Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 4, Episode 4 - Downstairs, Upstairs - full transcript

Calm yourself, Nancy,
or you'll be chipping the fine china.

- Imagine the trouble then!
- Don't joke at a time like this!

- Don't fret. All will be well.
- Billy, I'm worried...

- Three cups, Nancy.
- Make it four. Another's expected.

So, did you do it?

Did you do it?

- Your tea, sir.
- Oh, wonderful. Much thanks.

- Two lumps, yes?
- Yes, sir.

Oh my, lovely aroma!

- Good morning, Constable Crabtree.
- Ah, sir!

Detective, this is Mr Heward.



Mr Heward, Detective Murdoch.
Mr Heward is the butler, sir.

I take it
you'll be forgoing tea, Detective?

Yes.

That'll be all, Billy.

- What have you, George?
- Sir, the housekeeper discovered...

I'm very sorry, sir.

The housekeeper
discovered the body at 8:30.

The victim's wife was the last
to see him alive at quarter past.

A difference of 15 minutes.
A small window of opportunity.

Mr Heward,
was there any sign of an intruder?

No, sir.

The windows and doors were intact.

A possible murder weapon, sir.

Yes. But there's no blood on it.
The killer could have wiped it clean.



I'll have it dusted for finger marks
in any case.

Very good, George.

Gentlemen, if there's nothing further
required for the moment?

No, Mr Heward, that will be all.
Thank you.

Sir, if the house was locked up tight,
the killer must live here.

Yes, we'll need statements
from the staff and family, George.

I have the lads seeing to that now.

Very good. Have you notified Dr Francis?

He's on his way,
although I fear my telephone call

may have interrupted his breakfast.

- I take it he was less than pleased?
- As usual, sir.

What do you think he'll have to say
about the cause of Mr Jenkins' death?

Well, with his gift
for stating the obvious,

he'll no doubt conclude
that this was not a case of poisoning.

Men's clothes exclusively.

Yes, sir.
Mrs Jenkins has a bedroom down the hall.

I believe that's common practice
with these upper-crust folks.

Yes, well, two people slept in this bed
last night.

Ah, at last!
I was running out of rooms.

Dr Francis, good morning.

Hmm. For some it is, I suppose.

That said, if we take this gentleman...

His condition frames my unfinished
boiled egg in stark perspective.

Dead less than two hours.
Nasty little hole in the head.

Doctor, would you say the gaff
from a fireplace poker

could be in keeping with
what you see here?

Why not? I'll know better when I flush
and drain the wound back at the morgue,

my home away from home,

away from home.

- Constable Crabtree!
- Sir?

- Has the house been secured?
- It has and I've posted a man here, sir.

Very good. What have you?

Well, sir, we have nine people
in the home at the time of the murder.

Carry on.

As you know,
the deceased is Percival Jenkins.

In relation to him, we have his mother,
Mrs Jenkins Senior,

his wife Nora, the youngest son Nicholas
and his fianc?e Clara Thorn.

The older son Victor is upstairs.
Apparently, he'll be along shortly.

As for servants, we have
the housekeeper Miss Allen,

Nancy Booth the scullery maid,
Florence Cullwick the parlour maid

and Billy Slater the footman.

Hmm. You've left out
Mr Heward, the butler.

Mr Heward was at the tailor

between 8:00 and 8:30
picking up a suit for Mr Jenkins.

Or so he says.

- Thank you, George. Please confirm that.
- I will do, sir.

Also, the parlour maid
Florence Cullwick says

that she heard Mr Jenkins and his wife

- arguing about ten past eight.
- Indeed? Thank you, George.

- Is that the new coachman?
- Hush, Mother-in-law.

Ladies and gentlemen,

my name is Detective William Murdoch
of the Toronto...

I hope I haven't kept you all waiting...

Toronto Constabulary, I believe
you were about to say. Please carry on.

How like you, Victor,
the grand entrance,

even on the morning
of Father's death!

I'm sure you'd prefer

I slink in guiltily
as you would have, Nicholas,

but, unlike you, I didn't kill Father.

- Take that back! You take that back!
- Boys, for God's sake!

All right, that's quite enough,
both of you.

The detective has something to say.

A man was murdered in this house.
I offer my condolences and my assurance

that the constabulary will bring the
perpetrator of this crime to justice.

Now, you've all given your statements.

Over the next few days,

we'll be comparing those statements
and gathering evidence.

Detective, are you saying
that we're all suspects?

I'm merely asking that you keep
yourselves available for questioning.

That will be all for now. Thank you
very much for your cooperation.

Mrs Jenkins, if you could remain.

Will you be needing anything, madam?

- Mrs Jenkins, my sincere sympathies.
- Yes.

I understand you and your husband
were having an argument

- shortly before he was found dead?
- Who told you that?

What was the argument about?

It was a personal matter.
It had nothing to do with this.

Please answer the question.

He'd been rude and impossible,
as always.

Is that enough of an answer for you?

Did you sleep in your husband's bed I
ast night, Mrs Jenkins?

No, I did not.

Thank you for your time, Mrs Jenkins.

Oh, good, a chart.

Sir, in a case with 10 suspects,

careful organisation of information
is paramount.

I'll make a note of that.

First task is to determine
who had opportunity to kill Mr Jenkins,

of those who had motive
and with evidence,

hopefully that list
will be narrowed down to one.

And do you have any evidence?

No, sir.

- Yes, George?
- Sir, I've confirmed the butler's alibi.

Oh, bravo, Murdoch!
One down, nine to go. Ha!

Also, sir, I found two sets of
finger marks on the bedroom poker,

the first set belonging to
Florence Cullwick, the parlour maid...

Well, that's to be expected.

Parlour maids generally tend
to the fires in the big houses.

The other set belonged
to Nicholas Jenkins, the youngest son.

Yes, I used the poker, attending to
the fire in my father's room last night.

Isn't that usually the job of the maid?

How absurd to ring for the maid to do
something I could so easily do myself!

What were you doing
in your father's room?

We were having words.

- About?
- He had insulted my fianc?e Clara.

How so?

One of the servants had told him
that Clara had gone down

to their quarters to fetch some thread
instead of ringing them to bring it up.

And?

He intimated that's where
Clara belonged, downstairs.

My parents feel
she's not good enough for me.

But my family, to my shame,
is not nearly good enough for her.

I see. And where were you between
8:15 and 8:30 this morning?

- In the library.
- Can anyone confirm this?

Billy brought me tea and the morning
papers, but that was before 8:00.

You don't think Nicholas
did his old man in then?

Sir, the guilty rarely volunteer
their motive or undercut their alibi.

More than anything,
he appears to be a man in love.

That's him finished with, then!
So that just leaves the parlour maid?

Yes, Florence Cullwick,
whom, as you said,

tends to every fire in the household.

Now if the murder weapon was
indeed a fireplace poker,

then perhaps it just wasn't the one
in Mr Jenkins' room.

George, see to it that every fire poker
in the house is brought in

- and dusted for finger marks.
- Sure. Will do.

Now then, I need some certainty
about this murder weapon.

Ah, Murdoch,
with your usual impeccable timing.

I'm off to an early dinner with my wife,
then a recital.

- Musical saw and spoons, no doubt!
- I only require a moment of your time.

Cause of death, wound to the head.

Approximately three
and five-sixteenth inches deep.

I think your poker theory
has some merit.

Wonderful.
Could you make a mould of the wound,

so I can compare it
to potential murder weapons?

I've never done such a thing

- and I'm not about to start now.
- Why not?

You know, Murdoch,

there is more to life than this.

This is all of them, sir.

No two are alike. I assume they've been
checked for blood and finger marks?

Yes, sir. No blood,
and curiously enough,

most of the handles
have been wiped down.

I'm wondering if the killer perhaps
forgot which one he used.

I imagine the parlour maid
could have cleaned all of the handles

during the course of her daily duties.

So this is a model
of the Jenkins house, sir?

After a crude fashion, George.

The dark chess pieces
represent the Jenkins family

and the white ones stand in
for the servants.

Ah! So this is Victor Jenkins
in his bedroom?

Yes, and Victor's brother
Nicholas Jenkins in the library.

This is Clara Thorn,
the fianc?e, in the morning room.

And Nora Jenkins, the wife,
in the conservatory and so on.

George, I think if we can determine
which room the murder weapon came from,

we might have our killer.

Sir, I can imagine this to be some sort
of board game.

Players would get clues pertaining
to certain suspects.

Whoever figured out the murderer,
would be the winner.

George, I'm sure people
would find murder far too grave

for it to be the subject
of frivolous entertainment.

Oh, I hope not, sir. I'm 12 pages
into my murder mystery.

I've set it in Toronto where an ancient
Egyptian curse wreaks havoc on a...

George, have a look at this.

From this position, the black queen
can see anyone entering or exiting

this hallway area
from either set of stairs.

Who's the black queen, sir?

Mrs Jenkins, you were in your chair
this morning having your tea.

- Do you remember?
- Of course I remember. Why shouldn't I?

Did you happen to see anyone go into
or come out of your son's bedroom?

Yes, it was Alma
going to stoke the fire.

Alma was a maid here many years ago.

Your ladyship, Alma's been gone
a very long time.

It was Alma. Has everyone gone stupid
except for me?

Percy always liked Alma.

Pretty, she was. Looked like a swan
but walked like a duck.

Oh, where is Percy anyway?

He was supposed to take me to the opera.

- Mrs Jenkins does get confused at times.
- I see.

Thank you very much for your...

What are you doing?

I was just looking
for my father's watch.

- Oh, and here it is.
- Please put that back.

- And you, Miss Cullwick...
- I asked Florence to assist me.

You have no business being in this room.
This is a crime scene. Quite off limits.

Apologies. I had no idea.

Mr Jenkins, in your written statement
you say that you were in bed

between 8:15 and 8:30 this morning?

Sleeping off a drinking binge,
I'm afraid.

And, Miss Cullwick,
you say you were in the morning room,

cleaning when Mr Jenkins Senior
was killed?

Yes, sir.

Oddly, Miss Thorn made no mention
of seeing you there in her statement.

I work so quietly,
I'm sure she didn't notice me.

- Are we free to go?
- No.

Mr Jenkins, what did you mean
when you said to your brother,

"Unlike you, I didn't kill Father"?

I was getting a rise out of him.

Nicky could no more kill Father
than he could swear in front of a woman.

- Anything else?
- Yes. Stay out of this room.

- Julia!
- Detective!

I thought I might see you here.

It's wonderful to see you,
though somewhat unexpected.

Yes, I know, it must be.

I dropped by to offer my condolences.
Our families are acquainted.

But you couldn't have come from Buffalo
in such a short time?

- No. I was already in town.
- Oh.

Yes. For the rest of the week, actually.
To introduce Darcy to my family.

Your fianc?. Yes, of course.

He's just saying goodbye
to Mrs Jenkins.

William, they're saying that Mr Jenkins
was murdered. What have you found?

The cause of death
was a single blow to the head.

I believe a fire poker was used.

I've asked Dr Francis
to take a cast of the wound.

Yes, to determine the murder weapon.

- But he's refused.
- Why?

It's simple enough.

The brain matter
will cling to the plaster,

so you can only do it once, but...

Might there be another casting material

that would not disrupt
the victim's brain tissue?

- What are you suggesting?
- If Dr Francis were to never find out...

William! I couldn't.

Such conspiratorial whispers!

Darcy, I believe
you know Detective Murdoch.

- A pleasure to see you again, Detective.
- And you.

Detective Murdoch was asking me
to help him with a case,

but I'd like to remind him
that the last time he did that,

the feathers quite hit the fan!

Yes. Well, Dr Francis has gone home...

I would love to help you, but I can't.
My family is expecting us for dinner.

Oh, nonsense. You can tell them
you've been called away.

And I'll charm them so completely,
they won't even notice you're not there.

Darcy, that's lovely but...

I can see you want to do this.
Go on, darling.

Well, Detective, I think I may know of
the perfect moulding material.

- Jell-O?
- It's made of gelatine.

It should take the form of the wound
without adhering to the brain tissue.

And you say
this Jell-O is served as dessert?

It's all the rage in Buffalo.
I brought some home for my family.

- Hmm. How long does it take to set?
- Not too long, if refrigerated.

- Julia...
- Yes?

It's agreeable to see you
working here again. You are missed.

Yes, of course.
You're still at odds with Dr Francis.

True, but aside from Dr Francis,
I meant.

Actually, he and I are making headway.

- Oh. Really?
- Yes.

At last!

How well did you know the Jenkins?

My mother and Mrs Jenkins
were bridge partners.

I'd sometimes be left over there
to play.

- What were they like?
- Victor was a hellion.

He was mean to me and even meaner
to poor Nicholas.

- And the parents?
- Mrs Jenkins was ruthless,

her mother even worse.
They treated their servants shamefully.

- And Mr Jenkins?
- I stayed away from him.

- He was disturbing.
- How so?

Well, one day I was in the upper
hallway during a game of hide and seek.

Mr Jenkins' bedroom door opened
and a maid ran out sobbing.

When I turned around,
Jenkins was standing there

in a state of partial undress.

I see.

Good. I think he's done.

Now let's see what we have.

It's somewhat stubborn.

- What exactly is going on in here?
- Dr Francis...

- Dr Ogden.
- At last! The famous Dr Ogden!

You know, I've grown to expect duplicity

from Murdoch, Doctor,
but from a colleague...

Yes, it's quite unforgivable.

I've come to make that mould
you asked me for earlier,

but I see
you didn't trouble yourself to wait.

You told me you had no intention
of making the mould.

I said I had no intention of making it
at that moment!

Surely, even here
on the edge of civilisation,

a man has the right
to dine with his wife?

I misunderstood.

You know, Detective,

from the first day I arrived,

you have, almost without exception,
shown a complete lack of faith in me.

I'd like to ask you now,
why the hell that is?

It's not a lack of faith in you.

Look...

I see.

I...

Fifteen years in Scotland Yard
to reach the top of my profession,

all gone to reward of black flies
and snowstorms,

all in the service
of my wife's happiness.

I've moved to her hometown.

I valued that above all else,
her happiness, or once did.

I should never have left.

I don't belong in Toronto.

You can have your morgue back, Dr Ogden.

No, Dr Francis,
that's not what I'm here for.

I've no doubt you actually believe that.

But we belong where we belong.

Good evening to you.

I was the one
who convinced the top brass

to bring Dr Francis over here
in the first place.

Now, thanks to you,
I look like a bloody fool!

He's booked his passage home.

His wife telephoned
Chief Constable Stockton in tears.

Well, sir, if Dr Francis was truly
not happy...

Of course he's not happy here, Murdoch,

but he might not have noticed
if it wasn't for you!

And why does everyone want to be happy
these days anyway?

Besides which,

I don't care if Dr Francis is as happy
as a pig in its own filth.

I care if I'm happy
and I'm bloody well not! And...

Bloody hell,
I've lost my train of thought!

Well, then, sir,
perhaps we should discuss

the Percival Jenkins murder case.

Aside from dancing the two-step
with Dr Ogden,

you'd best have
something to show for this.

I do, sir.

The murder weapon
from the main floor parlour.

- Who said the killer was in the parlour?
- No one, sir.

The point is,
the shape of the gaff is the same

as that of the mould that Dr Ogden took.

Any finger marks?

Yes, sir, a thumb print on the
shaft here, belonging to Clara Thorn.

- So she's your murderer, then.
- I don't think so.

Of course not.

Sir, Clara Thorn was
in the morning room,

as observed by the footman
who was serving tea at the time.

- She could have snuck out.
- Yes, sir.

But the handle was wiped clean of marks.

If Miss Thorn was the killer,

she likely would have wiped off
the entire poker, one would think.

So who wiped off the marks
from the handle?

The killer.

You've lost me.

Sir, I believe the killer wiped off
several of the fireplace pokers

to obscure which room he came from
and which poker he used.

But we know which poker was used
and we're still not further ahead!

So, now, I've got a missing coroner
and you've got nothing!

Actually, sir, there is something else.

Percival Jenkins
had been taking liberties

with some of the female servants.

Right, well, the big toad
in the puddle, eh?

Someone shared Percival Jenkins' bed
the night that he was killed.

Maybe she's our killer.
You'll need a name.

May I announce you, Detective?

Before you do, Mr Heward,
I have a question.

- A rather sensitive one.
- Of course.

I suspect
that Mr Jenkins had carnal relations

with some of the female servants.

- Can you confirm this?
- I really cannot say, sir.

But you have your suspicions?

Forgive me, Detective,
if I appeared to imply that.

Heward!
Is that that nosy police detective?

Yes, madam!

Mrs Jenkins has her moments of lucidity.
Rather unpredictably.

Interesting.

- Might I announce you now, sir?
- Yes, yes.

- I'll speak with the female servants.
- Very good.

Yes, Mr Jenkins came to my room once.

I told the old coot I'd scream the
house down if he ever tried it again.

- And did he, Miss Cullwick?
- No. He left me alone after that.

However, I believe there were others
who weren't so lucky.

Forced himself on me?
Why would you ask such a thing?

Miss Booth, I believe Mr Jenkins
made advances toward you.

I understand you fear for your
employment in speaking to me of this...

If Mr Jenkins made advances
towards anyone, it was Miss Allen.

Miss Allen the housekeeper?

I saw him put his hand on her bottom
once. She let him keep it there.

What utter nonsense!

Mr Jenkins conducted himself
with absolute decorum at all times.

- He never made advances toward you?
- Never.

- Yet he did toward some of the maids.
- Did he?

Perhaps you should ask his widow.

My principal preoccupation is the smooth
operation of a large household.

Certainly
not my husband's frivolous urges.

- You knew nothing?
- Emphatically not.

Do you have any further questions?

Yes. What were you and your husband
fighting about yesterday?

I've already answered that question.

Mrs Jenkins, we only have your word

that your husband was still alive
when you left that room.

That makes you a likely suspect
in this murder investigation.

Now what were you fighting about?

My husband told Nicholas he'd be
disinherited if he married Clara.

Nicholas threatened to move to Boston.

I couldn't have that.

Clara's family wasn't
aristocratic enough. What presumption!

Clara is educated. She's intelligent.
She cares for the less fortunate.

Now what's more important, the pedigree
of a prospective wife or her character?

But your father
threatened to disinherit...

I didn't want the old bastard's money!

Nicky.

We would have made do.

And did you feel the same way,
Miss Thorn?

Of course.

I come from humble circumstances,
Detective.

In fact, I'm not much at ease
in this world.

At any rate, I doubt my father
would have disinherited me.

He needed to leave his wealth to someone
and he had already disinherited Victor.

Did he?

My brother is a gambler. He would have
squandered the entire estate.

Of course I have debts.

And expediting your inheritance
would be one way of resolving them.

Perhaps, but I didn't kill my father.
Certainly not at that ungodly hour.

Besides, my father
had already disinherited me.

I would have nothing to gain
by his death.

Unless you were to destroy the will.

That's what you were looking for
in your father's room, not a watch.

Very good, Detective.

Yes, that's exactly what I was doing,

but I'm not so stupid
as to kill my father

without having found
and destroyed the will first.

Nevertheless, your father's room
is right next to yours

and you have no alibi.

I told you I was in bed
at the time of my father's murder.

I never said I had no alibi.

So Victor the lush was milking the maid,
was he?

Florence Cullwick. Yes.

The apple doesn't fall
far from the tree.

Well, sir, at least now we know
why Miss Cullwick

didn't mention seeing Clara Thorn
in the morning room.

We also know why she said
she heard the Jenkins arguing.

Victor's room is right next door
to Mr Jenkins.

Carry on, Murdoch.

Detective? Souvenirs
from the victim's pillow.

Trace evidence, George. Thank you.

Grey ones are presumably the victim's.

And these longer ones,
I believe I recognise the shade.

Also, sir, we found this handkerchief
in the housekeeper's fireplace.

Sir, I think it was used to wipe
the blood from the murder weapon.

Hmm.

- It's monogrammed.
- Yes, sir.

VA.

George...

Bring Miss Allen in for questioning.

Why would I burn it? It's not even mine.

Your initials are stitched
into the corner of it, Miss Allen.

Good Lord!
My late aunt embroidered this.

I haven't seen this
in I don't know how long. Years.

I didn't kill Mr Jenkins. Why would I?

We also found these hairs in Mr Jenkins'
bed. I believe they're yours.

I sometimes go to his bed
in the middle of the night. It's...

It's shameful, I know, but...

- I was lonely and...
- In love with him?

You see, I could never have harmed
Percival. You must believe me.

- Now you don't think she did it either.
- I'm not certain of that.

It is possible that, in a panic,

Miss Allen used her own
monogrammed handkerchief

to wipe the evidence.

But, then, to leave it half-burned
in her own fireplace?

A frame-up?

Sirs? Constable Worseley just telephoned
from the Jenkins' house to check in.

I mentioned
this handkerchief business to him.

He swears that he saw it
in the wastebasket

in Percival Jenkins' bedroom.

When was this?

When he and I
first arrived at the house.

- And he never mentioned it?
- He didn't want to disturb it, sir.

He assumed we'd find it
during our research.

But it wasn't there, George. We checked
the waste baskets after Dr Francis left.

Who else was in that room
besides Worseley and Dr Francis?

Just Detective Murdoch and myself.

- And Heward, the butler.
- The butler has an ironclad alibi.

I'm very sorry, sir.

George, Billy Slater the footman.

- You recognise this?
- Should I?

I would have thought so, Mr Slater.

We believe that the killer moved this
from Mr Jenkins' bedroom

into Miss Allen's fireplace
to frame her.

I'll take your word for it.

One of my constables saw this
in the wastebasket in Mr Jenkins' room

before I arrived there.

Only you and Mr Heward
were in that room while we were there.

Mr Heward has an alibi that rules him
out as the killer. That leaves only you.

Why would I kill Mr Jenkins?

Because he made sexual advances
toward your sweetheart Nancy Booth.

- She's not my sweetheart.
- I saw the two of you linking hands.

All right. I took the handkerchief, but
it weren't me that killed Mr Jenkins.

Then why did you move evidence?

I saw it there in the waste paper basket
and I said to myself,

- "I'll get that old cow. "
- Miss Allen?

You dislike her enough
to frame her for murder?

I sincerely dislike her.

- You've got Billy Slater in the cells?
- Yes.

- But you don't think he's the killer?
- No.

Go ahead.

Consider, sir,
if Mr Slater is the killer

and planned to frame Miss Allen

with her monogrammed handkerchief,

placing it in the wastebasket
would have done the trick.

Why then move it from the wastebasket
to the fireplace in Miss Allen's room?

- Why frame her twice?
- Exactly.

He's a footman, Murdoch.
Not many geniuses in that line of work.

I don't believe Mr Slater for a minute

when he says he moved the evidence
out of a sincere dislike for Miss Allen.

But if he's not the killer, as you say,

he took an awfully big chance
to frame her.

He gets caught with that bloody thing,
he could hang for that.

So either Mr Slater is a reckless fool

or he had motive for moving the evidence
that he hasn't admitted to.

Why would Billy do such a thing?
I've never done him any wrong.

Then perhaps you've wronged someone
Billy was partial to?

No.

- Nancy Booth comes to mind.
- I might have done.

She's the reason I went to talk
to Mr Jenkins when I found him dead.

- Nancy was proving to be unsuitable.
- Oh? How so?

She wasn't doing her job properly.

I've forgotten the cutlery.

She's lying.

There's no harder worker than Nancy. She
does whatever Miss Allen asks and more.

Then why would she want
Nancy dismissed?

Nancy wouldn't have been the first.

From what I've heard, they've fired
more than a few girls over the years

who have found themselves in trouble.

Three months, I'd say.
Has your morning sickness subsided yet?

- Mmm-hmm.
- Who is the father, Miss Booth?

Was it Percival Jenkins?

- And Miss Allen knew?
- Of course I knew.

Nancy was sick in the mornings

and looking fuller in the face,
weren't you, dear?

I've seen that too many times
in this house not to recognise it.

That's why you went to speak
to Percival Jenkins?

You knew he was responsible?

He certainly was not.

Nancy is no better than all the other
dolly mops who paraded themselves

in front of him all these years.

Seducing him
with their glances and their smiles.

These dolly mops, as you call them,
were coerced and made pregnant

by a man you are so eager to defend,

then thrown out onto the streets
with child by you!

How many were there, hmm?

What became of them?

It appears that in the
Jenkins' household there is a history

of young girls meeting this fate
as Nancy Booth.

What options would such a girl have?

Not many.
More than likely take to the streets.

George!

Sir?

Find out what you can about young women

that have been dismissed
from service in the Jenkins' household.

- I'll make some inquiries.
- To what end, Murdoch?

There's no law
against dismissing a pregnant maid.

No justice to be found here.

Except the one that would put a noose
around Nancy Booth's neck.

- You think she did it?
- She certainly had motive.

Her life was about to be destroyed.

Scullery maids
don't normally go upstairs.

She'd be taking a hell of a risk.

Not if Billy Slater made sure
the coast was clear.

He was serving tea at the time, he would
have known everyone's whereabouts.

Why let Nancy do the old man in?

And why let her walk
in full view of old Mrs Jenkins?

They probably thought

she was too senile and nearsighted
to be a reliable witness.

Was she?

Mrs Jenkins has her moments of lucidity.

Sir, it's possible
that old Mrs Jenkins knows

more than we've been led to believe.

Ah, Detective Murdoch,
there's been a development.

Yes. Thank you. Bye-bye.

Well, you've got your wish.

The College of Physicians and Surgeons

is granting Dr Ogden special
dispensation, just for this case.

- Excellent. Thank you, sir.
- You've got some cheek.

Sir? Dr Ogden is calling for you
at the morgue.

Very good.

- It's only temporary, Murdoch.
- Yes, sir.

Dr Ogden, what have you?

Well, Detective, as I suspected,
Mrs Jenkins' heart did indeed give out.

She died of natural causes?

I thought so, initially,

but then I found petechial haemorrhages
on the surface of the lungs.

Asphyxiation?

Well, usually in the case of smothering

the haemorrhages appear
around the face and the eyes.

But, with her age,
the trauma likely induced a heart attack

before she actually suffocated.

Murder then?

Thank you, Doctor.
Excellent work, as usual.

My pleasure, I'm sure.

Murdered? Bloody marvellous.

Actually, sir, assuming the same person
committed both murders,

anyone lacking opportunity
to kill old Mrs Jenkins

can be stricken off our list
for the first murder.

Billy Slater was in our cells,
so he couldn't have done it.

What have you, George?

Sir, I've confirmed
that Nancy Booth and Miss Allen

were in the kitchen at the time
of old Mrs Jenkins' death.

Victor Jenkins was drinking in a pub.

Nicholas and Clara Thorn were
in the library with Nora Jenkins

discussing funeral arrangements.

Leaving only Mr Heward.

The butler is the only one with an alibi
for Percy Jenkins' murder.

- This is a waste of chalk.
- My theory might be flawed.

Really?

Well, sir, also I obtained
the servant records from Nora Jenkins.

Not without protest, I might add.

But over the past twenty years or so,

seven girls have been dismissed
from the household.

On what grounds?

Two for insubordination, two for poor
work habits and three for loose morals.

Meaning they were pregnant.
Unfortunate, but irrelevant, Murdoch.

I'm not so sure, sir.

Have a look at the third name
on the list.

Alma Parsons,
dismissed August 30th, 1876.

It was Alma! Has everyone gone stupid
except for me?

I haven't seen this in I don't know
how long. Years.

George. Find out what's become
of Alma Parsons.

Sir.

Then I'm going to return
to the Jenkins' mansion.

What's going on, Murdoch?

Sir, I believe I know
who committed both murders.

Good afternoon.

I have asked you all here because
an arrest in these murders is at hand.

Miss Allen, you told me
that it had been decades

- since you last saw this.
- It's true, I swear it.

What day, specifically,
did you last see it?

What day?

Could it be August 30th, 1876,
by any chance?

- Do you recall what happened that day?
- But how would I? It was so long ago.

Hmm.

Alma Parsons, were she here,
would be able to tell you.

Because, that day, Alma Parsons was
relieved of her duties at this house.

- By you. Do you remember that?
- Yes.

It was such a flood of tears.

I gave her the handkerchief
to mop up her face.

I just couldn't have her leaving
this house in that state.

Do you know what became
of Alma Parsons, Miss Allen?

I heard that she passed away
a couple of years ago.

But I can't see that this has nothing
to do with a former servant girl.

Well, Mrs Jenkins, Alma Parsons
was sent from this house

for having the audacity
to become pregnant by your husband,

very much against her will.

Police reports from the day confirm
that Alma turned to prostitution

so that she and her child could eat.

That's what this has to do
with a former servant girl.

Now old Mrs Jenkins was adamant

that it was Alma she saw
walking down the hall.

But her eyesight was too poor to make
out any detail from that distance,

so why did she think she saw Alma?

We all know that we inherit
our physical appearance,

as well as our mannerisms, the way
we speak, smile, the way we walk.

It wasn't Alma returning from the grave
to avenge the wrongs that she'd endured

at the hand of your husband.
No, it was the child that Alma bore.

And, by my count,
she would be 23 years old now.

Isn't that right, Miss Thorn?

This is absurd!
Clara is not a murderer.

Sit down, Mr Jenkins.

Miss Thorn, you never imagined that the
woman who was too blind and senile

to even recognise you
would mistake you for your own mother.

Pretty, she was. Looked like a swan,
but walked like a duck.

I was in the morning room
with Nicky and his mother when she died.

I didn't kill her.

Yes, I know you didn't, but someone did.

Someone who recognised you
as Alma's child

the moment you walked in this house.

Mr Heward, would it be correct to state
that you came to care for Miss Parsons

- during the time that she was here?
- Yes, sir.

Very deeply.

And that's why you felt the sense of
responsibility to protect her daughter.

You'd overheard my instructions to dust
the fireplace pokers for finger marks.

That's why you wiped down the ones
in the upstairs,

not knowing which one Clara had used.

Then when you and I witnessed that

unpredictable moment of lucidity
from Mrs Jenkins,

it must have occurred to you
that Clara's secret would never be safe.

So when I telephoned to say
I wanted to re-interview Mrs Jenkins,

you killed her to ensure her silence.

I'm sorry for all of it, Nicky.
I truly am.

Come along. We mustn't keep
the detective waiting.

You didn't have
to do this for me, Heward.

On the contrary, Miss Clara.

It revolted me,
what Mr Jenkins did to Alma.

But we lived in such fear of him
and there seemed nothing to be done.

- Nothing?
- Yes, I know.

If I'd gone with her,
or helped in some other way...

- Were you there the day Alma was let go?
- Yes.

Coward that I was, I stood mute.

The murder of an old woman is hardly
an act of bravery.

She knew what her son was doing
to those poor girls all those years.

She raised him into what he became.

She gave the carnage he caused
not a second thought.

In other words, Detective Murdoch,

she deserved it.

My mother kept that handkerchief
because she didn't want to forget.

After she died, I swore I'd get revenge

on those responsible
for the life she endured.

So you hatched a plan.

When I read Nicholas was at Harvard,
I moved to Boston,

encountered him, by chance,

and allowed him to pursue me.

I genuinely came to care for him.

Of all of them, he's the only one
that didn't deserve to be hurt.

But that was the price
of keeping my promise.

Constable.

William?

We've come to say goodbye.

It may be some time
before we're in Toronto again.

We still need a coroner, Julia.

Are you certain I can't convince you to
extend your leave a little while longer

until we find a suitable replacement?

- I'm sorry.
- Julia, please answer me honestly.

If it were possible, would you want
to come back here to this work?

Darcy, my future is with you in Buffalo.

You don't seem entirely happy there.
At least, not as happy as you seem here.

The Victoria Hospital for Sick Children
here is one of the best in the world.

They've approached me in the past
and I'm sure I could secure a position.

But your home is in Buffalo.

My home is wherever you are. And,
from what I've seen, you belong here.

- Are you sure?
- Absolutely sure.

In that case, I would love to stay on.

I would have to apply for the job,
of course. There'd be a process.

I'm certain the inspector would give you
a strong recommendation.

Well, Detective. It appears we'll be
seeing a great deal more of each other.

I look forward to it.