All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries s16e09 Honeymoon in Hampshire.eng

Theme music...

(Light music)

(Train whistle)

- (Sighs contentedly)
- How I love the English countryside!

Oh!

Ah, yes, it's like a...

A Jane Austen novel
with less corsets.

And you are?

Ah! Mr. and Mrs. Crab Tree.

Ah, yes, our newlyweds!

I hope your ride in
was satisfactory?

Splendid.
Are you Mr. Cornish?

Mr. Hathaway.
I'll be looking after you.

Now, let's get you your keys.

Oh, George, look!

I can't wait to try
authentic English cuisine.

- "Welsh rabbit"?
- Rarebit! It's cheese.

- Mm.
- I think.

Well, we'll have to make dinner
reservations as soon as he's back.

Well, wouldn't you like
to eat in our room?

The sunrise suite is
the best in the hotel;

It's the only one
with a private bathroom.

Isn't that the one we agreed
was too expensive?

I've been corresponding
with Mr. Cornish

and he agreed to offer it to us
at no extra charge.

The morning view is
supposedly spectacular.

Well, I hope we'll find something
better to do than watch the sunrise.

Here we are, then!

Zlata will lead you
to your suite.

(Both): Oh my.

(Dramatic music)

How kind of you.

Zlata does not speak English.

However, she is fluent
in the language of hospitality.

Enjoy your stay!

Oh! There seems to be
some mistake.

I beg your pardon?

These keys are
for the garden suite.

Mr. Cornish promised us
the sunrise suite.

Mr. Cornish is at a convention
in Leeds,

but it is he
who authorized the switch.

The garden suite is
our top room,

with finer amenities and
a view of the Rose garden.

I assure you
your needs will be met.

You're welcome.

(Groaning)

So was I supposed
to give her a tip?

How many shillings
in a farthing?

(Sighs)
What's wrong?

This bed feels lumpy.

And those creatures are ghastly.

Well, you'll feel better once
you take in the Rose garden.

Come on.
(Groaning)

What do you think?

I think Mr. Hathaway
is pulling a fast one.

You may need to let this go,
effie.

I mean, somebody else must
have booked the sunrise suite.

There's not much
we can do about it now.

I think it'll take more than a
bottle of wine to pull this off, effie.

Don't be such a naysayer.

I'm sure they'll be happy to switch
once they learn we're on our honeymoon.

I don't know why you think this
room is gonna be any better than ours.

Well, you haven't seen it yet.

Faces the sunrise,
which is considered good luck.

Give it a proper
policeman's knock.

(Door creaking)

(Gasps)

George, he's dead.

Not so lucky after all.

Oh! Postcard
from effie and George.

Oh?
Where are they now?

They've left Paris and they're
due to arrive in Hampshire today.

How thrilling it would be
to be on your honeymoon.

Certainly was for us.

Do you remember that dinner
in New York City?

How could I forget?

We couldn't keep our eyes
off each other.

So much so we almost didn't
notice the oysters rockefeller arriving.

(Chuckling)

I suppose it's hard to keep
that kind of passion alive,

what with susannah and work.

Do you feel our relationship
is lacking passion?

(Phone ringing)

Hello?

Yes it is.

I'll be right there.

Duty calls.

Hm.

(Urban soundscape,
indistinct chatter)

Excuse me, miss?

I'm looking for room 415.

- The man who died?
- Yes, you've heard?

I alerted the front desk when
he wouldn't answer the door.

None of us were surprised
when he took his own life.

- He was acting peculiar.
- It was a suicide?

As far as I know.

Straight down the hall,
second door to your left.

Thank you.

This one seems rather obvious.

An overdosing?

Based on the empty bottle
of laudanum

and excess fluid in his throat,
I'd say yes.

Do we have a name?

Nathan cumberland, sir.

He arrived last week
from thunder bay.

Told everyone in the hotel that
his ship had finally come in.

Meaning?

Some real estate deal, sir.

Poor man thought
he had tripled his money.

He was buying his fellow
guests drinks all week

and boasting about finally
making his wife and child proud.

And his arrangement soured?

Apparently the cheque
he received was fraudulent

and his "investor"
flew the Coop.

The other guests noted a concerning
change in his demeanor after that.

Henry,

does this man look familiar
to you?

No.
Should he?

I don't know.

Uh, sir, this is Dr. Bellows.

He was with the victim
when he perished.

- You're a doctor?
- Yes.

Yes, I'm staying at the hotel.

They knocked on my door
when they found him.

I did everything I could.

Was he conscious
when you arrived?

Barely.

But he did seem
to understand me.

He willingly took the ipecac
I gave him to expel the drugs.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

People often have a change of
heart when committing self-murder...

Assuming that's what this was.

It's likely, sir.

He also left this.

It appears to be a suicide note.

"I am leaving a world
I am not fit to live in.

I have failed you
as a husband, as a father

and as a fellow human being."

It's tragic.

Is there anything else
you need from me?

I'm afraid
I have an appointment.

No.
Thank you.

Constable Higgins
has all my information.

Good day.

Seems fairly open-and-shut, sir.
Shall I write it up?

Not quite yet, Henry.

There's something
I'd like you to do for me.

I trust this will not impact my
eight o'clock dinner reservations.

Not if I can help it.

Good evening, my lovelies!

I'm sure we've all heard
about the incident,

but I can assure you
everything is fine.

His name was Arthur furlong,
a regular at this hotel.

It appears he died in his sleep.

And his family
has been informed.

Please enjoy some of
our famous house Sherry,

compliments of the hotel.

And please, let's relax
and put this mess behind us.

Good gracious!

People drink this
of their choice?

Do you think
there's a killer among us?

A killer?

Effie, did you not just hear
what the man said?

Oh, come now!

You really believe
he died in his sleep?

He couldn't have been a day
over 50.

People can die at any age.

Mr. Hathaway is clearly in
on it.

In fact, now that everyone's
mingling, it's a perfect time.

Perfect time for what?

To sneak into the room
and poke around.

Effie, I'm an officer
of the law.

Exactly!
All the more reason!

If there is a cover-up afoot,

it's your duty, as an investigator,
to follow up.

People do seem distracted.

Did I mention that danger
makes me amorous?

- I'll need your, ah, hair pin.
- Hm.

Never seen him before.

- Are you certain?
- Yes!

Why not just close the file
and be done with it?

Poor bugger
clearly offed himself.

He was supposedly swindled by
an investor in a real estate scam,

but I found no paperwork
on his person,

or any sign of the investor.

You think there was
no investor?

Or perhaps there was,

but he removed any evidence
to cover his tracks.

- (Knocking on door)
- Sirs.

I've searched our files

and found no Nathan cumberland.

In fact, there's no record
of him anywhere.

But, in good news,

there's a new meat
pie shop on colbourne.

May I break for lunch?

Actually, I need you to pay a
visit to Mrs. Hart at the morgue.

Uh... the meat pie shop's
in the opposite direction, sir.

You might want
to hold off on lunch.

I need you to lift
fingermarks off a corpse.

Oh.

Oh, my.

They have a love seat.

And a piano!

- (Plays a tune)
- Are you crazy?

There is no chance the garden
suite is the top suite in this hotel.

Wait a minute...

Are we doing all this
so you could compare suites?

Oh, come on, George.
You were curious, too.

I don't believe it.

Do you even think
this chap was murdered?

- (Gasps)
- Lavender!

It smells like
the fields of somerset.

Effie! The door!
Get under the bed.

(Creaking)

Henry?
Did you get the fingermarks?

Ah, yes, sir,
and you were right.

Nathan cumberland is
actually Harvey Knowles

and we do have a file on him.

Guess who opened it?

Afternoon, detective.

You know perfectly well
I'm no longer a detective.

I do, indeed.

But I'm hoping I can convince
you to play one,

at least for an afternoon.

I'm looking into a man's death.

Well, you certainly
are consistent.

His name is, uh...

Harvey Knowles.

(Both sigh in relief)

That was close!

Who was that chap?
Why did he have a gun?

What was he doing in here?

George, look!

The lavender soap... it's gone.

I suppose even murderers want
a supple scent to their skin.

- (Chuckling)
- Oh my god.

This is so exciting.

Feel my heart, it's pounding!

(Both moaning)

(Giggling)

Wait a minute!

A man died on this bed!

Who cares?

Ah! George!

That wasn't there before!

It's still warm.

Well, mice don't just die
like that.

Could it have eaten something?

Wait a minute.

Effie, look at this.

- That doesn't look right.
- This hose has been disconnected.

Do you feel a little nauseous?

Oh, my god.

It's gas.

That was on purpose,
wasn't it?

Someone was venting
carbon monoxide into the room.

Does this mean
what I think it means?

It means you were right
the first time.

Mr. Furlong didn't die
of natural causes.

He was murdered.

I can't believe it.

There really is a killer
among us.

And it's too late
to alert the authorities.

And we're a half-day
from civilization,

thanks to your insistence
on booking the most remote hotel

in the western hemisphere.

You're not really still on about that
inn in Marseille you were pushing for?

No, I'm sorry!
Look, we should work together.

Agreed. We're the only ones
we can trust.

Someone's gone to great lengths to
make Mr. Furlong's death look accidental.

The sunrise suite is the only
one with a private bathroom.

Which means it's the only one that
could be rigged to emit carbon monoxide.

Ergo whoever arranged
the switch must be in on it.

Mr. Hathaway.

I knew there was something off
about him.

He must have made the switch
when Mr. Cornish left for Leeds.

And then pretended the idea
came from Mr. Cornish himself.

How do we prove it?

I saw a ledger behind
the desk.

It should tell us everything.

How do we get it
without hat ha way seeing?

I have an idea.

- Mrs. Crab Tree!
- Ah!

Are you enjoying the splendors
of the garden suite?

Oh, indeed, indeed.

Now who's this?

- That's Mr. Cornish.
- Hm.

There seem to be many photos
of him and none of you.

Not all of us are as vain as he.

You don't like him, do you?

Are you jealous that he's been
invited to a convention in Leeds

while you're stuck here?

I wouldn't wish Leeds on
anyone, least of all myself.

Besides, Mr. Cornish
has seniority over me,

thus it was the logical choice.

Yes, that's one theory.

Allow me to posit another:

Mr. Cornish was chosen over you
because, as a manager,

he would never
have put up with this!

We found this in our room!

Is this the type of service
becoming of your supposed top suite?

Please keep your voice down!

I will not be silenced!

Not until you tell me
how a mouse got into my suite!

How about a fruit plate?!

A lovely selection of fruits
will be on the way to your room,

- compliments of the house.
- And a cheese plate?

Yes, of course.
Also complimentary.

And a bottle of armagnac.

I can arrange for some
of our fine house Sherry.

Armagnac, take or leave.

Twenty years, minimum.

Perhaps I can rustle up a ten.

That may suffice.

And you need to promise to
keep this little incident under wraps.

That'll depend on how quickly
we get the goods.

Chop-chop!

I employed Harvey Knowles
on occasion as an informant.

He used to run swindles.

- Knowles was a con artist?
- Hm. Charming one at that.

Surprised to see him die
this way.

You don't believe Knowles
took his own life?

I don't believe Knowles would
have fallen for a real estate scam.

What makes you so sure?

Well, he would have known
what a fraudulent cheque looked like

because he ended up running a
fraudulent cheque scheme himself,

which was rather
out of character.

How so?

Knowles and his former
partner-in-crime, Bernadette Childs,

had a code in which they only
swindled those they felt deserved it.

And they parted ways
years earlier.

Did he find another partner?

If he did, that's news to me.

Knowles was a solitary figure
who kept to himself

and I haven't seen him
in over a year.

Well, surely he must have a more
current acquaintance that could help us?

No one I know.

Although I do recall a wealthy
woman he was courting.

What was her name?

I'm sure I wrote it down
somewhere,

though she'd be of little use.

Little is all we have.

(Sighs)

I cannot believe it.

My beloved Harvey,
taking his own life.

Did he strike you
as depressed?

Oh, heavens, no.

But he did strike me
as passionate.

I can only assume he was burdened by
the passing of his beloved aunt Esther.

Which aunt was this again?

Oh, h-his favourite,
of course.

The one who raised him after
his parents died in that fire.

Did you know this woman?

We corresponded often by mail.

We never did meet in person,

but I suppose it's for
the best, given her condition.

Mm-mm.

Refresh my memory.

Oh, the poor woman suffered
from tuberculosis.

She was given months to live,

but then Harvey found a
revolutionary clinic in New York.

New York?

That sounds like
a costly undertaking.

Oh, it was,
but it was worth it.

The clinic prolonged her life
by years.

I was happy to chip in,

buoyed by her lovely
thank you letters.

Uh, these letters she sent.

Do you by chance
still have them?

- Good lord. I knew it!
- What is it?

The sunrise suite, not the
garden suite, is the top suite!

That's all well and good, but perhaps we
should focus on who switched the rooms?

Right, constable.
We are solving a murder here.

This is curious.

George, it wasn't Mr. Furlong
who took our room.

- Who did?
- A man named Mr. Castle.

And the switch was authorized
by Mr. Hathaway, not Mr. Cornish!

Castle. Isn't he's the chap with
the 8 P.M. dinner reservation?

So how did Mr. Castle and Mr.
Furlong end up switching rooms?

If castle was in the sunrise
suite, where was furlong?

Arthur furlong, the oak suite.

Does that mean castle's
in the oak suite now?

Perhaps Mr. Castle rigged
his room to emit carbon monoxide

and then convinced Mr. Furlong
to switch.

Hell of a way to commit
a discreet murder.

Do you think Mr. Castle and
Mr. Hathaway could be working together?

I think we need to get into that
oak suite and see what we can find.

You said he had 8 P.M.
dinner reservations?

It's quarter past eight now. That room
should be empty for another hour at least.

What if we get caught?

Then we pretend we're lost
and tip immediately.

A shilling. Now is that more
or less than a farthing?

I don't think anybody knows.
Let's get on with it.

Parents who died in a fire.

That's quite the yarn.

Sometimes the bigger the
lie the easier it is to tell.

Well, just as I suspected,

the handwriting in aunt Esther's
thank-you letters

matches that of Harvey Knowles'
suicide note.

He was posing as the grateful
aunt to keep those cheques coming.

Something tells me it isn't the
first time he's pulled this scheme.

Leaving a number of potential
victims with motive for murder.

The question is where did
he send these from?

Certainly not New York,
given the Ontario stamp.

Aha!

Our miss alcock is not
the sharpest tool in the shed.

- What's that?
- A mistake?

Mm.

Seems oddly placed
for a mistake.

Is that some sort of flower?

A Lily.

Did I not see that on
the sign at hotel florentine?

I'll have Henry connect
with the concierge.

Oh, that is so not fair.

This room has a chaise lounge!

Effie, focus!

Right.

Do you see anything unusual?

Only that Mr. Castle has
exceptional taste in clothes.

This is one of the most finely
tailored shirts I've ever seen.

Feel this.

"G.R." hardly stands
for Ernest Castle.

Oh, my.

Good lord!

His soap collection costs
more than my entire wardrobe.

Is that a gun case?

Where's the gun?
(Clicking)

What a tragedy.

Poor granville!

- Granville?
- Granville?

Oh!
Uh, granville bar ring ton.

- Uh-huh.
- Uh, he was a...

a favourite
guest at the florentine.

Every guest was charmed
and delighted by him.

He was quite a character.

When did he stay there?

It must have been,
uh, two months ago?

He... he came in to cash in
on a real estate deal,

but, unfortunately,
the investor bamboozled him.

Let me guess.

He gave granville a fraudulent
cheque and left town.

Why, yes.

- He took it very hard.
- Uh-huh.

Uh, he tried to end
his own life.

We were all very grateful there
happened to be a doctor at the hotel.

Who administered ipecac in order
to expel the laudanum he'd ingested?

Right again.

It was quite the scene,
ah,

everyone was grateful
to see granville survive.

Uh, the doctor even spearheaded a
charity drive to get him back on his feet

and, uh, everyone chipped in.

The doctor who gave him the
ipecac, do you remember his name?

Ah... bellows.

Dr. Gordon bellows.

What's your business
with Mr. Castle?

Well, you know, really,
we were just, uh,

interested in the layout
of the room and, uh...

Oh, you should see the soap!

George!
(Both): What?

Back!
Get back here. Get back!

Now I'm gonna ask you
one last time.

What exactly is your business
with Mr. Castle?

You're not Mr. Castle.

You're George V,
the king of england.

G.R.

George Rex, for the king!

That's why you had those
initials in your undergarments!

You saw my undergarments?

I can't believe we're sitting
here with the king of england!

Keep your voice down!

He is the king and he could
have you charged with treason.

So what are you doing
in Hampshire?

I am much more interested
in why the two of you are here.

Well, we came for the lovely
foliage and the world-class buffet.

I mean, why you are
here in my room.

Your majesty, please accept
our humble apologies.

I'm George Crab Tree
with the Toronto constabulary

and I'm here on honeymoon
with my wife effie.

You're a police officer?

Uh, in Canada.
That's right.

Police or no police, you still need
to explain why you are in my room.

Well, the truth is,
your majesty,

we found evidence
that Arthur furlong,

the man staying in the sunrise
suite, was murdered.

Carbon monoxide. Somebody tampered with
the gas heater in his ensuite bathroom.

We were curious only because
we were initially assigned that room.

If this is true, your majesty,
our worst fears are confirmed.

What you're about to hear must
be kept in the strictest of confidence

by order of the crown.

Yes, yes, your majesty.

The reason my valet Wadsworth
and I are traveling incognito

is to visit my troubled son,
Edward,

who is honing his academics at
a special school in Portsmouth.

It was a risk I was willing
to take,

even given the presence
of the black chalice.

The black chalice is
a secretive organization

pushing back on my plans to
reform the hereditary peerage.

We've long suspected that there
might be members in these parts

and, evidently, we were right.

You see, Wadsworth secured me
the hotel's top suite,

which we must have
unknowingly taken from you.

I was unable to take my afternoon nap
on account of my grievous musophobia.

Musophob...

Is that a British affliction?

His majesty is
fearful of mice.

Ah!

- So I fled my suite.
- And neglected to inform me.

And happened upon Mr. Furlong
enjoying a cigar in the garden.

I explained my situation

and he offered to switch, since
my room was clearly superior.

Now that we know the room
had been tampered with,

the only conclusion is
that we were the target.

We?

His majesty is using
the royal "we."

Uh.

So what is your...
Our... our plan?

We will do nothing.

But there's a murderer
out there!

Given that their first attempt
was a failure,

they're unlikely to strike again
tonight

so long as they assume
we're not onto them.

Now, please, return to your room
and pretend you know nothing.

I will arrange for his majesty
to be escorted to safety at dawn.

You will remember me
only as Ernest castle.

And you will never speak
of this again.

I checked with the
Canadian medical registry.

Dr. Gordon bellows has been
dead for five years.

Person posing as him has
procured a pretty penny off his name.

It's quite the brilliant scheme he
and his partner, Knowles, had going.

Knowles would check into
a hotel

posing as a man whose ship
had come in.

And his partner-in-crime,
posing as Dr. Bellows,

would show up
several days later.

Then Knowles would reveal
that his windfall had backfired

and made clear that he intended
to take his own life,

going so far as to
ingest laudanum.

Dr. Bellows would be called in
and use ipecac to expel the laudanum,

creating a scene so authentic
no one would dare question it.

The perfect opening to mount an
appeal for money in Knowles' name

and then milking the hotel
guests for everything they're worth.

He probably volunteered
a large portion of his own money

from the very first time
they pulled this con.

Well, Harvey Knowles' murder
seems to be coming into sharper focus.

Apparently the swindler
got swindled.

His partner likely offed him
to keep all the money.

Let's get a sketch of this
medical imposter straight away.

I'll connect with
our sketch artist

and make sure Henry
distributes it all over town.

One thing that bothers me:

Hotel guests saw the doctor
give the victim ipecac.

Why didn't it work?

Hm.

Once I deliver the sketch,

I'll drop in on Mrs. Hart
at the morgue.

Do you mind if I tag along?

You're not getting paid.

Uh-huh.

The king of england!

Can you believe
that just happened?

No, nor will anyone else.

No one will believe
this happened to us!

George, if Mr. Hathaway is
a member of the black chalice,

do you think he's working
alone, or is he...

Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh! We need to keep our
voices down. We made a promise to the crown.

Then I suppose we have no
choice but to get back

to why we came here
in the first place.

Ah. Oh!

(Knocking on door)

(Both): Oh, my!

As suspected, his blood was
saturated with opium and alcohol,

the main ingredients
in laudanum.

Why wasn't it expelled?

Uh, witnesses saw Knowles
be administered ipecac.

They might have seen him
take some kind of syrup,

but it wasn't ipecac.

I found traces of starches
and sugars, nothing else.

Could our fake doctor have
switched the ipecac for a placebo syrup?

If he did,
he's guilty of murder.

You're welcome.

- Oh!
- Uh...

Hathaway can't be
working alone.

I bet she's in on it.

Maybe they're all in on it?

Should we follow her?

Julia?

Hello, stranger.

What's all this?

Do you recognize this dress?

It's lovely.
Should I?

I wore it on our honeymoon.

- Ah!
- The night we couldn't take

our eyes off each other.

Oh.

The nanny has taken susannah
to the park.

We have some time to kill.

Ooh. Ah, Julia,

I must admit you've caught me
off guard.

(Phone ringing)

Uh...

Hello?

Yes.
Which intersection?

I'll be right there.

Julia, a man matching doctor
bellows' description has been spotted.

We'll have to delay our date,
but only a little.

It was there, in the ruins
of thebes,

where we found the lost tomb
of asclepius

and discovered the healing
properties of its sands!

Sprinkle a few grains
in your bed

and watch as back pain, rheumatism
and arthritis disappear overnight!

This miracle of the east

can be yours for less
than the cost of...

Terribly sorry,
ladies and gentleman.

We've just run out!

(Man): We shall go upstairs
in a moment, dear.

You're on the wrong floor,
darling.

Seems curious that they need
to lock the coal room.

Unless it serves
some other purpose.

Like secret meeting room
for the black chalice.

Yes, I... I've engaged in
a swindle or two in my time

to make ends meet,
but I'm not a murderer.

You gave your partner
a benign syrup

when he was expecting ipecac.

Harvey was
like a brother to me.

Why would I want him dead?

To reap his half of
the profits, for starters.

We were going to pull our hotel
con in every province in the country

and we hadn't even finished
Ontario yet.

Yes, detective, Harvey
was a financial windfall to me,

but, more important,

he was my best friend.

I am as devastated and confused
by his death as everyone else is.

May I please leave now?

Thank you, gentlemen.

I think I can take it from here.

Off he goes to swindle again.

Most likely.

You have to admit
his story rings true.

I don't disagree.

Why go through lengths
to switch the ipecac

when he could have ignored
the call in the first place?

Unless someone else switched
it without his knowledge.

But who would have access
to his room?

Friend?

Perhaps this warrants
another visit to the hotel?

Well, I don't think the black chalice
are holding any meetings in here.

Let's just pretend to get some
coal and go back to our room.

Well, we could if we had
a coal shovel.

You lost it, remember?

No, dear, you lost it.

In any case,
I'll get some firewood.

Georgie, I hate to bring this up,
but it was you who lost the shovel.

No, effie, I clearly remember
you had it

when you were saying
it felt drafty.

No, I distinct... ah!
Oh my god!

Oh my god!

It's Mr. Cornish!

I guess he didn't make it to
that convention in Leeds after all.

(Knocking)

Your majesty.

Ah, Mr. Castle,
we hate to bother you,

but we've got
a bit of a situation!

This had better be good.

We were collecting firewood.

My wife and I discovered
the body of Mr. Cornish!

The day manager? No!
He's at a convention in Leeds.

No, he's in the coal room.
He's been garroted.

Proof positive that Mr. Hathaway
is a member of the black chalice.

And zlata, too, no doubt.
She had a key to the room.

I reckon the whole hotel
is in on it.

Oh, this changes everything.

The assailants are gonna know
that we're onto them;

This may trigger a response.

We need to leave now.

Agreed.

But Mr. Hathaway is likely
to be black chalice.

You two newlyweds are gonna need
to help us by creating a distraction

so that we can slip away
to the stables.

How are we supposed
to do that?

A petty hotel squabble
should do the trick.

Ten minutes, tops,
is all we need.

But it'll need
to feel authentic.

Can we count on you two?

I don't understand.

I thought Mr. Cumberland
took his own life.

His name was Harvey Knowles
and all is not what it seems.

We need to know
who among your staff

would have access to room 415.

This is a small, private
hotel and I run a very tight ship.

The only ones with access
would be myself

and my cleaner, Mabel.

And I, for one,
never left my desk.

Well, then, we'll need
to speak with your cleaner.

I ran into her the morning that
Mr. Knowles' body was found.

Of course.
She's right over there.

Mabel!

A word?

Oh-ho-ho.

This is not the woman
that I met.

Do you employ
a different cleaner?

Not for the last 20 years.

The Crab Trees!

How delightful.

Did you enjoy the armagnac?

Oh, do not play nice
with us, hat ha way.

We were shocked to learn that
the garden suite is not, in fact,

your top suite and we demand to
know why you gave it away to Mr. Castle!

Yes.
We're oh so upset!

And when I say "we,"
I of course mean her.

Are we not a unified front
on this?

- Unified?
- Oh, good lord, George!

Why did I ever marry you?

Oh, I don't know!
That's a good question!

If you love the sunrise suite so
much, perhaps you should marry it!

Nothing to see here.
Nothing to see.

- Have you lost your mind like you lost our little shovel?
- Carry on!

- A loser that lost a shovel. I'm the...
- Yes!

Yes, I'm the loser of
all things, aren't I?

Yes, you lose things, George!
You're about to lose

the best thing that ever
happened to you.

Oh, well, maybe that wouldn't
be such a bad thing to lose after all!

(Whispering):
I didn't mean that last part.

Urgent message for Mr. Castle.

Wadsworth is com pro...
(Gun clicking)

It wasn't supposed
to get messy like this.

All I had to do was authorize
a room change

and they would do
the dirty work.

Oh, well!

In for a penny, in for a pound.

(Both): Found the shovel!

Effie, a telegram came
through.

Wadsworth is in on it.
We need to warn the king!

Yes, a much more
delicate nose.

How's this?

That's it.

Let's get this picture up all
over town straight away.

That may not be necessary.

That's Bernadette Childs.

- Harvey Knowles' former partner?
- Yes.

And I know where
I might find her.

Your majesty?

Your majesty?

You won't be needing this
anymore.

Old habits die hard,
huh, Bernadette?

Hello, llewellyn.
How'd you find me?

Every creature has
a modus operandi.

Even a rat.

Is that all I am to you?

A rat?

I was your most valuable
informant.

We had interesting
conversations, back in the day,

me and you.

And Harvey Knowles.

Fellow con
you once called a friend.

Why did you do it?

Harvey broke the golden rule.

A con capitalizes on greed,
lust,

vanity,
but never human kindness.

I couldn't sit by while he
and his new partner

swindled hotel guests
who were only trying to be kind.

You speaking of rules is
the very definition of irony.

Come on, llewellyn,

you once agreed
with me on this.

And it wasn't just the hotel
guests Harvey swindled.

It was his lover,
his family... even me.

A new partner of his must
have rotted his brain.

So, that's why you switched
the syrup?

So Harvey would rot in a casket

while his partner-in-crime
rotted in jail?

I was protecting
our livelihood.

He crossed the line.

There's a code.

There is, indeed.

Which is why you need
to come with me.

Thank you for the gun,
Mr. Crab Tree.

I'm so sorry you're about to use it
to unknowingly assassinate the king.

You know, I wasn't sure
what to do with you two at first

and then the perfect narrative
presented itself:

An epic fight
over the sunrise suite.

That'll never work.
You'd have to kill us, too!

- Precisely.
- Uh!

Your authentic bickering
is going to lend credence

to my upcoming report

and it's gonna confirm that
you knocked Mr. Hathaway out,

you stole his gun

and then you went after the man
who unjustly took your honeymoon suite.

Thanks to his majesty's
famous lust for guns,

it is the only logical
explanation

as to why I found three
dead bodies

in the unfortunate aftermath
of this shootout.

(Crashing sound)

You're welcome.

I owe the both of you
my eternal gratitude.

I'd knight you, if I could,

but, unfortunately, I think
this must be kept under wraps.

We understand, your majesty.

I know it's not much,
but, uh,

please accept this small token
as a measure of my appreciation.

- Oh my goodness!
- Oh!

Your majesty, thank you.

I've also secured you
something else.

For your remaining time
at this hotel,

the sunrise suite is yours.

Even better than knighthood!
(Laughing)

I must say, detective,

solving a case again
was quite satisfying.

For me and you both.

Can I interest you
in a celebratory cocktail?

- Alas, other plans are afoot.
- Ah!

But I do hope we get
to do this again, Watts.

Soon.

Yes.

Told you this suite was lucky.

Julia?

William,

I'm glad to see you back.

Oh, it's good to be back.

I'm sorry about before.

I know how busy you are

and it was just
a silly romantic notion.

I should know that
we can't just bring back the past.

Oh, I wouldn't exactly
say that.

(Snaps fingers)

(Violin music plays)

William!

Oysters rockefeller!

Like our honeymoon dinner
in New York.

Only this time we'll
definitely notice them arriving.

You even remembered our song.

Of course.

It was the greatest night
of my life.

Well, the night is
still young.

(Baby fussing and crying)

She'll be fine.

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