Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 8, Episode 5 - Murdoch Takes Manhattan - full transcript

During their honeymoon in New York, Murdoch and Ogden uncover a deadly conspiracy threatening U.S. President Teddy Roosevelt, while Brackenreid and Dr. Grace investigate a murder by motorcar back in Toronto.

- synced and corrected by chamallow -

And you say there's nothing
wrong with it at all?

How should I know? I've
never driven the thing.

It's a fine automobile,
George. And the price...

- What do you think, Jackson?
- You know what I think.

- I already gave you my share, George.
- We could own a motorcar, George.

And for only $50.

The price does actually
seem rather low, ma'am.

Well, you can pay more if you like.

Makes no difference to me.

- Are these yours?
- George,

why would a woman need driving gloves?

I don't know whose those
are, but you can have them

if you take the automobile.
Do we have a deal?

Come on, Jackson.

Well, Doctor, what with
Murdoch off gallivanting

in New York, it appears
it's just you and me.

I'm sure we can manage
most ably, Inspector.

Looks like this poor
bugger was worked over.

Strange. The body is cold

but there is still a
lifelike hue to the skin.

Run down by a motorcar, I imagine?

It certainly appears that way.

He must have hit our man and kept driving.

Except it seems that
he left his automobile.

Must have gone off on foot.

A hit and walk, as it were.

Judging from the body's
position, it's hard to tell

whether the driver or
pedestrian was at fault.

Of course it was the driver's fault.

These bloody devil wagons
think they own the roads.

They're as bad as cyclists.

Surely not all automobile
drivers behave that way.

What's wrong with a horse and carriage
and a good Sunday constitutional?

I myself am fascinated by motorcars.

I hope to own one someday. Bloody hell!

First you want the vote
and now you want to drive.

Women want all the
privileges of being a man

- without any of the pain. Besides,
- Inspector...

a woman driving an automobile?

I think they're dangerous enough already,

- thank you very much.
- Automobiles, or women?

Inspector, this is unusual.

What is it, Doctor?

This tire tread here is different

- from the one that ran him over here.
- Two treads?

I believe this man was run
over by two different motorcars.

William... How luxurious!

A honeymoon demands luxury, Mrs. Murdoch.

Thank you.

I've got those.

Hello. Reservation for Murdoch, please.

Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch.

- Actually, I am Mr. Murdoch, and this is...
- Yes.

Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch.

I'm proud to be called Mrs. Murdoch.

For convenience sake.

Sir, I regret to inform you

the room you booked is not available.

- The honeymoon suite? But I reserved it.
- Yes, sir.

- We can offer you another room.
- Are you saying I didn't reserve it?

- I'm saying it is unavailable, sir.
- Well, yes.

As it should be. To everyone else but me,

- who reserved it.
- Please,

- whatever room you have will be lovely.
- Very good.

- The room is very nice.
- Julia,

this is our honeymoon. We're
meant to be in the honeymoon suite.

Even a brick wall can be romantic, William.


Is there anything else

you'll be needing, sir?

No, no, that'll be all,

thank you. Here you are.

Sir? This, uh,

this doesn't appear to be real money, sir.

Oh, right,

it's Canadian money.
We're from Toronto, Canada.

I'll get my money

exchanged later today and be sure

you get your gratuity.

- William, I have some American currency.
- Oh, no, no need.

- It's all settled.
- She said...

You know, it's all our
money. We must get used

- to sharing in everything.
- Yes, but Julia,

this honeymoon is my gift to you.

Then I promise, no matter
what the circumstance,

not to tip a single bellboy.

Tell me what you saw

- right before you hit him.
- I... I didn't see anything.

Bill, take your hat off.

You look a mess. Was he standing

- or was he lying down?
- I don't know.

How'd you find me?

There are only a hundred
automobiles in the whole city.

- You left yours at the scene of the crime.
- Crime?

- No, I didn't do anything.
- You ran him over.

I can't be blamed for something
I did in a drunken stupor.

A man was killed. Someone's at fault.

Now, what I want to know is...

whether he was standing at the
side of the road when you hit him,

- or whether he was already lying down.
- I'm sorry.

I can't remember.

Yep, she's a real beauty. The
power of eight horses under there.

And the gold stripes match
the oil lamps. Very sharp.

- You bloody fools. Where'd you get this?
- Sir, we got it this morning.

And as we have the day off, we're
gonna take a little road trip.

- Would you like to go for a ride, sir?
- In that? With you lot?

Sir, are you sure you don't
need me to stay at the Station?

I mean, the incident this morning
and the Detective off in New York...

Crabtree, I'm a police inspector.
I can handle a case on my own.

Just make sure you're back to work
tomorrow morning, bright and early.

- Sir.
- Yes, sir.

That's it then, lads,
the open road is ours.

There's only room for two up front, though.

- Driver!
- Beside driver!

- Dicky seat again.
- Crank her, Henry.

Hey, you gotta earn
your keep. Start her up.



Tonight, we'll dine at Delmonico's.

Assuming they honour that reservation.

But first...


I'm sorry?

Hello? Who is this?

- That was strange.
- Who was it?

I don't know. A man.

He said, "The bear will bleed."

"The bear will bleed?"
What else did he say?

"The bear will bleed. The red arrow
drops at noon." Then he hung up.

Strange. No matter.

Clearly it was a message for
someone else. Now, you and I

have a date with the
Museum of Natural History.


Broken tibia on the left leg.

Significant abrasions on the right,
possibly due to being dragged.

Numerous gashes including large
wounds to the right arm, shoulder,

- and the head.
- Meaning?

Other than the lifelike skin
tone, everything is consistent

with being run over. Twice.

- So can you tell which motorcar hit him first?
- No,

but I can confirm that he was already
dead as of sometime late last night.

So the driver from this
morning isn't responsible.

Any idea who the dead man is?

I'm afraid not. But I did find

these driving gloves. And
he was wearing this pin.

Toronto Auto Club.

An auto enthusiast himself, it appears.

- Take a right in here, Jackson.
- Right? That takes us out of our way.

Well, we're on an
adventure, just take a right.

- Another one?
- We're in no rush. Just cut right in here, Jackson.

- There we go.
- Here?

Pull it in there. Pull it in there.

Where are we going, George?

Right here, right here.
Stop here. Stop here.

What are you two doing up
here? Why are we stopping?

Yes, why are we stopping, George?

Lads, this is what having a motorcar

- is all about.
- Hey!

- Mrs. Brooks.
- George Crabtree?

Where did you find yourself an automobile?

This is my automobile.

- Ahem!
- Our motorcar.

Me and my chums chipped in
and purchased it this morning.

A purchase like this hardly seems
wise on a Constable's salary.

- Three Constables' salaries.
- Well, even so.

Isn't there a saying about
fools and their money?

Well, it's a shame you find it so foolish,

otherwise I should think
I'd like to take you

for a drive at some point.

Well, I have always wanted to
go for a ride in a motorcar.

Maybe I could call around tomorrow?

All right then, yes.

Excellent! Alright, lads, on we go.

Ontario is ours for the discovering.

- Press the pedal.
- Here we are.

- Press the gas.
- Yup.

- Put your back into it.
- I'm trying!

- I'm trying!
- Good man, Henry.

Good man.

- Huzzah!
- Tally ho!

No, no, here we are.

- Aha!
- Here we are.

- I'm getting the hang of this.
- Hey, why don't we switch seats?

I hate it back here!

Julia, really, I am so sorry.

It's fine, William.

How was I to know the
museum would be closed today?

I had no idea it was an American holiday.

What on Earth is "Decoration Day"?

Some kind of memorial holiday, I believe.

We can have fun right here.

Why don't we open that bottle of champagne?

Oh, good idea. I'll get some ice

- and I'll meet you upstairs.
- Or we could just have it sent up.

It'll be much faster if I get it.

Hello. Five, please.


what did the voice say
on the telephone again?


I just saw two suspicious characters

on the elevator on their way
upstairs. They were armed.

How odd.

Good afternoon, gents.

Inspector Thomas Brackenreid
of the Toronto Constabulary.

Why, Inspector, what a
surprise to see you again.

Roger Newsome.

Oh right, the puzzler.

- Taken a fancy to automobiles now, have you?
- More than a fancy, Inspector.

I'm a charter member of
our Auto Club. Please,

- let me introduce my dear, dear friends...
- Frederick Fetherstonhaugh,

- charter member. This is Dr. Perry Doolittle.
- Charter member.

And our gracious host, Manfred Larkin.

- Provisional member.
- Pleasure to meet you, Inspector.

- Are you an auto enthusiast yourself?
- No.

I'm here to find out if you can

identify a man that was found on
Winchester Street this morning.

- Oh, no! No, no, no! Poor Diderik.
- Diderik.

- Dutch, was he?
- Yes. Diderik Haan.

A dear, dear, dear friend.

- One of our charter members, in fact.
- Oh please, Roger.

You never cared for Diderik.

You ridiculed his "lack of
manners" and his "ruddy face."

We had our differences,

- but he was a dear, dear, dear friend...
- Gentlemen, gentlemen,

please, let us remain civil.

Emotions run high

upon hearing such awful news.

- When did you last see Mr. Haan?
- Last night.

- All of us were here.
- What was the occasion?

We were tuning Diderik's machine
for our upcoming automobile rally.

Although why here instead of
at my estate, I don't know.

Manfred doesn't even have a full garage.

I have plenty of tools
in my carriage house.

And better scotch, Perry.

What time did Haan leave?

- The usual... ten-thirty, ten-forty-five.
- This tire mark.

- Are you familiar with it?
- Ha!

Do you find that photograph amusing, sir?


I know that tread.

It belongs to a prototype
from the Ransom Olds company.

A capital machine, only one in the city.

I tried to buy it myself, but I was outbid.

You see?

It was here last night.

Diderik Haan's pride and joy.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Haan.

Chief Inspector Thomas Brackenreid,

Toronto Constabulary. I
have news of your husband.

- But first, I need to take a look at his automobile.
- Oh, I sold it this morning.

Oh, I can't wait to
see the look on his face

when he finds out how little I got for it.

What's he done now? Found trouble
with another two-bit hussy?

You sold his motorcar this morning?

Mm-hmm. To three Constables, in fact.

Bloody hell.

According to the window,
Crabtree, Jackson and Higgins,

are carousining in the automobie
that ran over our victim.

- They could afford an automobile?
- That's not the point, Doctor.

That motorcar is
essentially a murder weapon.

- Yes, but how much did they pay for it?
- Does it matter? It's evidence.

Right. Of course, Inspector.

So, where's the automobile now?

Out in the middle of nowhere, I expect.
They'd better bring it back in one piece,

- otherwise we'll have nothing to go on.
- Why was the widow selling it?

Disposing of the evidence, perhaps?

According to Mrs. Haan, she had no idea her
husband was dead until she heard it from me.

Then why sell his automobile?

He was caught out
tomcatting one time too many.

This morning, he was gone but
the motorcar was still there.

She believed he was with another
woman, so she sold it to spite him.

Well, I admire her gumption.

But it does give her
motive. The maid swears

that she never left the house last
night. Regardless, my gut tells me

- that she didn't do it.
- Your gut?

Is that similar to women's intuition?

We have no scarcity of suspects.

That fancy damn Roger
Newsome hated the man.

Haan seems to have made enemies of
nearly all his friends over the years.

- Because of all his philandering?
- Philandering,

back-stabbing, reckless
business dealings...

according to the widow,
he's a right piece of work.

I need to take a good
look at that automobile.

Really, though,

you must know how much they paid for it?

Hi there. Frank Rivers.

I'm the detective here at the inn.

Detective William Murdoch, Toronto
Constabulary. Please come in.

- This is...
- Dr. Julia Ogden.

Canada, uh? Gotta tell
you, I love that Canada.

McGuire's. Am I right?

About what?

McGuire's beer, William.

- Brewed in Toronto.
- Damn right.

Stronger beer for a stronger people.

Well, I don't drink much beer.

Oh, neither do I!

So, Bill,

why don't you tell me
what's concerning you?

- Actually my name is...
- We had a phone call. Around two o'clock.

- Was it threatening?
- More strange than threatening.

A man's voice. Slightly muffled.

"The bear will bleed. The
red arrow drops at noon."

Hmm. Well, I will talk

to the girls down at the
switch, and see if they recall

- putting that through. Was there anything else?
- Actually,

about an hour or so later,
I saw two men in dark suits

in the elevator. And I'm quite
sure that they were armed.

Well, I admire the police work there, Bill.

You see, I myself was with
the New York Police Department

for more than twenty years.

Now, if you two are
willing to keep a secret,

I can let you in on a little
confidential information.

Of course.

We have the President

of the United States arriving tomorrow.

President Roosevelt?

- No wonder the suite wasn't available.
- Two suites.

He's got the whole sixth floor.

A suite for him, and a
suite for his security team.

The White House has a whole squad,

just to protect him.
Even when he's traveling.

Sending men in advance
still seems excessive.

Well, after the assassination last year,

it's better safe than sorry, I suppose.

You're damn right about that, Bill.

Well, thank you for
setting our minds at ease.

- This still doesn't explain the phone call.
- Well,

that's probably just a wrong number.

Thank you.

Jackson, do you suppose I could use

the motorcar on my own tomorrow evening?

Does this have something to do
with that young lady, George?

It's not like that.

I'm just taking her for a drive.
I mean, who wouldn't want to go

for a drive in an automo... bile.

What was that? What's happening?

What's going on?

I don't know.

- It could be out of gasoline.
- It's not out of gasoline, Henry.

- What's wrong with it, then?
- I don't know.

Well, how do you know it's
not out of gasoline then?

Constable Crabtree!

Come now, surely you remember me.

Roger Newsome! Of the Mimico Newsomes.

Oh, yes.

- Mr. Newsome, of course.
- Appears you gentlemen

- could use some help.
- We can manage, thank you.

- No, we can't. We are broken down, sir.
- Hang a minute.

You gents bought this machine
from Diderik Haan, did you?

From his wife, actually.

I'm sure we can lend a hand.
I know Diderik's old girl well.

Almost as well as you know his old lady.

Just what are you insinuating?

Nothing. Nothing.

Diderik's wife is a friend,
Roger. She deserves our compassion

- for having been stuck so long with that blasted fool.
- Hey, Roger,

please, we're all friends here.

How much did you three
pay for this, anyway?

- We may be Constables, but we are men of means.
- I'm sure that you are.

I'm simply trying to make you an offer.

- How much would you take for it?
- It's not for sale.

We are roadsters, sir. We
live for this automobile.

- Every man has his price. Just name it.
- Now, Freddie, that's enough.

It's terrific that police
Constables can afford a motorcar.

- The automobile is the great democratic instrument.
- If every man has a motorcar,

- the streets will be overwhelmed.
- Then we will build more streets,

all interconnected with a single roadway

that reaches from coast to coast.

Now that's an idea. What
a journey that would be.

- It would take forever.
- What would you call it?

The "Transverse Continental
Motorcar Thoroughfare."

It's a bit of a mouthful.
Maybe just the Trans-Canada.

No, that's a stupid name, George.

- Wouldn't you run out of gasoline?
- When every man has a motorcar

of his own, petrol stations will
populate every city and town.

That's a fine vision, Perry, but I think
we need to focus on getting city council

- to raise the speed limit.
- Indeed, Manfred.

They say ten miles per hour is "scorching?"

- I say not so.
- There you go, Constables.

Give that a try.

- Put your back into it.
- Alright, alright.

Say, why don't you join
us at our rally tomorrow?

We start at my estate, hit a few checkpoints
on the way to Niagara, and double back.

- Great fun.
- That sounds wonderful, but we'll be unable to attend.

Not much of a machine, really.

And you know this belonged to a dead man.

- So? We own it now.
- Ah!

Just run over last night,

and you three have already
swooped in to claim his belongings.

Run over? Are you saying this automobile

belonged to the man who was
found on Winchester Street?

- That's right.
- We have to go back to the Station.

Now hold on... how much will it cost for me

- to buy this automobile?
- It's not for sale, sir.

It's evidence.

What do you have, Doctor?

This wound on his head, Inspector.

It isn't consistent with the
automobile-related injuries.

- Someone hit him on the head?
- With some kind of wooden object.

I found minute splinters in the wound.

- Is that what killed him then?
- In comparison to his other injuries, it is quite minor.

But I do not believe the road
accident killed him either.

The damage to the internal organs was
inflicted after the man was already dead.

Then what was it?

Remember I noted how lifelike
the body appeared after death?

Well, I've attributed it in
part to the redness of the blood.

Certain poisons, like cyanide,
can result in bright red blood.

- So you think he was poisoned.
- Well, it would seem that way.

He was dead before he was run over.

Before both times he was run over.

Perhaps whoever killed him wanted
it to look like a road accident.

He was bashed on the head, poisoned,

and then maimed by his own motorcar.

Someone really wanted
this poor bugger dead.

It seems it's time to retire
to the bedroom, Detective.

Indeed it does, Doctor.

- Dear God!
- What was that?

- Excuse me. Can I help you?
- Yes,

- we'd like to go up to the next floor.
- Oh no, sir,

- I'm afraid I can't allow that.
- We heard a noise upstairs.

- Someone may have had a terrible accident.
- I can assure you,

there's nobody on that
floor. Both suites are vacant.

But we just heard a
disturbance not two minutes ago.

No, sir. That's impossible.

Look, I understand your
reluctance to say anything.

But we know about the President's visit.

Something happened up there,

- and I intend to investigate.
- Sir.

I've spoken to the President's security.

Everything is under control.

Is this about the gratuity?


Return to your room.

I found no traces of cyanide,

so I'm testing out other poisons.

What I'm looking for is
something that would kill a rat,

but also oxygenate its blood
to make it appear bright red.

- So, you killed all these rats with poison?
- Oh no, no.

- Some of them survived. I'll save them for my next experiment.
- Oh, well.

- Lucky them.
- What I've learned so far

is that carbon monoxide acts like
oxygen in making the blood red.

But instead of giving the body oxygen,

it inhibits the blood
cells from carrying it.

Too much carbon monoxide

would kill a rat or a man very quickly.

So you're saying that this carbon oxygen

- is what killed Diderik Haan?
- Carbon monoxide, and yes.

Well, what is it? Where
would someone get it?

It's a by-product created by combustion.

Any machine that runs on
petrol would produce it.

- Like a motorcar.
- Indeed.

Sir, why would someone run
over a man who was already dead?

To make it look like an accident.

Dried blood.

So if the automobile belonged
to the dead man, who was driving?

One of his so-called friends
from the Auto Club, I imagine.

He was last seen with one of them.

Sir, the very tall one, he was
eager to buy the motorcar from us.

Perhaps he didn't want the
Constabulary looking at it

- too closely.
- Frederick Fetherstonhaugh.

Lawyer, I believe. Never trusted lawyers.

But then that Dr. Doolittle also mentioned

some sort of friendship with the dead
man's wife. Said he sympathized with her

for having been married so
long to a "blasted fool,"

- as he put it.
- Helping a friend get away from a bad marriage...

that's a motive.

The widow also said something
about Larkin owing Haan money.

Wouldn't somebody who owned an
automobile be extremely wealthy?

Present company excluded, of course.

Larkin's a silk-stocking dandy.

You should see the size of his estate.

Sir... They're gone.

- The gloves.
- What gloves?

There was a pair of gloves in there when
we bought the thing. Mrs. Haan didn't know

- who they belonged to.
- It's unlikely they were the dead man's...

- he was wearing gloves when we found him.
- Well, they probably belonged

to whoever drove the car
last. Whoever ran him over.

Then who could have taken them?

The only people who were
close to this automobile

besides myself and the lads were
those chaps from the Auto Club.

So that lot comes across your
lot. One of them sees the gloves,

realizes that's evidence left behind.

Whoever it is snatches them back,

thinking it's the last link
between him and the murder.

So one of the men from the
Auto Club is our killer.

I knew it from the second I laid eyes

on those poncey twits.

Looks like you, Jackson, and
Higgins are going to be attending

that auto rally tomorrow, sunshine.


- What on earth are you doing?
- Julia.

I have created an elongated circumscope.

Now, instead of merely peering

around a corner and remaining unseen,

this will allow us to see
what's going on in a room

a full storey above us.

I see. Where did you find

- those tubes?
- Oh, uh...

don't use the water closet.
Now, if you could help me

by opening this window,
we'll see what we can find

in the room above us.

Unfortunately, the field of
vision will be quite small.

Refracting the light over such a
distance will mean that the image

will be tiny.

Oh, it's so big.

But it goes in quite easily.

And reaches right into that...

perfect spot.

Is it working?

Nice and still.

Ah, yes...

I can see an overturned chair...

Some blueprints, possibly
of the hotel lobby.

I imagine the presidential security
team would need to study the floor plans

of the hotel to ensure against surprises.

- Anything else?
- No.

Oh, wait.

I see a shoe.

Or at least I think it's a shoe.

Possibly on a man's
foot, but I can't quite...

We need to see from a different angle.

I have an idea.


Glad you could join us.

Looking forward to a speedy jaunt?

Mr. Newsome, where did
you get those gloves?

- Hmm?
- Your gloves.

These? I bought them
from my preferred glover.

I'm going to need you to
accompany me to the station.

Excuse me? What is this poppycock?

You're under arrest, Mr.
Newsome. On suspicion of murder.

- So the fumes from a motorcar killed him.
- Yes.

But for exhaust inhalation to cause death,

the motorcar would need to be
left running in a small space.

Why would anyone leave
an automobile running?

They were in a hurry, perhaps. Many of those
engines are quite difficult to turn over.

So our killer knocked Haan on the head

and left him with the engine
running in an automobile stable.

- I believe they call them "garages."
- "Garage"?

- What kind of word is that?
- French.

Slimey Frenchies, they're
even naming our barns now?

They're bloody stables for bloody
automobiles! Yes, very good.

Any of the auto stables
I've seen would be too large

and allow for too much
airflow. It's more likely

Mr. Haan and his motorcar were stowed
in a small, enclosed structure...

something big enough for an
automobile, but not much larger.

I have plenty of tools
in my carriage house.

Larkin's carriage house.

- I need to get to that Auto Rally.
- Auto Rally?

I should accompany you, Inspector.

In case there are any medical matters.

Grab your hat.

They're not my gloves. I was lying.

Please, I can't be arrested
again. Do you have any idea

- of the condition of your cells?
- Those gloves

- were in Diderik Haan's automobile.
- I know.

I stole them, I admit it.
I'll pay you back for them.

- I think you stole them because you knew they were evidence.
- Evidence?

- I stole them because I liked them.
- A man of your means,

- Mr. Newsome, stealing...
- What's going on?

Mr. Larkin, I'm afraid I'm
placing Mr. Newsome here

- under arrest.
- No.

No, I can't let you do that.

Excuse me?

Get in the motorcar.

We're going for a ride, gentlemen.

After you.

I can't fit.

- My shoulders are too wide.
- I think I can fit.

Julia, are you sure? It's
quite dark and dusty in there.

Dust? Oh my, how could I ever manage?

Oh! I've got it.

I can see...

nothing, really. The floor.

Hold on, I can turn it.

Dear God!

- He's dead.
- What? Who?

I don't know. A large
man. He's covered in blood.

One of the President's security men.

If they killed him,

perhaps they're planning to
assassinate the president.

"The bear will bleed."
William, the telephone message!

"The red arrow drops at noon". "At noon."

It must be some kind of
code for the assassination.

Well, if that's the case, the
President is about to arrive.

He'll be walking straight into his death!

Jackson! Where's Larkin?

I don't know, sir.

- Where's Crabtree?
- There, sir!

- Inspector!
- Just keep driving!

Jackson. Come on, let's get
after them! Higgins, stay there!

Hey, Inspector!

We're not going to catch
them in that carriage!

Thank you. Jackson, get in the back!

- But I...
- You sure you can handle this thing?

There can't be much to it.


that's my car.

I'm afraid the elevator

is currently closed to guests, sir.

I could take you to the
service elevator if...

My God, man, this is an emergency!

I haven't got any American currency!

- Please, hurry.
- Right this way.


- Now just what is going on here, Manfred?
- We're taking a little

trip across the border.
I have a safe house there

from which I will be sending
the ransom demand to your family.

You don't intend to kidnap me, do you?

I am kidnapping you,
Roger. At this very moment.

Kidnapper. Kidnappee.

- Innocent bystander.
- Sorry about that, Constable.

But I've been working on this plan for
months. I didn't let Diderik get in the way,

and I'm certainly not
gonna let you ruin this.

- Rather fast, don't you think?
- Constable Crabtree's life could be at stake.

Rather him than me.

There they are! We can catch them.

- Go faster.
- I'm trying.

I know how fast this motorcar can go.

The pedal is extended
all the way, Mr. Larkin!

The pedal is pressed against the metal!

- This bloody flivver won't go fast enough!
- Language, Doctor.

We're carrying too much weight.

Jackson! You're slowing us down.

- Uh, well...
- Well, jump off, man!


Ah! Ooh! That's more like it!

Sorry, sir,

the service elevator can
run a little slow sometimes.

- We should have taken the stairs.
- You're right.

- Give it up, Manfred! You'll never get away with this!
- Keep quiet, Roger!

- Man alive! Don't shoot, you maniac!
- Stay down, Roger!

Steady on! Stop swerving, Constable!

I'm trying!

Get him, Constable! Yes!
Pull the car over safely!

I'm in a very precarious
position back here!

Sorry about this, Constable. You
weren't supposed to be part of the plan.

Newsome. Help!

Sincerest apologies, Constable!

Larkin. You're under arrest.

George, are you all right?

Yes, I think I am.

Thank you, Emily.

Mr. President! No!

President Roosevelt!

No, wait!

Sir, I'm terribly sorry,
I'm a police detective

from Toronto, Canada
and I believe these men

are impostors attempting
to assassinate you.

Dear God, man. Impostors? Ha, ha, ha!

I may have more men

on my security team than
I can count these days,

but I'm quite sure that Williams
and McDermid are on my side.

Sir... Mr. President,

there is a dead man in this
hotel, and we saw these men

- coming from that floor.
- Dead, are they?

- Both of them.
- I suppose there was no other way.

There was a plot to do me harm.

My men discovered it and
arrived last night to...

take care of the problem.

- It appears we were a bit overzealous.
- How very embarrassing.

I hope you can accept our apology.

Of course. Good day.

- Good day.
- I'm fine.

- Let me check you...
- I'm fine.

McGuire's, am I right?

- The red arrow drops at noon
- Julia.

There's a third man. The
Detective from this hotel...

he was in the room with those
men. He knows their plans.

- Plans for the assassination.
- The red arrow drops at noon.


Stop right there! Hands behind your back!

- We got him, Mr. President!
- Oh, my God...

You really have saved my life.

It's true,

I'm broke.

Cleaned out.

I hoped to hold Roger for ransom and...

- start fresh.
- What about Haan?

You killed him when no
one would pay his ransom?


No, he found out.

When he threatened to
spoil my plan, I panicked

and hit him with a piece of timber.

- But that didn't kill him.
- I never intended to kill him!

I locked him and his
motorcar in the carriage house

just in case any of the others came back.

Then I went inside to have a stiff
drink and figure out what to do next.

And when you came back, he was dead.

I still don't understand what happened.

You left your motorcar
running is what happened.

- The carbon monoxide killed him.
- The what?

Fumes from the exhaust. Deadly
in the wrong circumstance.

How was I supposed to know the exhaust
from his motorcar would kill him?


you'll have plenty of time
to read up on it in prison.

Oh, by the way... next time,

you might want to think
of taking a carriage.

These are for the detective.

Dr. Grace, I wanted to thank you
again. You may have saved my life today.

Well, it's a good thing I'm
a better driver than you.

Well, now, I was trying to get caught.

So you're saying you were holding back?

No. I'm just saying who knows
if you would have caught me

if I didn't wrestle the gunman
and stopped the motorcar?

Well, perhaps you can take me for a
drive in your new automobile sometime.

- As a thank you for saving your life.
- Of course. Any time.

I'm free this afternoon.

I can't this afternoon.

I have to pick up... an appointment.

I have an appointment.

Oh. I see.

Well, another time then.

Certainly, yes.

I can't thank you two enough.

I certainly didn't expect that
from a former police officer.

He was only a hotel detective, wasn't he?

He was with the New York Police
Department, or so he told us.

Ah. When I was Police Commissioner,
I cleaned out a lot of bad apples,

which made me a lot of
enemies. He must be one of them.

I suppose. Well, glad to be of help.

You could in fact do me one more favour.

- Of course, Mr. President.
- Yes.

Keep this little incident to yourselves?

After what happened last
year in Buffalo, well,

news of another attempt on
the life of a U.S. President

might create unnecessary panic.

- Yes, of course. You have our word.
- I thank you once again.

Now, how is it that we're so lucky

to have you two in New
York City this weekend?

- Actually, we're on our honeymoon.
- Honeymoon?

But they've put me in the honeymoon suite.

This is not right.

- Here, please.
- Oh, we wouldn't dream of it.

- Nonsense. You can. You will.
- Absolutely not.

I'm the American President, my good man.

I am not accustomed to refusal.

We graciously accept.

Thank you, Mr. President.

A woman of beauty and sense.

You're a lucky man, Detective.

Well. It seems your plan for luxury

may be coming together after all.

Saving the life of the
President of the United States

does have its perks.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Brooks.
Are you ready to be chauffeured

- about town in this fine automobile?
- Indeed, I believe I am.

We can go anywhere you'd
like this afternoon.

We could go to the country...

and to the Scarborough Bluffs...

But who would see us way out there?

King Street it is.

Oh... oh no.

It's... it's done this before.

I'd say I know how to fix it,
but I don't know how to fix it.

It's alright. It's fine.

I'm sorry.

I fear our outing has ended rather quickly.

Well, why don't we take
a walk down to the arcade?

I thought you wanted to go for a drive.

I did. But I could fancy a stroll.

Is this a date, Edna Brooks?

I suppose it is, George Crabtree.

Well, good.


My apologies, George,

but I'm about to be late for the ceremony.

Sir, did you know my
book Curse of the Pharaohs

didn't even make the long list

for the Giller Prize this year?

How many Canadian books
were even written in a year?

Perhaps they don't tend to award prizes

to books written about Egyptian mummies.

I should have written about zombies, sir.

I realize that now.

Still, if they just heard
a couple of passages...

Like I said, George, I'm going to be late.

"As she turned back to the creature,

her look was no longer one
of fear, but one of desire."


Good luck at the Giller Prize Gala, sir!

- synced and corrected by chamallow -