All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S17E21.WEB

Sir, another package
has arrived for you.

- Thank you, George.

- This one has hazardous
chemical warnings on it.

- Ah, this must be the sodium
benzoate that I ordered.

- I take it you're
putting together

another science kit for Harry?

- I am indeed.

- This one will teach him
about chemical combustion.

- Good heavens, sir!
Is that wise?

- Right.
Harry is meticulous.

And I'm including
instructions for him

to conduct his queries
in a controlled setting.

- Meticulous and controlled.

I suppose the apple
doesn't fall very far

from the tree
it fell off of.

I'll get that.

Station House 4.

Detective Murdoch's office.

Right.

No, we'll be right there.

Sir, a body was found
in the women's dorms

of the University
of Toronto.

- Oh, I'm to meet the Inspector
at the annual

policing convention in an hour.

I suppose I'll have to cancel.

- Or perhaps not.

I could take this one,
if you'd like.

- Uh, a death at the university.

There will be eyes
all over this.

- I'm aware that we'll be...
under a microscope, as it were,

and I welcome the challenge.

- Very well, Detective Watts.

But take Constable Crabtree
with you.

I expect to be kept up to date.

- Sir.

- I saw the matron
just before lights out,

then did my usual rounds.

- What time was that?

- Eleven o'clock.

All the exterior dorm doors
were securely locked.

- And the body was
discovered at...?

- Matron Rudger called at seven,

just as the night shift
was ending.

She was beside herself.

- Looks as though she still is.

- I tried to get her to move
away from the body,

but she wouldn't budge.

- I'm Detective Watts.

This is my colleague,
Constable Crabtree.

- Ma'am, we'll need you to step
away from the deceased.

Ma'am?

- Perhaps I can help.

Are you all right?

- Miss Gates... Imogen.

She's dead.

- You're the dorm's
matron, correct?

- That's right.

For the past 12 years,

girls have been entrusted
to my care.

To have something like
this happen...

- I know this is difficult,

but there's nothing more
you could have done for Imogen.

It's the other charges
that need your help now.

- Quite right.

I must be strong.

And you must find out
what happened to my Imogen.

- I assure you we will do
our utmost.

- You had better.

- One thing's for certain
already.

- Our victim didn't stab
herself.

Imogen Gates was murdered.

According to campus security,

you found Miss Gates
just before seven?

- That's right.

It was around half-past-six
when I noticed her door ajar.

- And that's unusual?

- Not especially.

I presumed she was
up early studying.

Imogen was a dedicated student.

But the moment I entered
her room...

- And what of last night?

I take it there is a curfew
in place?

- Yes, a strict one
of ten o'clock.

At that time, all external
doors are locked.

No one in or out.

- So, you run a tight ship,
then?

- As I must.

- Did Imogen or anyone else
ever flout your rules?

- Never.

They appreciated my drive
to protect them.

On more than one occasion,
I've even had a girl refer to me

as a surrogate mother.

- And the girls?
Do they get on well in general?

- Like wildfire.

They'd do anything
for one another.

How could this have happened?

- How, indeed.

- Rigor mortis is complete,

which suggests she was killed
late last night.

I'd estimate some time
around midnight.

- Killed by a stab to the heart.

That suggests a crime
of passion.

I don't see any signs
of a murder weapon.

Do you have any idea
what we're looking for?

- I can't be certain without
an extra examination,

but it doesn't look
like a knife wound.

- Anything else you can tell
at this stage?

- Yes.

It seems the middle finger
on her left hand is broken.

- Only that single finger?

What else?

- There are abrasions
on both of her hands,

and some of her fingernails
are broken.

- Oh, defensive wounds, then.

- I'd assume so.

- But who was she fighting?

- Were you close
with the deceased?

- Not exactly.

But Imogen was so nice to me.

She was such a good person.

- Did everybody think so?

- Of course.

We're like a family.

- Even families fight,
Miss Potter.

Did you notice any tension

on the evening
of Miss Gates's death?

Maybe over dinner?

- The trout was undercooked.

No one was pleased about that.

- The trout?

- Other than that,
everything was perfect.

- And what was she like?

- She seemed nice enough,

but in truth,
I didn't know Imogen well.

- Even living
in such close quarters?

- I aspire to graduate
with a degree

in human biology next year.

I don't have much time
for socializing.

- I see.

And were Imogen
and your other dormmates

as fastidious as you,
Miss Joplin?

- Hardly.

That's not to say
they weren't dedicated

to their studies.

Matron Rudger made sure of that.

- You know you can be
honest with me.

- And I have been.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have a lab to get to.

- Jane, are you coming to class?

- Yes, I'm coming.

- It's just devastating.

- You were close
with Miss Gates?

- Very.

I don't know
what I'm going to do

without her here.

- It's not as bad as all that.

You have your other dormmates
to rely on.

- Oh, it's not the same.

- How's that?

- Imogen and I were
from the same stock.

And we understood and trusted
one another like no one else.

- I see.

- I mean, I don't mean
to sound snobbish.

But some of the other
girls here,

well, they're from
a different world.

- If you and Miss Gates
were close,

do you have any idea
who would have anything

against her, Miss...?

- Constance Cavendish.

- Mm.

- And I wish I did, but if
someone had a problem with her,

they wouldn't have told me.

- Well, who might they have
told? Matron Rudger?

- Please.

- She doesn't know what really
goes on around here.

- Come on, ladies,
your breakfast is served.

It's been a trying day

and we must keep up
our strength.

- Did you learn anything
of note?

- Very little, I'm afraid.

The girls were not exactly
forthcoming.

- I had the same experience.

- From what I've been told,

it's all sweetness
and light around here.

- Yes, except for the murder.

They must be hiding something.

- A world of petty jealousies
and rivalries, I'd bet.

- Why do you say that?

- I just had quite
the conversation

with a Miss Constance Cavendish.

Apparently, she and the victim
were close.

- What did she have to say?

- She gave me the distinct
impression

this dorm isn't
the happy family

some would have us believe.

- How so?

- There's a divide between
the haves and the have-nots.

- And Imogen was?

- Very much so
in the haves category,

according to Miss Cavendish.

- Hardly worth killing over.

- Well, I've known people
to kill for less.

Strange Matron Rudger
didn't mention any of this.

- Miss Cavendish made it sound
as if the matron doesn't know

much about what goes on here.

- So how in blazes do we get
to the bottom of all this?

- For starters, we interview
the dorm residents again.

- What good will that do?

- Plenty, I suspect, if we do it
down at the station house.

- You think the formality
will shake some truth out?

- Oh, most certainly.

- Uh, where...
where are you going?

- Uh, to speak to someone
I believe can offer

a unique perspective on what
really happens around here.

Your hiding spot?

- Obviously not a good one.

- Your secret's safe with me

if you'll help me
with something.

- Well, of course.

What is it?

- Has anything suspicious
ever occurred

at the dorm before today?

- Not officially.

- Unofficially, then?

- There was one thing.

A few months back.

I was doing rounds
and it was late,

maybe three in the morning.

And this girl was wandering
in the snow in her nightdress,

teeth chattering.

She was holding her arm...

...like this.

She was quietly sobbing.

- Wasn't Imogen, was it?

- No.

No, I didn't know Imogen.

- But you knew this girl?

- Ah, I recognized her
at least, yes.

- Did she tell you
what had happened?

- No.

No, all she said was,

"I can't believe
they would do this."

- Who were they?

- I don't know.

I asked, but she clammed up,
scared-like.

- I need to speak to this girl.

- No, I don't think
she's here anymore.

Well, I haven't seen her
since before Christmas break.

Oh.

- Oh!

- It's an interesting
system of organization.

- I don't always have
my notebook on hand,

but I always find the need
to write things down;

etches the facts indelibly
in my mind.

- Socrates would disagree.

He believed that writing things
down would beget forgetfulness.

- Right.

- Well, I'd best be off

before anyone else finds
my hiding spot.

- Ah-ha.

- Good day, Detective.

- Miss Cavendish?

I'm looking
for Constance Cavendish.

Right this way.

You're certain you don't recall
anything about the incident?

Apparently, this girl left
university because of it.

- I was busy preparing
for winter exams.

I barely left my room

in the weeks leading up
to Christmas.

- I see.

And you don't recall
hearing or seeing

anything unusual yesterday,
anything at all?

Miss Joplin, even the smallest
thing could help.

- It's probably nothing, but...

Matron Rudger was in a right
state earlier in the day.

Angry as a toothache.

- About what?

- I don't know.
I stayed well clear.

- Does she get herself
into these...

states often?

- More often than
she'd like you to know.

Can you blame her?

Wrangling young women
can't be easy.

Do not distract
the constables!

- I dare say.

- What can you tell me about
the girl who left school

after breaking her arm
in some sort of incident

outside the dorm?

- Oh, yes.

Poor Melissa.

That was a terrible accident.

- I believe it was
more than that.

We've a witness who reports
Melissa thought

the incident was intentional.

- Oh, really?

- Miss Cavendish, this will be
a much more pleasant

conversation if we're honest
with one another.

- It was a prank.

A foolish one, but Melissa
was never meant to get hurt.

- What happened?

- Imogen locked her out.

I didn't think it was
a good idea, given the weather,

but she wouldn't listen.

- How did Melissa end up
with her arm broken?

- She tried to climb back in
through a second-floor window

and fell.

But that wasn't Imogen's fault.

- Did Imogen play pranks often?

- Imogen loved a little drama.

But it was always in good fun.

- Hmm.

Did the people she pulled
pranks on feel that way, too?

- The middle finger on her
left hand was dislocated,

not broken.

- Is it still possible
that it was a defensive wound?

- I don't believe so.

The finger was pulled...
yanked out of place.

- I see.

And that murder weapon?

- A spike of some kind.

I can't be specific.

But whatever it was, it was
driven in without hesitation.

- And with a fair bit of force
to reach her heart.

- Indeed.

Find it difficult to believe

that one of her dormmates had
the strength to do such a thing.

- As do I.

- Do you have it yet?

- That should do it.

- Let me try.

- I swear I heard a click.

- Uh, uh... Watts!

- Dare I ask?

- Uh, we have cause to search
the matron's room.

- Does she know that?

Because she's on her way
upstairs right now.

- What?

- I'll buy us some time.

You keep trying to get in.

- If I may?

- Ah. Keys.

Thank you, Mr. Greyson.

- Thank you.

- My pleasure.

- Watts?

- Well, if it wasn't
Imogen Gates

you were upset with yesterday,

then perhaps you could tell me
who it was?

- My private life is none
of your concern.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have some tidying up to do.

- Anything?

- Nothing.

Not a speck of blood anywhere

except the dress
she was wearing,

and no sign of any kind
of a murder weapon.

Wait a minute.

Do you see that?

- Blood?

Oh!

- What on Earth?

You have no business
going through my things.

- Oh, I think you'll find we do.

- We've been looking for this.

- You're under arrest
for the murder of Imogen Gates.

- I'm going to take
your fingermarks.

- This is preposterous.

- There was blood
on the knitting needle

we found in your basket,

and the coroner has confirmed it
as the murder weapon.

- That may be so, but that
does not make it mine.

Still, you insist.

- If the knitting needle
isn't yours,

how do you explain its presence
in your basket?

- Well, I'm no detective,

but I presume the real killer
put it there.

- Mm.

Who do you think that
might have been?

- I hate to speak ill
of my girls.

- If you have relevant
information,

now is the time to offer it.

- If I had to point a finger,

it would be towards
Miss Cavendish.

- Why Miss Cavendish?

- She's always stirring
things up at the dorm.

Pulling childish pranks.

- I understood Miss Gates
was the ringleader

in that department.

- Why would you think that?

Imogen would never be so unkind.

- Are you certain of that?

- I know what goes on,
Detective.

Even if the girls think I don't.

And even if they deserved it,

I would never touch a hair
on their heads.

- I didn't expect to see you
back in the office

for a few days.

- I'd like to send this off
to Harry first thing tomorrow

and I was curious how your case
is progressing.

- Curiously.

I arrested the dorm matron

after finding the murder weapon
in her knitting basket.

- But we couldn't positively
match her fingermarks

to the smudged prints
on the weapon.

- Still, that doesn't
rule her out.

- No, but the knitting basket
was in a common area.

Someone else could have
placed the needle in it.

- Have you found
the other needle?

The other half of the pair.

- Not yet.

- Any other viable suspects?

- Oh, sir, a whole dorm full.

- The matron pointed
an ink-stained finger

at a Constance Cavendish.

Claims it was she,
and not the victim,

who was behind a series
of mean-spirited pranks.

- Really?

So Miss Cavendish lied to us?

- Mm. But a liar doesn't
necessarily mean a killer.

- True.

Miss Cavendish may have simply
laid the blame on Imogen Gates

to keep her own
reputation clean.

- So, what now?

- You have the singular focus
of a dog with a bone.

- I know what I'm looking for.

Or I think I do.

Oh!

Seek, and ye shall find.

- Knock, and it shall
be opened unto you.

- You're familiar
with both Socrates

and the New Testament.

- The latter, by necessity.

It was the only book
in my childhood home;

used it to learn to read.

- Quite the primer.

- Helped with math, too.

Counted the ye's,
multiplied them by thee's.

- A benefit from the text

the authors never
would have imagined.

The other half of a pair.

I believe this will be a match
for the murder weapon

in our evidence lockup.

- So the killer came unarmed

and found the weapon
right there?

- Astute observation,
Mr. Greyson.

This was not
a premeditated murder.

The question is which one of
the victim's supposed friends

had a reason to kill her?

And... where is the ring that
belongs in that box?

Miss Gates wasn't wearing one
when we found the body.

- Perhaps she lost it?

- I don't think that's the case.

One of her fingers
had been dislocated.

- Well, you think the killer
pulled the ring from her finger?

- I believe it's possible.

Have you seen Miss Cavendish
this morning?

You and Miss Gates were close.

What can you tell me
about the ring

that belongs in this box?

- I never saw Imogen
wear a ring.

We were like-minded in that way.

The only ring
we would wear was one

that told the world
that we were taken.

- I don't believe the ring

that's missing
is an engagement ring.

You're certain you never
saw her with a ring

on her middle finger?

- Completely.

- Tell me, Miss Cavendish...

Why should I believe you?

You lied to me about Imogen
being behind the pranks

at the dorm,
when really it was you.

- I didn't want to get
in trouble.

- Well, you've not yet
accomplished that.

For all I know, you could
have killed Miss Gates.

- I could never!

She was my friend.

If it was anyone,
it was Elizabeth.

- Miss Potter?

- Yes.

She idolized Imogen.

Bought all the same clothes
as her, copied her mannerisms.

Badly, I might add.

- Imitation is the sincerest
form of flattery.

- Oh, so they say.

But putting others on
a pedestal is never wise.

There's an inevitable
fall from grace.

- Are you suggesting Imogen fell
from grace in Elizabeth's eyes?

- I couldn't say one way
or another, but...

nobody can survive
that kind of scrutiny.

- Why are you so sure it wasn't
Constance Cavendish?

- Well, her fingernails
are pristine.

There's no way they'd have
withstood a fight to the death.

- Girls' friendships are even
more complex than I'd imagined.

- Indeed.

- Speaking of friendships,
this Mr. Greyson seems

to have taken
quite a shine to you.

- Yes, he's been very helpful.

- That's not exactly
what I'm getting at, Llewellyn.

- That dress!
Imogen has the same one.

- That hardly makes her
a killer.

- Well, they're also wearing
the same sweater
in this photograph

and they have the same book bag.

- Same book bag?

Well, let's have her arrested

and clap her in the cells
straight away.

Watts...

Look at this.

- What was it you were saying
about arresting Miss Potter?

What can you tell me about
this ring, Miss Potter?

- Where did you get that?

- I think you know.

Is it yours?

- No.

I don't know whose it is.

- I believe it belonged
to Imogen Gates.

The question is how did it
end up hidden in your room?

- I found it.

- You found it?
When and where?

- The night Imogen died.

I was in bed when
I heard voices,

so I went out into the hall
to ask them to be quiet,

and that's when I realized

they were coming
from Imogen's room.

- What were these voices saying?

- I don't know.

They were muffled.

But I didn't want to be caught
listening in,

so I was going back to my room,

but before I could get there,
someone left Imogen's room.

- Did you see who it was?

- No, I only saw his back

as he disappeared
around the corner.

- His back? It was a man?

- Yes.

And then after he left,
that's when I found this ring

lying on the floor.

- I see.

Did Imogen have a suitor
that you were aware of?

- We're not allowed to date.

- That doesn't answer
the question I asked,
Miss Potter.

- I did see Imogen outside
the library

kissing a boy last week.

- Who?

- I think his name
is Donnie Pipkin.

He's in the biology program
and he plays on the rugby team.

- Why did you wait until now
to mention all of this?

- I didn't want to tell on her

now that she can't
defend herself.

The matron would have been
furious.

Men aren't allowed in the dorm.

- Well, if that's the case,

how would Donnie Pipkin
have gotten in?

- Through the second-story
stairwell window.

Sometimes the girls unlock it

to sneak in and out
after curfew.

- Our killer had quite
the climb.

- Indeed.

It gives some credence
to Miss Potter's suspicion

the man inside
the dorm was an athlete.

Oh. Mr. Greyson.

Hello.

- What took you all
the way up there?

- A... turn in the case.

I've just finished
collecting fingermarks.

Will you steady the ladder?

Oh!

Thank you.

- My pleasure.

- Should I, uh, track down
Donnie Pipkin?

- Hmm?

- Donnie Pipkin?

- Yes.

Bring him to the station house.

If his fingermarks match those
on the window frame,

we're one step closer
to finding our killer.

- Excellent.

Thank you, Mr. Pipkin.

- Have a seat.

- Figured I'd be talking
to you sooner or later.

- Hmm.

Why not come forward
on your own?

- I wanted to.

But my dad said
it wasn't worth it,

especially since I didn't
have anything

to add to the investigation.

- Hmm.

I'd beg to disagree.

- But I hadn't seen
Imogen for days.

- Are you certain of that?

We have a witness
who reports seeing a man

leave Imogen's room
the night she was murdered.

- No, that's...

it's not possible.

She wouldn't, not after
agreeing to...

- Agreeing to what, Mr. Pipkin?

Was Imogen seeing
someone else?

- No.

She'd just agreed to marry me.

- Oh. You were engaged?

- Yes, but it was still
a secret.

The ring didn't fit,
so she wanted to have it resized

before she told her friends.

- It's a conclusive match.

Your fingermarks were
on the dorm window.

- Mr. Pipkin,
you're under arrest

for the murder of your fiancée,
Imogen Gates.

- I did not kill Imogen.

- How do you explain
your fingermarks

on the window sash?

- I admit I'd snuck in
that window before.

But I swear,
I didn't that night.

- Checked your dorm registry.

You signed yourself out
for the night.

Where were you?

- Home.

The dorm was too noisy.

I couldn't get anything done.

- Can anyone confirm that?

- Call my father.

He'll tell you everything.

- Look, son,
you've got the wrong man.

Donnie was at home with me
the night that poor girl died.

- When did he arrive?

- Around six.

Was exhausted - he'd been
studying so hard.

So I made him a steak
and we turned in early.

- Can anyone corroborate
that story?

- Um... it was the maid's
night off,

but I'm not the tidiest cook.

She'll vouch that there was
a cleanup for her to do

the next morning.

- Mr. Pipkin, your son
is in trouble here.

- Donnie's impetuous,
like so many young men are,

but he's no killer.

- We have his fingermarks
on a window sash

and his own account of having
snuck into the dorm before.

- I knew Miss Gates would get
my Donnie in trouble.

I knew it!

- I take it you weren't happy
about the engagement?

- Well, how could I be?

I'd never even met
the girl before,

he went and gave her
my late wife's ring.

- So you didn't know the victim?

- No.

Though we did speak briefly
outside Donnie's dorm.

Last week.

She lied to my face.

- Lied? What about?

- The ring.

She told me she didn't have it.

Can you believe it? The gall.

- Hmm.

- So Donnie Pipkin has stated
that he was with his father

the night that Imogen Gates
was murdered.

His father has confirmed this.

- Yes, but can a father really
be trusted to tell the truth

when his son's life
could be on the line?

- Fair question.

Has Mr. Pipkin given you
any indication

that he was being untruthful
during his interview with you?

- If anything, the opposite.

He freely disclosed having had
an unpleasant conversation

with the victim a few days
before she died.

- Interesting.

Do you believe he could have
been involved in what happened?

- I considered it,

but... I don't see how
he would have been able

to get into the dorm.

- And the only thing
your witness knows for certain

is that it was a man
leaving the ladies' dorm?

- Yes, and only
his retreating back.

- Are there any other men

who had access
to the ladies' dorm?

- The cleaning lady confirms
Mr. Greyson

is usually on the other
side of campus by midnight.

- That matches the schedule
we were given by his supervisor.

- There was one thing...

She didn't see him there
Tuesday evening.

- Tuesday.
The night of the murder.

- That doesn't necessarily
make him our killer.

I mean, perhaps there's, uh,
some kind of misunderstanding.

- Are you saying
that for my benefit,

or do you really believe it?

- I think if you...

Speak of the devil,
he's told to appear.

Why don't we have a chat
with Mister--

...Greyson.

Or not.

Looks like he's just going
on his regular rounds.

- It does.

Let's follow him.

Surely, if there was something
to see we'd have seen it by now.

- I'm not so sure.
Look.

Is this building
on his schedule?

- No.

Should we check it out?

- Hold on.
Let's give it a minute.

- Watts, he's been in there
almost an hour.

- You're right.

We should go in.

Except he's coming out.

- Do you want to keep following?

- Yes, but I also want
to see what's inside.

I say we divide and conquer.

- Oh, looks like
you found me out.

- Mr. Greyson.

- Watts? I'm afraid I lost him.

- You've been following me?

- And you've been lying.

I thought you didn't know
Imogen Gates.

- I didn't. Not really.

So how is it you just happen
to have a pile of her books?

- She was throwing them away.

I asked if I could keep them.

- Why didn't you tell us?

- I was worried
I'd be scrutinized;

that I would lose my job.

- And yet not so worried that
you couldn't insert yourself

into our investigation.

That's not uncommon
for murderers to do, you know?

- Do you really believe
that's the reason

I inserted myself
into your investigation?

- I wish I could be certain
of your motives, but I'm not.

Constable Crabtree,
please escort Mr. Greyson

to the station house.

- This way, sir.

Have a good look at all of them.

- Take as long as you need.

- Number three.

- Are you certain?

- Yes, that's the jacket I saw.

- Thank you.

- This way.

- Number three, turn to face me.

If Donnie Pipkin killed
Imogen Gates,

he must have gotten
blood spatter on himself.

Oh!

- Blood evidence doesn't lie.

Have Miss Hart compare it
to the victim,

but I'd say you've found
your killer.

- You lied to us.

- I didn't kill Imogen.

I loved her.

- The blood on your jacket?

- It's probably mine.

Rugby's a contact sport.

That's the jacket
I wear to practise.

- But it isn't just the blood.

We have a witness who places you
in the dorm that night

and your fingermarks
on the window sash.

If you didn't do this, how do
you explain all that evidence?

- Fine.

I spent the night at the dorm.

But I wasn't with Imogen,
I swear.

I was studying.

- I... don't understand.

- I was being tutored
by Jane Joplin.

- You had to climb through
a second-floor window

to be tutored?

- Yes.

Men aren't allowed
in the women's dorms.

And it's exam time.

I needed the extra
study sessions.

- Until what time
did the two of you study?

- I was in her room all night.

- I see.

And was your fiancée aware that
you and Miss Joplin were...

involved?

- No.

And we weren't, not really.

The night that Imogen died
was the only time that we'd...

you know.

- All right.

Let's say you're telling
the truth.

You still have a problem.

- What?

- The witness who saw you
leaving Imogen Gates's room
that night.

- I don't know what else
to say except it wasn't me.

Ask Jane, she'll tell you.

- Yes, I was with Donnie Pipkin
the night Imogen died.

- I understand that you, uh,
spent the entire night together.

- No need to be coy
about it, Detective.

Every mammalian species engages
in sexual intercourse.

- You were aware that Donnie
Pipkin was involved

with Imogen Gates and that
he'd recently proposed?

- Had he? I...

I did know they were a couple.

Our dalliance
was a purely physical act.

No feelings were involved.

- Did Mr. Pipkin
feel any remorse?

- If he did, he didn't
tell me about it.

Why do you ask?

- I'm trying to put together
a picture of what happened.

Did Donnie leave the room
at all, even just for a moment?

- No. We were together
from the moment

I let him in the stairwell
window until he left through it.

- You locked the window
behind him?

- I did. It was really something
to see him clamber up and down

the side of the building.

Quite impressive, really.

- Thank you for your time,
Miss Joplin.

- Happy to be of help.

- Are those the results

from the tests
on Donnie Pipkin's jacket?

- Uh, yes.

I'm coming straight
from Miss Hart.

She confirmed--

- The blood on his jacket is
the same type as Imogen Gates's.

- Well, there you have it.

Or perhaps not.

- I can't help but feel
we're missing something.

Mr. Pipkin.

Mr. Pipkin.

- This is the Pipkin
family lawyer.

I would like for him
to speak with my son.

- Yes. Yes, of course.

Do you know Miss Joplin?

- I beg your pardon?

- The young lady you passed on
your way in just now.

- No, but she is the spitting
image of Imogen Gates.

They couldn't look
more different.

Are you saying the woman

you spoke to about
the engagement ring

resembled Miss Joplin?

- Oh, more than resembled.

I thought I was seeing
a ghost just then.

All right, look,
what is this about?

- The woman you spoke to
was not Imogen Gates.

Donnie didn't kill Miss Gates.

- You're certain?

- Yes, quite.

- Who did then?

- Jane Joplin.

- Go?
- Yes!

- You know, even detectives
can be charged with breaking
and entering.

- How did you know I was here?

- The matron telephoned me.

You couldn't pick the lock,
so you kicked your way in.

- And if it was for nothing,

I will have that fixed
in due course.

But right now,
I need your assistance.

- You think I'm going
to help you

after you put me
in a police lineup?

- The fact that you're a man
put you there,

and your access to the dorms,
and... and...

- And inserting myself
in the case?

- Could we discuss this later?
I'm trying to prove a theory.

- Is that your idea
of an apology?

- It's my way of telling you

I can't focus on two things
at once.

- Yes.

I've noticed that.

What can I do to help?

- Can you show me where
the women's trash is taken

when it's taken
from their rooms?

- Yes, but I don't believe
that'll be much help.

It's incinerated daily.

- Anything disposed of after
Imogen Gates's murder

will be ashes.

What about laundry?
Do the girls do their own?

- No, the university has
a service that collects things

once a week,
Thursday afternoons.

- What time on Thursdays?

- Uh...

I'd say right about now.

- Show me where.
Quickly!

Toronto Constabulary!

Hold there! One moment!

Help me find
Jane Joplin's things.

- Room 2-2-3!

Miss Joplin's room.

I don't see anything
incriminating.

It's all pristine.

- Perhaps to the naked eye.

How long have you been in love
with Donnie Pipkin?

- In love?

Donnie is a client.

His tutoring fees
help fund my studies.

- Hmm. Perhaps it began
that way,

but... I heard the way
your voice changed

when you talked about
watching him

climb in and out of the dorm.

- So we have a friendship.

We've been working
together for months.

- Hmm.

During which time
your feelings grew.

Must have been upsetting
when you learned

he'd proposed
to Miss Gates.

- Did I look upset?

It was you who told me,
just a few hours ago.

- No, you found out last week
when Donnie's father

mistook you for Imogen
and asked for the ring back.

- Why does it matter
when I knew?

- Well, it matters because
knowing that information

gives you motive.

- You can't prove
I did anything.

- I'm afraid I can.

Do you know that even
when blood is washed away

to the naked eye, traces are
visible under ultraviolet light?

Take that as a no.

You see the pattern
of the spatter formed

with your nightdress
under Donnie's jacket?

That tells me that
after Donnie fell asleep,

you put on his jacket
and confronted Imogen.

- I only wanted her to know
that he was with me.

That he was mine.

- But that's not
all that happened.

- She laughed at me.

She said no matter
what happened

during a late-night
study session,

Donnie would never actually be
with someone like me.

- Right.
That made you upset.

- Yes! And I-I hit her,
but I didn't intend to kill her.

- Until she fought back.

- Her knitting basket
got knocked over,

the needle fell out.

It was right there.
I--

- So you picked it up?

- I gave Donnie everything.

Imogen was just
a beautiful fool.

How could he want
someone like that?

- Congratulations on a job
well done, Detective Watts.

I never doubted for a moment
that you would prevail.

- Oh, I certainly did.

- What is it they say?

That we must pass
through darkness

to make it to the light.

- More than just a saying
in this case, sir.

It was your ultraviolet light

that proved Jane Joplin
was our killer.

- Hmm. And she was the only one
who had a true motive.

Well, you suspected
from the very beginning

that it was a crime of passion

and that's precisely
how it played out.

- Well, with this all sorted,

I suppose your business
at the university is complete?

- You seem to always find me
when I'm taking a break.

Can I help you with
something else?

- Not for the moment, no.

I'm here to thank you.

And to apologize
for my suspicions.

Or for the way
I handled them, at least.

- Well, thank you,
Detective Watts.

- Llewelyn, please.

- Joseph.

- Quantum physics.

Heady stuff, from the little
I understand.

- It is.

But atoms make up a world
of possibilities.

- I like the sound of that.

- The sound of possibilities?

- Yes, it's got
an optimistic ring.

Are you hungry, Joseph?

- Is that a dinner invitation,
Llewelyn?

- Possibly.