Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 9, Episode 17 - From Buffalo with Love - full transcript

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A little token of my affection
for my favourite Mr. Wednesday.

That's my cue!

Enjoy the routine and
don't run off after.

The infamous Star Room.

Not one of our city's finer
forms of entertainment.

A good burlesque can
be just as entertaining

as a good vaudeville.

If a little suggestive.

Well, this place attracts all sorts.

- Good evening, Doctor.
- Inspector.

I'm sorry for dragging you to
such a place at this time of night.



Not at all. I've always wondered
what it looked like inside.

Not an entirely unlikely venue
in which to find a murder.

More unexpected that anyone
bothered to tell us about it.

Henry.

Who telephoned the police?

Well, sir...

- I did.
- George?

Crabtree!

What the bloody hell are you
doing in a place like this?

- Sir...
- Higgins.

All right. What did you see?

A couple of pretty girls.

A couple of not so pretty ones.

It's alright Crabtree.



I've been found in
worse places than this.

What can you tell us
about the incident, George?

Sirs, I can't tell you much of anything.

- Where were you seated?
- Here at this table.

How could you not see anything?

You were sitting almost
on top of the crime!

Well, Sir, I don't know;
it gets loud in here.

Well, this may help
explain a few things.

He used a kitchen
towel to muffle the gun.

So, he walks in,

wraps the gun in a kitchen towel,
shoots the victim, and walks out.

And the victim's dead a few minutes
before anyone's even noticed.

Giving the killer ample time to escape.

Anything, Julia?

Yes. A single gunshot
wound to the right temple.

I'll conduct a full post-mortem

but I can't imagine the
cause of death will change.

- Is it your day off, George?
- Doctor, yes.

I'm sorry that the show
was so rudely interrupted.

- They say it's quite a spectacle.
- Actually, Doctor, it really is...

- Well...
- Well.

: Yes.

I believe my work here
is done. Gentlemen.

Thank you, Julia.

George... exactly what was
happening here an hour ago?

Sir, I believe that's when
Miss Nina Bloom was on stage.

Which would explain why no
one noticed this. She's...

She's rather the reason
why men come here.

You say that as though you've
been here more than once.

Let's get started, shall we?

- What would you like me to do?
- Go home, Crabtree.

This is still your day off.

- Full of surprises, that one.
- Hm.

Ah, you there...

- You found the body, did you?
- Yes, I did.

I heard this was a rough
place, but I didn't expect this.

And what were you doing
prior to finding the body?

I was around the tables,
picking up glasses.

- And you didn't see anything?
- Nothing.

- Right. Thank you.
- This place is full of lowlifes.

Could have been any of them.

And you're certain that
you didn't see anyone

take a towel off the bar?

I'm here alone.

You see how crowded it is.

It hardly matters to me
what happens to the towels.

Can you identify the victim?

Called himself Gerry.

- A regular?
- Last couple of months.

Always sat at the same table.
Never caused any trouble.

- Had a bit of an eye for Lydia.
- Who?

Miss Lydia Hall.

The redhead.

We didn't see anything.

We were both busy on the stage.

You didn't hear anything
resembling a gunshot?

We already told you: no.

I understand you were familiar
with the victim, Miss Hall?

No. Not really.

If you withhold the truth from me,

I will be forced to add
you to my list of suspects.

Now, the truth, please.

His name was Gerry. He had
a room on Sumach Street.

The corner of Sumach and King.

Thank you.

There it is!

Julia.

I am concerned about George

frequenting a place
like that on his own.

Perhaps he doesn't wish to spend
his free time alone in his room.

Well, the vaudeville, yes.

The arcade, even.

But the Star Room? It
just doesn't seem like

the sort of place he would visit.

George has had a
difficult year, William.

First Edna, then Emily leaving.

Perhaps he's simply lonely.

Hm...

At any rate, 22 caliber.

I'm afraid there's likely not
much else the body can tell us.

Right.

Thank you, Julia.

I think what George needs is a friend.

Someone he can talk to.

- Oh, would you...
- Not me, William...

You!

Right.

Right.

Ah, here we are, Sir.

Awfully callous of the landlord

to throw out the victim's
belongings so soon.

In any case, this must be the
crate he was talking about.

George, I thought that you and I

might spend an evening together,

um, outside of work.

Sir, I would enjoy that very much.

Well,

I thought you might be amenable
to an evening at Vaudeville.

Sir, to tell you the truth
I've gone off vaudeville a bit.

It's too competitive.

All right then,

if not vaudeville, perhaps, uh...

a concert,

or... a lecture!

Yes. The Royal Society of Geologists

is hosting an evening of talks

about tectonics, that's
the division of...

Perhaps you could choose
an activity, George.

Sir, I don't suppose you'd be
up for a night at the burlesque?

I know what you're
thinking, sir; some of the

themes are adult in nature,

but it's actually a
very clever show, sir.

People often say one thing when they

sort of mean something
else. Very cheeky.

Yes, I'm familiar with what
burlesque entails, George.

I just...

didn't figure that to be your sort of...

comedy.

Well, sir, to tell you the truth,

it's one of the dancers there.

Miss Nina Bloom. She's... It sounds
silly, sir, but she is mesmerizing.

That's her job, George.

Yes, I realize that, sir, but...

it's hard to explain.

- Have you a relationship with this...
- Oh, heavens no, sir.

I doubt she knows me from Adam.

I see.

You really need to see her
perform to understand, I think.

Yes, well perhaps we'll find an activity

that we could both enjoy, huh?

Ah, here we are.

A birth certificate. From Buffalo.

The victim's full name was Gerald Sloan.

Well, here you are, George.
Find out everything you can

about Mr. Sloan from his
neighbours, his employer,

and I think you'll find the dancer,

- Miss Lydia Hall, has some insights.
- Sir.

All right, George.

It's good, talking, like
this. It's quite good.

Hello, Mr. Wednesday!

You do know the show
doesn't start until later.

Or are you hoping for a sneak peek?

- Eh, no. That is...
- I don't believe I caught your name.

- George Crabtree.
- Nina Bloom.

At your service, Constable.

I'm actually here on...
official business, Miss Bloom.

And here I thought you'd come
to help me with my routine.

Give me a few pointers
from a real copper.

Perhaps I'm holding my gun incorrectly.

You are, in fact,

- but I hardly think anybody minds.
- Oh no.

This is my craft. I strive for realism.

In fact, I'm having some
trouble taming my billy club.

Maybe you can show me your technique?

I am here to investigate a murder.

Lucky me!

You don't act like most people
do when the police show up.

- Especially...
- In a place like this?

Well, I'm not most people.

And if you haven't noticed, I've
taken a bit of a shine to you.

I imagine you're like that
with most of your customers.

Heavens, no.

Only the ones I find interesting.

And I think you find me interesting too.

I do.

Take me to dinner tonight.

Miss Bloom, I'm here to speak...

I'm... I'm actually here
to speak to Lydia Hall

about Gerald Sloan.

Ah, all business, I see.

Well, she's not here yet.

You're at Station Number... Four?

Yes.

Then that's where I'll telephone you.

- Ahem! When Miss
Hall arrives. - Mm-hm!

Then too!

Sir,

The lads have yet to come up with
the murder weapon, unfortunately.

They've turned the Star Room upside
down but have come up with nothing.

I'm not surprised, George.

- What did you find out about the victim?
- Nothing again, sir.

He's unemployed, yet
he gave his landlord

six months advance in cash.

- Family?
- None on record.

In fact, there seems to
be no record of this chap

prior to six months ago,
neither here or in Buffalo.

- No, there wouldn't be.
- Sir?

The birth certificate is a forgery.

"Gerald Sloan" doesn't exist.

It appears an excursion is in order.

What is it with these Americans?

Plastering their flag over
every conceivable surface.

National pride, sir.

I daresay the British
aren't much different.

Yes, but our flag is subtle.

- Powerful in its simplicity.
- I see.

According to George's directions,

the police station should be
somewhere along this block.

Let's hope his mind wasn't
on certain other things

when he wrote them down.

Sir,

the instructions say that we are
to wait for a Detective Walker

- outside the police station.
- Hm...

Murdoch and Brackenreid?

Badges, please.

Follow me.

You want to know about Gerald
Sloan. So do a lot of people.

- Oh?
- Though it hardly matters now.

The... the truth is,
he's not Gerald Sloan.

His real name is Gerry Sachs.

And just why did Sachs feel
the need to change his name?

I caught him on a job,

but rather than go to
jail, he turned informant

and gave evidence against
the head of the enterprise.

Sachs' testimony sent him away.

So I sent Sachs away.

You forged the birth certificate.

In exchange for his testimony,
Sachs was given a new identity,

some cash, and a train
ticket to a new city.

- He chose Toronto.
- He didn't choose anything, we did.

You sent a criminal to my city

without so much as a courtesy call?

Informing you of his whereabouts

would have defeated
the purpose, Inspector.

Unbelievable.

I'll be having a word with
your superiors about this.

I suppose it doesn't matter
anymore. Sachs was a test case.

The Relocation Agreement Tactic.

But since they found him,

I doubt I'll ever get
approval to do it again.

Since who found him, Detective?

Just who did Mr. Sachs put in prison?

The founder of the Buffalo
chapter of the Black Hand.

Giuseppe Falcone.

You know of him?

If you had bothered to
let us know of your plans,

Sachs might still be alive.

At any rate, I imagine the
Black Hand are still operating

in spite of Mr. Falcone's incarceration?

We expected his son would
take over, Giuseppe Junior.

But we haven't heard a
peep out of him for weeks.

- We want to talk to Falcone.
- That'll take time to arrange.

Oh, we've got plenty.

Did Mr. Sachs have any next of kin?

A wife and some children.

Oh, may we..?

Better you than me.

- Gerry is really dead?
- I'm afraid he is.

We can arrange for his body to
be sent back to you from Toronto.

Don't bother.

I'm not about to get stuck
with his funeral bill.

I'm not sure you know this, Mrs. Sachs,

but your husband was granted asylum

- in exchange for a testimony.
- Oh, I know all about it.

We were packed and ready.

But the bastard up and
left without so much

as a never-you- mind and I
never heard from him again.

So, you and your children
were meant to go with him?

It was part of the deal.

What cold hearted bastard
would leave his wife behind

to support three
children all on her own?

And yet you never followed.

I would have if I'd
known where he'd gone.

Where were you two nights ago?

You're not serious.

I was on a sixteen-hour
shift at the Larkin soapworks,

which, thank the Lord, I
won't have to do much longer.

Why do you say that?

My husband is dead, Detective.

Now I can finally start over.

Things have quieted
down here a little bit.

A murder will do that.

But it is nice not having to fend
off groping hands for one night.

The unwanted ones, at least.

Are there many unwanted ones?

I have my regulars.

The bespectacled man, Eamon,

but he's harmless.

There's a couple of Aldermen,

who shall not be named.

And that Joe fellow
is the worst, though.

He even gave me his room
number at the Monarch Hotel.

At least he's moved on to Lydia now.

So,

are men in the habit of
giving you their room numbers?

It happens.

Though there is one in
particular I've yet to be offered.

So,

are you in the habit of
visiting men in their rooms.

If I so choose.

I see.

Do you think that improper?

Do you think men are the only
ones who feel lust or passion?

- No, of course not.
- But you think they're the only ones

- allowed to act on it.
- I don't know. I don't know

- it's proper that a young woman...
- If you cared all that much

about propriety you wouldn't be here.

Nina...

Excuse me, squire.

I'll have a beer and I'll
take the chicken please.

Ugh, all out.

Well then, I'll take
whatever you've got.

I'm sorry, sir, the
kitchen has no food left.

Bollocks.

What kind of restaurant has no food?

You are welcome to
come see for yourself.

All we have left is the... Oop!

- refuse from the chicken special.
- What refuse?

- The wings.
- Inedible.

At this point, I'd eat the
bloody feathers. Fry them up.

Oh, but sir, they're
just... bone and skin.

You're going to throw them away,

and I'm offering you good money instead.

- Hm, if you're sure.
- Go!

Off you go. All right.

Get him a beer!

Mr. Falcone will be at the
police station in the morning.

Excellent. Care to join me?

- What is that?
- Dinner.

I've put some of this
spicy sauce on them.

Try one.

- No, thank you.
- Your loss.

I'll tell you, Murdoch,

these chicken wings are the
only good thing about Buffalo.

Will you look at that.

The Canadians are eating our garbage.

Ahem.

I can move the screen if you'd like.

I'm terribly sorry.

I can come back at another time.

Why are you in here, George?

I was...

I was looking for Lydia Hall.

I don't think that's really why.

I know what you want.

I see how you look at
me when I'm on stage.

I...

Mm...

Perhaps I misjudged.

Hm!

Perhaps I did not.

- Is that your bag?
- It's Lydia's.

What did that girl get herself into?

I have to go. I should bring
this down to the station.

At this hour? I doubt anyone
will be there to see it.

That's probably true, but...

The gun isn't going anywhere, George.

Neither are you.

Thank you.

Mr. Falcone.

I hope you're not here to
malign my good name yet again.

- We're not here to talk about the past.
- Oh no?

Now I am intrigued.

You knew this man.

Gerry Sachs. Or his more
recent name, Gerald Sloan.

He testified against you.

Yes, I know. I was
there when it happened.

Gerry Sachs is dead. He was murdered.

It was only a matter of time.

How did you find out
Mr. Sachs was in Toronto?

You just told me.

Mr. Falcone, we know you
didn't kill Gerry Sachs,

but we have strong evidence that
his murder is connected to you.

Who did you order to
kill Sachs? Your son?

I didn't order anyone.

But I cannot stop those loyal to
me if they wish to defend my honour.

And there are many loyal to me.

Both men and women.

On both sides of the border.

Nina! Nina, what in
God's name are you doing?

I'm just wondering why
Lydia would need this.

Nina, give me that. Oh God!

This is evidence.

Your fingermarks are
gonna be all over it now.

I need to go.

As you wish.

I mean, I really do.

I have to get this down
at the station right away.

You know where to find me.

Right.

- Good morning, Crabtree.
- Oddly dressed for work.

- Sir, I was at the Star Room.
- What, this morning?

Do what you want on your own time.

But I'm not paying you
to watch young girls

- prancing around in their skivvies.
- Sir!

I found it in the effects

of one of the dancers'
costumes. Lydia Hall's.

- Any fingermarks on it?
- Yes, sir.

Some of them will turn
out to be Nina Bloom's,

but I assure you they were
applied long after the murder.

I daren't ask how that happened.

What led you to search the costumes?

Well, I found myself in the
ladies' changing room, sir...

Found yourself there, did you?

Why were you in the ladies' change room?

Well, I was interviewing
Miss Bloom, you see.

And her answers led you
to Miss Hall's costume?

- No, not exactly.
- Well then, just what, exactly, George?

- It could be material to the case.
- Murdoch.

What do you think he was doing

with a burlesque dancer
in her dressing room?

- Oh. I see.
- On the job, no less.

You'll want to thank your lucky stars

that your little assignation
revealed evidence.

Otherwise we'd be having a
much different conversation

- right now, bugalugs.
- Sir.

- George, a moment.
- Yes, sir.

The Black Hand?

- Back in Toronto?
- So it would seem.

You understand how this changes things?

Where is Miss Hall now?

- At the Star Room?
- No, sir. She didn't go to work

either last night. I'll... find her.

- Alright, George.
- Sir,

I would like to employ the
assistance of Miss Bloom.

With your permission.

She could be involved in this.

I truly don't believe she is, sir.

Tread carefully, George.

- Sir.
- Crabtree.

Good advice.

A woman like that will
most likely eat him alive.

Julia thinks that George is just lonely.

That's one word for it, I suppose.

I'll call Margaret.

Sir?

I'm certain Margaret can find him a

pleasant young lady to
take his mind off things.

Oh yes, of course, of course.

Julia and I could host a dinner

- this Saturday evening.
- Saturday it is.

Lydia isn't a killer.
She's barely a dancer.

All the poor girl wants
is to find a husband.

Besides, she was on stage
with me the whole time.

I know, Nina. But the
gun was in her costume.

She must know something.

About last night...

What about it?

It was enjoyable. I
mean, it was beyond...

I mean...

what I mean is we hardly
know each other, and...

And what?

- Well, I'm sure you have certain expectations.
- Expectations?

Well, I just wanted you to
know I am an honourable man.

I don't want to marry you, George!

Well... no, of course not. Not yet.

Not ever.

I hardly even know you.

And besides, I'm not that kind of woman.

- What kind?
- The marrying kind.

You shouldn't think
so little of yourself.

I sure many men would
disregard your past.

I shouldn't care if they did or didn't.

I'm not like Lydia, I
don't dance at the burlesque

only to snag a husband.

Why do you then?

Because I enjoy it.

I won't deny myself the
things that bring me pleasure,

and that includes you.

If you think less of me
because of it, then so be it.

- I don't.
- Good.

Then should you want to
continue enjoying my company,

I will welcome you. If
not, I am happy to part now.

I don't want that.

Then stop questioning
the right or wrong of it.

It simply is.

I don't know anything about any
black hands or any foreigners.

All I know is you fellows coming around

- is really bad for business.
- The sooner we catch who's responsible,

the sooner we will stop coming around.

Look, you're the bartender here.

You know better than anyone
what goes on in this place.

Who do you know that has connections

to the Falcone family out of Buffalo?

My new busboy is from
Buffalo. Miles Hart.

The same busboy who discovered the body?

- Yes.
- Where is he now?

Look at the state of this place.

Not here, obviously.

There might be one more place.

But she would have to be
really desperate to hide there.

- Where is that?
- Her parents' home. This way.

So, you really believe that...

you can do whatever you want,
regardless of the consequences?

- What consequences?
- Your reputation.

My reputation is not who I am.

Well I know that but others...

Do you always act the
way others expect you to?

- Well I don't know.
- What is it you want?

What is it you aspire to, George?

Respectability, I
suppose, like anybody else.

So, you grew up expecting
to find a girl, marry her,

have a family, and
live happily ever after.

- Yes, more or less.
- Has it happened?

- No.
- Does your life

have less meaning because of it?

Does it make you less of a man?

I don't know. I hope not.

All I'm saying is make your own choice.

Just because you were told
life should be a certain way,

doesn't mean it's the only way.

Marry, don't marry, what does it matter?

This is it.

Lydia?

Oh, Nina!

- Miss Hall! Miss Hall!
- I didn't say anything.

I didn't say anything, I
swear! Please, let me go!

I'm Constable George
Crabtree. I'm here to help you.

Let me just get my coat.

Miss Hall if you just take a seat here,

Detective Murdoch
will be right with you.

Giltman, fetch the detective.

If you didn't do anything wrong,

then just tell them the truth.

And if I did?

Oh Lydia.

Don't go too hard on her.
She's a simple girl really.

Oh, Nina, Detective Murdoch
is the fairest man I know.

Listen, I would never
have found her without you.

- Thank you for that.
- You're welcome.

But before I go, I'd
like to claim my reward.

Your reward... ?

- Crabtree!!
- Sir!

Miss Bloom. The constabulary
thanks you for your services.

Oh I've already been thanked, Inspector.

Now, if you don't mind,
we have work to do.

As do I. At the Star
Room. New show every week.

Goodbye, George.

Right, you lot, back to work!

- What do you think this is, a bordello?
- No, sir.

I'm sure there are
files that need filing.

Get up them stairs and
keep your bloody head down.

Sir.

This gun was found in your costume.

How did it come to be there?

I don't know!

Miss Hall,

you must realize that, at the moment,

you are in serious trouble.

Obstruction of an
investigation, and possibly,

accessory to murder.

Now,

how did the gun come to be
amongst your personal effects?

That night, I was on stage.

Afterwards I went straight
to my dressing room,

as I always do after my
performance, to rest a moment.

I didn't even know what had happened.

Somebody yelled that
no one was to leave,

the police were on their way.

That's when he came in...

- Who?
- It was all I could do to fight him off.

Miss Hall, who came in?

I can't tell you.

He told me not to.

Miss Hall says a man came
into the dressing room

after Mr. Sachs was killed.

So, once he heard the
police had been called

and knew he was trapped, he
must have followed Miss Hall

into her dressing room, and then
hid the weapon in her costume.

A plausible scenario.

What we need now is for her
to identify her assailant.

That Hart fellow from Buffalo,

I had Thompson bring him
in. He may be our man.

I'll see what I can find out.

We have a suspect.

Now, I would like you to tell
me if it's the man you saw

in the dressing room after the murder.

No. No! Absolutely not!

If you can identify him,

he'll be arrested.

And you will no longer be in danger.

Is this the man?

That's the new busboy, Miles;
of course it wasn't him.

It was one of the patrons.

Can you describe him?

Young lady, you are trying my patience.

He's been coming around now

for a few weeks. He calls himself Joe.

Thank you.

- You heard all that?
- We did.

Silly old girl.

She must be daft to dance
in a place like that anyway.

Sir, isn't Giuseppe Italian for Joseph?

You're thinking this Joe fellow could be

- Giuseppe Falcone Junior?
- It's a possibility.

Sirs.

If Giuseppe is Joe,

I know where to find him.

Somewhere you'd rather be?

No, sir.

I telephoned from the exchange.

So, if Mr. Falcone Junior is
paying the staff to warn him,

he'll be coming out any moment.

Look, Crabtree, I'm glad you're
having yourself a bit of fun

with that dancer. She is
a looker. But be careful.

Careful, sir?

Women like that are
only after one thing.

Look at yourself: nice
lad, good prospects.

Not the sort that she
usually crosses paths with.

She may be trying to entrap
you, George, into marriage.

Sirs, she's not interested in
that, she's told me as much.

Of course she did.

Your brain's so addled you
can't see the wood for the trees.

With all due respect, it's
hardly any of your business.

End it now, Crabtree.

I'm afraid the Inspector
is right, George.

- You as well, sir?
- Get smart.

You wouldn't want a
woman like that raising

your children now, would you?

Considering who raised me,

I wouldn't think it
much of a problem, sir.

That's him. I recognize
him from the Star Room.

Giuseppe Falcone?

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

We know who you are, and
what you've been up to.

- Congratulations.
- Don't be smug.

Your father can't help you beat a
murder charge from jail, now can he?

Go ahead and charge me.

You can't prove a damn thing.

But it's going to be fun
watching you buffoni try.

Sachs deserved every bullet he got.

You were at the Star Room
at the time of the murder?

I gave my statement to
one of your constables.

Which left out your little
sojourn into the dressing room

whereupon you hid the murder weapon.

That's a nice story! Look,

I'm not saying I didn't kill him.

- Then say you did.
- Why should I?

This gun was found amongst
the dancers' costumes

at the Star Room.

No one's gonna say that's mine.

They don't have to.

- Your fingermarks are on it.
- That's all the proof we need.

Wait. Wait.

Yes, that's my gun.

- But I didn't kill anybody.
- Right.

No, really!

I was going to.

I mean, I was supposed
to do it. Weeks ago.

I just...

I couldn't.

But I'm a Falcone; I
had to take the credit.

Even though you didn't do it.

It can still be me, can't it?

Just... without going to jail?

Sir, the bullet did not
come from Falcone's gun.

- So he's telling the truth?
- It would appear so.

But he was sent here for that purpose.

His father did indeed know that
Mr. Sachs was here in Toronto.

So then, who told Falcone Senior?

It was that dancer.

She showed up in Buffalo,
mouthing off about Gerry.

- Which dancer was in Buffalo?
- You know,

the one who led me
on. The... the redhead.

Gerry already had a
wife, back in Buffalo,

but he said he wanted to marry me.

- He told you that?
- He told me everything.

That he was a thief back in Buffalo,

but he wanted to go straight.

So he changed his name and
came here to start over.

I'm afraid that's not quite true.

It is.

He wanted to marry me, only
his wife wouldn't let him.

So you decided to go to
Buffalo to confront his wife.

I thought that if I could show her
that Gerry was lost to her, that...

she would let him go.

And what did Mrs. Sachs say to you?

She wanted a divorce.

She even had a new beau. Only,
she didn't know where Gerry was.

- So you told her.
- Of course!

I told Gerry that
everything was worked out.

He was so mad at me,
I never understood why.

Gerry Sachs was given a new identity

in exchange for his testimony
against a powerful criminal.

What?

His family was to join him,
but he abandoned them instead.

He was never going to marry me, was he?

He lied to me.

About everything.

Oh my God.

I told them where Gerry was!

He was killed because of
me. It was all my fault!

I ju... I just wanted a husband.

I just wanted to be able
to walk down the street

with my head held high.

Miss Hall told Mrs. Sachs

that her husband was here in Toronto.

Yet Mrs. Sachs told us she
had no idea where he was.

Why lie to us? She
didn't kill her husband.

The soapworks confirmed that she
worked a sixteen-hour shift that day.

- She didn't kill anyone.
- Go on.

Well, sir, Mrs. Sachs told Miss Hall

that she had a new beau and
that she intended to remarry.

So you think the new beau told Falcone

where Sachs was hiding,
expecting him to take care of it.

Which Falcone did by
sending his son here.

But Junior didn't do
what he was supposed to.

So perhaps this mystery beau decided

to take care of Mr. Sachs himself.

So all we have to do
now is find the bugger.

No one in the Star Room
saw or heard a thing.

Not even George, who was seated
almost on top of the victim.

Why should anyone have noticed anything

if they were so fixated
on the stage, as you say?

Only something unexpected
would have diverted attention.

But isn't a man walking
through a crowded room

with a towel unexpected?

You're sure he's here?

The bartender at the Star Room
said he was headed back to Buffalo.

- Let's hope he wasn't lying.
- I doubt it.

He succeeded where Junior failed.

Falcone will want to reward him.

Go back to Toronto and leave me alone.

Mrs. Sachs, step aside
or you'll be arrested

- for harbouring a fugitive.
- There's no one here!

Hold your horses, sunshine! Come here!

Leave him alone! Miles only
wanted to give me a better life.

Miles Hart. You are under arrest

- for the murder of Gerry Sachs.
- You can't arrest me.

I'm an American citizen.

Extradition papers.

Canada's this way, Mr. Hart.

Ma'am.

George!

This is a nice surprise.

Can you unlace me?

I wasn't expecting to see you tonight.

Aren't you supposed to be out
protecting our fine citizenry?

I should tell you that I'm
otherwise engaged this evening.

Well, that's quite a face.

Could use some cheering up.

What's wrong?

Tell me.

Nina...

I had words with my Inspector.

About you.

What did he say?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

A casual evening amongst friends.

That's exactly what George needs

to get his mind off of
his burlesque dancer.

William,

it isn't for you to judge

with whom George chooses
to spend his time.

I only mean that...

George deserves better.

- You don't even know her.
- Her reputation.

Well, consider my reputation.
Is that how you would judge me?

So you and the Inspector are delivering

- this poor woman to George?
- Oh, she's a fine young lady.

Her father owns a stationery
store on Avenue Road.

Oh! We know how much George loves pens!

Right!

William, I can't see
how this is a good idea

from any perspective.

Let's make our guests
feel welcome, shall we?

We'll head down to the dining
room when George appears.

- Oh!
- Cheese?

Must be nice to have someone
do all the cooking for you.

You should have tasted the abomination

- Thomas made for me last night.
- Sir, you didn't.

I did indeed.

Margaret got to enjoy the spicy
wings of Buffalo. The boys loved them.

Ugh, ghastly.

- Will Mr. Crabtree be here soon?
- I'm sure he will.

But don't make yourself too available.

A good man relishes the challenge...

Ah! That must be the
man of the hour now.

Now get to your feet.

Let him see what awaits.

Welcome!

Thank you for the kind
invitation, Doctor Ogden.

We're pleased to have you, George.

I hope you don't mind,
I brought a guest.

I am so delighted to have been
included in your little soir?e.

- Crabtree.
- Thomas!!

Not again!

Everyone. Meet my new sweetheart,

Miss Nina Bloom.

On an all-new Murdoch...

Julia!

Julia, no!

Don't miss the gripping season finale.

Murdoch Mysteries, next
Monday at 8:00 on CBC.