All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - S09E03 - Double Life [1080p]

Good morning, Lillian.

Last day as Dr. Grace.

Just because I'll no longer
be Toronto's coroner

doesn't mean
I'll cease being a doctor.

Of course.

How are you progressing
next door?

My room is packed up.

Only some final errands
to see to.

Then could I trouble you
to pick up my dress

from the seamstress?

Of course.

To think, in a only a few days
we'll be crossing the Atlantic

for London, England.

I cannot wait.

I love you.

Good, good.

Yes, we look forward
to having you, Dr. Slater.

Have a safe journey.

I said, "Have a safe journey,
Dr. Slater"!

Yes, yes.

You will need a substantial coat
for the winter.

Oh, I'll have to cut you short.
My detective's calling.

Sir, I can return.

Uh, I will, I will.
Thank you, Doctor.

That was Dr. Peter Slater,
our new coroner from Vancouver.

- He's en route.
- I see.

Lovely man,
but perhaps a bit...

A bit talkative, sir?

Talkative?

He's got more bloody rabbit

than all of Margaret's female
relatives put together, Murdoch.

Well, he comes
highly recommended,

and he is very experienced.

He's deaf as a doornail.

And he's worried
that his arthritis

will flare up in the cold.

I do wish Dr. Grace
would stay on.

Yes, well,
she's made her mind up, Murdoch.

Perhaps it's for the best,
anyway.

- How do you mean?
- Sirs.

There's been a shooting.

Sirs.
No witnesses.

Right here is fine.

- She's here.
- Thank you, Worsley.

Good day, Inspector.

A fresh corpse
and a crime scene.

What more could one ask for?

I'll get someone else
to attend the body.

I'm not yet in London.

Besides, I'm rather glad
that my last day

has offered some excitement.

- Let me do my job, Inspector.
- I can't.

Why?

Does anyone come to mind who
may have wished Miss Moss harm?

Not specifically.

What about friends?
Family?

She attended
an embroidery group.

I never went, but she said
she had friends there.

She never talked about
her family.

I took it to be a sore spot.
I...

I did meet her uncle once.

Yes, Lillian arranged for me
to meet him last year.

He was sympathetic
to our campaign.

Wayland Porter, I believe.

I know him.
He's a fellow Mason.

Right.

Henry.

Anything interesting
from Miss Moss' room?

I found her appointment book.

I found this key.

I think it might be
a safety deposit box.

Can you think
of anything else, Dr. Grace?

No, I...

We were packed for London.
She was excited. I...

Emily, I'm so sorry.

Sorry to hear about your friend,
Dr. Grace.

- Terribly sorry, Emily.
- Thank you both.

Will you still go to London?

Henry, I'm sure Dr. Grace
has plenty to think about

without worrying about that.

I can't decide which to take.

Then bring both of them.

We're starting anew, Emily.

We should only take
what we must.

I prefer that one.

You were wearing it
when we first met.

- Oh, was I, now?
- Mm-hmm.

And not only
will you bring it,

but you will wear it
on the boat for me.

Or else?

You wouldn't dare to find out.

Emily.

You all right?

George, look at this.

It was in her datebook.

"Morris Kerr,
private investigator."

Maybe Miss Moss
was looking for someone.

Thank you
for seeing me, Wayland.

What can I do for you, Tom?

Your niece, Lillian Moss...

I'm sorry to tell you
that she's been murdered.

We had just said our goodbyes
prior to London.

Do you know who did it?

I was hoping you could put me
in contact with her family.

I don't know her family.

But you're her uncle.

Well, I'm not actually
her uncle.

Not by blood, at least.

Well, then what are you to her?

Merely a friend, Tom.

I'm sorry I can't be
of more help.

A single .38 caliber

between the sixth and seventh
true ribs.

Given the presence
of gunpowder residue,

I say she was shot
at close range.

So this wasn't a random act.

She was deliberately targeted.

It would appear.

William, I received
more than a few angry letters

during the election.

I imagine Lillian did too.

Why didn't you tell me?

I knew our campaign
would result in rancor,

but I guess
I didn't take the threats

as seriously
as I should have.

Julia, if you could send along
those letters

when you have a moment?

I want to see her, Julia.

Funny, if we had gone
to London four months ago

when she wanted to, none of
this would have happened.

There's nothing
you could have done.

- Instead she waited for me.
- She was targeted.

If this was related
to our suffrage efforts...

Should have just left
when she asked.

Emily...

I know what Lillian
meant to you.

The inspector told you.
He's the only one who knows.

Women's intuition.

What about the others?
George? The detective?

No.
At least not by my lips.

Lillian Moss
may have hired this man

as a private investigator.

His name is Morris Kerr.

Well, what did Mr. Kerr
have to say?

Nothing, sir.
He appears to have vanished.

Now, I did gain entry
to his office

and I confiscated
all his files,

but there doesn't appear
to be one for Lillian Moss,

nor does she appear as a client
in his receipt ledger.

And what about the key we found
in Miss Moss' room?

Were you able to find
the safety deposit box for that?

Not yet, sir.

Were you able
to glean anything

from the letters Dr. Ogden
received during the election?

They appear to be
empty threats.

- Thank you.
- Sir.

Dr. Grace.

I wanted to apologize
for my abruptness earlier.

It's not necessary.

You lost somebody close to you.
I understand.

Any progress with the case?

Not worth mentioning,
but we're working diligently.

You don't happen to know where
Lillian did her banking, do you?

The Imperial, I believe.

I think she may have
had a safety deposit box.

We will get
to the bottom of this, Emily.

I just received a letter

from a close friend of mine
in London, England.

A friend of hers,
Mrs. Pankhurst,

is forming a suffragette union,

and she's just put out a call
for international supporters.

Oh, that's wonderful.

Going there to join them could
be the adventure of a lifetime.

- Going there?
- Together.

Emily.

When Lillian first brought up
the idea of moving to London...

...she said that a friend
had written,

encouraging us to join.

Mrs. Pankhurst's
suffrage movement.

Yes, I...
I recall you telling me.

Yes, but in fact,
Lillian wrote to her first.

Her friend didn't even respond
until three weeks later.

I shouldn't think
anything of it, Emily.

Perhaps there's a missing letter
explaining the discrepancy.

No, look at the date, Julia.

Lillian wrote the initial letter
only after

she brought up the prospect
of London with me.

And not only that,
her friend replied saying that.

Mrs. Pankhurst suggested
that we remain here in Toronto

to continue the cause here.

I suppose she was
very keen to go to London.

It's an understandable desire.

Yes, but why would
she lie to me?

She made up a story

and then tried to make the
letters match it after the fact.

Why did she lie, Julia?

So far we don't know
much about anything.

No witnesses to the shooting,
no known enemies,

and an uncle
that's not even a bloody uncle.

And she had the business card

of a private investigator who is
now missing... Morris Kerr.

Do we know the connection
to the missing sleuth yet?

There's no indication
that he was looking for her

or that she had hired him
to look for someone else.

Sirs, I have something.

Lillian Moss
had a safety deposit box

at the Imperial Bank.

I found this.

It's $400 in cash.

That's a tidy sum for
a young girl to squirrel away.

And I know who gave it to her.

This is your seal, is it not?

Yes.

Mr. Porter,
this money was found

in Miss Moss'
safety deposit box.

- Why did you give it to her?
- She seemed desperate.

I just wanted to help.

How did you know one another?

Well, we traveled
in similar circles.

Perhaps you were paying her
for favors.

Favors a man such as yourself
could afford

and that ladies
such as Miss Moss could offer.

- Perhaps.
- Bollocks.

Lillian Moss
wasn't that type of girl.

She was a sapphist.

A devoted one at that.

You say you traveled
in similar circles.

Perhaps if Miss Moss' desires
were unconventional,

yours are as well?

It won't go beyond this office,
Wayland.

You have my word.

Having Lillian on my arm
at the right events

kept such rumors at bay.

But that's not
what the money was for.

I don't know why she needed it,
only that she did.

We had become good friends,
and I just wanted to help.

Do you recall
when you gave it to her?

Around four months ago.

We attended a Christmas gala
that evening.

Um, December 10th, I would say.

Thank you, Mr. Porter.

Tom, the Masons...

I said you have my word.

Sir, how did you know that
about Miss Moss?

A lucky guess.

December 10th.

"Christmas ball at the
Queen's Hotel with Mr. Porter."

And the next day?

It just says "Chartwell Pond,"
nothing else.

Ah, Dr. Grace.
Thank you for coming in.

Hope I can be of some help.

Doctor.
Please, have a seat.

Doctor, approximately
four months ago,

Miss Moss was in desperate need
of $400.

Do you have any idea why?

No.

Although she was quite anxious
around that time,

which would coincide with her
pressing me to go to London.

But that urgency
seemed to pass.

Sounds like the money was to get
you two across the Atlantic.

No.

I never asked for her
to pay my way,

nor was I even willing to go
right then.

Borrowing money for London
would have been premature.

Unless she planned
to travel without you

and then changed her mind.

She wouldn't have done that.

Doctor, were you aware
that Miss Moss was a sapphist?

Yes, I was aware.

Murdoch, why don't you look into
this Chartwell business?

Sir.

Why did you not tell us?

It could be pertinent
to the investigation.

I don't see how it is,
Detective.

Well, a victim's lover is often
the first person we speak to.

Then I suppose you would
want to speak to me.

Is there anything
you would like to ask me

that you haven't already?

Thank you for your candor,
Doctor.

George, Chartwell Pond.

I imagine that's a weight off,
Doctor.

I suppose so.

May I help you?

Oh, uh, pardon me.

I wasn't expecting anyone.

Who are you?

Daniel Miles.
I just moved in.

They rented the room already.

I was told it was vacant.

It is.
[It is.

My friend used to live here.

- I live next door.
- Oh.

Well, very nice to meet you,
Miss...

Emily Grace.

And welcome.

This is so exciting!

Transatlantic passage to London
for a Dr. Grace and a Miss Moss

on the RMS Carpathia.

One might think us a wealthy
doctor and his mistress

when you say it that way.

Running off
to start a new life together.

I wonder what Lillian Moss
was doing in a place like this.

In the dead of winter,
no less.

The human heart certainly
is a mystery, isn't it, sir?

Indeed.

All that time
I spent with Dr. Grace,

I never would have guessed.

We don't have to discuss it,
George, if...

I don't mind.

I just... I would hate to think
I did something wrong.

I mean, what could Lillian
possibly have to offer

that I do not?

Or... You know what I mean.
Any man, for that matter.

I really wouldn't know,
George.

I suppose men do tend to be
brutish, uncouth creatures,

as where women tend to be
refined, caring.

- They certainly smell better.
- Yes.

In fact, if you think about it
in those terms,

it's a wonder all women don't
choose to be with other women.

Well, for one, George,
we would perish as a species.

Unless, sir,
in the future we devise a way

to procreate without the man,

without the man
actually having to...

I really don't think
that's possible, George.

Sir.

Look here.

A boot.

I suppose
there's any number of ways

a boot could have gotten here.

It's an awful weight though,
Sir.

The foot's still in it.

Do the police know
who's responsible?

Not yet, I'm afraid.

Miss Elms, may I ask
how you knew Lillian?

We became friends
through our embroidery group.

She helped me through
a difficult time.

And you?

We both worked together
on an election campaign

last year for Margaret Haile.

Oh, yes.

I do recall Lillian appealing
to our group for support.

I should give you some privacy
to open her letter.

Stay.

You must be curious.

It's a wonder
you didn't open it yourself.

I'd never been
to Toronto Island.

Lillian took me there
for the day.

When was that taken?

Quite recently.

You two
must have been very close.

I'm sorry for your loss.

My condolences to you
as well.

As you can see, George,
the boot has water damage.

So it's been in there
some time, then?

When a body decomposes,

the extremities
usually detach first.

It was likely dragged off
by an animal of some sort.

- Sir, the smell is unbear...
- We got something!

Right here!

Sounds like
they found something, sir.

My God.

Good job, Lutz.

There's a calling card, sir.

Look who it is.

Morris Kerr.
Our private investigator.

Mr. Kerr was struck
fatally on the head,

perhaps with a rock
or a club of some sort.

When did he die?

I'd say
four or five months ago

would be a fair estimate.

Her datebook places her
at the scene of the crime

around the time that Mr. Kerr
is said to have perished.

That coincides with her
wanting to leave Toronto.

Do you think Lillian killed him,
Detective?

There's a strong possibility.

Have a look at this, George.

That's her, Henry.
That's Lillian Moss.

But it's filed under
Miss Helen Walker,

868 Jarvis Street.

I'll let the detective know.

This is it, sir.
868 Jarvis Street.

You again.

Mr. Porter,
we found your address

in a private investigator's
file linked to Lillian Moss.

Well, Miss Moss did live here
for a short time.

Why didn't you
bloody mention that before?

- How long ago?
- About a year ago.

She was new to Toronto
and needed somewhere to stay.

Do you know where she lived
prior to that?

No.
She never said.

Do you know Helen Walker?

No, but that name is familiar.

How so?

Several months ago,
a man came here

looking for a Helen Walker
from Port Credit.

He came by twice, in fact.

Is this him?
Morris Kerr.

Yes, I believe it is.

You know what this means?

Helen Walker and Lillian Moss
could be one and the same.

Helen Walker?

You had no indication Miss Moss

was living
under an assumed name?

Of course not.

But then, we don't know
anything about her

before she arrived
in Toronto.

The 1901 census confirms
there was a Helen Walker

in Port Credit at that time.

Included is an address
and a date of birth.

February 17, 1877.

We're taking a trip
to Port Credit, me ol' mucker.

I fell for her
without meaning to.

Just because she wasn't
who she said she was,

that doesn't mean that
what you had with her

wasn't genuine,

what you felt for her
wasn't real.

I'm afraid I've lost sight of
what was real and what wasn't.

Miss Walker had been
renting my coach house

here on the property
until just over a year ago.

This Helen Walker?

Yes, that's her.

What sort of trouble
is she in now?

Well, she's been murdered.

Well, that's fitting.

What do you mean by that?

Whatever ills befell her
were earned twice over.

Get to the point.

She seduced my sister
into a perverted relationship.

When Gladys came to her senses
and tried to end it,

Helen Walker killed her,
along with her husband, Joe.

Was this investigated?

Constable Conroy could barely
be bothered to look into it.

But I know what she did.

Bit different to Yorkshire,
Murdoch.

I imagine it is.

Mr. Horsely
belongs in the asylum.

You can't believe
a word he says.

Tell us what happened,
Constable Conroy.

Miss Walker, along with
Joe and Gladys Holler,

took their boat out
for a sail.

The weather turned ugly.

They lost control and hit
a rock, puncturing their hull.

They went overboard.

Joe and Gladys perished.
Helen made it to shore.

Mr. Horsely contends
that you were negligent

in your investigation.

Joe Holler
was a childhood friend.

I was every bit as eager to
solve the case as Mr. Horsely,

but there was no case to solve.

It was an accident.

One of many we have
each summer here.

Yet two people died

and the third changed
her identity and fled town.

You can appreciate
why Mr. Horsely is suspicious.

Her leaving town
and assuming a new name

can be explained
quite simply...

Nicholas Horsely.

Go on.

He harassed her
in the ensuing days.

He even threatened to kill her.

Can we see the report?

This includes Helen Walker's
account of the events.

Where's the rest?

As I said, it was cut and dried
as far as I was concerned.

Look at this.
"Ideal sailing conditions."

Ideal!

And I'm to believe
that Helen swam back to shore

but not Gladys or Joe?

It's ridiculous.
She killed them.

Did you present this evidence
to Constable Conroy?

Repeatedly.
"Case closed," he says.

Where are you leading us,
Mr. Horsely?

You said you wished you could
see the boat, Detective Murdoch.

Well...

This is what I was able
to salvage from the Gladys.

The Gladys?

Named after my sister
by our father.

Pieces of her started
drifting ashore weeks later,

a mile down the coast.

Constable Conroy said
this boat hit a rock and sank.

That's right.

But these slats are broken
in the opposite direction,

here, here, and here.

The hull was punctured from
the inside, not the outside.

I knew it.

After Helen killed them,
she scuttled the ship

and set it adrift
to sink far away.

That doesn't necessarily prove
that she killed them.

Actually, sir, it might.

There's blood on this sailcloth.

I'm terribly sorry about this,
Dr. Grace,

but Lillian may have murdered
two people

in Port Credit last year.

She was in a relationship
with a married woman

named Gladys Holler.

When Mrs. Holler
had enough of the tryst,

she tried to put a stop to it.

According to
Mrs. Holler's brother,

a Nicholas Horsely,

Lillian didn't take well
to being abandoned.

So she contrived
a final boat trip

and murdered Gladys
and her husband, Joe Holler.

After she'd done the deed,
she rolled the bodies overboard.

She then scuttled
the boat, swam to shore,

and reported the incident
to the police as an accident.

Are you sure, William?

Fatal boat accidents
happen frequently.

There was no poor weather
that day.

The lake was perfectly calm.

Blood was found
on the sailcloth

and the wood splintered
in the opposite...

It's fine, Detective.
I believe you.

I'd rather not hear any more.

Emily.

I was about to upset my entire
life to be with a murderer.

There's nothing
you could've done.

What confuses me
is that I still love her

even though
I so badly want to hate her.

Sirs, I've found
a correspondence

between our man in Port Credit,
Nicholas Horsely,

and the private investigator.

He hired Morris Kerr
to track down Helen Walker...

Lillian Moss, as we knew her.

He was convinced from the start

that Miss Moss murdered
his sister and brother-in-law.

And since the police
weren't doing anything,

he took matters
into his own hands.

We know that Horsely
threatened to kill her

before she fled to Toronto.

We also know that the private
investigator found Miss Moss.

In that case, Horsely would have
known of her assumed identity.

It would have been easy enough
to track her down.

And, sirs,

Horsely's secretary puts him
in Toronto on business

the day of the murder.

We need another trip
to Port Credit, Murdoch.

Well, I suppose
I should be relieved

this is coming to a close.

As am I, Emily.

Your presence has brought me
much comfort

these last few days.

Thank you.

I should tell Lillian's friend
we've found her killer.

Yes, of course.

We know you hired

private investigator Morris Kerr
to locate her.

Yes, I hired him, but I never
found out where Helen was.

Mr. Kerr stopped
returning my calls months ago.

He... He took my money
and vanished!

We also know that you were
in Toronto on Tuesday,

the day Miss Moss was murdered.

We spoke to your secretary.

She said you were there looking
at your factory that day.

Not true.
I sent my assistant that day.

Mr. Horsely, if you weren't
in Toronto, as you claim,

then where were you?

Here in Port Credit
at the local police station,

trying to convince
Constable Conroy

to look at the evidence again.

Miss Elms?
It's Emily Grace.

I have some news for you
about Lillian.

May I visit?

See you shortly.

Sorry to intrude, Miss Grace.

I couldn't help but hear
that you were in the hall.

How can I help you, Mr. Miles?

Your friend forgot this.

It had
fallen behind the dresser.

Not sure if it means anything
to you.

It does.
Thank you.

And you're certain
Nicholas Horsely

was here Tuesday morning?

Harassing me to reopen
the Holler case, of course.

He wasn't in Toronto
the day Miss Moss was killed.

Sorry to disappoint you,
gentlemen.

Explain to me
how some crackpot

comes nearer to solving
a double murder than a copper.

I take great offense
to any suggestion of negligence.

Joe Holler
was a lifelong friend.

Nobody would want to see
his murder avenged more than me.

Constable, you've now provided
us with your very own motive

for wanting Miss Walker dead.

I was here the morning
she was murdered in Toronto,

Horsely told you so himself.

The boat accident
was a terrible tragedy,

and I'll forever regret I was
not able to recover the body.

- "Body"?
- Excuse me?

You said "recover the body,"
singular.

Yet by your own account,
there were two victims.

Are you now saying
there was only one?

An innocent
slip of the tongue.

Perhaps not so innocent.

Constable, did either
Gladys or Joe Holler survive?

No.

Stop right there, Constable.

You're lying.
You've been lying all along.

What are you hiding?

Constable,
you failed to investigate.

You ignored key evidence,

which I'm certain your superiors
would be very interested in.

Now, I suggest you tell us
what happened.

We believe a man named
Nicholas Horsely killed Lillian.

He was the brother
of Gladys Holler,

one of her victims.

Are you certain?

The police are in Port Credit
arresting him as we speak.

I thought the news
would bring you some relief.

We can finally put all of this
behind us.

It's just all been
so overwhelming.

Will you please excuse me
for a moment?

George.

Nicholas Horsely
is not Miss Moss' killer.

The real killer could still be
living in Toronto

under an assumed name.

Take this down.

Right.

I'll have a look
through Morris Kerr's files

and see what I can find, sir.

You're Gladys Holler.

You two were lovers. You've been
lying to me this entire time.

Yes.

What happened on that boat?

It no longer matters.

It very much does.
What happened?

My husband Joe insisted
the three of us go for a sail.

What Helen and I didn't realize

is that he had discovered
we were lovers.

But after a couple of drinks,
I fell asleep.

I awoke to a scream.

Joe was strangling Helen.

He was in a rage.

You killed him.

I picked up an oar.

From behind, I...

broke Joe's head open.

I watched him bleed...

...facedown on my boat.

That monster.

He was still breathing.

But not for long.

Helen and I
rolled the body overboard.

You saved her.

She saved me.

We knew the police wouldn't
believe what really happened.

Helen convinced me
to disappear.

She then
staged the boat accident,

told the police I'd died too.

I was to start
a new life elsewhere.

We were never
to see each other again.

But I couldn't stay away
from her.

I had to see her.

You found her in Toronto
and resumed the relationship.

No.

Because of you.

She didn't look at me
the same way she used to.

You killed her.

No.

You found out that we were
going to London, and if...

If you couldn't have her,
no one else could.

I'm not lying to you anymore.

I'm so very lost, Emily.

Oh, my God.

Emily.

Hello, Gladys.

Joe.

You're alive.

How could you leave me for dead
like that?

You killed Helen.

It was all her fault, Gladys.

She seduced you,
tried to break us apart.

- You gonna kill me too?
- No, Gladys.

I'm here to take you back,
to start over together.

I'm gonna make you
my wife again

without Helen
to get in the way.

You're a monster.
I want nothing to do with you.

You don't have a say
in the matter.

I'm taking you, and I will
do with you as I wish.

You're my wife, Gladys.

But first you'll tell me
where your new lady friend is.

I don't know
who you're talking about.

Don't lie to me!

Where is Miss Grace?

I know she's here.
It's how I found you.

- I followed her.
- She's gone.

Why did you make me do that?

Please leave me, Joe.

Tell me what you did
to Lillian.

Do it, Emily.

Tell me!

Now!

I'd been looking for her
a long time.

I didn't need anyone else
knowing I was alive.

And your Lillian,

or whatever
she was calling herself,

sure was surprised
when I found her.

Hello, Helen.

I thought you were dead.

Where's Gladys?

Leave us be, Joe.
Leave us all be.

Where is my wife?

Suit yourself.

I'll find her.

Dr. Grace!

Emily.

Give me the gun.

He killed Lillian.

Emily, don't take the law
into your own hands.

Take it from me,
it's a mistake.

Please, Emily,
give me the gun.

Emily, it's all right.

Emily.

You're under arrest.

- To England.
- Yes. To England.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Change will do you good, Doctor.

It's what Lillian
would have wanted.

It's what I want.

Sorry to intrude. I've put
a call through for you, sir.

- It's urgent.
- Oh. Right.

Well, if this takes some time,
please remember...

Your heart will mend.

- Good luck.
- Thank you, Inspector.

You know, I've always wanted
to visit London.

- You take care, Dr. Grace.
- Thank you.

London, England.

I must say I'm somewhat jealous.

Perhaps you'll find occasion
to visit.

I would very much like that.

Doctor.

You made me better at my job,
Detective.

I can say the same about you.

Well...

Goodbye.

- Good luck.
- Good luck.

We have a spot of bother,
Murdoch.

- What's that?
- We have a body on the way.

- When does Dr. Slater arrive?
- It is Dr. Slater.

The old codger
kicked the bucket on the train.

Oh, my.

Well, it would appear we are
in need of a coroner, then.

What?

Would you like to drive?

I would rather you did,
George.

Next stop, Union Station.

So I suppose this is it.

I suppose it is.

Thank you.

You have to let go, Emily.

But what if I don't want to,
George?

What if...

What if this is a mistake?

Well, that's what
you need to find out.

All right?

Goodbye, George Crabtree.

Goodbye, Emily Grace.