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- 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.

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