All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S13E06.The Philately Fatality.eng

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Glenn!

Charming man, snuck out for my
modest little soirée, did you?

You don't know the meaning of the
words "modest" or "little," Owen.

And you love me for it.

Pepper, darling! What are you having?

Try the red, it's delicious.

Just let yourself in.

Be a sport and circulate
the wine for me.

Let's dance.

A neighbour called
about a noise complaint?

I can barely hear anything.

I think this is more of a morals call.

Possible acts of gross indecency.

Ah.

We're after offenses
against nature, are we?

You know, there are coppers

who'd enjoy taking some of
these chaps to the cells.

But you are more of a
live-and-let- live soul,

aren't you, Constable?

I like to think so but the law is clear.

What's the use of judging
what happens in the privacy

of a man's own home?

We're not the Morality Department.

Give me a proper crime.

Parker, I admit to
you, I can't call this

proper but it's duty.

- Good evening. Toronto Constabulary...
- Police!

- It's the police!
- I'll go around back.

Oi! Open up there!

Ahh!

Proper enough for you?

The victim is one Owen Paxton,

also the owner of the home.

So this was the host of tonight's party.

It's still early. Where
did all the guests go?

They all ran out the
back when we got here.

All men, sir.

I see.

Good to have you back, Detective Watts.

You enjoyed your travels?

Yes, leaving the city behind for a time

renews the spirit, Constable.

The wound on Mr. Paxton's head
matches the base of this statue.

Time of death?

Crabtree and I arrived to
break up the party at 9:40.

His body was found soon after. Alone.

The body is still warm, and
lividity hasn't set in yet.

So he died less than two hours ago.

Between 8:40 and 9:40.

What's all this?

Mr. Paxton was a keen philatelist.

Is it phil-ah-telist or phil-ay-telist?

Stamp collector.

When I was a boy I
was a phal... pahlat...

From Bavaria, this one.

And Australia here...

Perhaps Mr. Paxton was a member

of the Toronto Philately Society.

They have a club?

Do be sure to give me your report
as soon as you have it, Miss Hart.

Certainly. As always.

Looks to me, Murdoch,
it's a bash and run job.

Most likely one of the
guests at the party.

Yes. Unfortunately
it seems they all fled

before George discovered
there was a body.

You'd think one or two
would have stuck around.

Presuming the party was downstairs,

it's not clear the guests
knew there had been a murder.

Someone who was here
must know something.

We need to track all of them down.

Mr. Parker, please assist
the Constables downstairs

in obtaining fingermarks
from all of the wine glasses.

We might be able to identify
a party guest from this shoe.

And this wine is somewhat rare.

I will find out who bought it.

You do that, Sherlock.

But in the meantime,

it might be a good idea to
look at these photographs

of Paxton and his chums.

Oh.

That's my butcher!

Oh, Hawaii.

Mr. Parker.

You can eliminate all of these

based on whorls.

Did you not use fingermarks in
your work with the Pinkertons?

We had a girl for that.

You will find it can
be greatly advantageous

to learn the finer
points of identification.

We have a new classification system

based on Whorl, Loop, and Arch,

which can greatly improve our
chances of finding a match.

Our collection is growing

each time we add a
new finger mark to it.

So you want me to compare
these marks on the glasses

to all the known marks in Toronto?

Until you find a match.

George can tell you it's not
nearly as laborious as it may sound.

Thanks to my system.

George will help you.

Actually, sir, I was
wondering if I should, umm...

I have discovered that Mr. Paxton

was a member of the
local Philately Society.

I was wondering if I should
attend one of their meetings

to see if I could find out
a bit more about stamps...

About our victim.

Of course.

George, uh...

- Inspector!
- Jack.

Here for your usual?

I'm here on business.

This is you with your arm
around a man named Owen Paxton.

What's this about?

He's been killed.

I need to know what you know about it.

How did it happen?

I'm asking the questions.

What was the nature of your
relationship with Paxton?

We were old friends. From school.

So, you kept in touch.

What are you implying?

You knew about Paxton's tendencies?

Tendencies?

Of the unnatural sort.

I considered it none of my business.

Were you at his party last night?

That kind of thing wasn't
agreeable to me, Inspector.

- I didn't attend Owen's parties.
- Not agreeable to you?

You're in this picture
with him and his friends.

I ran into them at the island.

I was being polite.
That's the truth of it.

Honestly.

Very good.

Well, that's settled, then.

Where were you last night, Mr. Walker?

Truthfully.

I was at home.

Constable Crabtree! What a delight!

Mr. Germaine. Are you a philatelist?

I have many interests,
my boy, as you know.

Ladies and gentlemen, this
is Constable George Crabtree.

One of this city's most amiable
law enforcement officers.

He must be here about poor dear Owen.

- Is that right, George?
- I am.

We were all shocked and saddened

to hear of Mr. Paxton's
death, Constable.

This is Mr. Bedard,
president of our little club.

On behalf of everyone
here, I can assure you

we are eager to be of
any assistance we can.

Well, thank you.

You all knew Mr. Paxton
well then, did you?

We are a small but passionate assembly.

Were any of you at his party last night?

Not that passionate, Constable.

Look at all this.

You know, I've often wondered how
many stamps there are in the world.

I sense we have a budding
stamp lover, friends.

Let me show you my European
collection, Constable.

It comes as no surprise
to me that he's dead.

Offending God and the good people
of our neighbourhood as he did.

Mrs. Emery, you apparently telephoned

the Toronto Constabulary several
times to complain about Mr. Paxton.

For all the good it did.

You do realize men of that strain

are a threat to the
morality of the city?

What exactly did you see last night

that prompted you to call?

I didn't call last night, Detective.

I certainly would have,

but as it happens I was out to Parkdale

having dinner with my
brother and his wife.

Mrs. Emery, did your neighbours

share your desire to
see Mr. Paxton move away?

Of course.

Did any of them argue with
the victim? Threaten violence?

It was Mr. Paxton

who had the record with
the police, young man.

Are you aware of that?

Mr. Paxton was the
victim of several attacks,

- as a matter of fact.
- For obvious reasons.

He took no pains to hide his perversion.

None of my warnings seemed to deter him.

He seemed to feel entirely
free to parade it about,

men coming and going out
of his house at all hours.

Did you see anyone in particular
coming and going recently?

Yes.

And in fact, I was able to
get the young man's name.

I can't help you. I
didn't know Mr. Paxton.

Mr. Seburn, we have an eyewitness

who saw you arriving at
his home in the evenings

and leaving in the mornings.

Your witness must be mistaken.

We aren't concerned with your
personal life, Mr. Seburn.

We're investigating a murder.

Perhaps you boys don't
exchange names, is that it?

If I'm caught up in all
this, I could lose my job.

We're merely trying to find
out who may have killed him.

My company produces a
catalog for his business.

It was my job to show him
the mock-ups, that's all.

You weren't at a party
at his house last night?

No. I know nothing of his personal life.

I'm sorry.

What did I tell you?

The lot of them, all the same story.

Out of fear for their
livelihood and reputations.

No need to baby them, Watts.
This is the life they chose.

I'm going to see if
the wine store operator

can give us a description of the
customer who bought that bottle.

Mr. Parker.

I trust our classification
system is making your job easier.

No matches yet.

Detective, have you
thought about canvassing

known poof hangouts with the
photos from Paxton's house?

I have Constables doing just that.

Surely I could be of
more use in the field.

Stick with it.

Detection is often a matter
of tenacity, Mr. Parker.

It's just that I'm better
at talking to people.

And I fear I may go cross-eyed.

Hotel bellboys are good
sources for this sort of thing.

Station House Four...

Thank you.

That was Mr. Paxton's neighbour.

Someone has gone into his house.

All right.

You want to search
the kitchen, Detective?

Yes, let's start there.

Detective Scott?

A detective in the Toronto Constabulary

at a party of left-footers.

I haven't said I was
at a party, Inspector.

You match the description of the
man who bought this bottle of wine.

"To Owen,

a man of far more courage
than I. Love from Glenn."

You and the victim were close.

We were good friends, yes.

Give us the names of the rest of the
guests that were there that night.

I can't say I recall names.

Detective Scott.

Is your loyalty to your
friends or to the law?

If I knew who did
this, I would tell you.

I want justice for Owen
just as much as you do.

Probably more.

- But I know what happens next.
- Oh yeah?

You're not gonna throw them in jail?

Harm their reputations?
Cost them their jobs?

We haven't threatened you
with exposure, Detective Scott.

We will tread lightly with the others.

Are you going to let me
go after this interview?

I'm on a case and if I don't
go into my Station House today,

my Inspector will ask why.

Tell us what we need to know.

Let me investigate myself.

Some of the men who were
there will talk to me.

You were caught breaking,
entering, and stealing

from a dead man's house.

You haven't been cleared
of suspicion in the murder.

You're in no position to
make deals, Meal Mucker.

You know I only went back
to his house for the book.

We don't know anything.

Give us the names.

Constable Dimmick.

Take him to the cells, charge
him with breaking and entering.

That should loosen his tongue.

I don't believe that will work.

If we charge him, it
will amount to the loss

of his reputation and job.

That homosexual

is a blight on our
entire department, Watts.

That may be. But with
nothing left to save,

- he will have no reason to help us.
- Too bad.

Detective Scott may be more
forthcoming if I speak with him alone.

I agree.

- Oh, sir! Good news.
- What have you, George?

I found some of the
stamps I kept as a boy.

I wasn't sure if I even still had them,

I found them in a box
with some keepsakes.

And what does this have
to do with Mr. Paxton?

Well sir, I did learn that a stamp

can gain considerable value over time.

Based on various things,
how rare they are today,

what sort of condition they're in,

whether there's any
particularly interesting story

as to their origin, and so on and forth.

And Mr. Paxton had interesting stamps?

Without a doubt.

In fact sir, there's a member of
the Philately Society, Mrs MacDonald,

who offers evaluation services.

I tell you what I'll do.

I'll bring over my little collection,

let her have a look
and see what she says.

George, did you learn anything
pertaining to our investigation?

Yes, of course, sir. I learned
that our victim, Mr. Paxton,

was well-liked

by all of his stamping friends.

And were any of his stamping
friends at the party last evening?

No, sir. They took pains to assure me

that they were not that sort of friend.

- Fine.
- Right then, sir.

I will be sure to let you
know as soon as I find out

if this is worth anything.

- William!
- Julia.

Ready for lunch?

I stopped by to tell you I
can't have lunch after all.

We haven't seen each other
nearly enough since you got back.

I know, William. But
there is a good reason.

Oh?

I've been assigned an important patient,

the wife of an industrialist.

Oh, very good.

Although you're not usually concerned

with the class of your patients.

Not usually, no.

But since Mr. Fitzgerald
removed me from his surgery,

I realized I may need to be
more mindful of my reputation.

Of course.

And I'm certain you will
do a terrific job at...

Whatever it is Mrs. Wealthy
Industrialist requires.

The repair of a hernia in her bowel!

These ones are at
least thirty years old.

They were preserved quite well.

Good specimens.

But very common examples, I'm afraid.

So not worth much?

They could fetch a couple of dollars.

Now this one from Nova
Scotia is interesting.

Ah yes, the 1860 one-cent.

I always liked that one.

In this condition, worth
fifty dollars at least.

Fifty dollars!

- But unfortunately...
- It is clearly forged.

You see, Constable, the dye
has a perceptible green tint.

It is essentially worthless.

Don't let these two spoil
your fun, my dear boy.

Their standards are exacting.

But you obviously have
a pure love for postage.

Indeed. To have carried
these around for thirty years.

I got them from love letters
that my aunts received.

I suppose that's when I first

embarked down the path of philately.

He has the heart of a romantic.

We philatelists all
have a similar story.

What can you tell us about
the investigation, Constable?

Just that it is ongoing.

No real progress just yet.

We were wondering...

What happens to Owen's collection?

- Will it go up for auction?
- Vultures!

The man's body is not even cold yet!

Owen did have a few stamps I myself

would be willing to pay top dollar for.

I'm sorry about my Inspector.

My fault.

It was foolish to go back to the house.

- But I knew you'd be looking for his friends.
- We are.

You know the other men who were there.

Give me names.

I don't have to reveal how I got them.

And you'll let me go?

Yes, we will drop the
charges and make sure

there's no record of your visit here.

I don't understand. One of
those men killed your friend.

Even if I believed that
were true, Detective,

I don't know who it is.

You could take a guess.

So the men I name can
be sitting where I am?

I wouldn't be able to sleep at night.

It's true that we can't
guarantee complete discretion.

I admire his integrity on this point.

Whose integrity?

I had a word with Detective Scott.

Ah, thought he'd say more
if I wasn't there, did you?

Yes.

And by integrity

you mean he is still
protecting a murderer.

- Leaving us at a loss.
- There is one thing.

Constable McNabb located the cobbler

who made a replacement sole for the shoe

Parker took off one of the fleeing men.

Good. Let's pay him a visit.

No, Murdoch. You put your feet up.

I'll go with Watts.

Let's hope the cobbler's
got nothing to hide.

I understand you're
missing a shoe, Mr. Walker.

Close the shop, Jack.
You're coming with us.

You went to his house that night.

Would you believe I lent
my shoes to a friend?

You lied about your
relationship with Owen Paxton.

And when you said you were at
home on the night of the murder.

I couldn't help you.

I don't know who did it.

It was easier to say I wasn't there.

Mr. Paxton's neighbour has
identified you, Mr. Walker.

She said that you were
a frequent visitor.

At times an overnight guest.

Should have known she'd be
at her window at five a.m.

She also told me those
visits ended abruptly

approximately six weeks ago.

Good old Mrs. Emery.

She's right about that, too.

Did you and Mr. Paxton
have a falling out?

Nothing lasts forever, Inspector.

What happened when you saw Mr.
Paxton the night of the party?

I didn't talk to him.

You expect us to believe you
went to your former lover's party

and it was all just jolly hockey sticks?

Perhaps you didn't intend to argue,

- but it happened anyway.
- No. There was no argument.

You didn't go into his study with him?

No.

Your fingermarks, these,

are on the murder weapon.

- Caught in another lie.
- We were in...

we were close.

The breakup was...

I was not happy.

That wasn't Owen's
fault. He's a good man.

But we were different. He
didn't care about discretion.

At times he even enjoyed poking
at people like Mrs. Emery.

But he had family money.

I own my own business
and that's all I've got.

My reputation is my bread and butter.

Why did you go over there that night?

I'd been drinking.

Knew he was having a party.

Felt sorry for myself,
all alone, I suppose.

Why did you go up to the study?

I wanted to settle things between us.

- How?
- Not by bashing him over the head.

We haven't yet said how
Mr. Paxton was killed.

I know what happened
because I found him.

I saw blood on his
head and on the statue.

You've been lying to us from the start

- and you're lying now.
- No, listen...

I went over to him to check his pulse.

He wasn't breathing.

He was already dead.

I sat with him a minute. Then
I heard someone yell "police"

- and I ran.
- You had a falling out with the victim,

and you admit you were in his
house at the time he was killed.

So were a lot of other people.

Owen's parties were popular.

He made his home a safe place

for men like us.

He doesn't want to give us any
other suspects, let him hang for it.

Sir, fingermarks aren't
enough to convict.

He'd been to the house before,

he could have touched it at any time.

Nonsense. He has motive.
Any jury will convict.

- I don't believe he did it.
- What?

His account was credible.

Evidence is evidence.

Put him in the cells, Watts.

George.

You've been investigating the
victim's philatelist friends.

What have you learned?

Detective, I get the impression
they are not much interested

in Paxton's personal life.

They're more interested
in who's going to inherit

his stamp collection now that he's dead.

Is that so?

Was his collection valuable?

Apparently he had some
hotly coveted pieces.

Some so rare as to be
worth hundreds of dollars.

For a stamp, can you imagine?

Let's follow the money, George.

I'm flattered you've asked for my
assistance once again, Constable.

Would you care to indulge me
as to your theory of the crime?

Well, Mr. Paxton's stamp books
were on his desk and shelf

- at the time of the murder.
- It's possible someone tried to steal

one of his more valuable stamps...

And killed Mr. Paxton when
he caught them in the act.

We were hoping you might notice

if there's anything
missing from his collection.

Owen was an industrious collector.

I recently purchased a very
beautiful Macon from him myself.

One of the most discerning
eyes in our little society.

Don't tell Mrs. MacDonald
I said so, though.

Your secret is safe with us.

He was the first in Toronto to procure

a rare Greenwood, Virginia, for example,

on a trip to New York
City some years back.

That was a particular find.

It should be in his
book of the Americas.

He and Mr. Bedard enjoyed
a spirited competition

over their Hawaiian collections.

All in fun.

Here, I'll show you his
uncancelled Brattleboro...

Now that is strange.

Is it missing?

Unless he moved it. But...

I don't see it.

Odd.

In his Canada collection
there ought to be a lovely set

of British Columbia imperforate...

No! It's not here.

These are all common specimens.

These are all common specimens.

What do you know about Mr.
Paxton's stamp collection?

That it was a substitute for
the children he would never have.

Ah. It appears some of his
rare stamps are missing.

What if the killer was
not one of the partygoers,

but someone who wanted
Mr. Paxton's stamps?

You don't think he sold them?

He did like the thrill of the trade.

We thought of that, but it
doesn't account for all of them.

I know where he might have kept them.

Where?

I have an errand to run, Detective.

It needs to get done tonight.

I don't have the
authority to release you.

I haven't heard a thing.

Take me to Owen's.

I will show you where the stamps are,

if you give me an hour alone
afterward to run an errand.

Let you out, you mean.

I'll come back.

I promise.

Julia. Dr. Dixon.

Pardon my intrusion.

What brings you?

You have a lovely home.

Thank you.

I wanted to discuss something with you

and thought it best to do
it away from the hospital.

Is that so?

Don't worry, I have no intention of
repeating my previous bad behaviour.

Of course not.

I brought you my notes on
your new patient. Mrs. Acton.

- Your notes?
- Yes, you see this is why

I wanted to discuss it
away from the hospital.

I did the initial assessment.

But I convinced the Actons
to pass the case along to you.

Why would you do that?

I know you need the help, Julia.

I didn't ask for your help.

A surgeon as capable as you should
not be limited by baseless prejudice.

Thank you.

- Julia, I'm home.
- In here, William.

What a...

Dr. Dixon.

Detective.

Dr. Dixon was kind
enough to drop off a file

that I'd left at the hospital.

And now my business is
complete. I'll show myself out.

Owen had a collection
of things that weren't...

Appropriate for display.

Doesn't seem like a very
safe place to valuables.

That's what I told him, but...

No fires in the summer time.

The missing stamps.

I have to get these
to Constable Crabtree.

I've kept my part of the
deal, Detective Watts.

What kind of errand
is it you want to do?

If I don't visit my mother on
Monday evening, she'll worry.

I don't like to upset her.

If you don't come back, I will
lose my job. You understand?

I understand.

Constable.

Have you found anything?

Mr. Walker knew where Mr.
Paxton kept his valuables.

Are those the missing stamps?

Shall we have a look?

Do these account for Paxton's
missing stamps, Mr. Germaine?

- Yes, but...
- Wait. Isn't that...

The Macon!

The one I purchased
from Owen last month!

There's the Goliad you
bought from him, Bertha.

But that's impossible.

Mine was the only one on the market.

- Could he have found another?
- In this condition?

- Is it possible these are fakes?
- But why?

Why would Owen keep
fakes of his own stamps?

These are genuine.

So, may you have

accidentally bought fakes?

Impossible.

We would have spotted it in an instant.

Owen knew as much. He would never.

Here is my Macon.

This is a forgery.

Mr. Paxton sold you all fakes.

What does this mean?

It means one of your new
philatelist chums here

might have murdered Mr. Paxton.

It's hard to tell, but
this is the fake one.

Paxton sold forged stamps to his
friends in the philately society.

Giving any one of them
a motive for murder.

They've been brought
in to be questioned.

How'd you find Mr.
Paxton's secret collection?

Jack Walker knew where they were hidden.

And he told you?

- No. He showed me.
- He did what?

I released Mr. Walker for an hour

in exchange for his cooperation
locating the missing stamps.

He is being held on suspicion of murder.

He could be on a train halfway
across the country by now.

Could be, but in fact
he is in the cells.

It seems you were wrong
about this particular one.

That makes you lucky, not smart!

You disobeyed my orders, Detective.

However he went about it,

Detective Watts has found a
promising avenue of investigation.

The victim had been selling
forgeries of very rare stamps.

Forgeries good enough to fool
the city's leading experts.

And the man who made them is
sitting in our interview room.

Mr. Seburn, when we asked ourselves

who may have forged these stamps,

I remembered that you
work for a print company.

In fact, you are a skilled artist.

We found these print
engravings in your office.

Along with specially mixed ink colours

- that match the forgeries.
- I illustrate catalogues.

I made those engravings for my work.

We spoke with your employer.

None of these engravings
have ever been featured

in any catalogue.

Oh.

It must have been for
a bit of freelance work.

For Owen Paxton?

You recall we know Mr.
Paxton's neighbour saw you.

- It was a professional...
- Stop.

No one believes you.

Fine.

We were lovers.

Put me in jail.

We aren't interested in
indecency charges, Mr. Seburn.

- Well, you may not be, Watts...
- Sir, please.

Alright, but I'm listening
to every bloody word.

You and Mr. Paxton devised a plan

to defraud the stamp
collectors of Toronto.

The forgeries were all Owen's idea.

He knew my work and he
thought I could do it.

There's something about
all this I don't understand.

Mr. Paxton didn't need the money.

Why risk his reputation as a stamp lover

with his friends in the club?

He had a funny sense
of humour, I suppose.

Write down all the
stamps you copied, please.

All this fuss over a
few scraps of paper.

We take our stamps very seriously, sir.

Oh it's "we" now, is it Crabtree?

The buyers would only have
been angry with Mr. Paxton

if they'd known what he'd done.

You said the club members were surprised

to discover they'd bought fakes.

Seburn's forgeries were good.

Mr. Germaine had a fake
for weeks and didn't notice.

Perhaps someone else did.

Find out which of the club members

recently purchased
items from Mr. Paxton.

Good. In the meantime,
we can let Detective Scott

- and Jack Walker out of the cells.
- No.

Every hour they're in there, it
is more likely they will be missed.

People will ask questions.

Then take your hand out of your pocket

and make an arrest, Detective Watts.

These are all the people you know of

who purchased stamps from
Owen in the past two months.

There is one stamp on Mr.
Seburn's list of forgeries

that doesn't appear on
your list, Mr. Germaine.

- Oh?
- The Moldavia.

I don't know of any
trade with the Moldavia.

If it were offered for sale,
who would have wanted to buy it?

Everyone.

The Moldavia would be the
crowning jewel in any collection.

I thought you said your
European collection is unmatched?

It is, that is true.

Did you want that stamp, Mr. Germaine?

Am I to understand that you suspect me?

I didn't buy the Moldavia.

Mr. Seburn said it was made
available for sale three weeks ago.

Didn't you make an offer?

Don't make those eyes at me,
George. I cannot bear your suspicion.

Why didn't you make
an offer, Mr. Germaine?

Well,

- you've caught me.
- Oh Mr. Germaine!

So, you did purchase the Moldavia.

And when you realized your
mistake, you confronted Mr. Paxton.

For heaven's sake. I'm
not a murderer, Detective.

Then I'm afraid I don't understand.

Days before Owen offered the Moldavia,

I realized that my Macon was a fake.

I pretended to be
surprised with the others

when you brought in the genuine stamps,

but I'd known for some time.

Right, so you knew
Paxton was selling fakes,

that's why you didn't
make offer on the Moldavia.

Yes.

George, can you ever forgive me?

- Who did you tell?
- No one.

To buy a forgery?

In our world, that is a
humiliation beyond bearing!

Well, then who did buy it?
I swear to you, I don't know.

But if I had to guess,

I'd say it's Bertha MacDonald.

She's been particularly smug
with me these past weeks.

I did buy the Moldavia from Owen, yes.

A beautiful specimen. But I
don't believe it was forged.

We have the genuine stamp here.

It was among Mr. Paxton's possessions.

So mine is a forgery?

I'm afraid so.

Why would he do this? Owen was a friend.

Are you certain you didn't
discover the flaw yourself

and then go to Mr. Paxton's
house to confront him?

You are the society's
official authenticator.

If it became known you bought a forgery

surely that would be
your reputation ruined.

When did you realize your mistake?

Just now, I swear.

Additionally, I was in Kingston

the night that Owen was
killed if that helps you.

Right this way.

Ah, Mr. Seburn. I need your assistance.

Can you confirm that all
of these are your work?

Yes.

Except this one.

- That's the genuine article?
- Yes.

See... That's the one I made.

The Hawaiian Blue.

To my knowledge, Owen sold that.

Mr. Bedard brought that one in.

Detective.

Fingermarks from one of the
philatelists match the murder weapon.

Mr. Bedard, you were the
only philatelist in Toronto

in possession of an authentic stamp

purchased from Mr. Paxton
in the past two months.

I expect he knew he couldn't fool me.

Or you realized that
you had been fooled,

you had bought a fake,

you confronted him, killed him,

and exchanged the fake
for the real stamp.

Of course not.

This is outrageous.

Your fingermarks are on the
statue that killed Mr. Paxton.

Can you explain that?

It must be a mistake.

He did sell you a forged
Hawaiian Blue, didn't he?

We have a witness that can confirm it.

When did you realize
you had the wrong stamp?

When I was putting it into my book.

The same day you bought it?

Yes.

You realized what he'd done to you,

you went to his home.

There was a party.

Yes.

I confronted him

and he invited me up to his study.

Did he refuse to give
you the real stamp?

He went to get it,

but he was laughing at me.

As if he had cooked
up this entire scheme

just to show me up in
front of the others.

But he was giving you
the genuine Hawaiian Blue?

He was laughing at me!

You killed him.

I had the statue in my
hand before I knew it.

You then replaced the
forgery in Paxton's book

and kept the real one.

No one saw you leave?

The way his friends were
carrying on downstairs,

no one heard a thing.

And you made the call to the
Constabulary about the party?

I figured that one of the
guests would be blamed.

But...

I was wrong about that much.

I understand you caught Owen's killer.

We're releasing you without
charges, Detective Scott.

That's a relief. I can tell my Inspector

I was called away suddenly.

If we can keep this between us.

I see no reason for your
name to be in the case file.

- Do you, sir?
- No.

But keeping you out of the
public record is one thing.

Lying to your Inspector
is another thing entirely.

He doesn't need to know.

What you're doing is illegal.

How does this affect his work?

It compromises him.
Opens him up to blackmail.

I'm a good detective.

I've been with the
Constabulary ten years.

I can't keep this from
your Inspector. I'm sorry.

Sir?

You could have looked
the other way, sir.

It's not as though we
haven't done so in the past.

If he were to be found out, all
three of us could lose our jobs.

I didn't say it was right,

but it is what it is.

Julia.

How was your surgery on Mrs. Acton?
I trust my notes were helpful.

- They were, thank you. I appreciate it.
- Good.

I think it might be best, though,
that you address me as Dr. Ogden.

I'm sorry?

At work, in our
professional relationship.

Oh, I...

It seems I'm to apologize again.

- I didn't mean it that way.
- Julia.

Doctor.

Ready for our evening?

I'm pleased your surgery
went so well, Dr. Ogden.

My patients await, Detective.

Shall we?

Detective Watts.

Mr. Walker.

I wanted to thank you for
your help with the case.

It was instrumental in
catching Mr. Paxton's killer.

I'm glad.

Did you need something else from me?

Do you...

mind if I call you Jack?

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