All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S11E02.WEB-DL.x264-RARBG

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I'm sorry, sir. If you don't have
an invitation, I cannot let you in.

- It must be an oversight.
- I am afraid not.

Mr. Firenzo and I
are life-long friends.

That may be, but it
does not change the fact

- that you are not invited to this wedding.
- But...

And even if you were,

you are too late.

Mr. Firenzo's son is now married.

Good day.

Today is a special day,

for it is the day that
a son takes a wife.

It may have taken my son
a long time to find her,

but it was worth it.

Carissima Karina, it is my honour

to welcome you to our family.

And now, to the wine!

Now Enrico, you are not working today!

Si, si, amore.

Today, we toast with
a very special bottle.

If you bought it with money,

it would have been a pittance.

Almost free.

It's the age and the vintage

that have given this bottle

its special character.

Its colour...

the blood of noblemen.

Its bouquet...

the scent of the earth.

And its legs...

that of the finest ballerina.

What about the taste, Papa?
When are we gonna have that?

Va bene, allow me the honour
of the first taste, no?

Hm.

Che cavalo!

- What's wrong, Papa?
- This wine... it...

- Enrico! Oh!
- Papa!

Enrico!

He intended to pour everyone

at the head table a glass
from the same bottle.

So someone wanted the
entire wedding party dead.

If the poisoning was by design.

There is plenty of
wine left in the bottle.

Oh, good!

I'll take that.

For testing, of course.

Was it a heart attack?

I'm afraid not.

Then what?

We suspect your brother
may have been poisoned.

By the wine? But...

that is too cruel! Wine was his life!

Please, sir, we'll be
with you in a moment.

And his death, it would seem.

And what side of the
family are you with?

I think we can take them one
at a time, Detective Watts.

No, that was an attempt at a witticism.

It certainly was that.

George.

Sir.

Once you've finished
questioning the remaining guests,

- you can let them go.
- Sir, I've already started.

Terrible shame, sir.

I mean, this... happening
on his son's wedding day.

It is, indeed.

I imagine, sir,

it might put a bit of a
damper on the honeymoon.

- The guests, George.
- Sir.

I have no idea where it came from.

Enrico was the expert.

Papa was always going on about wine.

None of it meant a thing to me.

It was all rather a bore

... until this.

He never told me a
thing about that wine.

Oh, Enrico...

you were so...

I'm terribly sorry for your loss.

At least he got to see Ricardo
wed before God took him.

I suspect God may have had help.

We believe the wine was poisoned.

But we were all to drink it.

Someone wanted to kill all of us?

It's possible.

Does your family have enemies?

Don't all families?

This was supposed to be a blessed day,

not a cursed one.

You have my sympathies.

Is it really possible that
some fiend wanted us all dead?

I think only your father. Do you
know where the wine came from?

I would imagine his cellar.

Could you show me?

His cellar is under lock and
key. I don't have access to it.

Who does?

Mr. Hatch.

My father's butler.

He shared more of his life with him

than he did his own son.

Criminy! This is amazing!

Please,

- don't touch.
- Oh.

Oh, is that a Le Corton?

1880.

Ooh. Exceptional.

Mr. Firenzo has bottles
from over 50 châteaux,

registered in the Appellation of 1855.

Good lord. May I look around?

Detective Watts?

Are you sure now is a good time?

Of course. This place is sacred.

Mr. Firenzo thought so as well.

No one other than he
was permitted entrance.

No one?

Are you sure?

Well...

Mr. Firenzo's supplier
comes here from time to time,

but only under strict supervision.

- Perhaps they shared a taste.
- Hm.

And his name?

James Merchant.

He's the finest wine
provisioner in all of Ontario.

In fact, all of Canada, I'd wager.

And how long has he been
providing this service?

Ever since I have been
in Mr. Firenzo's employ,

at least 45 years.

Please,

Detective Watts,

do not touch.

Arsenic.

A poison that keeps its
efficacy for generations.

So it could have been added any time?

Yes, but if it was meant
to kill Mr. Firenzo,

I imagine it was added more recently.

After it was opened.

That's for the detective.

Dr. Ogden?

Julia.

Since I finished my schooling, I...

You're looking for another job.

Only if you approve.

Of course I approve.

Thank you.

Professor Ferguson has been
making inquiries on my behalf.

He seems to think that there
might be a position for me

at Queen of Mercy Hospital.

That's wonderful, Rebecca!

Although I can't say I won't miss you.

- I haven't got it yet.
- But you will.

Don't be talking yourself down, Rebecca.

Mr. Desmond.

My girl is gonna be a doctor.

- She already is one.
- A real one,

workin' on live people.

No offence.

None taken.

It would appear Enrico was unfaithful.

You aren't familiar with this wine?

Angolino.

No. It is unfamiliar,

and certainly not something I stock.

Can you tell me anything about it?

It is an old bottle.

The label would suggest
Italian, not French.

I could tell you more
if it was the latter.

Why is that?

Sadly, to understand the
lineage of Italian wine,

you have only your nose as a guide.

Now, the French,

at least with regard to
the wines of Bordeaux,

are much easier to identify.

You are familiar with the
Grand Appellation of 1855?

I can't say that I am.

If this were French,

the label would tell you

exactly where and when
the wine was bottled.

Oh.

All I can tell from a bottle
of Italian wine is that it is...

well, Italian wine.

Well, it must be special.

If you say so.

Why do you say so?

It was opened on the occasion
of his only son's wedding.

It may not be special.

It may only have sentimental value,

which is worthless.

Also, Detective Murdoch,

if this wine had been of note,

he certainly would
have written about it.

That Mr. Firenzo

wrote regularly about wine in The Vine.

He was The Good Gentleman.

Certainly you have heard of him.

I'm afraid not.

The Vine is a quarterly

dedicated to the
appreciation of fine wine.

Mr. Firenzo, under the
guise of The Good Gentleman,

would pen a column which was both

entertaining and edifying.

If this wine had been of note,

he certainly would have mentioned it.

Hm.

George,

I need you to find out
where this came from.

Oh, that should be easy enough, sir.

I think there are only three
wine merchants in the city.

No, I mean the winery.

This label is obviously a painting

of what I believe to
be a winery in Italy,

but there is no other information,
save for the name Angolino.

Get yourself to the library

and see if you can find a
winery matching that name.

Sir! Right away!

George, I must say, you seem
in rather high spirits lately.

- I am.
- You think this is a democracy?

Now, don't say a word!

In fact, one more word
out of the pair of you,

I'll fire you quicker than Fred Spiksley

scored against the Wolves back in '96.

Now, bugger off and
make me a cup of tea.

Three sugars.

I think things are getting
back to normal, sir.

The world is in her usual orbit.

Save for Constable Jackson.

Well, I've been thinking
about that, sir, and...

I think he died doing
something that he loved,

serving a cause that he believed in,

a cause that you and
I continue to serve.

I think he would have wanted that.

Indeed.

I'll be in touch upon
my return from Italy.

This is interesting.

What's that?

Enrico Firenzo was promising
the unveiling of a scandal.

"The Revealing of a Charlatan
of the Highest Order."

A bit flowery.

You're familiar with this journal?

Well, I would guess that
any well-bred and informed...

I have many other interests
that don't include imbibing.

Of course.

Now, who is this charlatan
that the Good Gentleman was

preparing to unmask?

A man by the name of... Baron Trotter.

- Interesting.
- Oh, he's not a real baron.

No. Mr. Hatch, the butler,

said that a Mr. Trotter was
denied access to the wedding.

Well, that makes sense,

especially if Mr.
Firenzo had accused him

of creating illegitimate wine.

Illegitimate?

Counterfeit wine, Detective Murdoch,

and according to Firenzo, Mr.
Trotter has been doing it for years.

Right here, in Ontario.

Oh.

Wine is proof that God loves us

and wants to see us happy.

I highly doubt that.

Oh, you reject the words
of Benjamin Franklin?

Even a clever man is
capable of a bad idea.

No. Wine, like any
alcohol, is a depressant.

It hinders the mind.

But, "in wine there is
truth." Pliny the Elder.

Writers and philosophers are
seldom the best of judges,

especially when it comes to alcohol.

Well, no one less than
Louis Pasteur called wine

"the most healthful and
most hygienic of beverages."

Is it that you don't enjoy the taste?

Ah.

There he is.

Oh, I was aware of the article,

everyone was,

and it was going to ruin me.

He was telling the truth?

Of course not, but

once declared a fraud
by The Good Gentleman,

I would've been powerless
to fight the accusation.

I'd already had a number
of orders cancelled.

Being a Canadian winemaker
is not an easy business,

and Mr. Firenzo is
intent on destroying me.

I don't think you can speak of him
in the present tense any longer.

Mr. Firenzo is dead.

Murdered, we believe.

He's dead?

Yes.

Really? Dead?

Oh, that is... the most wonderful news.

Oh, thank you!

Will his article still be coming out?

I had nothing to do
with the man's death.

Then why were you at the Firenzo estate?

Mr. Hatch, the Firenzo's butler,

told us he escorted
you off the property.

He did no such thing.
I left of my own accord.

Then why were you there?

I was there to ask him to
reconsider publishing his column.

Oh. So, you are not a fraud?

I didn't say that.

I can create a wine of as
high a quality as any European.

And put it in fraudulent bottles.

No one would buy a
wine created in Ontario!

I created a fine wine at
a fraction of the cost.

And do you charge a
fraction of the price?

I charged what the market would bear.

But on my word, I did not kill the man.

No matter how happy I
might be that he's dead.

Detective Watts,

why wasn't I asked to help with this?

Oh, are you an aficionado
of the grape, Inspector?

Well, I don't mind the odd tipple

if there's no scotch around.

French.

- Produced right here in Ontario, I'm afraid.
- Mm!

Some time ago, I'd wager.

That's what we are about to find out.

I'll keep hold of this.

These labels are all new.

They've simply been bathed in tea

to create the illusion of age.

It's a common forger's technique.

Now, this label

was aged by time alone.

Also, unlike the labels

from the bottles we
obtained from Mr. Trotter,

this label was affixed with
an adhesive no longer in use.

Current adhesives are all rubber-based.

This one...

... is fish glue.

So the wine is as old as
Mr. Firenzo said it was.

So it would appear.

Well, then it follows that the arsenic

was added at the time of its bottling.

Not necessarily.

This evening?

I most certainly can.

Thank you!

That was the hospital.

They want to interview me in person.

- Well, that is the normal course of events.
- Of course.

I'm just so excited!

Well, perhaps you should try not to be.

Most patients don't
want an excited doctor;

they'd much prefer one
that's calm and professional.

That is exactly what I will be.

Calm and professional.

I'm gonna be a doctor!

Now, it would be possible
to inject the arsenic

through a new cork,

but the old cork

is completely dried out.

It would have been very difficult.

But not impossible.

No, although I believe your
initial assessment to be correct.

The poison was added prior to bottling.

So... this was a lottery?

Years ago, someone
poisoned a bottle of wine

without ever knowing who
would purchase it, but

knowing they had just given
someone a death sentence.

An unsolvable crime.

Well, no crime is unsolvable.

Some simply take longer than others.

Though there is one thing
that still confounds me.

And what's that?

The idea that counterfeit
wine exists at all.

After all, I doubt them to be that
much different, one from the other.

They all use the same base ingredients.

Oof.

You can't be serious?

I am.

Wait right there. I'm going
to show you how wrong you are.

Well...

this certainly is a
progressive hospital.

That's one word for it.

Thank you for your patience.

I wonder if I could
have a word with Miss...

Rebecca James.

Of course.

Oh...

I see.

You see, that is a Right Bank Bordeaux.

Its component grape is the merlot,

as opposed to the Cabernet
Sauvignon found on the Left Bank

that you drank earlier.

Do you notice the
difference in sweetness?

I think so, but

- can I try the Left Bank one again?
- Mm.

Oh, yes. The difference
is apparent, yes.

Now, this one is trickier.

A pinot noir versus a merlot.

Is that gooseberry?

- More like red cherry.
- Oh.

"Wine can of their
wits the wise beguile,

the sage frolic

and the serious smile."

Oh!

I can see it is doing just that.

Oh, my.

There we go.

Shh!

Julia!

- William.
- You're still awake.

That's nice.

What are you reading?

Oh, it's a new journal
about kinesiology.

Fascinating.

Where have you been?

At work.

William...

have you been drinking?

I've been conducting a number of
scientific experiments on alcohol.

And these experiments
involved consuming the liquid?

The results could only be judged orally.

Julia, do you know that there are
several different varieties of wine?

Each with its own characteristics!

I did.

But it's not just red and white.

Although all wine is
made from the grape,

some retains notes of tobacco

and prunes and mushrooms!

Mushrooms, if you could believe that!

Julia, do we have any here?

Oh, ah...

I think you may have had
enough for this evening.

No, just a tipple.

I think it's time for bed.

Bed!

Oh, I very much like that idea!

William! Oh!

William...

William?

A drop of tomato juice,

one egg...

Ah. Maybe two eggs.

A splash of hot sauce.

Well stirred...

... and Bob's your uncle.

Right, then. Get that down you

and you'll be as right as
rain within half an hour.

Trust me. I've been there.

So, did last night's investigations

produce anything other
than a throbbing headache?

No.

Ah, I mean yes.

Ahh.

We determined that the wine was poisoned

before it was bottled,

but we may have been wrong.

Could someone remove the cork

and replace it without damaging it?

- Corkscrew leaves a hole.
- Yes, it does.

But when I got on the trolley,

or maybe it was...

Doesn't matter.

- I started thinking.
- Of course you did.

What if someone were able to remove

and replace the cork
without damaging it?

Could there be a device
that would enable you

to do such a thing?

Of course there is.

Have a look.

Two prongs...

... slide down either side

of the cork...

... enabling someone to remove the cork

- without damaging it.
- Ah, so...

The same device could then be used

to replace the cork, leaving little

or no trace at all.

So, the arsenic was recently

- added to the wine.
- Sirs.

- What's this?
- Another of Murdoch's inventions.

I just came up with it.

- I've seen something just like it.
- What?

- Where?
- Mr. Hatch, the butler.

I saw him using one.

A new invention, eh?

Looks like someone beat
you to it, me ol' mucker.

You told us you kept this
place under lock and key.

We can see very well what you are doing.

What do you want?

We'd like you to accompany
us to the station house.

We have some things
we'd like to discuss.

What things?

We believe you to
have been in possession

of a device crucial in the
poisoning of your employer.

He was more than an employer.

He was a lifelong friend.

Well, that may be, Mr. Hatch,

but we still have questions.

What are you doing with him?

- Make way, Mr. Firenzo.
- He did it?

He killed my father?

After all he did for you?

- This is how you repay him?
- That's enough, Mr. Firenzo.

Yes?

Yes, it's mine.

That concerns us, Mr. Hatch.

As does the fact that we found
you in the selfsame cellar

you claim never to set foot in.

I know how it looks.

I sneak down there and pop some
poison into that bottle, yes?

That is how it looks.

The thing is, I didn't.

Then why do you own
one of these devices?

To steal wine. That's
why the thing's invented.

You expect us to believe that?

In the words of Diogenes,

"What I like to drink most is
wine that belongs to others."

Ahem.

How long have you been
stealing Mr. Firenzo's wine?

Since the beginning.

The man was kind to me
but he paid me a pittance.

So, I...

helped myself to the
occasional mouthful.

And, what? Replaced it with some
malmsey? Surely he would notice.

Firenzo thought himself an expert

but his palette was hardly without flaw.

One time,

he said an 1870 Lafite

- had notes of saffron.
- Hah!

So, you lied to the police.

A man has been murdered
and you lied to us.

It was only a little lie.

I didn't want to tell
you I'd been, uh...

naughty.

So, you know Firenzo's cellar.

What can you tell us about this bottle?

Yes, I recognize it.

- He'd had it for some time.
- How long?

I don't know precisely. You see,

the current house is only 40 years old.

Before that, Mr.
Firenzo's cellar was only a

few crates stacked up on a dirt floor.

But it's at least 40 years old.

Yes. It was there from the beginning.

You know, I'd, ah...

I'd considered tasting
it myself many times,

but I could never
discern its provenance.

Imagine if I had!

Professor Ferguson said
he told them about me.

Well, you should've seen the man's face

when he saw what colour I was.

Rebecca, I'm so sorry.

The man had the gall to
tell me that my presence

might upset the other patients.

What was his name? I know people

at Queen of Mercy, I'll talk to someone.

You know that won't change a thing.

The doctors there are more likely
to share his view than yours.

You can stay here.

I'll bring you on full time.

I suppose our patients
won't mind my presence.

But no.

Thank you all the same, Dr. Ogden.

It's important work we do here, Rebecca.

Even though our patients may be dead,

- our work saves lives.
- I know...

but it's my dream to work
with people face to face;

to help ordinary people,
people who need me,

people I'll know for
the rest of our lives.

Once more, the inebriated
mind proves its worth.

"Wine makes a man mistake
words for thoughts."

Who said that?

Samuel Johnson.

Johnson, really?

I swear Boswell labelled him a drinker.

Perhaps he was more of an ale man.

At any rate, we are no further
ahead than we were last night.

Now, hold on, Murdoch. Just
because that butler says

he didn't do it, doesn't
mean he didn't do it.

Yes, but we have no proof.

At least the butler confirmed
the age of the bottle.

But we still don't know its provenance,

nor can we say with any
certainty when it was poisoned.

Sirs, I hate to be
the bearer of bad news,

but I'm not convinced this
wine is what it pretends to be.

Why do you say that, George?

Sir, I've been through the catalogue

of every wine enthusiast in this city.

I've examined thousands
of bottles of wine.

I've read through lists
of hundreds of wineries.

- I've even telegraphed with experts in Italy.
- Alright, Crabtree.

No need to relive every
heart-stopping moment.

Sir, my point is as far as I can tell,

Angolino wine doesn't exist.

So, it's a fake.

I believe so.

A new wine masquerading in an old bottle

makes sense for the murder, but...

But the butler claimed
that it's been in his cellar

at least 40 years. Could he be lying?

I don't see what he could
stand to gain from it.

He's lied to us before.
Perhaps he's hiding something.

I have an idea.

I believe there is a way

to determine the age of the
liquid inside the bottle.

I had the identical thought, Detective,

- and I know just the man.
- Man?

Someone who can unlock
the truths that lurk

in the depths of the bottle.

I don't believe that will be necessary,

nor will it be reliable.

I intend to prove it scientifically.

What? How?

Spectroscopic analysis.

Ah, yes. Not reliable in my experience.

How's it meant to help us?

By comparing the wine in question

to the light profile of
other wines of varying ages,

we'll be able to discern
precisely how old it is.

The older the wine, presumably
the lighter the colour,

thanks to the blanching
effect of sunlight.

But it was kept in a cellar.

Depending on conditions, two
bottles of the same provenance

could be wildly different.

There's absolutely
no way to determine...

Thank you, Detective.

- Please.
- Alright.

Ready?

Yes.

It's a four point three.

It's a five point two.

Eight point five.

Well...

... they are all different.

Really...

- Every grape, every year, every bottle.
- You don't say.

It compares to an 1880 merlot,

a 1902 tempranillo and...

- several others.
- Well!

I suppose you told us so, Detective.

Alright.

- Call in your expert.
- Ah, not my expert.

My sommelier.

"Sommelier"!

Detective, may I introduce
Jean Michel LaRoche Couture III.

Le vin, s'il vous plaît.
Mon temps est précieux.

Ainsi que le mien, Monsieur Couture.

Ne le gaspillons pas.

I see you know the
language, but not the wine.

How do we know you'll be
able to determine the vintage?

Were you the same at
13 as you were at 30?

Just as a man changes over time,

so too does a wine.

And you can see these
changes at a mere glance?

Well, this eye has decades
of training, Detective.

This is the finest eye in North America;

one of the finest in the world.

This is the wine in question.

Oh, my. It's quite old.

45 years if it's a day.

45?

So 1860 then?

If only an eye test could
establish provenance.

That's not a problem. I can tell
you what it is from a small taste.

No. No. No.

This wine has been laced with arsenic.

Oh, my. That will make it difficult.

Some of the subtleties may be
overshadowed by the adulterant.

This is a fox grape.

Catawba, I would venture, but as I say,

the subtleties may be obscured.

So where is Catawba grown?

Catawba is from right here.

This wine is not from
Italy, it's from Ontario.

There are over 35 wineries
active at present in Ontario,

but only one of them
goes back as far as 1860.

Barker Family Wines and Spirits.

"Barker Wine." Lacks a
certain je ne sais quoi.

Does Barker use fox grapes?

Well, sir, as I understand it,
nearly all indigenous grapes

are fox grapes, but the
variety in question, Catawba,

only grow in certain soil conditions,

such as the area around
the Firenzo estate.

So the vintner could be local, then.

Well, that makes sense.
A neighbour, a friend.

Someone he knew who had intended
to kill him back in 1860.

Except none of the Catawba-growing
wineries go back that far.

Well, perhaps it's one that
existed then but doesn't now.

I'll go to City Records and get
any files that might be of interest.

But we can comb through
them back here, Constable.

No. Let's meet halfway.

Café Lorraine. This is work to
be done over a glass of fine red.

Ah... I'd invite you to
join us, Detective, but...

well, perhaps it's best
you stay on the watercart.

I love you for not giving up, Rebecca.

But?

I'm just wonderin' how long you're
plannin' on not givin' up for.

- You don't think I'll succeed?
- I know you will!

But even Rebecca James can't
change the world overnight.

Well, I don't care how long it takes!

I'll be a doctor even if I have to
wait for the whole world to catch up.

Alright then.

In the meantime, I'll
stay on at the morgue.

No, you won't.

We can make do on my wage.

I want you spending every waking hour

going after what you're going after.

Now, what we really need is
for all them white doctors

to disappear, just for one day.

Once people give Doctor
Rebecca James a try,

they'd never let another doctor
see them the rest of their lives.

How would you know?

You won't even let me take a look
at that cut you got on your elbow.

This little scratch? Oh, come on, girl.

Murdoch, we found it!

- Murdoch!
- We... oh! Sorry, sir. I'm not drunk.

- Oh, really?
- We had a few.

- Just speak for yourself.
- I had half a glass.

Well, two half a glasses.

May I ask exactly what
it is you two have found?

Look here.

Business license
application for a winery.

Filed in 1859.

All the details line up, sir.
It's the right region for Catawba.

- Who is the owner?
- Unfortunately, the form is incomplete.

- It's blank.
- Yeah.

There's one intriguing
detail, though, sir.

Have a look at where the address is.

Avalon Road.

Where is that?

Steady, Crabtree!

The Avalon Road, sir, is
now known as Rural Road 2,

and it intersects with this laneway.

On which sits the Firenzo estate.

So the winery is right
around the corner.

A neighbour.

Shall we?

Oy, Crabtree!

Where do you think you're going?

Well, sir, we're off to...

This is my favourite part.
We're off to catch the culprit.

I mean, there might be a chase or a...

a tearful, heartfelt confession.

- You're not going anywhere.
- What? Sir,

perhaps I deserve to be
punished for drinking on the job,

but I hope you will consider
that it was Detective Watts' idea.

You're not about to
be punished. Sit down.

I need someone to help
me kill this bottle.

Awful business, drinking alone.

Oh!

From here, you can see
the neighbouring lot.

There is nothing here,

- certainly no winery.
- What about in 1860?

- Do you recall?
- I married Enrico in 1864.

There was nothing here back then.

The map. Did you bring the map?

In the carriage.

Mrs. Firenzo, if this is Avalon Road,

what's this building here?

Our home, surely.

This is our estate.

Begging your pardon,
but your home is located

much further west
along Avalon Road. Here.

Oh, of course.

This map was made before
the new house was built.

The old house was in the
east end of the property.

- So... none of this was here.
- No.

This is it.

The label. The image on the bottle.

What? Impossible.

Look. In 1860,

the home was located much
further along Avalon Road.

When he built the new
house, the address changed.

The Firenzo estate is the vineyard.

The wine was made here!

So, it was special
because he made it himself.

But what can that mean?

He made a batch of wine, forgot
he poisoned a bottle, and drank it?

Not something you'd be likely to forget.

This doesn't make any sense.

My husband never made any wine.

No. You didn't know him then.

This was four years before you married.

Who knew him back then?

Likely someone who was close to him.

Someone close to the wine.

Detective, I believe we
have the identical thought.

I told you, I didn't kill the old boy.

Well, someone did, and that
someone knew him in 1860.

If not you, who?

1860?

Most of the people who knew him
back then are probably dead by now.

Except...

Oh! Good afternoon, gentlemen.

I suppose you're here to take me away?

You know why we're here?

- Of course.
- You poisoned your brother.

Why?

He and I were partners...

but it was me who poured my
heart and soul into our business,

into our wine.

Enrico took one sip and he spat it out.

He said, "No one would ever drink this!"

You were going to
pass it off as Italian.

I tried to tell him that
we could use the profits

to make a better wine the next year.

But he wouldn't listen.

He drained every single cask.

I was left with nothing!

Well, not quite nothing.

You had a bottle.

Mr. Firenzo, you realize...

we are going to have to arrest you.

Of course...

but allow me a drink?

No! Wait!

Don't worry, Detective.

The second bottle was never poisoned.

In fact,

it has aged quite nicely.

Would you like a taste?

That's quite enough, Mr. Firenzo.

You're coming with us.

Mm!

You see?

All we needed was time.

Not half bad.

As I'm sure you've guessed,

I have good news to announce.

I've taken a position as a physician.

That's so wonderful! What hospital?

No hospital.

In fact, Nate and I are
leaving the city altogether.

Oh. I'm sorry to hear that, Miss James.

Doctor James!

Quite right. Doctor James.

Where will you be going?

Well, it was Nate's idea.

If the city of Toronto
doesn't need a doctor,

I'll go somewhere that does.

I have cousins in Chatham.

They're always short of physicians.

When she telephoned to suggest it,

they all almost lost their heads!

Congratulations, Doctor.

Thank you, Constable.

I have to admit my disappointment.

It felt like things were
just getting back to normal,

and now we're losing a colleague.

You've acquitted yourself
admirably these last two years.

The morgue won't be
the same without you.

The inspector is quite right.

Perhaps we'll call on you if we ever

find ourselves short of an investigator.

There's always a place for you here.

I couldn't have done any
of this without you, Julia.

That's not true.

It may have taken you
longer without my help,

but you were always going
to be a doctor, Rebecca.

Thank you.

- To Doctor James.
- Here, here.

- Here, here.
- Cheers.

I must admit,

I'm happy to have another
wine drinker in the house.

Oh, no! You've gone off it already?

In the words of Shelley,

"I have drunken deep of joy and
will taste no other wine tonight."

What is that supposed to mean?

I believe it means,

who needs wine when you
have joy in your life?

Shelley killed himself
before the age of 30,

or so it's been said!

It was also said that
he was a great lover.

William, the wine! The wine!

Oh, I don't mind.

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -