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You're so much more than people realize, aren't you?

We'll show 'em.

I'll tell you: I've never seen one quite so crispy before.

Henry, please. Let's show some respect.

Indeed. Crispy really isn't the word, Constable Higgins.

I suppose you're right. There's hardly any skin left on him.

I'm told you were also in the shed earlier today, Mister... ?

Beezbruch. Leonard Beezbruch.

And if I had been there an hour earlier, it would've been me.

Any idea as to the identity of the remains?

They must be those of Dr. Eeker.

I take it he was a professor at the university?

He was the dean of science.

Did you and Dr. Eeker cross paths this morning?

Only for a brief moment as I was leaving

to meet a friend for lunch.

By the time I returned, the shed was ablaze.

Right. If you could come this way, please.

Henry?

- Constable Higgins-Newsome! - Hm?

If you could please finish taking Mr. Beezbruch's statement?

Of course, sir. Just starting to get good.

Right this way.

Anything of note with the body, Miss Hart?

Oh, I'll have to do a more thorough examination,

but there are no signs of trauma to the body beyond the burns.

It's possible the victim's death was just a tragic accident.

I'm not so sure about that.

Do you see this darker mark through here?

Sort of serpentine pattern. What is it?

It may indicate the presence of a chemical accelerant.

The fire was set intentionally?

It's possible.

And, if so...

Who started it?

How long had you been Dr. Eeker's secretary, Miss Kent?

Three years.

Uh, although I was to transfer to the dean of arts' office next week.

What was the reason for the change?

Uh, time to broaden my horizons is all. Um...

I draw, so arts seemed like a good fit for me.

Do you know of anyone who may have wished the dean dead?

He had his fair share of detractors,

though that's not uncommon for someone in such a powerful position.

Anyone specific come to mind?

Well, he did recently face a challenge to his deanship

from Demetre LaFlamme. It was...

It was nasty business.

This LaFlamme is also a professor here at the university?

Yes. He specializes in pyrology.

Py...

Pyrology?

The scientific study of fire?

Exactly.

I think I would very much like to speak with this Dr. LaFlamme.

Right down this hall. You make a right,

and then a left, and then a right.

Thank you.

Have you been able to confirm Mr. Beezbruch's alibi, Henry?

Uh, alibi, sir?

Oh! Ha. Yes, actually.

The friend that Beezbruch lunched with says

that they were together from 12:00 'til 1:00.

You seem distracted, Henry. More so than usual.

It's this book, sir. I can't put it down.

I don't recall you being much of a reader.

I'm not, sir. Uh, but Ruth's social calendar

is bursting at the seams as of late

and I've needed something to fill the many,

many hours I've been home alone with Jordan.

I see.

I didn't expect it to be such a thrilling pastime, sir.

I'm even going to hear the author read later,

which means I have only six hours left to finish his book.

Be that as it may, you are on duty.

So, perhaps, for the next five and a half hours,

we could focus on the task at hand?

I'll do my best, sir.

Dr. LaFlamme?

He can't have gone far, sir. That tea's still piping hot.

What do we have here?

Henry, there are enough accelerants here

to burn down the entire university.

Who in the blazes are you?

Demetre LaFlamme, I presume?

Not much of a presumption, what with my name on the door.

Detective William Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary.

We have a few questions for you.

What sort of questions?

The sort of questions that would be best answered at my place of work.

Your place of...

Oh, you mean the police station?

Very good. Shall we?

As if summoned by some kind of master,

the roaches and bees rose from their nests and hives,

by ground and by air.

They stalked relentlessly toward a small

and unassuming man, destined to soon become

food for the worms!

Oh!

I'm afraid if you want to learn how it all ends,

you'll have to pony up a dollar for your own copy.

Bzz!

That was great. Isn't he something?

Oh.

- Isn't he something? - Oh, he certainly is.

Do I know you?

Not formally, no. I'm Clara Kent.

- Oh. - I'm, um...

I was Dr. Eeker's secretary.

Oh, yes.

I have him to blame for not yet finishing

the Rise of the Arthropods.

I must say, it was wonderful to hear it read out loud.

So much, um...

Less labour intensive.

I may even come again tomorrow night!

Personally, I wonder if Mr. Winghed-Sheen

has lost his knack for it.

- And why's that, Miss... ? - Cornelia Sweet.

This new story just seems so...

Improbable.

Insects branded as weapons?

I wouldn't say that it's improbable.

Any creature can be trained, can they not?

The only reason I can think for you to have dragged me

in here is because you have heard of my dislike of Dean Eeker.

I did,

but I thought I should hear from you on the subject.

The man was a fossil, for starters.

By that I take it you mean old-fashioned?

Is that why you challenged his deanship?

Ah, it wasn't only that.

Eeker's antiquated ways were holding the university back.

- In what way? - In every way!

Most relevant to myself,

he refused a young woman's admission

into the graduate program on the basis of sex alone,

as far as I can tell.

How is that relevant to you?

I was hoping to supervise her work. She was brilliant!

Had fascinating ideas about extinguishing fires

with the use of flue gas.

I see.

I admit to wanting Eeker's job.

I even admit to strongly disliking the man.

But I did not kill him.

What have you, Miss Hart?

The results of my preliminary blood work.

I thought you should see right away.

Results show lethal levels of apitoxin in system.

Dr. Eeker didn't die in the fire?

No. Have a look at this.

Oh! Something seems to have been left behind in there.

I believe it to be a stinger.

Dr. Eeker was killed by a bee sting?

Multiple bee stings.

And judging by the amount of apitoxin in his blood,

he was stung hundreds of times.

Uh, would you watch where you're...

- Oh! - Dr. Ogden.

I-I'm sorry. I was engrossed.

Engrossed. In a book?

Yes. Why does everyone think that's so strange?

Oh! I-I just never took you for a reader.

You and the rest of the world.

I'll have you know I read at a very early age.

- Oh! Really? How young? - Eleven.

Oh!

Oh! That's not...

- You have a lovely day. - Oh. You, as well.

All right...

Where was I?

Oh. Oh, Beezbruch. Hello!

Constable Higgins-Newsome.

All right.

Oh, I know you!

Miss Sweet. What an unusual costume.

Are you a performer of some kind?

Oh, goodness, no! Um, I'm a vendor.

Today is my first time selling at a market

and I thought that I should dress the part.

Honey? Uh, you're a beekeeper?

Oh, I don't think I've earned that title yet.

You see, some bees took up residence in my barn this Spring

and I just couldn't bear to have them exterminated.

Even after the evil they do in Rise of the Arthropods?

Well, that's nothing but fiction.

Based on fact,

according to what Mr. Winghed-Sheen said last night.

Oh. Here, allow me.

- What a dear you are. Thank you. - There you are.

I insist you must try some of my honey.

- As a thank you. - Oh, but I don't have anything...

Do you have a spoon?

Oh, silly goose. You have fingers!

Just throw it around...

Mm!

Easy as pie, see? Try it.

Mm.

Ah! So, the professor's death wasn't a murder at all?

I've spoken with Mr. Beezbruch,

and he confirmed that there was, indeed, a kerosene lantern

in the shed. It was likely the cause of the burn marks

that I took as evidence of an accelerant.

Mm. What a way to go. Bees.

Indeed. Though I would argue being burnt alive is equally bad.

Well, you're not wrong there, me ol' mucker.

So, sir, I take it you approve of me releasing Dr. LaFlamme.

Of course. Nice to wrap a case up quickly for a change.

Sirs? Higgins just called.

Another person's been stung to death.

Julia, what are you... ?

- I was shopping. - Statements.

Did you see what happened?

I did. It was almost biblical.

Biblical? In what way?

Like the locusts in Egypt!

Oh! Miss Kent. This is a surprise.

It was like a living nightmare, more like.

First Dr. Eeker and now Miss Plezbynski.

You're familiar with this victim as well?

Yeah, yeah. We worked together at Knowing Nature.

You work at a magazine alongside your duties at the university?

As a volunteer, yes. Uh,

Miss Plezbynski, she was the editor

and I drew the illustrations, and

we came here to gather more subscribers, and then she was just,

- she was swarmed out of nowhere. - I see.

I saw it myself, sir.

She tried desperately to swat them away but didn't work.

They were only after her, sir.

Wha... Julia?

Yes, it's true.

I saw it, as well.

We'll take it from here, Miss Kent.

They were only after her?

That's not possible, Julia.

Well, then Henry and I saw the impossible.

William, I must go. I'm off to the morgue.

Miss Hart has ordered some supplies for me. Good luck.

Hm.

Oh!

Mr. Higgins, isn't it just awful?

Uh... sir, this is Miss Cornelia Sweet.

We met last night at the author talk I mentioned.

Did you know Miss Plezbynski well, Miss Sweet?

No, no. We never met.

But... she must have been stung dozens of times.

That's a lot of bees for a colony to lose.

Do you have any idea what would cause bees to attack like this?

Goodness, no.

I've always found that if you don't bother bees,

they don't bother you.

Despite the way Mr. Winghed-Sheen

characterizes them in his new book.

Mr. Winghed-Sheen?

The author I've been telling you about, sir.

Come to think of it, sir,

if anyone can help with this case, it'll be him.

"Dr. Arthropodium had raised an army of insects

and now he was ready to destroy his enemies."

I'm sorry. I'm afraid there may be a misunderstanding.

And why is that?

Well, your book. It's a... fantasy.

Uh... but all my work is based on scientific fact.

It's a point of pride.

I see. Well, then, tell me:

What causes bees to attack en masse?

Well, there are several such occasions

in my newest book when a scientist...

- Dr. Arthropodium? - That's right!

Dr. Arthropodium, he...

Well, he raises them.

How exactly does he do that?

Perhaps a better way to describe my work is inspired by fact.

But I maintain I can be of assistance in your investigation.

Well, then, perhaps you can do so by pointing me

to the set of facts that inspired the swarm of bees in the book.

Of course, yes! Uh...

Uh, let me think.

Y-You know, p-p-perhaps I, uh, misspoke.

Busy day, it seems.

Yes, uh, thank you, Mr. Winghed-Sheen.

This has been, ah, illuminating.

My office, now. And bring him with you.

- _ - Explain yourself.

I merely granted an interview.

Yes. And now people believe

we're in the midst of some sort of bee invasion.

Mr. Winghed-Sheen, why would you grant an interview like this?

Well, I saw it as my duty.

If the effects of my book are coming to fruition,

it's-it's only right I-I warn the public.

But, as we've discussed, your book is a work of fiction.

Or...

Could it perhaps be prophetic?

How 'bout this for a prophecy?

You give one more interview

and you'll find yourself behind bars!

Now get out of my station house.

I need a drink.

So, what's the plan?

Plan, sir?

To deal with the bees.

This is hardly a police matter.

These deaths can't be considered murder.

The only way that people will calm down

is if we can give them an explanation.

And you, my ol' mucker, are the man for the job.

Couldn't you have brought another constable along, sir?

I don't like bees, especially after reading that book.

There's no reason to be concerned, Henry,

and, besides, everyone else had their hands full.

My hands were full, too, sir.

I've still got cramps in them from all the statements I've been taking.

Do you really think that the bees are rising up

as Mr. Winghed-Sheen suggests?

Finally, an expert opinion, sir.

I told you before, Clara, there's nothing to worry about.

Thank you, Miss Kent.

Between Eeker breaking her heart,

her friend's death, and that author riling people up,

poor Clara doesn't know what to believe.

Oh. She and Dr. Eeker were courting?

Not publicly. And he'd ended things recently,

which is why she's changing jobs, but...

I suspect you're not here to talk about departmental drama.

Indeed not. We're hoping you can shed some light

on these recent attacks.

I have a meeting to get to, gentlemen.

But whatever I can do to help.

Yes. Do you have any idea what could be causing

these bees to behave so aggressively?

Aggression isn't my area of expertise.

But, based on what Clara told me about Miss Plezbynski's death,

I do believe it could be alarm substance response.

Oh.

What's that and how do we stop it?

Bees secrete various chemical factors

as a means of communicating.

They can tell each other everything from the location of the queen

to the best place to find nectar.

Including where to swarm?

Not exactly. Alarm substance response can alert bees to danger.

And, yes, if there are enough nearby,

it could cause a swarm to form.

Is there any way to detect this chemical substance?

It's invisible to the naked eye.

But it does have a sort of sweet banana smell to it.

Excuse me, gentlemen. I-I really have to go.

Yes, uh... thank you, Mr. Beezbruch.

This has been most helpful.

We need to return to that market.

If we are able to locate a beehive,

then that would help explain why Mrs. Plezbynski was attacked.

Well, sir, if that's the case,

I have one final question for Mr. Beezbruch.

Anything?

I-I don't think that will be necessary, Henry.

Oh, I think you'll think differently if we find a hive around here.

Something which is seeming less and less likely every minute.

We've seen no sign of a beehive anywhere.

Well, sir, I don't know what to tell you. This is the place.

Whoa!

- Whoa! - What is it?

It smelled sweet, sir! It's the alarm substance response!

The bees are coming!

Henry, it's been hours since the attack.

I really don't think that the substance would still be potent.

It smells sweet.

And it is sticky.

Do you really think this is the substance

that Mr. Beezbruch was talking about?

What else would it be, sir?

Any idea?

The dispersion suggests some sort of spray.

And the sweetness reminds me...

I did detect a similar scent

while preparing Miss Plezbynski's body.

At the time, I presumed it was her perfume,

but perhaps I was wrong.

It has the same sweet smell.

And there appears to be a spot of discolouration

right here on the fabric.

Is there any way of determining exactly what that is?

Presuming it was the same substance as on the magazine,

the physical qualities suggest it's some sort of starch.

A few drops of iodine would confirm as much.

Ah. Indeed.

Oh. Just as we expected.

It's some sort of fruit or vegetable.

I can run some more tests to discover which one.

- That won't be necessary. - Why not?

- Because I believe it to be banana. - Bananas?!

It is the alarm response substance.

No. The alarm response substance isn't banana, Henry.

But it is possible someone has made a synthesized version of it.

Some villain is using bees as murder weapons?

It's exactly like Mr. Winghed-Sheen said.

But that's... that's not possible.

I didn't believe it was possible, either, Miss Hart,

- until now. - And what changed your mind?

The fact that we've discovered

banana scent on our victim's clothing.

Uh, Mr. Beezbruch told me that when a bee stings,

it releases a chemical that is somewhat akin to banana.

- Fascinating. - Horrifying!

In either case, the scent is a sort of call to the cavalry

that forces all of the other bees nearby to become aggressive.

How could someone make a synthetic version of that?

I don't know.

But I suppose it's possible, given the right compounds.

That's true. One would simply need to boil bananas

and their peels, and over time,

the essence would be transferred into the water.

Then load that water into an atomizer

and the killer would then be able to direct the bees

at whatever target he chooses.

Million little murderers.

But who on earth would go to all that trouble?

It's a truly remarkable book, Mr. Winghed-Sheen.

It's almost as if you've predicted the future.

Oh. Some might even say I'm a modern Nostradamus.

I wouldn't, of course, but I don't mind if you do!

Oh, thank you, dear. I'll treasure it.

I've brought you something, also.

- Oh. - I'm hoping it'll be enough

for you to sign...

All...

Of...

- These. - Why,

this is my entire catalogue!

I'd better get to it, hm? Your name?

Ah, Miss Cornelia Sweet.

Ah! Lovely.

Didn't expect to see you here again.

Oh! Well, I am a longtime fan.

And that doesn't change

simply because I take issue with his last book.

You won't be taking issue with it for very long.

Well, why do you say that?

Well, there you are, dear.

This book signing is over.

But I've kept my word and not given a single interview.

What cause do you have to interrupt my time with my admirers?

Suspicion of murder.

Look, this is an outrage!

I wonder what your admirers have to say about this?

I-I-I've never seen it in my life.

Sounds like more of your fiction, Mr. Winghed-Sheen.

Henry.

My jacket!

Uh, you said it yourself. My books are fiction.

I had no idea banana could spur bees into attacking.

Your publisher tells me that sales

of Rise of the Arthropods

have tripled since Dr. Eeker was killed.

Well, that's wonderful.

You directly benefitted from his death, Mr. Winghed-Sheen.

But it do-doesn't mean I killed him.

You also had personal motive

for wanting him dead, similarly with dawn Plezbynski.

But I don't know either of those people!

What motive could I possibly have?

Miss Plezbynski published a review of your book,

written by Dr. Eeker, in the most recent issue of her magazine.

_

Well, I'm sure it's not as bad as the headline makes it sound.

"There is not a hint of scientific fact in this ridiculous tale

by an author whose work rivals the worst of this format."

That stings, I'll admit it.

Dr. Eeker may have been right about the lack of facts,

but you did use science to exact revenge

on those who criticized your work.

_

Mr. Winghed-Sheen?

Oh...

Anthony Winghed-Sheen is no more. I'm...

I'm just a prisoner number now.

Sir, it's not as bad as all that.

Is it not?

There remains some hope?

Well, I wouldn't go that far.

Why!?

There's something buzzing around.

It's driving me mad.

Oh! Get out! Now!

Help!

No, no, no, no!

Ah! Help me! No! Come back!

Mr. Winghed-Sheen is under attack, sir!

What do you mean under attack, Henry?

The bees, sir! They've breached the station house walls!

Oh! We need to get him out of the cells.

Sound like a job for Henry.

Well, jump to it, Higgins!

- What? Why me? - Why you?

Isn't it bloody obvious?

- Yes! - Sir!

- Well, go on! - All right, sir.

And you go with him.

- What? - Go!

Make way! Clear some space!

You know what this means, Murdoch.

Mr. Winghed-Sheen isn't our killer,

but someone wanted us to believe that he was.

Were there fingermarks on the bottle that you found in his things?

No. I assumed he'd worn gloves when spraying his victims.

What I hadn't considered was that the item was planted.

- Hindsight and all that. - Hm.

Hm.

- _ - Things are getting worse, not better.

And how are we going to get the bees out of the cells?

I've been trying to figure that out myself, sir, and...

I think I'm having an idea.

You?

The world's gone topsy bloody turvy!

Well, go on, then. Let's hear it.

Well, sir, it says here that the queen bee emits

a kind of a homing beacon to their colony.

Another of the chemical factors bees use to communicate.

Exactly. So if we could get our hands

on the queen of the colony,

could we use her to lure the bees into captivity?

I think that actually makes sense.

It does, sir.

But I don't think it's likely to work.

Why not?

Well, sir, we didn't find a large beehive

outside of the station house, nor did we find one

at the marketplace where Miss Plezbynski was attacked.

So that tells me that the killer is the one

releasing large numbers of bees.

So they have the queen, then.

Yes. But perhaps there is a way

to rid the bees out of our cells

and to discover who the true killer is.

How?

Sir, we know of three people

who have access to large beehives.

Mr. Beezbruch, Miss Sweet, and Miss Kent,

and they all have connection to at least one of the victims.

Kent's connected to all three.

Yes, but I'm not sure Miss Kent could help us

with our bee problem, given that she doesn't work

directly with them.

So that leaves Mr. Beezbruch and Miss Sweet.

Have you been able to reach Mr. Beezbruch?

I have not, sir.

Then bring in Miss Sweet.

I think that's most of them,

but I'll do one more pass.

A professional would have exterminated these bees

and-and that would have been just devastating.

Isn't that something of an overstatement, Miss Sweet?

Oh, no, not at all!

Bees are crucial to our environment.

Did you know they're responsible for pollinating

many of our fruits and vegetables?

I confess I did not.

Yes. Well, I've been reading up and...

It's convinced me how important it is we protect bee life,

which explains my use of this.

A smoker? How so?

Well, apparently smoking has been used to calm bees for centuries.

- Is that right? - Yes.

And calm bees are happy bees,

which will make them easier to capture.

Miss Sweet, where were you this morning at about 9 am?

Oh, at home, tending to my hives.

So you had nothing to do with the attack on Mr. Winghed-Sheen?

Oh, I wouldn't even know how to begin

to make something like that happen.

Well, that takes care of our bee problem.

What about the other? Is Miss Sweet our killer?

Sir, I don't know what to think.

She claims to be an amateur, but her actions in the cells

demonstrated some expertise.

Tucker, see if you can find a connection

between Miss Sweet and our other victims.

Oh, and while you're at it,

please do the same for Mr. Beezbruch and Miss Kent.

Me? Wha... no!

I haven't had a spare moment all week!

Sounds like you're not about to get one now either.

Well, go on, answer it!

Station House Four.

Oh, sirs!

Anthony Winghed-Sheen is awake.

Oh, you had fled by that point, Constable Higgins,

but I imagine it was quite a sight,

what with those buzzing fiends

assaulting me from every angle like a hurricane!

It was horrifying.

Truly life changing. I...

Yet, it's given me an idea.

- For a new book? - Indeed.

Imagine a man...

I knew it!

Ah, sir, could you know it in five minutes?

His socks were sprayed with liquidized banana.

He was targeted.

- That's strange. - That sounds like the work

of a rival author to me.

I don't believe that to be the case.

I'll need you to account for your movements yesterday.

Ah, well, I was in the market in the morning selling my books.

Then I had a long lunch with my publisher,

and I gave my second reading in the evening. Why?

At some point, you crossed paths with our killer.

Uh, Miss Sweet and Miss Kent

were also at the reading, if I'm not mistaken.

Sir, Beezbruch was at the market as well.

Beezbruch! Ah!

Yes, I recognize that name.

Is he some sort of scientist?

He's a graduate student.

Yes! Oh, the fellow assaulted me at my stall.

Quite pompous, if you ask me! Hm.

Well, what did he have to say?

Oh, he had the audacity to call my book

anti-insect propaganda.

Told me I was soon to get my comeuppance and stormed off.

Sir, that's a threat if ever I've heard one.

I agree.

And what of Miss Kent and Miss Sweet?

Anything of note there?

Miss Sweet. I believe she gave me a jar of honey.

Yes, she's quite keen for people to taste it.

- Hm? - Hm?

Is that it?

Yes. I-I... she seemed, well, sweet.

I-I doubt she had any cause to hurt me.

Right. We'll start with Mr. Beezbruch.

Hang my things before you go.

I hate it when my suits get creased.

- So do I. - Mm.

And, uh, Henry, we'll need to be sure to hang up...

Sir.

- Where did you get this? - Oh!

Yes, tha-that was, uh, the young lady

at the reading gave it to me.

What did she look like?

Unremarkable. Glasses, I think?

Miss Kent!

Oh, Miss Kent. Stop right there.

Detective. I didn't imagine I'd be seeing you so soon.

I'd like you to explain this.

I drew that for Mr. Winghed-Sheen.

It was intended as a threat against his life?

I intended no such thing. No.

That's an homage to his newest book.

Then how is it you were expecting us?

Because of this.

Ah, Constable Tucker telephoned a short while ago

asking about Dr. Eeker's relationship with Beezbruch.

And I wasn't aware of any issues,

but I called him back as soon as I found this entry in his journal.

"The idea that bees dance to communicate

is absurd and childish.

I cannot allow Beezbruch to mar this institution

with this research."

And Mr. Beezbruch decided to change the focus

of his research last month.

And Dr. Eeker didn't like the idea.

If he knew about this,

then he had motive.

Thank you.

Have a look at this, sir.

It's from Miss Plezbynski's magazine.

Well, that connects Beezbruch to all of the victims.

"We regret... "

Appears to be a letter of rejection.

And that would give Mr. Beezbruch motive for all of the attacks.

Mr. Beezbruch?

- Mr. Beezbruch? - Uh, sir! That's a bee!

There's a bee right there!

No, Henry.

Take a closer look.

Look at the length of its torso.

I think you'll find that this is a queen bee.

We need to capture it.

Give me a-a glass jar, or something. Quickly!

Here, sir.

Argh! Oh...

I suppose that's why he didn't return my calls.

Oh, no! No!

After that bee!

Don't let it get away!

- See it? - No, sir.

Miss Sweet!

Don't!

Don't get on that...

Stop!

I said stop!

Just one more mission, my dears.

Ah! Get off! Ah!

Ah! Get off!

Whoa, ah!

Whoa, ah!

Ow! Ah!

You made quite a splash, sir.

Well, I didn't catch her.

- Oh. - Ow!

What was that for?

There was a bee, sir. Clinging to your, uh...

Ah.

Well, in that case, thank you.

I only wish we could've captured Miss Sweet, too, sir.

She has an army at her disposal.

We'll never capture her unless we defeat them.

Well, how in the world are we going to do that, sir,

when they think that she's their queen?

By reminding them...

That she isn't.

- Is that the queen, sir? - Yes.

Alcohol should preserve

the queen bee's chemical communication system.

Why on earth would you preserve the bloody thing?

So that we can use her

to draw Miss Sweet's bees away from her.

How can you be sure it'll work?

Well, bees are intelligent creatures.

- They follow the queen. - Exactly.

And preserving queen bees was the subject of the article

that was rejected by Miss Plezbynski's magazine.

Sir, I think I know why Miss Sweet targeted Beezbruch.

- Why is that? - Well, this file she had

when she escaped, sir, it's from Beezbruch's office.

It's a whole pile of research into dancing honeybees.

Dancing, sir. Could the creatures get any more sinister?

- What's your point, Higgins? - Sir, the point is,

the research wasn't Beezbruch's. It was hers.

So you mean to say that Miss Sweet

- did all of the actual research herself? - Yes, sir. Look.

And Beezbruch took credit for it.

That's why she went after him.

Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first time that's happened.

So, Miss Sweet wasn't the amateur

- she made herself out to be. - So it would seem.

So, how do we get her

without unleashing the little demons on us?

I believe Henry can help.

You shouldn't have come here.

You knew I would.

You are very smart, Miss Sweet.

In fact, brilliant.

I read your research paper on bees

using dancing to communicate.

It's a shame that Mr. Beezbruch stole that from you.

There's more where that came from.

I know more about bees than any man alive.

Indeed. I can see why you turned your back

on Anthony Winghed-Sheen, given he knows very little.

What is it that they say?

Don't meet your heroes. It tends to end badly.

What I don't understand is what your other victims

did to deserve their fates.

Ah! They refused to take me seriously!

Eeker? He wouldn't even entertain my admission to study.

Said I didn't have the constitution for the sciences.

The only thing that I don't have that Beezbruch did

was a certain piece of anatomy.

And Miss Plezbynski?

Well, without a piece of paper from the university

deeming me an expert,

she wouldn't publish me.

But I hope that in their last miserable moments...

They realized that this amateur

was the architect of their deaths.

Well, thank you for your confession, Miss Sweet.

Now, will you come down to the station house

and face your fate willingly?

Surrender, you mean?

Oh!

No. I think not.

Please, Miss Sweet, it would be much easier

- for all of us if you... - Mm! And another man

trying to tell me what to do.

It's funny.

I'd wager that you haven't even realized...

I've had the upper hand all along.

Good luck getting out of here alive, Detective Murdoch!

How-how are you doing this?

What repellent are you using?

Nothing at all.

I-I'm simply soothing them...

With the sweet smell of lavender.

A smoker?

No. No, no, don't, don't!

What have you done?

Why aren't they listening to me? What have you done?!

They're simply responding to their true queen.

And you, Miss Sweet,

are under arrest.

Excellent work, Henry.

That was the most harrowing 15 minutes of my life, sir.

But the bees were never even near you.

Yes, but they could have been, sir.

At any moment, they could have been.

What will become of them now?

They'll be donated to the university.

After the past few days, I suspect

there'll be lining up to study bees now.

_

Well done, gentlemen.

Does that say what I think it does, sir?

Mr. Winghed-Sheen is out of the hospital

and is already working on his next novel!

This one will be a sensational but fact-based account

of a celebrated novelist targeted by a mad admirer.

Good! At least there'll be some veracity

- to the work this time. - How could there not be, sir?

Oh! And sir!

Apparently, there's a policeman featured in the new book, as well.

I'll bet you anything that he's based that character on me!

I'm sorry, Higgins. But from what I've read,

I don't think it's you that he based the character on.

Me? Oh, you must be joking.

After all I did for him? Ah, this will not stand.

Where do you think you're going?

To have a word with Winghed-Sheen.

If he's going to write about all this,

- I expect to be included. - Henry has a point.

Capturing Miss Sweet was a team effort, after all.

Perhaps Mr. Winghed-Sheen could insert you into the story as a...

- as a sidekick of sorts, Higgins. - Sidekick...

Although,

I do like the idea of a sidekick of my own.

Murdoch as your assistant?

You're bloody kidding, Higgins!

What's wrong with that? I think we make a dynamic pair.

Yes, we could be called the Dynamic Twosome.

Ah. Sir, doesn't really roll off the tongue.

But Winghed-Sheen can fix that.

I've got to find him before he leaves town.

The Higgins-Newsome Twosome.

Hm. Not so good.

Hm.

- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.MY-SUBS.com -