All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - S07E18 (EN)

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

Come on.

Looking forward to spending
a night in the cells, O'Shea?

You're messing where it don't
concern you, Brackenreid.

We own the docks.

And I own the city. Don't ever forget that.

Sir, there's reports of a
murder at the Westerly Club.

Detective Murdoch and
Constable Crabtree are on route.

Bloody hell, Higgins.

I'm getting too old for all this malarkey.

It appears the victim received
a blow to the back of the head

from a blunt, rounded object.

- Hmm. There's one missing.
- One what?

One of the red snooker
balls. There should be 15.

Or perhaps not, Detective.

Good Lord.

Please, remove the snooker ball

as delicately as possible. The
killer's fingermarks may still be on it.

That may be difficult.

But I'm sure there is a way.

- Did you know the deceased?
- Yes.

Constable Crabtree.

I'm sorry, Mr. Carver.

- You were saying?
- Yes.

- Yes what?
- I know the dead man.

His name is Mr. Oliver Hoyle.

And what time did you happen upon the body?

Six-thirty this morning.

Anything else you can tell me?

- No, no. I should get back to my duties.
- Right.

Miss Ogden.

Lovely to see you, Mrs.
Hastings. I'm sorry I couldn't

come sooner. I've been
quite preoccupied with work.

- Miss Ogden...
- Do you know why Father called for me?

I'm sorry, but you're too late.

Too late for what?

Dr. Ogden has passed.

Father is dead?

I've been away for two weeks.

I only found him this morning.

I'm sorry, Miss Ogden.

My condolences to you, Mrs. Hastings.

You've spent years by his side.

I suspect he died overnight.

You shouldn't feel remiss. There's
nothing you could have done.

Do have you any thoughts on
the cause of death, Dr. Bradley?

Heart failure, I believe.
Lionel had been experiencing

chest pain of late.

I recommended some heart medication.

I should have come sooner.

Mrs. Hastings and I will give
you some time with your father.

- Thank you.
- I'll return later

to have the body taken to the crematorium.

Crematorium?

My father didn't want to be cremated.

That is precisely what he wanted.

Surely he wanted to be
buried alongside my mother.

Julia, I had conversations
with Lionel in his final weeks.

He wished to be cremated.

Sirs,

our victim, Oliver Hoyle,
was a competitive puzzler,

one of four here at the Westerly Club.

- Puzzlers?
- Yes, sir.

They compete against each other in
a race to solve difficult puzzles.

Such as this one.

That's not like any puzzle I've ever seen.

It's a cipher, sir.

In a club full of games, food, and drink,

and these men spend their whole
time solving bloody puzzles?

If you can believe it, sir.

Oh! Poor Oliver. I just received word.

- Poor old boy.
- Who are you?

Roger Newsome,

of the Mimico Newsomes.

He was a fine gentleman,
I promise you that.

What his mind lacked in agility

he made up for with determination.

How did you know Mr. Hoyle?

We're both members of an
exclusive puzzle fraternity.

That cipher was created by
Edgar Allen Poe many years ago.

Yet to be solved by anyone on God's earth.

But when it is, it will
surely be one of us.

And when you solve the puzzle,

you write your answer on the blackboard?

Indeed, and you sign your
name to it, though I've not...

personally had the pleasure
heretofore. Gentlemen,

if you'll excuse me, I'm off
for my daily shave and a haircut.

Rest in peace, Oliver Hoyle.

Sirs...

another club member, Horace Sims,

not a puzzler, says he saw a solution

written on this board when poured his
last drink about midnight last night.

So the puzzle may have
been solved last night.

Something appears to
have been freshly erased.

Sir, that could be the
solution that he saw.

Mr. Carver.

Did you notice anything
else on the chalkboard

- when you found the body this morning?
- No, sir.

- Did you erase anything from the board?
- No, sir.

It was just as it is.

So, there was a solution
on the board at midnight...

And yet there was no solution at 6:30
this morning when the body was discovered.

George, I'd like to speak
with all of these puzzlers,

including Horace Sims.

Hello, Detective.

Dr. Grace. What have you?

I removed the snooker ball by
dislocating his jaw, wedging it open,

extracting his teeth,
then drilling into the ball

and pulling it out ever so gently.

- Ingenious.
- Thank you.

- And the time of death?
- Based on the victim's body temperature,

I estimate he died five
hours ago, approximately 6am.

Thank you, Doctor.

I was in Port Dover visiting my sister.

Had I known Dr. Ogden was ill,

I never would have gone.

This is the heart medication
Dr. Bradley spoke of.

The seal isn't even broken.

Did you see my father taking any pills?

- No, I did not.
- Why would he complain

of chest pains and not take his medication?

Thank you, Mr. Sims.

The detective will see you now.

Mr. Elliot.

Your hand, please. Mr. Sims,

how can you be certain
it was exactly midnight

when you saw the solution
on the chalkboard?

I always take my final
drink right at midnight.

I'm very strict on that.

Don't try and kid a kidder, sunshine.

Were you in the games room prior to that?

Yes. I took my penultimate
drink at 11:30 Rye and water.

And was the solution on
the blackboard at that time?

It was not.

How do you know these puzzlers?

You could say I'm the puzzle
king. I've solved the last three

consecutively. But Oliver
was a fine puzzler too.

In fact, he spurred me to
greater intellectual heights.

I'll miss our rivalry.

Mr. Elliot, was there anyone

who had ill feelings towards Oliver Hoyle?

Surely you know Theodore
Grady owed Oliver money.

Theo's father cut him off in
hopes he would give up puzzling.

Instead, Theo took advantage
of Oliver's generosity.

Absolute drivel! I paid Oliver back in
full when Father reinstated my allowance.

Who told you otherwise? Arthur?
He's become insufferable.

Had Mr. Hoyle any enemies?

He and Arthur were as much
enemies as they were friends,

constantly bickering over who possessed

the greater intellect. Success has gone

to Arthur's head, the braggart.

What else can you tell
us about Oliver Hoyle?

Oliver always carried a notebook.

He would work out the
solutions to his puzzles in it

before putting them up on
the chalkboard for all to see.

He never let that
notebook out of his sight.

Thank you, Mr. Newsome. You're free to go.

I'll check Mr. Hoyle's personal
effects for this notebook.

It's all a bit silly, isn't it,

taking these games as seriously as they do?

We all have our passions, I suppose.

Well, these gamers seem to me like...

I believe they prefer the term "puzzlers."

These puzzlers seem like a
case of privileged young men

with too much time and too few worries.

Indeed.

I've searched every pocket, Detective.

Yes. And this bag contains
everything but the notebook.

- What have you, George?
- Sir. Doctor.

I cross referenced all the fingermarks

on the snooker ball to our puzzlers.

- Were any of them a match?
- Yes, but unfortunately they all were.

All the suspects have a fingermark on
the ball; even Oliver Hoyle has a partial

on the very object of his own demise.

So it would appear all of our puzzlers
also enjoy the game of snooker.

Dr. Ogden, we're here for your father.

Not until you perform a full
post-mortem, Dr. Bradley.

This isn't one of your cases.

A post mortem is entirely unnecessary.

I'm unconvinced that he
died of heart failure.

Lionel told me of chest pain. He
was gravely concerned about it.

- Yet he didn't take the heart medication you prescribed.
- Being a doctor himself,

he likely knew what little
difference it would make.

When the heart decides to give way,

pills will not put up much resistance.

For my own peace of mind,

I'd like you to perform a post-mortem.

I won't have my friend
unnecessarily carved up

for your peace of mind.

You may remove the body now.

Wait. I understand.

But could I please have a
little more time with him?

Please.

Of course.

So, we have a missing notebook and a
solution erased from the chalkboard.

A handful of suspects, all of their
fingermarks on the murder weapon,

and none of them with alibis. As of yet.

What do we get when we throw
all that together, Murdoch?

- My theory, sir?
- Go on.

Mr. Hoyle solved the
puzzle in his notebook.

He then wrote the answer on the chalkboard.

Someone killed him, erased the chalkboard,

and stole his notebook for the solution.

Murder over a puzzle solution?

I know, sir.

Then all we have to do is wait
for the killer to reveal himself

when he puts the solution on the board.

He killed for it; he'll want
to claim the glory for it.

That could well be the case.

- Bloody simple!
- Sirs.

Dr. Ogden has telephoned
for you, Detective.

I'm so sorry to hear
that. Are you all right?

Yes William, I'm fine. It's
just all very suspicious.

I see.

I've managed to postpone
the cremation, but...

- Are you sure that's wise?
- I just need more time

to find out what happened.

Julia?

I'm going to perform a post-mortem myself.

Julia?

Thank you.

Thank you for coming, William.

Of course.

I'm about to begin the post-mortem.

- Do you have any theories as to the cause of death?
- Not yet.

But the circumstances are
far too suspicious to ignore.

What does his doctor say?

My father was complaining of chest pains.

He prescribed medication. But look.

It's unopened.

What do you think it means?

Nothing Dr. Bradley says adds up.

He even claims that my father
requested to be cremated.

It's a ludicrous idea.

And what's the extent of your evidence?

I don't have any evidence,
William, only suspicion.

Have you heard from your sister, Ruby?

She's still in South America. I don't even
know if my telegram has reached her yet.

She'll be devastated.

Julia, are you prepared

to conduct a post-mortem
on your own father?

Yes, I am.

All right. I'll go speak with Dr. Bradley.

Thank you.

Thank you, thank you.

Oh, it was nothing.

You see, once you've cracked it,

the solution reveals itself
almost as a gift from above.

"I have chosen you,
Roger, to know the answer,

and you shall share it with the world."

Congratulations, Roger old boy.

You had a good run of it, Artie.

But it took a particularly
fine mind to crack this one.

I knew one of these puzzle
crackpots would step up

to reveal himself as our killer.

Mr. Newsome, you're under arrest.

Cuff him and take him away, Crabtree.

What? What is this about?

How dare you manhandle me like some cretin?

I am a man of reason and intellect!

Well, I promise I will
manhandle you reasonably.

I'm sorry, Detective, but I
must ask what this is about.

Is Lionel's death a police matter?

I... I'm hoping it won't become one.

As long as certain
questions get put to rest.

What questions could there possibly be?

He was over 70 years old.

Indeed.

You believe Dr. Ogden
had a heart condition?

That's right.

His daughter was not aware
of any such condition.

Miss Ogden barely knew her
father these last years.

I, on the other hand, was
a close friend of Lionel's.

How close?

He saw fit to leave his
dying wishes in my hands.

It's a shame his daughter
will not do the same.

What do you think you're doing, Julia?

Only what must be done.

There's no need for any of
this unpleasant butchery.

You called me here because you
wanted to tell me something.

And what do you suppose that was?

Perhaps you were worried that
someone was trying to kill you.

That's a bit extreme, don't you think?

Then again, you always did take
things too far, even as a child.

I am not a child anymore.

But still defiant.

Perhaps I telephoned you to
inform you of my final wishes.

So that you would follow them.

I'm trying to find the
truth. I'm doing this for you.

Leave it alone, Julia.

You were too late.

Oh.

Hello. I'm Caroline Hill.

It's Julia, is it?

Yes, Dr. Julia Ogden.

I was a friend of your
father's. Please accept

my sincere condolences.
He was a wonderful man.

- Thank you.
- I got to

know him a little these last few months.

Really?

Yes. I recently moved in nearby.

- Well, I'm glad he had company.
- If there's anything

I can do to help. Arrangements...

No, no, I'm fine.

- He spoke fondly of you
- You and Ruby, of course.

What a shame he didn't get to see
either of you before he passed.

Well, thank you for coming.

Haven't you checked with my brother yet?

I told you I was with
him all yesterday morning

playing hardball squash
in his private court.

We couldn't reach your brother.

Off sailing, apparently.

You felt intimidated by
Oliver Hoyle's intelligence.

That's why you killed him.

Oliver Hoyle was a simpleminded oaf.

If I'd set my mind to killing someone,

I daresay I'd choose a
more worthy adversary.

But he was worthy. He solved the puzzle,

and you killed him to get the solution.

Oh, that's quite rich, Inspector.

Oliver could not have solved that puzzle.

This was one of the most
fiendishly difficult problems

our club has ever seen. I
had to draw on every iota

- of my prodigious intellect...
- Enough!

I want the truth, Mr. Newsome.

And I have ways of getting it.

That... is the truth, I swear it.

You say you solved the puzzle yourself?

On your feet.

Right, Mr. Newsome, this
way! Get outta the way!

Solve it!

Go on, then. Not just the answer;

let me see how you solved it.

Oh, and, uh, remember to show your work.

I...

I can't.

I did steal the solution from
Oliver, but I swear I didn't kill him.

Please, you have to believe me.

If you didn't kill him,
how did you get the answer?

Yesterday morning I went to the bar

at the club for my usual morning sherry.

I found Oliver's notebook by the bar.

- He must have left it there the night before.
- Where is it?

Please...

don't tell the others.

That cell was a pigsty, Brackenreid.

Keep your nose clean, O'Shea,

and I won't have to invite you back.

Sir,

I contacted Newsome's
brother and his man servant.

They both confirm that Newsome was playing

hardball squash at the time of the murder.

Then he really didn't do it.
But if Oliver wasn't killed

for the solution to the puzzle...

It seems our whole theory is shot, sir.

Julia. I spoke with Dr. Bradley.

And?

Perhaps sometimes

things are as innocent
as they appear to be.

You think I'm wasting my time?
His heart was healthy, William.

No heart disease, no
sign of a heart attack.

- I see.
- Dr. Bradley was lying.

Or he was mistaken.

You seem to have made
up your mind, William.

Perhaps you're feeling guilty

because you didn't come when he...

Why should I feel guilty?
Because my father was cold?

Because he preferred Ruby?
Because he never approved

of my decision to become a doctor?

I didn't come to see him sooner,

because I didn't want to see him!

I needn't feel guilty about that.

Well, if you cared so little
for him, why not just let it go?

How many deaths has Detective
William Murdoch "let go"?

My father died and
there are inconsistencies

and unanswered questions.
And instead of supporting me,

you turn up and accuse
me of... what? Hysteria?

He asked me to come. There
had to have been a reason.

All right.

Now, if you don't mind, I'm
going to finish this post-mortem.

William,

look at this.

One of his syringes is missing.

Perhaps it was simply broken or mislaid.

Why don't we search the
body for an injection mark?

Julia.

Could this be it?

An injection mark.

It appears you were right.

Someone murdered your father.

- Doctor Bradley.
- Detective Murdoch.

I wish to see Dr. Ogden's
last will and testament.

I'm sorry, for what reason?

I'm simply searching for the truth.

The truth is an old man died;

nothing more nefarious than that.

Leave him to rest in peace.

Doctor, I get the sense that you
are keeping something from me.

I don't care for your
insinuation, Detective.

The will, Doctor.

Get that down you, Crabtree.
It'll help you think.

Excellent, sir.

Roger Newsome may not be our man,

but why was Hoyle's notebook left
so conveniently behind the bar?

Well, sir, have a look at this.

That's the solution to the puzzle,
the one that Newsome took credit for.

- It's in a different hand.
- Exactly. And there's no previous work, sir.

Mr. Hoyle would often spend several
pages attempting various solutions.

Oliver Hoyle didn't solve the puzzle.

It would seem not, sir.

So, whoever did solve it
wrote it in Hoyle's notebook

and left it for Roger
Newsome to find. Meaning...

Meaning whoever solved the puzzle

wanted to place the blame elsewhere.

Meaning...

Whoever solved the puzzle
killed Oliver Hoyle.

Oh, sod it.

How would Murdoch put all this together?

Sir, he would make a chart.

Of course he would. Let's give it a go.

- I'll get his chalkboard.
- Hold your horses, Crabtree.

It's about time I got
my own bloody chalkboard.

Heroin.

Ah. Well, at the very least
his death was painless.

He was still murdered,
William. He was heavily dosed.

With a substance found in
many a medicine cabinet.

It doesn't really help us.

Julia, do you know a Caroline Hill?

She visited me earlier today. Why?

She's named in your father's will.
He left her an annual stipend.

And this house.

What?

I hope I'm not too late to save them.

These roses were your father's favourites.

God rest his soul.

Mrs. Hastings, may I ask,

are you familiar with a Mrs. Caroline Hill?

That woman again.

I'm sorry you heard anything about her.

What do you mean?

There was something odd about her.

Turning up here at all hours.

The Lord himself only
knows what she was up to.

Here? With Father? Is she not married?

Her husband died not six months ago.

Though you'd never know it,
her not in her proper weeds.

Mrs. Hastings, forgive the question, but...

do you know of Mrs.
Hill's current situation?

They say her husband had
a fondness for the cards.

Fairly ruined himself and her with him.

Lost the house in Ottawa. By all accounts,

the bank is going to
take that lake house too.

But enough talk of that woman.

We could all use a nice cup of tea.

Julia. Caroline Hill needed money.

And your father obliged in his will.

She manipulated her way
into my father's life,

and then murdered him
to claim the inheritance?

It's a strong possibility.

Theodore Grady claims he
spent the night at the club

and that he was asleep
at the time of the murder.

He says he overslept
because he'd taxed his mind

trying to figure out the
puzzle the night before.

And nobody at the club could confirm that?

No, sir. Also, Arthur Elliot

is without alibi for
the time of the murder.

He says he was asleep at home by himself,

though he was eager to say that he
would usually have female company.

Ha! A playboy puzzler.

An oxymoron.

Very good. Horace Sims?

Sir, he can't recall where he slept.

He can't recall where
he sleeps most nights.

Roger Newsome we know was
playing hardball squash.

The only one with a bloody alibi.

Looks rather like a
game of tic-tac-toe, sir.

Except that we need
four in a row, don't we?

All this chart proves is that

not one of these men could be our killer.

The murderer solved the
puzzle, killed Oliver Hoyle,

and then planted his
notebook on Roger Newsome.

Yet not one of these suspects
could have done all three.

Sir, perhaps we have the wrong
chart. We could try another.

Or we could just do this.

Bollocks.

Thank you for the invitation.

I imagine tea with a stranger
is the last thing on your mind

at the moment. It's the least I could do

after your visit. My father would insist.

The lake is so lovely
at this time of the year

Almost more so than in the summer.

Your father

would be comforted that you are here.

You seem to know my father fairly well.

Yes.

- How well?
- Your father and I have enjoyed

one another's company
these last few months.

My father had something to tell me.

I suppose you know what that was.

Only he could have told you that.

But I can tell you

that Lionel would be very happy that we are

becoming friends.

He wanted that very much.

How dare you presume to know
my father better than I did?

Perhaps we should try this again

some other time.

I am so very sorry.

Is this why you wanted to see me?

To tell me about this woman?
How could you be so taken in?

You of all people, Julia, should
understand the complications

of affairs of the heart.

I learned to think
dispassionately from you, Father.

The man I knew would never
succumb to a woman's wiles.

You didn't really know the man I was.

You disappoint me.

- I do?
- This woman manipulated you

out of your money and then
murdered you to collect.

You're a fool.

Your emotions are clouding
your analytical mind.

Does that sound like something I would do?

Tell me why you wanted to see me.

I telephoned.

Don't you remember?

- Father?
- Julia.

I need to see you.

Right away. W... we must talk.

Well, I have a few minutes now,

but I can barely hear you, Father.

Really, it must be in person, Julia.

Your voice. It was weakened.

I found this at the Hill residence.

Your father's syringe.

Caroline Hill murdered your father.

It's not that simple, William.

I conducted a post-mortem, Mrs. Hill.

The muscles around his
larynx were atrophied.

My father had Charcot's disease,
a degenerative nerve disorder.

We know that he was dying.

Mrs. Hill...

you injected Lionel Ogden
with a lethal dose of heroin.

Did he ask you to do this, or
were you acting on your own?

He asked me to do it.

He asked?

And why you?

I have known your father
for a very long time.

Since we were both quite young.

- You said you'd just met.
- No, I knew him.

I know him before he knew your mother.

What happened?

We both made choices.

We, uh, took partners we
thought were appropriate.

Are you saying that my
father never loved my mother?

No. No, no, not at all.

I'm saying... your father
and I shared something

throughout our entire life.

We knew that even after we wed others,

but we conducted ourselves properly.

- He never mentioned you.
- No, of course not.

Our love was a secret.

And eternal.

Not a day of my life went by
when I did not think of him.

And he, you?

I imagine so.

You sought him out when
your husband passed?

I did.

- And then he got ill.
- The disease

got progressively worse.

First it was... his voice,

and then his breathing.

He was being consumed.

But you had only just
found each other again.

Yes.

It was a hard decision to make.

But the disease had
started to claim his mind.

Lionel knew what to expect.

He was adamant. He did not
want that for the two of us.

My father wasn't strong
enough to take his own life,

so he asked for your help.

Mrs. Hastings would find
him after her holiday.

Dr. Bradley would rule
the death a heart failure.

And the cremation would
destroy all evidence.

He waited for you.

He so wanted to see you.

Do you know what he wanted to ask me?

I think he...

wanted you to be the one.

The one?

The one to help him die.

Not a single one of our
suspects could have done it.

- Well, sir, somebody did it. Perhaps if we just...
- Crabtree, Crabtree.

Enough. We'll just have to
wait till Murdoch gets back.

Seems a shame, sir. We were so close.

It was the janitor.

The bloody janitor!

Sir, his shift was

from 11pm to 11am the night of the murder.

He was there the whole
time. It was the janitor.

That's our man!

How did you solve it, Carver?
None of the brains in the club

- could do it. Who helped you?
- No one, sir.

I see the puzzle in the
morning when I arrive for work,

and I think on it while I do my chores.

When I think I got it,
I put it on the board.

How many of these have you solved?

Three.

That's all that's been up
since I started here last month.

- Am I in some sort of trouble?
- Some sort of trouble?

- You bloody murdered a man.
- What?

Hoyle figured out what you
were doing, so he had you fired.

Then you killed him.

No, sir! No. I've never killed anyone.

I am very sorry that Mr. Oliver is dead,

but I did not do it.

Damn it.

- I wish I didn't believe you.
- Sir, if Mr. Carver here

solved the puzzle but
didn't kill Hoyle, who did?

It was Arthur bloody Elliot.

There you are, Julia.

It's a shame you were late.

How were you going to phrase it?

What do you mean?

How could you possibly think
of asking me to end your life?

Well, if you had come, if we
had talked, you would know.

You can put reason above emotion.

How would you know that?

Because I've watched you and
everything that you've achieved.

Albeit from that distance that
you and I both seemed to need.

But I have watched you.
And what an extraordinary

woman you have become.

- All the more reason why...
- Let me finish.

I knew I could trust you.

I knew I could put my
life, my final moments,

in your careful hands.

That you would not fail me.

Darling, do not be sad.

You are, and you always have been,

my lovely daughter.

Daddy.

My lovely Julia.

You and Lionel Ogden.

Yes.

May I keep it?

Of course.

Mrs. Hill, if I may...

would you do it again?

He was suffering.

That's not exactly what I mean.

If you had your life to live over again,

would you make the same choice?

I married my husband because
it was the wise decision,

the sensible decision.

If I could do it over again,

I would take a chance on love.

Detective?

My investigation is finished, Mrs. Hill.

I'm very sorry for your loss.

Thank you.

Sam Carver solved the puzzles,
but you put your name to them.

Did Oliver find out? Is
that why you killed him?

Oliver never thought I was smart enough.

And that riled you.

Then he saw my signature
on the first solved puzzle.

The look of fury on his
face was sweet revenge.

Then he started watching your every move.

I suppose. He caught me in the act.

When he found out, he positively gloated.

Stealing, Arthur?

From a janitor, of all people.

Wait till the boys hear about this.

I hit him hard.

But that didn't shut him up.

So I rammed the snooker
ball into his mouth,

and that silenced him.

- Why lay the blame on Roger?
- Roger?

That puppy dog so anxious to be accepted?

I left Oliver's notebook
where he would find it.

Knowing that he couldn't stop himself
from claiming that he solved the puzzle.

The silly fool.

I'm very impressed, Mr.
Carver. I mean, you solved

several problems that
confounded the puzzlers.

You're clearly a very intellectual man.

I can't help wonder that maybe
there's a position out there

that would better utilize that cleverness.

No one pays for solving puzzles.

Good day, sir.

Dr. Grace.

Constable.

Uh, the final paperwork on Oliver Hoyle.

I heard the inspector solved the case.

He did, yes.

Well, I should get back to it, I suppose.

Of course. Be sure the detective
gets this upon his return.

I will.

- For his files.
- Yes, of course.

He was in love with
another woman. I never knew.

We don't contemplate our
parents keeping secrets.

How could he hide that
passion all those years?

It's extraordinary, don't you think?

They waited, Julia.

They waited to be together
until it was almost too late.

I don't want just a
few months of happiness;

I want a lifetime.

Ask me again, William.

Uh...

Julia Ogden, will you do me the honour...

of becoming my wife?

William Murdoch, will you do me the honour

of becoming my husband?

I will.

And I will.

Very much I will.

You off, sir?

I'm on my way, Crabtree.
Treating the missus to dinner.

Ah, celebrating closing the case, right?

Celebrating the new Thomas C. Brackenreid.

No more of this roughty-toughty
business from now on.

It's all about using the
stuff between your ears.

I'm starting by buying a book on puzzles.

Excellent idea, sir.

How hard can they bloody be, eh?

Goodnight, Crabtree.

Brackenreid.

What do you want?

Meet the brother.

Ooh!

Everyone! Everyone! Listen up!

Quiet, please. I have
an announcement to make.

Pay raises all around, lads!

Very good. Um...

Doctor Julia Ogden and I

intend to marry!

That's right, that's right.

It'll be very soon, and you're all invited!

- Certainly took long enough.
- Sir, congratulations.

- Thank you, George.
- It's wonderful.

- Well done, sir.
- Thank you, Henry.

- Detective!
- Jackson,

you missed the big announcement.
Detective, you're needed.

Sir.

- Oh, my god.
- Inspector.

Sir!

- Inspector?
- Sir!

Sir!

Next Monday...

I am so very sorry.

Who would do this?

Tracks leading away from the docks.

Let's see where they lead.

Box office receipts
have certainly benefited

from your new repertoire.

Murdoch Mysteries,

next Monday at 8:00 on CBC.

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