All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - 09x03 - Double Life.WEB-DLx264-JIVE.English.HI.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

(theme music)

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 will 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.

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

(sigh)

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.

He comes highly recommended
and he is very experienced.

He's deaf as a doornail

and he's worried 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.

(woman): 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.

(laughing): Why?

- (sad music)
- (inaudible words)

Does anyone come to mind who
may have wished Ms. 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 Ms. Moss's room?

- I found her appointment book.
- I've 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...

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?

- Ah...
- 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.

(sigh) 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.

Are you alright?

George, look at this.

It was in her date book.

"Morris Kerr, Private Investigator."

Maybe Ms. 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.

Then what are you to her?

Merely a friend, Tom.

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

A single .38 calibre between
the sixth and seventh true ribs.

Given the presence of gunpowder
residue I would 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 rancour,

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...

I 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.

And 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 Ms. Moss's
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 just wanted to apologize

for my abruptness earlier.

It's not necessary. You lost
somebody close. 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've 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 recall you telling me.

Yes, but in fact

Lillian wrote to her first.

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

You 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 Ms. Moss's 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 favours.

Favours a man such as
yourself could afford,

and that ladies such
as Ms. 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 Ms. Moss's 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 rumours 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.

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 Ms. 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.

I hope I can be of some help.

Doctor, please have a seat.

Doctor, approximately four months ago,

Ms. 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
Ms. 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?

I...

Thank you for your candour, Doctor.

George.

Chartwell Pond. (Sigh)

I imagine that's a weight off, Doctor.

I suppose so.

(door opening)

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.

- (door opening)
- This is so exciting.

Transatlantic passage to London

for a Dr. Grace and a Ms. Moss

on the RMS Carpathia.

One might think us a wealthy
doctor and his mistress

when you say it that way. (Laughing)

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 of 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 put...

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.

Ms. 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 unbearable...

(man): We found something! Right here!

Sounds like they've 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

"Ms. Helen Walker,"

868 Jarvis Street.

I'll let the Detective know.

This is it, sir. 868
Jarvis Street. (Knocking)

You again.

Mr. Porter, we found your address

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

Well, Ms. 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.

(quietly): You know what this means?

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

Helen Walker?

You had no indication Ms. 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 17th, 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 fell for wasn't real.

(whispering): I'm afraid I've lost sight

of what was real and what wasn't.

Ms. 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.
- Oh. 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.

Ms. 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 the 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. 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.

The 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 anymore.

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 Ms. 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 the private
investigator found Ms. 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 took my money and vanished!

We also know that you
were in Toronto on Tuesday,

- the day Ms. 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.

Ms. Elms? It's Emily Grace.

I have some news for you about Lillian.

May I visit?

See you shortly.

Sorry to intrude, Ms. 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.

(Murdoch): And you're
certain Nicholas Horsely

- was here Tuesday morning?
- Harassing me to re-open

the Holler case, of course.

He wasn't in Toronto the
day Ms. 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 Ms. 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

that 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 Ms. Moss's 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.
- (Choking sounds)

- (Joe grunting)
- Joe was strangling Helen.

- (gasping)
- He was in a rage.

- You killed him.
- I picked up an oar.

And from behind I...

broke Joe's head open.

I watched him bleed,

face down on my boat.

That monster... he was still breathing,

but not for long.

Helen and I rolled the body overboard.

You saved her.

And she saved me.

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

Helen convinced me to disappear.

She then staged the boat accident

and 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.

(knocking)

Oh, my God... Emily.

(knocking)

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're going to kill me too.
- No, Gladys.

I'm here to take you
back. To start over again.

I'm going to 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 are talking about.
- Don't lie to me!

Where is Ms. Grace?

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

I followed her. She's gone.

(cries)

Why did you make me do that?

Please leave me, Joe.

(grunts)

- 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.

- (gasp)
- Where's Gladys?

Leave us be, Joe. Leave us all be.

Where is my wife?

Suit yourself.

- I'll find her.
- (Gun cocking)

- (gunshot)
- (gasp)

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 alright.

Emily.

You're under arrest.

(man groans)

- 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.

- 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.

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.

Alright?

Goodbye, George Crabtree.

Goodbye, Emily Grace.

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