career.

You'll never know what it's cost me.

And forsaking all others,

be faithful to him
as long as you both shall live?

I do.

You were missed at the wedding.

Sir? I don't blame you, Murdoch.

It's no secret how you feel about
Dr Ogden. I am sorry, me old mucker.

I received this a few hours ago.

Thought I'd hold off until after
the wedding celebrations. There's
no two ways to say this, Murdoch.

The Chief Constable has determined
the price you'll pay
for breaking out of jail.

You are suspended three weeks
with a reprimand on record.
Well, that's not so bad, right?

A slap on the wrist
and you'll be right back at it.

Actually, sir, it's going to be
much worse than that for me.

There's something I need
to tell you.

Best pour us both a drink.

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for Red Bee Media Ltd - 2011