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- Who's getting married again? - Patrick Branch and Angela Hall.

He's high society and she's an artist's model.

- It's quite the scandal. - How's that?

Well, for the upper crust,

being an artist's model isn't exactly

a respectable profession.

Ah! And how about being a lawyer?

That's a scandal, as well.

For these people, the only respectable profession is being rich.

Where is everyone?

I told you, George. These folks are never on time.

Some call it being fashionably late.

What's fashionable about being late?

The later you are, the more people see your entrance.

Well, if more people can see you're late,

the more people know you're a horse's a...

Ah, George, Effie.

My dears.

Well, I suppose it's no surprise to see you here, Mr. Newsome.

George, please!

Are we not friends? Call me Rupert.

Where's Lucinda?

Ah, unfortunately, Lucinda does not care much

for Miss Angela Hall.

She refused to come.

I can understand why.

You don't even like the bri... why are we here?

- I like the gossip. - Honestly, Effie.

You never cease to surprise.

There's the groom now.

Ah, Mr. Patrick Branch,

my dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear friend!

Congratulations on a wondrous day.

Rupert. Effie.

So glad you could attend.

How's the import business?

Well, I've just bought an aeroplane,

if that answers your question.

How wonderful.

If you'll excuse me.

First the Fanshaws, now Patrick.

Ah!

I keep telling Lucinda we need an aero.

But will she listen? No, she will not, G.C.

No she will not!

Hello, ladies.

- Does it look all right? - Not a hair out of place. You're perfect.

- Thank you, Mother. - The time has come.

Meredith, fetch the veil.

Angela, come.

- Oh! - You must be overcome with happiness.

Oh.

- Oh! - Angela!

Are you all right?

Gracious!

I'm on... I'm on fire.

Oh!

I'm on...

- Are you all right? - Angela!

Angela!

What on earth was that?

Newsome, move!

- Move, man! - Rupert!

Toronto Constabulary!

Out of the way.

Oh, my God.

Ah, oh...

Help her!

Please help my daughter.

I'm sorry. It's too late.

- What? - The bride is dead.

Dead?

How did you know the bride, George?

She was a friend of Effie's, sir.

Well, actually not a friend, per se.

Ooh! Baccarat crystal. Exquisite.

Please put that down, Mr. Newsome.

Oh, and bourbon roses, in winter no less.

Mm! And do I detect polyanthas?

Mr. Newsome, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

This could be a crime scene.

G.C., are you going to let him speak to me like this?

There aren't any signs of external injuries.

I've been informed that she showed a loss of balance,

was in delirium,

and fell into a daze immediately before her death.

Those are highly unusual symptoms.

I'll have to take a closer look.

The morgue attendants should be here shortly.

Thank you, Miss Hart.

What do you have there, sir?

Hm.

I have no idea.

We did her hair,

put on face powder.

She even insisted on wearing a bit of colour on her lips,

which I thought was out of line for a wedding.

I just wanted her to look beautiful and respectable.

And after that?

She went into a fit of giggles.

She was delusional. She started rambling nonsense.

She lost her balance just walking across the room.

She seemed to think she was on fire.

And then she just died.

Pardon me. Sir?

Please excuse me a moment.

Here they come.

The bridesmaids.

They're the bridesmaids.

I'm the maid of honour, Rosalind Plum.

Were you all present when the bride... expired?

Yes, we were all there.

And the groom was, as well?

The groom can't see the bride before the wedding.

You don't think he had something to do with it, do you?

That's absurd.

He adored her and she him.

A whirlwind romance.

- My condolences. - He must be devastated.

It was hard to believe that anyone could tame him.

- Of course, Angela wasn't just anyone. - Shh.

Uh, why do you say that, Miss... ?

Webb, Eunice Webb.

Patrick Branch can have any woman he chooses.

No one ever thought he'd accept

- being tied down with a wife and family. - Hush.

Stop scandalmongering.

Thank you, ladies. Mr. Branch?

Detective Murdoch, Constable Crabtree, Toronto Constabulary.

- Our deepest condolences. - Obliged.

Um, were you with Miss Hall when she died?

No. I hadn't seen her since yesterday afternoon.

She wouldn't allow me to see her on our wedding day.

If you'll excuse me, I have some important things

to take care of at my office.

Sir,

he hardly seems concerned that his fiancée just died.

George, aside from her mother,

it doesn't seem as though anyone here

cared for the bride much at all.

William told me about the unusual symptoms, Miss Hart.

Oh, indeed. Giddiness, drowsiness,

laughing and incoherent speech, and then death.

All within a matter of five to ten minutes.

I admit, I have no idea as of yet what could have caused them.

Could it be ergot poisoning?

I suspected that.

But there are no signs of swelling or discoloration on her limbs.

It seems most likely it would be a poison of some kind.

I concur.

Well, you've only just begun your examination.

No reason to believe you need my assistance.

Why don't you assist me anyway?

I may not need the help, but I could always use the company.

Well, I haven't spent an afternoon

with a dead body in a while, if you don't mind the intrusion?

Ah, not at all.

If the bride was poisoned, we'll need to determine

what she ate or drank most recently.

I'll speak with the bridal party.

You ladies let me know what you find in your postmortem.

So, where should we start?

- What's this? - Perfume.

You shouldn't have.

It's not for you, you numpty. It's for Margaret!

And the best part is it was free.

I found it in a donation bin.

It looks like it came from a very expensive

department store, doesn't it?

It does look rather dear, sir.

I'm going to put it in some old wrapping paper

from Holt Renfrew and surprise the missus.

Sir, wait a minute, you're going to try to trick

your wife into thinking you bought her an expensive gift?

It's a gift, Crabtree.

What does it matter where it came from?

Well, why are you showing it to me?

Because you're going to wrap it.

You're always bragging about how talented you are

at wrapping Christmas presents.

It's a "gift," sir.

Gift. And not forgetting the pièce de résistance,

a lovely bit of...

- Ribbon. - For flair!

Did your daughter have any illnesses or medical conditions?

No. Angie was blessed with perfect health.

And did she eat or drink anything?

She had a breakfast of egg, toast and tea.

And who prepared this?

She and I together.

I take it you ate it, as well?

From the same skillet and the same teapot.

- No ill effects? - None.

After breakfast, we left for her big day in high spirits.

Did Miss Hall consume anything else

once she arrived at the church?

We had tea with sugar and milk.

Everyone did, except Audrey, who was late.

Was there anything else?

Meredith clinked her teaspoon so loud,

you would've thought she was competing with the church bells.

She is so tedious to be around.

Unfortunately, she's bosom friends with Angela since childhood.

I meant, was there anything else that Miss Hall ate or drank.

We also had blueberry scones with the tea.

We each took one from the basket.

I remember because Rosalind made me collect

the dirty dishes afterwards.

So, everyone had tea with milk and sugar,

and a blueberry scone,

except for Miss Spinner, who was late.

- Is that correct, Miss Cane? - That's right.

Who brought the blueberry scones?

I believe Eunice Webb did.

What happened after tea and scones?

That's when Audrey finally arrived.

She pretends to be a proper lady,

but her lack of punctuality bespeaks her character.

Uh, Miss Webb, if we could focus on Miss Hall.

I'm getting to that.

Audrey brought a bottle of champagne.

We each poured ourselves a modest glass.

And did Miss Hall drink some?

Oh, yes, Angela loves a good bubbly.

That's why I brought it.

I'm glad I wasn't too late to share it with her.

My maid did a poor job of pressing my dress this morning,

so I had to take the time to properly chide her before I left home.

And after the champagne?

Shortly after that,

Angela put on her dress.

That's when she started going mad and...

Well, you know the rest.

Congratulations. Wonderful.

Ah, Margaret, there you are. I've got you a gift.

Oh! You did?

Open it.

Ah, Mrs. Brackenreid, the gift wrapping.

Exquisite, is it not?

I don't know. Seems fine.

Sir.

Got a rash on your hand.

So do you.

Thomas!

This is beautiful!

Ah, George, sir. May I see?

Oh. That very much resembles the rash I noticed

on Mrs. Hart's hands at the morgue.

Have you touched anything unusual?

The perfume.

We both touched that perfume bottle.

I think this is crystal!

Sir, where did you get the perfume?

I found it in a donation bin. What does it matter?

What donation bin?

The one outside the Metropolitan United.

Where Angela Hall died.

I-If you both handled that perfume bottle

and Miss Hart handled the victim's body,

then perhaps...

That is the bride's perfume.

What are you getting at, Murdoch?

I-I don't precisely know, sir.

But if some poison is inside that perfume bottle,

it would explain these rashes.

Margaret! Stop!

What on earth?! What's the matter?

Mrs. Brackenreid, put that down.

Gently.

That perfume may have killed Angela Hall.

What do we do now?

We need to determine if this bottle of perfume

did, indeed, belong to Angela Hall,

and hopefully there isn't a batch of poisonous perfume

circulating around Toronto.

Sir, I don't understand how Miss Hall could die

if the Inspector and I just developed a bit of a rash.

Inhaling the aerosolized particles could lead to death.

You only had skin contact,

presumably from a minute amount of residue

remaining on the exterior of the bottle.

So, the same poison could have two different effects

depending on how one came into contact with it.

Precisely. It would help to determine

what poison is in there.

How is it

that a bottle of perfume you bought for me ended up poisoned?

I have no idea.

Well, I have half a mind to telephone Holt Renfrew.

Oh, bloody hell. I didn't get it from Holt's.

- Hm? - I got it out of a donation bin.

You got me secondhand perfume?

Well, there's nothing wrong with secondhand!

It's poison!

Margaret, I saw something I thought you'd like

and made a gift of it to ya.

Is that really such a bad thing?

I suppose not.

But you owe me a bottle of perfume.

A non-poisoned one!

We found fluid in the lungs

and a hemorrhage in the windpipe.

The buildup of fluid and blood would have led

to asphyxiation and death.

As I suspected.

The poison was inhaled, not ingested.

Precisely. We found nothing in the stomach contents.

So, if the poison were contained inside,

say, a perfume bottle?

That would do the trick.

Does the victim have any rash on her skin,

- like the one you have, Miss Hart? - No.

Well, a rash can take hours to develop.

She likely died before it appeared.

So, Miss Hart developed her rash

after touching the victim's body

that remained covered in perfume particles.

I believe we've recovered this perfume bottle.

I just need the two of you to determine what's inside.

Ladies, are you sure you're all right to handle the evidence?

I think we'll manage, Inspector,

but you may want to stay back.

Shall we?

Ready?

Oh!

It's all right. I've got it.

Angie had a fragrance

made specially for her wedding day. She and I...

Picked it up right before we came to church.

And is that perfume here now?

I found the box it came in.

Oh. But the perfume's not here.

Mrs. Hall, is it possible that this is the perfume bottle in question?

- It's purple. - Y... yeah. That's the one.

Mrs. Hall, this bottle was found in a donation bin just near here.

Do you have any idea how it may have gotten there?

I haven't got the faintest idea.

Did you see Miss Hall put the perfume on?

Yes. As soon as we got here,

before any of the bridesmaids arrived.

Had she ever used this perfume before?

No. Uh, the box even had a seal.

I saw her open it with my very own eyes.

Very good. Um...

Where did this perfume come from?

Mr. Trivelle.

The finest perfumery in Toronto.

Yes. I created this perfume for Miss Hall.

L'heure de l'Iris, or the hour of the Iris.

Mr. Trivelle, what was the nature

of your relationship with Miss Hall?

I've read her name in newspapers,

but it was my first time meeting her.

I was honoured that she allowed me to create a scent just for her.

Hm.

What were the components you used to create this scent?

Mm, Detective,

- a nose never shares his recipes. - A nose?

An expert on creating exquisite

olfactory experiences, such as myself.

Well, Mr. Trivelle, it's possible

that this perfume was used to commit murder.

Good heavens!

That's impossible.

Gentlemen, step over to my organ.

- Organ? - Mm.

The organ is where I experiment with fragrance notes.

Just as musical notes can be layered into a chord,

in a fragrance, too, there are top notes,

heart notes and base notes.

A symphony of scents. My word.

Which notes did you use in the perfume in question?

I started with the base notes of cedarwood

and Haitian vetiver.

The middle notes were the oils of rose,

jasmine and ylang-ylang.

Then...

The most delicate of floral top notes,

oil of peony and oil of Iris,

all diluted in jojoba oil and distilled alcohol.

Right.

Does anyone else have access to these... notes?

No. Well, someone did tamper with this organ once.

Mr. Laurent, my former trainee, once sabotaged my work

after he departed my employ.

- Why would he do that? - He was full of contempt.

When he was trainee, he wanted to explore synthetic ingredients.

I said absolutely not.

My fragrances are a hundred percent natural.

That's why I asked him to leave.

Ah. So, are you saying it's possible

that he broke in here and...

- Poisoned this perfume? - Mm.

Custom fragrances are locked in this cabinet,

so that customers in the shop don't pick them up.

I hang the key to the cabinet behind that clock.

Only someone who worked here would know that.

He is the only person who could possibly have done it

and I know where you might find him.

Trivelle is a terrible liar

and a dirty stick-in-the-mud.

He told us you disagreed with how he ran his business.

Did you not sabotage him?

Well, having a disagreement is not a crime.

Mr. Laurent, this is a murder investigation.

As a former trainee of his, you had unique knowledge

of his premises and therefore could have snuck in

and poisoned one of his perfume bottles.

I suggest you start being truthful.

All right, fine.

I slipped some fish juice into Mr. Trivelle's scents.

You also slipped a poison

into a custom fragrance intended for Miss Angela Hall.

Never! I'd never use poison. Why would I?

To frame Mr. Trivelle.

The scandal would have ruined his business.

When was this supposedly done?

Sometime between Friday evening and this morning.

Well, that's easy then. I was in Hamilton

visiting my sister until just this afternoon.

Fine.

Sir,

if he's telling the truth,

that means Mrs. Hall lied to us.

She said nobody but her daughter touched the perfume

after it was picked up from Trivelle's.

George.

Sir, breathe through your mouth.

I need you to do something for me.

Now, for the fun part.

The trouble may be isolating the poison itself.

A few of the perfume ingredients

- may interfere with the process. - Doctor Ogden?

Miss Hart?

Whoa!

George, wh... what are you doing?

It's me, George.

I have to collect the...

I'm sorry to interrupt your work,

I need to collect some fingermarks.

And I, uh...

Well, I didn't know you had this.

Ah, Detective!

Sir, I found four different fingermarks on the bottle of perfume.

I've identified three of them as the victim,

the inspector and myself.

And the bride's mother?

No, sir. I can't say who the fourth person was, but it was not her.

The bridesmaids all expressed rather disagreeable sentiments

after the bride's death.

But the perfume was applied before they all arrived.

Unless, sir, after they arrived,

one of the bridesmaids poisoned the perfume bottle

and then the bride,

this time unseen by the mother,

added another spritz.

- Bring in the bridal party, George. - Sir.

I don't see why all this is necessary.

If someone killed Angela, it's clearly Meredith Cane.

Why do you say that?

She's not like us. She's poor.

So, that makes her a killer?

I don't know. Who's to say?

Angela should've dropped her a long time ago.

She smells of rubber.

- I beg your pardon? - She works.

At the Billings & Brothers rubber factory.

I'm telling you, if it's any of us, it's Meredith.

Right.

Angela was my best friend.

Even Audrey Spinner has to admit that.

I have to admit, poverty seems an unlikely motive for murder.

Confidentially speaking,

I think it's Eunice you're after.

She's always eyeing Angie's couture dresses.

She probably wanted them for herself.

So, you think she would have killed her for dresses?

Is Miss Webb not wealthy enough

she could just buy her own?

Constable, these are exclusive dresses

handmade and sold in limited numbers

to select customers only, once per season.

Angela was a darling to couturiers.

Eunice?

Green with envy.

Oh, please. Those outdated dresses bore me.

If this really is foul play, it would be Rosalind.

- The maid of honour? - That's right.

Though Rosalind doesn't show it,

she's resentful that Angela was able to join

the ladies' tea & shopping club.

Angela is an artist's model, after all.

This is the first time hearing of any resentment.

Hm. She doesn't like to show it.

Even if they're friends, Rosalind has firm beliefs

that the club should be reserved for modest young ladies.

- Ah. - I couldn't care less

if Angela is in the club or not.

Very well, Miss Plum. Remove your gloves, please.

Well, this is preposterous.

I wish to go home.

Are you refusing to give me your fingermarks?

- Maybe I am. What of it? - Your friend was murdered.

The killer left their fingermarks on the poisoned bottle.

If you don't mind, Miss Plum, your gloves.

The rash.

It was you.

Miss Plum.

Your fingermarks are a match for those found

on the perfume bottle,

and you also have a rash,

which strongly indicates that you were in contact

- with the perfume bottle. - Fine. I took the stupid perfume.

You were getting rid of the murder weapon

that you used to kill Angela Hall.

Murder weapon?

Well, I had no idea it was a murder weapon.

I wanted to throw the perfume out

because Angela had insulted me.

Insulted you. How?

A month ago, I presented Angela a perfume

as a bridal shower gift.

Now, naturally, I expected her to wear it on her wedding day.

But when I saw she had the nerve to use a different perfume...

That insulted you?

Of course. So, I took her new perfume and I threw it away.

I snuck the bottle into my purse

sometime before she fell to the floor.

Later, it was too late to just put it back,

so I threw it into a bin next to the church.

You expect me to believe that you removed a murder weapon

from the scene of a crime by pure coincidence?

I am telling you the truth.

I had no idea that perfume was poison.

Isolating the poison poses quite a challenge.

What about salt effect distillation?

Dissolving salts would decrease the volatility of the water,

thus making it easier to separate.

Then we can use a solvent extraction method to separate the oils.

- Hexane. - Yes.

The oil and hexane will float on top and can be removed.

Then the hexane can be evaporated off at a low temperature.

Excellent plan, Miss Hart.

Is it true? You've arrested Rosalind Plum?

She's in the cells as we speak.

But did she actually do it?

Well, she admitted to taking the murder weapon and discarding it.

Really?

That snake. I didn't know she had it in her.

But why would she want to kill Angela Hall?

Well, she claims she didn't.

She claims she simply took the perfume out of spite

because the bride had ignored the perfume

that she'd given her as a bridal gift.

That sounds like Rosalind.

Does it?

- Yes, of course. - Thank you.

These women are nothing if not petty and entirely self-obsessed.

This behaviour is quite normal for them.

Really?

Because...

We didn't believe them.

But, if that's the case, then

maybe she didn't kill her friend.

"Friend."

These women are more enemies than friends.

Remarkable.

Friends and enemies at the same time.

"Frenemies."

Just like you and Rupert.

Yeah, Rupert and I are not friends.

Well, your not-friend came looking for you at the flat.

Well, I hope you told him I moved. To Tibet.

So, it's the maid of honour?

Yes. She's detained in our cells.

But, frankly, sir, I don't know

that there's enough evidence to secure a conviction.

Julia and Miss Hart have yet to prove that the poison

is in the perfume bottle, though it seems certain.

And, still, there is this.

What, that thing you found at the murder scene?

Ooh, Detective,

are you wearing a parfum?

Mr. Newsome. No, I'm not.

Oh come, come.

Oh, I'd know that scent anywhere.

You smell of absolute luxury, my good man.

I assure you, I have no time for perfumes.

Wha... ? But one's scent reflects one's mood.

Surely you enjoy Cologne on occasion?

I prefer to bathe.

Y-You wouldn't, by chance,

be smelling this, would you?

I can't smell a bloody thing.

Then there is something lacking

in your olfactory capabilities, Inspector,

unlike mine, which are finely attuned.

This is precisely what I mistook for a parfum.

I could smell it across the...

... Room.

- What is it? - I have no idea.

But my nose never lies. Give, give.

Yes. This is the signature note

of every Cologne I have purchased

from the Trivelle Perfumery.

Mr. Trivelle, do you recognize this?

Why, yes.

Where did you find it?

At the scene of Miss Hall's murder.

We believe it was left there by the killer.

- Meaning, that if this is yours... - No.

No, no, this isn't mine.

Mr. Trivelle, one of your clients has stated

that this is reminiscent of your signature scents.

Yes, that's what I'm saying.

I believe I know what it is.

But it's not mine.

However, allow me to be sure.

Ah, yes.

Indeed, it is ambergris.

Mm. Smells nice.

What is ambergris exactly?

Well, you can smell the earthy, sweet, musky odour

with tones of the sea, can't you?

That's ambergris.

A scent included in some of my finest fragrances.

This one, for instance.

Mm, that's lovely.

In fact, I might take a bottle of that for the missus.

Excellent selection.

So, you use ambergris in many of your fragrances,

but this is not yours.

I only purchase the extracted oil.

In fact, I don't think I've ever seen such a large raw block before.

One would find a block like this only on faraway shores

after it's been regurgitated from the intestine of the sperm whale.

It's whale vomit.

Don't tell Margaret.

Well, then,

who here in Toronto might have something

like this in their possession?

I can tell you precisely who.

There's only one company that imports the stuff.

Mr. Branch, could we have a word?

Yes?

Mr. Branch, do you recognize this?

I've been looking for that.

It's ambergris. My ambergris.

Yours?

Well, I-I lost a block just like it recently.

Where did you find it?

It was found at the scene of your fiancée's murder.

You are under arrest, Mr. Branch.

Please, come with us.

Can you tell us why this piece of ambergris

was found at the scene of your fiancée's murder?

You claim that you'd never been inside the dressing room.

Yet you admit that this belongs to you.

I had nothing to do with her death.

Yesterday, we held the wedding rehearsal at the church.

Afterwards,

Angela and I snuck into the dressing room and...

Engaged in amorous congress.

We undressed so quickly the ambergris

must have fallen out of my pocket.

I-I always keep a block with me

to demonstrate the quality to my clients.

If all that's true, then why lie?

There's already been talk of Angela's virtue

because she's an artist's model.

I didn't want to taint her name.

Having relations before marriage...

You returned to work a few short hours after her death.

You hardly seem to care about your fiancée at all.

I... I-I needed relief from

some of the wedding guests.

They-they seemed to require condolence more than I did,

so I retreated to my office.

I loved Angela more than anything, Detective.

If you want to hang me...

In this moment, I hardly care.

So, you've made an arrest?

Yes, but I have some questions about his motive.

Have you been successful in identifying the poison?

Uh, we've tested for several,

but everything's come back negative.

We have another six possibilities we'd like to test.

There's a problem.

We only have one single drop of the poison left.

It's enough for one more test.

So, you're saying you're going

to randomly choose one of the six remaining

- and hope that it turns up positive? - It's our only hope.

Miss Hart?

It's negative.

We've failed, Detective.

I'm not so sure you have.

You've narrowed it down

and you're certain that one of the remaining five is the poison?

Relatively certain, yes.

There's someone who may be able to help.

Uh, please put the stoppers back in the vials

and send them over to the station house.

But the poison is empty, William.

Residue may be enough.

Mr. Newsome, I don't know why

you insist on you and I being friends.

I simply don't understand.

You are friends with Henry Higgins.

I am friends with Henry Higgins.

After the transitive property, we should be friends.

And yet... and yet, you dislike me.

- Why? - Do you want an honest answer?

- Of course. - You are self-obsessed

and desperate for approval,

but only the approval of your fellow rich twits,

and all you talk about is nonsense,

like owning aeroplanes,

and you and I have nothing in common.

Oh.

I didn't expect your honesty to be so...

Honest.

Mr. Newsome!

We need a favour.

From moi?

Well, I am eager to help.

If asked by George.

Is this really necessary?

Yes.

Yes.

Will you help us, Mr. Newsome?

Mr. Newsome is my father's name, George.

My name is... ?

Rupert! Old chum, old friend,

will you please help us?

But of course.

Hm.

Excellent! Right this way, Mr. Newsome.

We believe this vial contains traces

of one of these five poisons.

To me, they smell of nothing.

My hope is that your nose

can be applied to scents

beyond those used in perfumes.

Y-You want me to smell poison.

Isn't that what killed Miss Hall?

Oh, oh, no. Miss Hall inhaled aerosolized particles,

which damaged the mucous membrane...

You can simply waft

the odour toward yourself, like so.

I don't want to die.

This isn't some trick to get me to die, is it?

No. That would be murder.

We're not trying to murder you.

Oh! All right.

Anything for a friend.

- Right. First, the poison in question. - Hm.

Vaguely sweet, yet acrid.

Very good. And now the others.

No.

Smells like feet.

Oh, perhaps.

Certainly similar.

And the next.

It's this one.

This scent is a match.

- Benzene? - Benzene.

- I'm not familiar with it. - Sir, I am.

Uh, from my days at the auto shop. Benzene...

We used to use it to degrease metal surfaces.

Benzene: An industrial cleaning agent.

Yes, precisely.

Had no idea it could be used as a poison.

How could anyone involved in this case come across benzene,

let alone discover its properties and use it to murder?

Well, there is one person associated with the case

who works in a factory, sir.

Billings & Brothers.

The childhood friend, Meredith Cane.

Miss Cane,

you killed your best friend

instead of being there for her.

My constables found this syringe

in the lining of your bridesmaid's dress.

You would be wise to confess.

Your sentence is obviously at the discretion of the judge,

but if you confess, show remorse,

it may go better for you.

I paid $75 for the bridesmaid's dress.

Angela didn't even ask me if I'd be able to afford it.

I found the money.

Then...

Then I made Angela pay.

You-you killed your best friend over a dress?

When Angie told me of her idea

for a custom perfume, I knew

I must take the opportunity.

I could steal high-concentration benzene from the factory.

Afterwards, talked her into spraying a fresh spritz.

Because I'd injected the benzene

straight into the tube of the pump,

she'd inhale most of it.

At the factory, I witnessed a worker

who died of benzene poisoning.

Wh... why did you kill her?

Angie and I were born in the same common neighbourhood.

We were bosom friends.

But as we grew older,

the world seemed to shower Angela in good fortune.

She met generous patrons.

I met no one but other wretched souls.

She climbed the social ladder, and I was stuck

molding rubber tires.

So that's why you killed her?

No, you don't understand. Even when invited to her circle,

the others made me feel unworthy.

Even Angela.

I began to think I was just...

She kept me around as a reminder

of how far she'd come.

You felt humiliated.

I'm not sorry I got caught.

Because what's the price for me to pay?

Just this...

Pathetic little life.

George.

You requested my presence?

Yes, I did.

I was wrong to say what I said.

You've proven yourself more than useful.

You mean we're friends?

Well, we are family, after all.

And I've got an excellent nickname for you:

The nose.

The nose?

I love that.

Ah! Inspector.

What's all this then?

Sir, Mr. Trivelle has put together

this gift of colognes for us.

I think he's grateful that we proved

that his perfume was not the cause of Miss Hall's death.

Hm.

Mm. Quite nice.

Smells like someone just chopped down a tree.

Yes, he thought that scent in particular

would befit a bunch of lads.

I prefer the subtler notes, myself.

I agree with you, friend.

It smells like sweat, sawdust...

And hard work.

There's nothing wrong with that.

I'd much rather smell like a lumberjack

than a bunch of lilies.

But, sir, lilies smell lovely.

I don't know why you'd want to douse yourself

with something that smells like a...

Like a... axe?

Each to their own, bugalugs.

But I have a feeling the missus is gonna love it.

Welcome home, William.

Julia.

Perfume?

Yes. I concocted it myself from Mr. Trivelle's inventory.

I guess I was inspired by this case.

I'm wearing some right now, actually.

You can smell it on my neck.

Oh, yes. It's very nice.

Well, I've heard that some perfume can make a man's heart race.

How do you figure it does that?

The way I think is

that at the end of the day, when a woman takes off all her clothes,

the fragrance is all that remains,

and so the scent?

That's like a preview of what's to come.

Hm.

I've never been much for previews.

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