Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 7, Episode 2 - Tour de Murdoch - full transcript

Detective Murdoch investigates the sudden death of bicycle racer Joe Fenton. Murdoch was himself a participant in the race trying out his newfangled gear shifting device but Fenton was the favorite having won several recent races. Fenton's manager, Chippy Blackburn, was seen giving him a potion and they suspect he may be may be fixing races. Dr. Grace however is having considerable difficulty finding a cause of death and with Dr. Ogden's assistance performs her first brain bisection. It leads her to believe he suffered a cerebral aneurysm leading to a brain hemorrhage. The discovery of an injection mark in Fenton's right arm leads to a different conclusion however. Meanwhile, Julia prepares to sell Darcy Garland's house but finds that his younger brother Leslie living is living there.

Ripped By mstoll


50 cents on William Murdoch.

Oh, George,
I'm afraid your money

would be best spent elsewhere.

I'm competing
against professionals.

Well, sir, I thought about that,
and I brought you this.

It's a caffeine drink, so it
should level the playing field.

The strength of a bull
in a bottle there, sir.

That's all right, George.

I've created my own advantage.


Sprockets, sir?

Yes. Yes.

They allow me to change gears,
offsetting pedaling resistance

against a gradient
in the course.

Well, sir, I hate to be
the bearer of bad news.

I've just read about this
very innovation in Cycler News.


The difference, however, is I've
created a system of rods...

...allowing me to change gears
without dismounting.

Well, sir, that's brilliant.

Yes! Yes.

Oh, my.

Sir, are you quite sure?

It's all in good fun, George.

Uh, sir,
that's American sprint runner-up

Marshall "Major" Taylor.

And... And that's
"Able" Archie Milner, sir.

Be wary of him.
He's got lively elbows.

And, sir, that's American sprint
champion "Jumpin"' Joe Fenton.

And there's world-renowned
trainer Chippy Blackburn.

I wonder what magical potion
he's concocted for them

this time.

All tuned up?

Good luck.

Wheelmen, take your positions!

Right, then, sir.
Best of luck.


Five... four... three...

two... one!

Go, sir!

Oh, excellent.

We're close enough
to feel the whip of the wind

as they pass, Bobby.

Detective Murdoch will win.
Right, Father?

I suppose anything's possible.

Hello, Bobby, Inspector.

Dr. Grace.

Here to get a better look
at the young bucks, are we?

Well, they do cut a fine figure.

Murdoch! Murdoch! Murdoch!

What happened
to Jumpin' Joe Fenton?

He's going to be run over!





Looks like I bet
on the wrong rider.

Myocardial infarction seems
our probable cause of death.

But the race was in
early stages,

hardly long enough to have
strained his heart sufficiently.

Well, sir,
you were quite winded.

Although you're a bit older,
I suppose.

I-I don't mean you're...
you're old per se, sir.

George, that beverage of yours

you said would level
the playing field.

Sir, i-it's a poorly kept secret

t-that professional wheelmen
will... will do anything...

They'll eat or drink anything
to make them go faster.

Cycler News did
a fascinating expos? on it.

George, the bottle that
Mr. Fenton's trainer gave him

before the race.

A-Almost certainly
some combination of caffeine

and cocaine...
and perhaps strychnine.

I would never give you
strychnine, sir.

Strychnine can have
nasty side effects.

A strong dose could have
triggered a heart attack.

I'll check Mr. Fenton's stomach
for such stimulants.

Thank you, Dr. Grace.

George, may I see that bottle
of yours?

Sir, the bottle I...

Well, I didn't want it to go
to waste, you see, so...

And I must say,
I feel something, sir.

I feel energy.

I-I feel as if I could fly.

Right. That's enough.

The sponsor said
he'll reschedule the race.

You'll both get a crack at
the prize money at a later date.

I was set to win this race.


I would have overtaken you
had this softy not stepped in.

Softy, am I?

Listen to me, sunshine.

It's fortunate for you

that I don't want my son

witnessing two deaths
in one day.

Joe Fenton was a cheater.

- He got what he had coming.
- Go on.

It's not the first time one
of Chippy Blackburn's wheelmen

have died on the course.

This makes three.

I'm glad I left his charge
when I did.

Mr. Blackburn.

Everybody calls me Chippy.

Detective Murdoch,
Inspector Brackenreid,

Toronto Constabulary.


The fella with the gears.

We believe that Mr. Fenton died
of a heart attack,

possibly due to over stimulation.

What was in that small bottle
you gave him

just before the race?

Well, a trainer never reveals
his secrets...

especially not
to the competition.

Despite my attire,
Mr. Blackburn, I assure you

I am here on behalf of the
police, not the competition.


My potion is nothing more than
a mixture of fruit and herbs.

Room temperature.

Never give the stomach
something cold before a race.


Well, some people say
it has magical qualities.

Who am I to argue?

Why did you rush off

after you found out
that Mr. Fenton had died?

I went back to the club
to telegraph the man's family.

I thought it would be better
coming from me

than from some copper.

This is the third such telegram
you've had to send, is it not?


I'm at a loss, I'm afraid.

You've had two other deaths
on your watch.

What about them?

They got a little
too comfortable

with their own success.

The rigors of the circuit
caught up with them eventually.

What exactly did they die of?

Not adhering
to my training regimen.

Hardly an accepted cause
of death.

Heart attacks.

I'd very much like to see
the bottle

that Mr. Fenton drank from
before the race, please.

Joe was like a son to me.

I saved him from a life
in the mills.

No one's accusing you
of anything, Mr. Blackburn.

Not yet... Chippy.

You wioll remember...

I do better with my best rider
than without.

He's bloody well got something
to do with it, Murdoch.

I don't know what Chippy puts
in his potions.

I just throw them back
and pedal.

Have you ever found
these potions make you feel

overly talkative
or excitable, even?

It's a race.
There's no talking.

Don't you care to know
what you've been drinking?

Not as long as we're winning.

But now you've finished
behind Mr. Fenton

the last several races.

Well, I guess
that won't be happening anymore.

Mr. Milner.

Fenton and I shared
a gentleman's rivalry,

but I'm sorry to lose him.

And Chippy pays us the same
win or lose anyhow.

Chippy says it's time
for calisthenics.

We don't do calisthenics
on race days.

Well, it wasn't a complete race,
he says.

Excuse me.

You're in Chippy's charge
as well?

Warren Padgett.

And why were you not racing?

I suffered a head injury
a ways back.

The dizziness lingered,
kept me off the bicycle.

Now I'm up to snuff and ready
whenever Chippy needs me.

Was there anything unusual as to
how you sustained this injury?


Did it occur during a race?


Archie, Chippy's waiting.

Tell them what happened, Padge.

It's not of consequence.

I'm afraid it may be.

Padge was rubbernecking
at a girl,

until he wheeled head on
with a horse.

My head struck the horse
in the mouth.

Equines have very strong teeth.

Have you ever collapsed

after drinking
one of Mr. Blackburn's potions?

No, but that's only because

I refused to take
Chippy's potions.

Why did you refuse?

Because he wouldn't tell me
what was in it.

I'm not dying for a race.

Bought myself out
of that contract,

and I'm still paying it off.

So you owe Mr. Blackburn money,

Chippy finds us when we're young
and desperate.

First signature I ever made
was on that contract.

So then, Mr. Taylor,
you can't personally attest

to the contents
of Mr. Blackburn's potions?

Not directly.

But it's said to give
quite a jolt.

Obviously too much
for Jumpin' Joe.

I'm puzzled.

The arteries appear to be fine.

Did it endure the water test?


Whatever killed this man,
it wasn't his heart.

But isn't it always
the last thing you find

that offers the answer?

Quite true.
Why do you suppose that is?

Likely the same reason

that toast always lands
buttered side down.

I do appreciate
your second opinion, Dr. Ogden.

It comforts me to know that the
morgue is in such good hands.

Would you care to assist with
the remainder of the postmortem?

I would, but I must meet
with a real estate broker

about the sale of Darcy's house.




Dr. Grace.

I was just on my way
to meet with the broker.

Remember not to take
the first offer.

I read in The Gazette

that we're currently enjoying
a seller's market.

Dr. Grace, Detective.

Dr. Ogden.

Dr. Grace,
have we a cause of death?

I'm afraid not.

Nor could I find any evidence
of stimulants in the stomach.


But it is always the last thing
you find that offers the answer.

Maybe the lad just up and died,
and that's that.

We have no cause of death
and no suggestion of wrongdoing.

I would be inclined
to agree with you, sir.

But I tested the bottle
that Mr. Blackburn gave us,

and it's clean.

Too clean.

It didn't even register of
the traces of fruits and herbs

that Mr. Blackburn claimed.

Well, is it possible, sir,

that he swapped the bottles out
before handing one over?

I considered that as well,

but Dr. Grace found
no stimulants in Mr. Fenton.

So why swap the bottles

if there was nothing in them
to begin with?

Sirs, I wonder if that young
lady who gave Mr. Fenton a kiss

before the race
might be of help.

I am...
was Joe Fenton's sweetheart.

Terribly sorry.

I travel with the circuit
promoting women's cycling

for the Selby Sporting Goods

You must be quite knowledgeable.

Miss Barnes, have you anything

that could aid our inquiry
into Mr. Fenton's death?

Yes, in fact.

Before a race last month
in Boston,

Joe's front wheel bolt
was loosened.

He could have been seriously
injured had I not noticed.

You believe it was intentional?

I tuned up his bike
the day before.

Someone must have tampered
with it in the interim.

And you believe that someone
had it in for Mr. Fenton?

Someone from the circuit.

And who might that be?

All I know is that Joe
was winning every race,

and success breeds jealousy.

Safe neighborhood indeed.
You don't even lock your door.

I can ask for $3,000
for this house.

I expect you'll tidy up
before viewing appointments.

I tidied last I was here
and locked the door.

How do you mean?

I believe someone's broken in.

We'd better leave.

Who's there?

Leslie Garland?

I'm sorry there isn't more
to offer,

but since your brother's
passing, I haven't...

This is fine.

Well, what brings you
from Buffalo?

I can't say, really.

Just wanted to get to know
a new town, I suppose.

And what are your plans
for Toronto?


There's a diving horse
at Hanlan's Point.

That must be quite a sight.

It surely is.

And beyond that?

Maybe take some classes
at the university or find a job.

You intend to stay, then?

Actually, I was thinking of
living here for a while.

In this house?

Hello, Detective.

Dr. Grace.
What have you?

It's Mr. Fenton's right arm.

Puncture mark.

It was initially masked
by the bruising from the fall.

What do you make of it?

Mr. Fenton was injected
with something.

What, I'm not exactly sure,
but I'll run tests.


Whatever it is, it's likely
what killed Mr. Fenton.


Dr. Grace,
have we an explanation

for the injection mark?

I believe so.

I retested and found evidence
of methylmorphine.

It's an opiate,
commonly known as codeine.

And this killed him?

It was only enough to slow him.

But certainly not enough
to cause death.

So we're no closer to an answer,

I'm afraid not.

But I am determined to find one.

I've telephoned Dr. Ogden

and asked her to assist
with the brain sectioning.

Very good.

I've never sectioned
a human brain before.

I'm quite enthused.

Somebody was out to slow Fenton
rather than speed him up?

It would appear so.

Miss Barnes indicated

that someone on the circuit
was out to get Mr. Fenton.

George, you interviewed
Major Taylor.

What of him?

Constable Crabtree!

Uh, sir.

Sleep on your own bloody time.

I apologize, sirs.

I lost a full night's sleep
to that blasted caffeine drink.

George, couldn't Major Taylor
have given Fenton the codeine?

I suppose he could have.

Always losing to Mr. Fenton
must have got him eventually,

I suppose.

There's talk someone tampered
with Fenton's wheels

back in Boston.

I check mine every day.

An opiate called codeine was
found in Mr. Fenton's system.

Do you know of it?

All kinds of drugs
on the circuit.

Never heard of codeine.

Why would he make himself
lethargic before a race?

How did you know
it would make him lethargic

if you'd never heard of it?

He said it was an opiate.

I don't use drugs,
but I know what they do.

I don't believe he took it

Someone may have injected him
to prevent him from winning.

I hold myself
in strict observance

of true sportsmanship, sir.

Well, yes, but if all your peers
are looking for advantages,

how else will you keep up?

By observing my dozen don'ts.

Your dozen don'ts?

Don't get a swelled head,

don't be a bluffer,
don't keep late hours,

don't be running around
with people you don't know...

Mr. Taylor, has Mr. Blackburn
ever attempted to inject you

with anything?

No needles with Chippy.

Just the, uh...
little brown bottle.

Are you aware of any of
Mr. Blackburn's other athletes

becoming lethargic
during a race?

Come to think of it, um,

he lost one of his best athletes
that way.

Slowed by Mr. Blackburn's

Chippy put the blame on him.

Said he didn't take care
of his stomach.

But that boy could have slept
standing up that night.

Where might we find
this wheelman?

Left the circuit
about a year ago.

Probably had enough of Chippy.

who did the bookmakers have

as the favorite to win the race?

Joe Fenton, sir... our victim.

I actually bet a full dollar
on him.

I was rooting for you, though,

Perhaps Mr. Blackburn
builds his athletes up

to appear unbeatable,

then gives them codeine
to prevent them from winning.

While betting on the field.

Sir, my research
revealed a history

of all Chippy Blackburn's
top riders

winning several races in a row,
just to suddenly lose one.

Yes, but we're ignoring
one critical fact, George.

Mr. Fenton was leading the race
when he collapsed.

It is puzzling, sir.

If the codeine
had been injected,

it would have taken hold

Had it been consumed,

it would have been at least
30 minutes before it took hold.

Our race was barely
20 minutes in.

The codeine had to have come
from Chippy Blackburn's potion.

Why else would he swap
the bottles?


Find out what you can
from the bookmakers.

I'll have another talk
with Mr. Blackburn.


Careful not to drag
the scalp back too quickly.

It may stretch and be difficult
to replace without deformity.

It's coming off quite cleanly.

What came of your appointment
with the real estate broker?

A most unusual thing happened.

We arrived to find someone
living there.

I'll hold the head steady while
you cut through the outer table.

Living in Darcy's house?
A derelict?

Darcy's younger brother, Leslie.

I thought the Garlands lived
in Buffalo.

They do.

Very good, Dr. Grace.

You're almost through.

What's he doing here?

I'm not sure even he knows.

Darcy's death likely had
a profound effect.

He seems to be questioning
how best to spend his time.

Where will he stay?

In Darcy's house.

How could I say no?

I feel a certain obligation
to the young man and his family.

Of course.

What does Detective Murdoch feel
about it all?

I trust he'll understand.

Would you like to do the honors,
Dr. Ogden?

The honors are yours, Dr. Grace.

Now let's get that brain out

and have it harden
in Muller's fluid.

It'll make for
a most satisfying dissection.

I've lost my appetite
for kidney and eggs,

having eaten it day after day.

Eat, Archie.

You want that stomach in first
class working order, don't you?


Mr. Blackburn.

Detective Murdoch.

I've got to give you
a clever nickname.

I give names to all my riders.

Right here we got
"Able" Archie Milner,

and over here,
Warren "Paper Legs" Padgett.

Chippy said my legs were pale
as paper

first time he saw me
in riding shorts.

It followed me.

Maybe something to do
with that, uh,

special gear-gadget bicycle
of yours, huh?

Mr. Blackburn, I'd like to speak
with you in private.

Detective Gadget!

That's not quite it.

Mr. Blackburn, if you please.

I don't hold anything back
from my boys.

I am trying to spare you
a conversation

you would rather not have
in their presence.

Settle your stomachs

and then get started
on the skipping rope.

The human brain
is a curious puzzle.

Let's say first to find
something gets treated to lunch.

If we find something.

Don't be discouraged, Emily.

Discipline rewards patience.

Julia, I believe
you owe me lunch.

It's an aneurysm.

Keen eye, Dr. Grace.

A miliary aneurysm indeed.

But what has that got to do with
the injection mark?

Perhaps whatever he was injected
with caused the aneurysm.

Then I will keep looking.

Thank you, Dr. Ogden.

I quite enjoyed it.

Oh, and I'll book us
a window table

at one of Toronto's
finest restaurants.


That's the last thing
I'd give my boys before a race.

Why would I do such a thing?

To prevent them from winning.

After all,
you did bet against Mr. Fenton.



That Major Taylor
certainly draws a long bow.

I can't imagine what other
tall tales he's dreaming up.

Please don't touch that.

The bookmakers
have already confirmed it.

A good chunk of change on
Archie Milner and Major Taylor.

You have no scruples whatsoever,
do you, Chippy?

I don't know
what you're talking about.

The bookmakers may deem this

grounds to launch their own
investigation, Mr. Blackburn.

Well, losing the odd race
keeps my boys honest.

Why shouldn't I make a little
on the side?

I've got expenses...
hotels, food...

Funeral costs.

I gave Fenton
but a dash of codeine.

At worst, he would have
slept well that night.

Now, if you don't mind, my boys
await my guidance at the club.

I'm glad those were
a passing fancy, sir.

Dreadful-looking things.

Process of evolution, George.

Today's bicycle wouldn't be
what it is

were it not for the ordinary.

Sir, nowadays they call them

If you can imagine... a-a penny
and farthing next to each other.


What's curious, George,

is how a practical invention
has become a sport

in which competitors will go
to great lengths

to outdo one another.

Like yourself and the gears,

That's different, George.

I-I'm challenging myself.

I wish you'd told me that before
I wagered 50 cents on you, sir.

If we walk
just along this laneway,

- you'll see where I work.
- Julia?


We were on our way
to see Dr. Grace.

She's making great progress.

Detective William Murdoch.

Of course.

Detective William Murdoch.
Constable George Crabtree.

This is Leslie Garland,
Darcy's brother.

- Pleased to meet you.
- And you.

Very sorry about your brother.

I only hope
that you can find solace

in the knowledge that we've
apprehended the man responsible.

Thank you.
I appreciate all you did.

That man can't hang soon enough.

Uh, Mr. Garland, what's
the occasion for your visit?

It's more than a visit.

I'm going to be living
at my brother's house.

The broker suggested that I
postpone the sale of the house

until the market steadies.

I-In the meantime, Leslie will
water the gardens and such.


Welcome to Toronto, Mr. Garland.

I hope to see you soon,

we have a cause of death...

brain aneurysm
leading to cerebral hemorrhage.

A natural death after all?

Not necessarily.

We still have no explanation
for the injection mark.

Perhaps we do.

The aneurysm prompted me
to investigate further.

I discovered thrombosis
in both of his legs,

the result of blood

Blood agglutination.

Any idea of the cause?


I believe an injection of blood
killed Mr. Fenton.

Blood transfusion?

That's a bloody dangerous
business, Murdoch.

Very good, sir.

And for no conceivable reason.

He was otherwise healthy.

Well, I think it's time to say
hello to Mr. Chips again.

I agree.

I believe Mr. Blackburn knows
more about the injection mark

than he let on.

- Shall we, George?
- Sir.

Mr. Blackburn, open up.


Looks like his safe
has been emptied.

I don't think it's a safe,

It's a makeshift icebox.


Dried blood.

Mr. Blackburn not only knew
of Mr. Fenton's injection,

but he had a hand in it.

Sir, that's Warren Padgett.

Come on.
Come on. Get a move on.

Mr. Blackburn.

We'd like to have a look
inside those chests.

Well, this is just equipment

I'm sending on to the next stop
on the circuit, Montreal.

The show must go on.

We'll have a look just the same.

You see?

And the other one, George.

It was your blood injections
that killed Joe Fenton.

I draw blood from my riders
well before the race.

Then I train them hard

with less blood and therefore
reduced oxygen flow.

Then, before the race, I inject
their own blood back in.

Then they experience an increase
in endurance.

Interesting theory.

It's more than a theory.

It was working.

Until now.


I-I don't know what went wrong
with Fenton.

I injected Milner
at the same time,

and he's fit as a fiddle.

How many times
have you done this?


You know,
as regrettable as I find it,

I refuse to take
any responsibility

for Fenton's death.

I have a signed agreement
with my riders

that I can use whatever
training methods I see fit.

Who else knows of this method?

Just me and my boys.

I wouldn't want the competition
using it.

Oh, I doubt you'd find many
eager to adopt.

You'd be surprised.

One day,
someone's gonna perfect it

and then they'll get
all the credit.

Sir, isn't that Joe Fenton's

Yes, George.

Hardly seems to be
in deep mourning.


Oh, Mr. Milner.

You and Miss Barnes appear
quite close,

yet you didn't tell her
of Mr. Blackburn's new method?

Miss Barnes is a wheelman, too.

We have a professional

Nothing more.

Did you witness Mr. Blackburn
injecting Mr. Fenton

- before the race?
- Yes.

I was right beside him,

having just been injected

Was anyone else present?

Only me, Fenton, and Chippy.

And how did you feel
as the race progressed?

Well, you saw me.

I would have won
if that copper didn't stop it.

And you've felt fine since?

I'm ready to race tomorrow.

Are you?

I won't be participating
in tomorrow's race.

There's no shame in that.

An amateur can't be expected to
compete against professionals.

I'm preoccupied

trying to resolve the death
of your teammate, sir.

I don't quite know myself what
Leslie's plans are for Toronto.

I suppose he's going to
take things as they come.

And his parents approve of this?

He is 22, William.

And I didn't seek you out
to talk about Leslie Garland.

Terribly sorry.

What is it, Julia?

Dr. Grace has kept me abreast
of the case.

I understand that the trainer
injected both riders

with their own blood.


One died immediately,

and the other is poised to win
a race tomorrow.

Any thoughts?

Well, we do know someone

who's very knowledgeable
in hematology.

Lucas Harwick.

He was trying to perfect
blood transfusions

to treat hemophilia.

He may be able to enlighten us.

If he's willing.

A peer of mine,
Dr. Karl Landsteiner,

recently published
these findings.

Landsteiner discovered

there are three different
human blood types.

He named them A, B, and C.

Even for an Austrian,
that's hardly imaginative.

If blood types are mixed,

it causes agglutination
and likely death.

Sometimes, not always.

It's more complicated than that.

Landsteiner's being hailed
as a genius.

If not for being locked up
in prison,

I would have arrived at
the same discovery even sooner.

Dr. Harwick,

I'm sure Dr. Landsteiner did so
without breaking the law.

Laws can sometimes be
an impediment to progress.

How would Dr. Grace go about
testing our victim's blood

to identify its type?

What you're setting out to do
is advanced work.

I'm as capable as any other
doctor, male or female.

Only if you share your findings.

As you can see,
I don't have the luxury

of carrying out case studies.

Those are my writings.

An improvement on Landsteiner's
method, I daresay.

Good evening, Dr. Grace.


Dr. Harwick was right.

This is very complicated.

I've prepared this chart
to help explain everything.

I've determined Joe Fenton had
type A blood.

If he had been injected
with type A or C,

he would have been fine.

Only type B
could have killed him.

So Joe Fenton was injected with
someone else's type B blood.

That's right, Detective.

Very good work, Doctor.
We now have a murder weapon.

We just need to find out
who it belonged to.

If we can determine
which of those

who had access to Mr. Fenton's
blood reserve is type B,

we should have our man.

Warren Padgett,
Chippy Blackburn,

and Archie Milner
all had access.

Lisette Barnes and Major Taylor
had motive enough

to warrant being tested.

Well, let's round up
the lot of them,

find out who's got
the bad kind of blood.

Sir, type B blood
isn't necessarily bad.

- It's just incompatible...
- The bugger's dead, isn't he?

Type B sounds
pretty bloody awful to me.

Only take the bare minimum!

Archie's got a race to win

I wouldn't bet on it, Chippy.

I'll take as much as I need
and not a drop less.

I brought it from the club.

You know what these can do
to your stomach?!

Sir, if one of them was guilty,

you'd think they'd show
some concern.

Miss Barnes has yet to arrive.

Sir, regarding Leslie Garland...
I made some inquiries.


He was expelled
from Cornell University

with minor charges pending.

Nothing serious.
Just some campus fisticuffs.

We found her, sir.

What's this about?

It's part of our investigation.

Are you saying I'm a suspect?

Miss Barnes,
a small sample of your blood

could aid us in resolving
Mr. Fenton's death.


Chippy Blackburn is type C.

Major Taylor is type A.

Warren Padgett, type C.

Lisette Barnes is also type A.

It can't be her either.

But Archie Milner is type B.

The only one of the group.

Between wanting to beat Fenton

and a dalliance
with his sweetheart,

Milner had opportunity
and motive.

And the murder weapon
coursing through his veins.

I don't know anything
about blood and needles.

Chippy does all that.

You were the only one
that could have done it.

The blood is a match,
and you had motive.


Fenton was a close friend.

As close as you
and Lisette Barnes?

Lisette and I are in love,
I admit.

But we were planning
to tell Fenton as much.

How bloody noble of you.

And I suppose you were happy
with losing to him every race.

Of course I want to win.

But to kill him over it?

The Boston Daily Chronicle
from last month

lists you as an entrant
in a race there.

That's right.

Someone from the circuit

loosened Mr. Fenton's front
wheel bolt prior to the race

in an attempt to injure.

My bicycle was sabotaged
in Boston, too.

Someone punctured my tire.

Can anyone corroborate that?

Yes. The Boston Daily Chronicle
of the following day.

You'll see that I was forced out
of the race.

Be that as it may,
as I said before,

you're the only one
that could have done it.

You murdered Fenton
with your blood.

I don't know what you're saying!

How do you murder someone
with blood?

Chippy injected us both.

You switched your blood canister
with his before the injection.

I did no such thing.


Mr. Milner, you may go.

Murdoch, he was about to give.

It's impossible, sir.

If Mr. Milner had switched
the blood canisters,

he would have suffered
the same fate.

Mr. Milner is type B blood.

His body cannot accept
Mr. Fenton's type A blood.

A switch would have meant
two bodies.

So where does that leave us?

There must be something
we aren't seeing, sir.

A missing element.

What if Milner drew
a blood canister of his own,

without Chippy, and swapped
that in for Fenton's?

I considered that, sir.

Drawing a second blood canister
of blood

would have left him too depleted
for the race.

Defeats the very purpose.

Well, they're all off
to the next stop on the circuit

after the race.


Sir, Dr. Grace would like
to see you.

She's continued her work
since Mr. Milner was let go.

Sir, Dr. Grace has discovered
that there are proper...

George, shouldn't you allow me?


I took it upon myself
to do further testing.

And I came upon a fourth,
yet-undiscovered blood type

that not even Dr. Landsteiner
was aware of.

It contains properties of both A
and B blood.

I'm calling it type A-B.

Very impressive, Dr. Grace.

Though I might suggest you find
a simpler name for it,

like type D blood.

A, B, C, D... Does have
a nice ring to it, Dr. Grace.

Just a suggestion.

Does it have bearing
on our case?


If you are of type D blood,

you can receive type A, B, C,
and D.

It accepts them all.

I retested everyone's blood

and found that Archie Milner
is of type D, not type B.

Which means Archie Milner

could have switched his
blood canister with Joe Fenton

and been perfectly fine.

Yes, but he could not possibly
have known that.

So Archie Milner's blood
did kill Joe Fenton,

but I don't believe
Archie Milner did this.

It had to be Chippy.

Mr. Blackburn could have
switched the canisters.

But then Milner and Fenton
are his two top riders.

Why destroy
your source of income?

Who would want to eliminate
both men?

I discovered
thrombosis in both of his legs,

the result
of blood agglutination.

Only type B
could have killed him.

Who's got the bad kind of blood?

So Joe Fenton was injected

with someone else's
type B blood.

Warren Padgett,
Chippy Blackburn,

and Archie Milner
all had access.

If blood types are mixed,

it causes agglutination
and likely death.

Who would want to eliminate
both men?

Mr. Padgett!

Out of my way!



You... are under arrest.

And here I thought cycling
to be good for one's health.

Padgett assumed
he'd get back into racing,

but Chippy continued to favor
Fenton and Milner.

Eliminating them was
the only chance, he thought.

He felt his career
slipping away.

I wonder
if Mr. Milner appreciates

how fortunate he was
to be unharmed by the switch.

Detective Murdoch!

I have a couple of openings.

How would you and your
gadget bicycle like to join me

on the circuit?

I'm quite content here.

I can promise you riches
and notoriety

beyond what the constabulary has
to offer.

No, thank you.

However I do hope
you'll reconsider

your training methods.

A perfect stomach.
That is the key.

Julia, it would seem
Leslie Garland left behind

somewhat of a reputation.

How so?

An altercation
at Cornell University

resulted in expulsion.

You checked up on him, William?

Well, if the young man's to be
in your care,

it's best we know
whom we are dealing with.

William, I believe
you're jealous.

I am not jealous.

He's a little bit young for me,
don't you think?

I don't believe your beauty
could be lost

on anyone of any age, Julia.

Fine answer, William.

But he's definitely too young
for you.

Ripped By mstoll