All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries (2008) - S03E10 - The Curse of Beaton Manor (1080p BluRay x265 Langbard)

Blast.

Godfrey!

Godfrey!

Very sorry, sir.
The power seems to be out.

Yes, that's evident.

Dreadful night.

Indeed.

That will be all, Godfrey.

Of course, sir.

Damn it.

Oh, it can't be.
Timothy?

Oh, dear God.
Please don't.

I'm sorry.
I'm so very sorry, Timothy.

Timothy!

William.

Hello.

I came to see
that you were all right.

The electricity is out
everywhere.

It's only darkness, William.

It's quite lovely, actually.

We never get to see the city
like this anymore.

How was your day?

Fine.

And?

It was fine.
And yours?

Also fine.

Sir.

Doctor.

Rotten old night out there.

The rain's got the sewer
backed up.

There's rats as big as pumpkins
roaming the street.

What brings you here, George?

Uh, sir, there's been
a suspicious death

at Beaten Manor.

Well, Chauncey Beaton's neck
was broken.

In two places it feels like.

It appears he fell
from that window.

Well, that would do it.

Was it accidental, then?

Or was it suicide?

Or was he pushed?

I'll tell you what killed him.
It was this house.

What do you mean, ma'am?

Claire.

I'll say it aloud.
What we've all said in whispers.

That house is cursed.

That house killed
Master Chauncey.

What do you mean
the house killed him, ma'am?

I mean it as I say it.

It is cursed by voodoo.

Bad magic.

Very bad.

That's enough, Claire.
Please go inside.

You'll have to excuse her.
She's very superstitious.

And you are?

William Godfrey.

The butler.
I found the body.

Mr. Godfrey put the call in
to us, sir.

Ah, yes.

You mentioned you thought
the death was suspicious.

What did you mean?

I don't know.

I thought I saw something.

It may have been
a trick of the mind.

What did you see?

As I was standing
over Master Chauncey's body,

I thought I saw someone
standing in that window.

Oh, my lord, sir.

He's still there!

George!

Detective Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

Identify yourself.

Ronald Beaten.

Brother of the deceased.

I take it he is... deceased.

I'm sorry for your loss,
Mr. Beaten,

but where were you
at the time of the incident?

Strange question.

I had assumed
Chauncey killed himself.

Why assume that?

Suicide runs in the family.

Please, sir.
Your whereabouts.

I was asleep in my room.

Can anyone vouch for this?

I didn't push my brother
out a window, Detective.

The exertion
would have killed me first.

How so?

I have a bad heart.

Two attacks already.

The doctors say the next
will be my last.

What do the, um, staff
say it was?

They believe
the house is cursed.

It's not the house.

This whole family is cursed.

Sir, we've had reports of --

Oh, look at that.

Uh, several witnesses report
hearing shouting

just before
the victim fell, sir.

Ah.

Well, that must have been
what awakened me.

George, gather all of the staff
and residents

in the drawing room.

Sir.

Who heard shouting

in the moments
before Chauncey Beaton fell?

And who was shouting?

Master Chauncey.

What was he saying?

He was shouting
Master Timothy's name.

That would be our half-brother.

And where is he?

In that jar on the mantel.

His ashes.

He killed himself last February.

Oh, yes. I believe
that was in the papers.

My condolences.

There are just two of us now.

- Yourself and...
- Byron.

My husband.

He should be home shortly.

Why would your brother Chauncey

be shouting
your dead brother's name?

Perhaps he felt guilty.

Guilty for what?

Byron, it's awful.

So it's true, then.
Chauncey's dead?

This is Detective Murdoch.

A detective?

I'm sorry to ask at this time,
sir,

but where were you
this evening at 8:00?

On my way to meet
a business acquaintance.

They can confirm this?

Actually, no.

He never arrived.

Not surprising
on a night like this.

You're not suggesting
that I had anything to do...

For God sakes, man,
it was a suicide.

Who told you that?

I just assumed.

It's the curse.

Who said that?

The next person to breathe
that word

will be on a boat back to Haiti.

Is that understood?

No more of this mumbo jumbo
about voodoo and ghosts.

If you'll excuse me,

I have to change
out of these damp clothes.

A word, Mr. Beaton.

George, I want statements
from everyone here, please.

Sir.

My apologies for that outburst,
Detective.

These people cling
to the same superstitions

their ancestors brought
from Africa.

It's a bloody disgrace.

Sir, why would you assume

that your brother
committed suicide?

Chauncey was a troubled soul.

Was his soul troubled

by the suicide
of your brother Timothy?

Chauncey was heard yelling
Timothy's name

shortly before he fell
to his death.

Ah, yes.

Chauncey never got over it.

None of us have.

My poor wife.

She found Timothy's body
in the pool, you know.

We were all devastated.

Did Chauncey feel guilt
over Timothy's death?

I suppose we all did.

Before Timothy did himself in,
he wrote letters to each of us

detailing the wrongs
we'd committed

against him and his mother.

Are these...

Death masks, yes.

A Beaton tradition.

Death becomes us, you might say.

I see.

And what of these wrongs
that Timothy wrote about?

Did you ever meet Timothy?

No.

This was his final portrait.

Yes, he was a mulatto.

After our mother died,

Father took up with a member
of the household staff.

Ah, and Timothy was the product
of that union.

My brothers and I
didn't take well

to having a brown bastard
sharing our name,

as you might imagine.

Why would I imagine that, sir?

We treated him rather badly.

His mother, too, I'm afraid.

And where is she?

Chanté died last year
of pneumonia.

Timothy blamed me for that.

Apparently, the doctor
I brought in was inadequate.

And what wrongs
had Chauncey committed?

They'd quarreled
the night before he died.

His last words to Timothy
were harsh.

I know Chauncey felt terrible
about it.

Enough for Chauncey
to take his own life?

Perhaps something about these
walls drives men to madness.

That's rubbish!

You're telling me
that this Chauncey fellow

calls his brother Timothy
a few names,

then feels so bad that he throws
himself out of a window?

Sir, Timothy Beaton
did kill himself.

Possibly as a result
of that quarrel.

Perhaps it was too much
for Chauncey to bear.

Six months later?

I understand regrets, Murdoch.

I've had a few myself, but...

I agree it seems
somewhat unlikely.

But Chauncey was heard calling
Timothy's name as he fell.

Perhaps he was announcing
his imminent arrival

in the afterlife.

I don't know, but perhaps
there is something

to this curse business.

Curse?

Yes, Beaton Manor
is said to be cursed.

Oh, well, that's it, then.
Good work, Crabtree.

A curse. Of course.
Bloody hell.

Clearly, we need to know more
about this family.

George, find out everything
you can about the Beatons.

Right away, sir.

And the curse as well.

But that's not to be your focus,
George.

Sir.

You're just encouraging him,
you know.

Superstition has been used to
cover up murder in the past.

Perhaps someone
is doing that now.

Chauncey Beaton's skull
was shattered in the fall,

and his neck was indeed broken.

He could have died on impact.

Could have?

It wasn't necessarily the fall
that killed him.

In the seconds before, he
suffered a massive heart attack.

But to fall out a window.

Surely, a heart attack
would have dropped him

right there on the floor.

Yes, unlikely he'd think
to step onto a window ledge.

Point taken.

Any idea what could cause
a heart attack

in a man barely 30 years of age?

A number of things, really.

Birth defect, weak arteries,
extreme shock.

Like an attack by an assailant
intent on murder.

Perhaps.

Did you know them at all?
The Beatons?

Not well.

I met Timothy on a number
of social occasions.

Sweet man.

But tormented, I sensed.

You're aware
he committed suicide.

Yes.

Do you have any idea why?

It was rumored
that the woman he loved

married one of his brothers.

Byron, I believe.

What have you learned, George?

Quite a lot, actually, sir.

Would you like
to ask me questions,

or shall I regale you?

I sense
you're in a regaling mood.

You would be correct, so...

The Beatons
are not actually Beatons.

Their original family name
was Bitten.

- French.
- Then Haitian.

They held large plantations
in what was then St. Dominique.

They fled during
the slave rebellion in 1791

but couldn't go back to France

because they were still
lopping off heads there,

so they came to Canada.

I understand they made
their fortune in rubber trees?

That's right, sir.

They purchased large holdings
in the Congo

just before the rubber boom.

Not so cursed after all.

Oh, sir,
I believe they're cursed.

Over the last century,
only a single Beaton man

has ever survived
past the age of 50.

Really?
How did they die?

Seven sudden deaths.
Probably heart attacks.

Five suicides
and three accidental deaths,

two of which
involved a horse...

or horses.

If that's not cursed,
I don't know what is.

I suspect this curse
is nothing more than bad luck

coupled with the melancholy
of having too much money

and too little purpose.

Who was the one lucky survivor?

Henry Beaton, the father
of the four brothers.

He died at the age of 60
three years ago from a...

Heart attack.

Most likely, sir.

Does it strike you as odd

that the brothers all lived
at Beaton Manor?

Odd indeed, sir.

Peculiar even.

What have we here?

I would have spoken to you
last night.

I meant to,

but after Master Byron's
outburst, I felt that...

Say what you came to say,
Mr. Godfrey.

Well, how does one say
such a thing

without being judged insane?

I promise no such judgment.

Over the last two weeks,

my niece Claire
and other members of my staff

have reported seeing
an apparition

wandering through the halls
of Beaton Manor.

A ghost?

I dismissed this, of course.

Until last night,
after you left,

I saw him myself.

It was the man I'd seen
in the tower window

just after
Master Chauncey died.

Did you recognize this man?

As God is my witness, sir,

it was Timothy Beaton.

Who here believes

they've seen the ghost
of Timothy Beaton?

No one?

You can all rest assured that
no matter what you say here,

your jobs are safe.

Isn't that right, Mr. Beaton?

Yes, of course.

So I'll ask again.

Who here has seen this ghost?

Last week in the east wing.

He had on the clothes
he was wearing

when they pulled him
from the pool.

We've heard footsteps, too.

But there's never anybody there.

This is absurd.

Ghosts don't exist.

How do you know that, Byron?

Don't souls arise
from their bodies?

They don't linger, Ronald.

Maybe some do.

The tormented souls
with unfinished business,

like vengeance for wrongs done.

You've been drinking.

With good reason.

Did we not deny Timothy
his blood right?

Did we not hound his mother
to an early grave?

Not in front of the staff.

Did you not steal
the only woman he ever loved

and drive him
to take his own life?

- How dare you?
- Gentlemen.

If I were Timothy,
I'd find my way back to us

if I had to pass through hell
to do it.

George, I want a record
of every sighting.

Who, what, where, and when.

Sir.

Mrs. Beaton.

Thank you.

I understand you were
once courted by Timothy.

Everything Ronald said is true.

Timothy killed himself
because of me.

You can't possibly know that.

No?

He wrote a letter the day
he died telling me as much.

I searched for him.

I was frantic.

Yes. Your husband
mentioned you found the body.

Timothy was at the bottom
of the courtyard pool.

He'd tied a sack of rocks
about his waist.

He'd had to smash through
the ice with a sledgehammer

to do it.

Mrs. Beaton, if you don't mind,

who signed Timothy's
death certificate?

Dr. Gladsford?

He's highly reputable, William.

I was just wondering

if he may have been hasty
in his conclusions.

You think Timothy Beaton
is still alive?

I'm asking if it's possible.

It would explain
why people keep seeing him.

Unless he really is a ghost.

Julia.

William.

I have Dr. Gladsford's report
here.

If you wouldn't mind.

Well, there were no vital signs.

No heartbeat or breathing.
His skin was cold to the touch.

These observations were taken
a full hour

after Timothy was pulled
from the water.

I wouldn't call this hasty.

So, the report is unassailable?

Given these facts, I would have
drawn the same conclusion.

Timothy Beaton is dead, William.

Whatever's stalking the halls
of the manor, it isn't him.

So, you're from Haiti, then?

No.

Master Timothy
used to take us there.

He said it was
our family's true home.

Family?

So, you and Timothy
were related?

Well, he was my cousin's son,
you know.

Her name was Chanté.

Ma'am, forgive me for asking,

but if the Beaton family

mistreated Timothy
and your cousin,

why did you stay on?

Well, despite everything,
they loved the manor house.

It's where they belonged.

It's where I belong.

So, someone's been impersonating
Timothy Beaton's ghost.

There's no other explanation,
sir.

Pardon me, sirs, but there is.

Perhaps it's time to consider
the unthinkable.

That Timothy Beaton's ghost
is wandering Beaton Manor.

I know how that sounds,

but what do we really know
about the afterlife?

People say there's a heaven,
but nobody's ever seen it.

People have seen ghosts
and not just at Beaton Manor.

My Aunt Primrose saw the ghost
of my Uncle Percy --

Not your bloody aunts again.

The constabulary will not go
chasing after goblins.

Not goblins, sir.

Goblins are small
gnomish creatures

that dwell deep within...

Whatever our beliefs
or disbeliefs,

something happened
at Beaton Manor.

Now, George, you've made a list
of the occurrences?

Sir.

Sightings in red.

Audible events, footsteps
and whatnot, marked in blue.

Each numbered
in chronological order,

beginning with November the 8th.

- This all started 10 days ago.
- Yes.

Always at night.

Usually between midnight
and 3:00 a.m.

Nine incidents.

That's one per night.

Right.

We're going to be spending
the night at the manor.

Sir?

If there is a ghost, I want it
haunting my jail cell.

Understand?

You'll be fine, George.

I appreciate that you're
conducting an investigation,

Detective,

but the hour is late.

Both of the masters of the house
are asleep.

It's not our intention
to disturb them.

Very well, then.

I'll be
in the servants' quarters

if you require anything.

- Thank you.
- Good night.

Right, then, George.

You and Higgins
take the east wing.

The inspector and I
will take the west wing,

and we'll reconvene here
in the morning.

And keep the chat down.

We don't want to scare the ghost
away.

Oh, sir, I suspect the reverse
is more likely.

Just get to it, Crabtree.

He's still watching us.

Yes.

It's quite unnerving.

Six months
after my Uncle Percy died,

my Aunt Primrose awoke
to find him standing

at the foot of the bed.

Maybe she was still dreaming.

I once awoke to find a group
of dwarves staring down at me,

and I was terrified.

I must admit I find them
a bit unnerving myself.

Anyways, once I awoke fully,

I realized it was nothing
but piles of clothing

I'd strewn about.

I appreciate your point,
Higgins,

but my aunt wasn't dreaming.

When Uncle Percy turned around,

she saw a slit down
the middle of his jacket.

So?

So, it turns out my Uncle Percy
had put on a few pounds

before he died.

The undertaker had to cut
his jacket to fit him into it.

The thing is,
my aunt didn't know that.

Really?

God's truth.

That is spooky.

If you want spooky,

I've been reading
about this Haitian voodoo.

They have creatures
called zombies.

They're the living dead.

How can they be alive and dead?

What is it, sir?

I hear footsteps.

They're coming from up ahead.

Whoever it was must have gone
into one of these rooms.

Empty.

The same.

Bloody hell.
Maybe there is a ghost.

Sir, you don't really
believe that, do you?

I grew up
near the Yorkshire moors.

There's more ghosts than sheep.

I don't believe in ghosts
per se.

But who's to say what goes on?

The George Crabtree philosophy.

Very funny, Murdoch.

More footsteps, sir.

Coming from behind us.

Mr. Godfrey.

I'm going to bed shortly.

Is there anything you require?

No, thank you, Mr. Godfrey.

Good night.

- Did you just shiver?
- Yes.

They say that
when you shiver suddenly,

it means a ghost just passed
through you.

How do they know that?

I don't know.

Sounds speculative.

Perhaps.

What was that?

It came from...

This is the room
Chauncey Beaton fell from.

Who's there?

Show yourself!

It was just a cat, Crabtree.

In Haiti, black cats have
a certain dark magic about them.

Mojo, I believe it's called.

Mojo.

I don't like the sound of that.

Oh, that's nothing.

They have these dolls
that you stick pins into --

What's with these windows?

That's him.
That's the ghost.

There he goes.

Where'd he go?

Higgins,
fetch Detective Murdoch.

By myself, George?

Just go, Henry.

This ghost impersonator escaped
out the window, right, Murdoch?

Oh, sir, it's three stories
straight down.

A man doesn't simply disappear,
George.

Yes, but if it's not a man, sir.

Sirs, perhaps he went
into his death mask.

Perhaps you're right, Higgins.

Perhaps this is where
his soul resides.

Aah!

Bloody hell, it's back there.

You two stay here.

And keep an eye open.

Well?

He's dead, sir.

Oh, Murdoch.

What in God's name
is going on in this house?

How did this happen?
Right under our very noses?

Sir, we don't know
what happened.

For all we know, Ronald Beaton
died of natural causes.

You don't believe that, do you?

I can't say that I do, sir.

Right.

- Theories?
- Facts, sir.

Three of the four
Beaton brothers have died

within the last six months.

Two within the last three days.

All heirs to a fortune,

with just one brother
left standing.

Let's get Byron Beaton in.

Yes, sir.

Who is that, sir?

The Beaton family lawyer.

I thought I'd have a chat.

Ah, very good.

It's an unusual will

in that the estate
in its entirety

was passed down to all four sons

in the form of a joint tenancy.

What's that?

Well, Inspector,

it's a form of estate
common to married couples.

Upon the death of one,

it automatically passes
to the other.

Except in this case it passes
to the surviving brothers.

Very good.

Why would old man Beaton do it
like that?

Two reasons.

One is Beaton Manor itself.

The house and the property alone
are worth close to $60,000.

And that's not counting
the furnishings.

Right.

You can't divide up a property
like that.

Well, you could if you sold it,

but then it would
no longer be Beaton Manor,

would it, Inspector?

I suppose not, Mr. Aylmer.

What's the second reason?

There was a concern,

expressed by one of
the siblings,

that the youngest son,

the, um
the mulatto...

Timothy.

That Timothy intended
to bequeath his portion

to the household servants.

Which might be fine
if he were the last to survive,

but I trust you can see
the implications if he wasn't.

I'll do my best.

Which brother expressed
this concern?

The eldest, Byron.

You're aware
you stand to inherit

the entire Beaton fortune?

Of course I'm aware.
I'm not an idiot.

And wasn't it at your urging

that the estate be bequeathed
as a joint tenancy?

That was to prevent Timothy

from making a mockery
of the Beaton name.

He despised us.

Even his suicide
was an act of hatred.

I'm not convinced
it was a suicide.

I beg your pardon?

Anyone could have tied
the weights around his waist,

broken through the ice.

For all I know,
he was dead already.

You're suggesting
I killed Timothy?

No.

No, I'm suggesting you killed
all three of your brothers.

One by one.

I'm sorry.

This line of questioning
is too offensive to continue.

You have no alibi
for Chauncey's murder.

What about Ronald's death?

I was sleeping in my bed.

Ah.

I assume your wife
can attest to this?

No, I'm afraid I can't.

Last night,
we went to sleep together,

but he snores.

I asked him to sleep in
the guest room next to ours.

But I can assure you he was
in that room when Ronald died.

How can you be certain?

When I awoke
to Ronald's screams,

I went into the hall
to investigate.

Byron's door was still locked.

He didn't come out into the hall
as well?

He sleeps soundly.

But he did emerge
when Godfrey pounded on the door

to awaken him.

You say you awoke to the sound
of Ronald screaming.

That's right.

From the time
you heard the screams

to the time you exited
into the hall,

how much time had elapsed?

Two minutes at the most.

In two minutes,
Byron would have had to travel

from where he was
in the west wing

all the way to the room
that he slept in

on the second floor.

I've paced it out.

How long did it take you?

Just under a minute.

Our boy could have covered
that distance in half the time

if he'd put a bit of sauce
into it.

What if he encountered someone?

People heard Ronald scream.

They were coming
out of their rooms.

Yes, that is a problem.

But it is possible, in theory.

Sir, surely the ghost
was instrumental

in Mr. Beaton's death.

It was, George.

What?

But the ghost was Timothy.

I saw it.
It looked right at me.

I believe the ghost was Byron.

And I intend to demonstrate
how he did it.

William.

Come in, come in.

I see you've completed the mold.

Latex rubber, you say?

Yes.

Recent additives have made it
pliable and strong.

The process
would have been familiar

to a rubber magnate
like Byron Beaton.

Speaking of,

I've completed the postmortem
on young Ronald.

Heart attack?

Massive.
Almost goes without saying.

Very good, William.

You'll need to shade in
the eyebrows and so forth.

And color the skin.

Yes.

I'll need to cut holes
for the eyes and nostrils.

Wouldn't there be a gap

between the the mask
and the skin around the eyes?

I believe that Byron glued
the mask to his face.

Try it on.

Oh, I...

Well, all right.

Oh, William.
You are a sport.

By the way,
there's a lecture tonight

on the Michelson-Morley
experiment.

7:00.

Ah, yes, I'd love to, but...

Yes, I know.

It's last minute,
but I'll drop by anyway.

If you're free, we can go.

Murdoch, I've been thinking.

Oh, bloody hell!

Good God, man.

That's quite effective.

Is this how Byron did it, then?

Yes.

Well, the mask would need
a few more details,

but I believe so, yes.

All you have to do now
is find that mask.

Is this absolutely necessary?

I'm afraid it is, Mr. Godfrey.

Stop this.

Stop this now!

Not until we find
what we're looking for.

By whose authority?

We've found nothing, sir.

I'll have your badge, Murdoch.

Ah, yes.

Just give me a moment,
Mr. Beaton.

You've checked everywhere,
George?

Sir. Floor to ceiling.
Wall to wall.

Then it must be
behind the walls.

Behind, sir?

Think, George.

This so-called ghost
that you followed,

he didn't simply disappear.

He had to have some means
of escaping undetected.

Isn't that right, Mr. Beaton?

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

There are secret passageways
throughout this house,

are there not?

Fine.
George, please fetch a crowbar.

I won't have you destroying
my house!

Then tell me where the entrance
to the passageway is.

George, fetch the lanterns,
please.

After you, Mr. Godfrey.

Sir?

Go ahead.

Do these passageways go
throughout the whole house?

Yes.

Emery Beaton and his family
escaped with their lives

through secret passageways
built in the house

during the slave rebellions
in St. Dominique.

Advantageous to have
a ready escape

in the event your slaves
rise up against you.

Sir, this must be

where the footfalls you heard
last night came from.

Yes, George, I believe
we heard Byron on his way

to make his ghostly appearance
to you and Henry.

I'm sure you're mistaken, sir.

Careful, here.
Some of these boards are loose.

George.

Sir, that must be
the mask the killer used.

Yes, George.

Arrest Byron Beaton.

What are you thinking, sir?

This is a quality piece of work.

Very detailed.

They've even sewn the eyebrows.

What did they use for the eyes?
Stained glass?

Easier to see through,
I suppose.

Why not just cut out
the eye holes?

He would have needed glue, then,
to hold the mask on.

Not enough time, I suppose.

Well, congratulations, Murdoch.

Another one solved.

Perhaps.

"Perhaps"?

Perhaps, what does that mean?

Sir, this mask could hang
Byron Beaton.

Why did he not just throw it
in the fire

when he returned to his room?

He couldn't have expected us
to find it

in the secret passageway.

But, then, why appear to you
and Higgins as Timothy's ghost?

What was to be gained from that?

You're overthinking this,
Murdoch.

No, sir, I don't believe I am.

The killer wanted us to find
those passageways

and the mask.

Why?

Because it explains the
appearance of Timothy's ghost

and points the finger directly
at Byron as the killer.

A frame-up?

Possibly.

Then, if it wasn't Byron,
who else could it have been?

Who first introduced us
to the notion of a ghost?

Godfrey.

Yes, but he was disingenuous
about it,

even dismissing his niece Claire
for being superstitious.

But why?

What did he have
against the brothers?

Did you say
Claire was his niece?

Yes.

Claire told me that she
and Timothy's mother, Chanté,

were cousins.

They were?

But if they were cousins

and Claire is Godfrey's niece...

You're mad!

Why would I impersonate a ghost?

Vengeance, Mr. Godfrey.

Did you murder Chauncey Beaton?

Did you frighten
Ronald Beaton to death?

For what reason?

The Beatons
have always been good to me.

But they treated Timothy badly.

They treated his mother
even worse.

And what concern
would that be to me?

Because your daughter
was Timothy's mother,

which means Timothy
was your grandson.

Yes.

But I swear to you, I wasn't
the one wearing that mask.

I didn't kill anyone.

Mr. Godfrey.

I didn't kill anyone!

We encountered Godfrey here
at 1:14 a.m.,

and George and Henry
found the "ghost" here

at 1:20 a.m.

Which gave him six minutes to
change into Timothy's clothes

and scare the living bejesus
out of Crabtree and Higgins.

It's tight, Murdoch,
and he's not a young man.

No.

- Sirs.
- Yes, George.

Bad news, I'm afraid.

No less than three maids

swear they saw Godfrey
come out of his room

moments after Ronald's screams
were heard.

Out of his room.
You're sure?

Sir.

That's down
in the servants' quarters.

A man can't be in two places
at once, Murdoch.

So, what's your theory now?

Murdoch.

Murdoch!

Sir.

George, you said the ghost
looked directly at you?

That's right.

Gentlemen, I believe we have
to return to Beaton Manor.

And this is exactly
as you saw him.

Um... yes.

But?

Well, it's hard to explain, sir.

The ghost looked at me.

And these eyes stare
straight ahead.

Exactly.

Now you're saying that
the killer never wore a mask?

That's right, sir.

Because he couldn't look
Crabtree in the eye.

Sir, eye contact
is unmistakable.

It's powerful.

One can always tell
when someone is looking at them.

But only seeing eyes
are capable of this.

The eyes of the mask are dead.
They don't connect.

So Timothy did it?

Except that he's good and dead.

So it was either his ghost or
his twin, which he didn't have,

so we're back to the ghost.

Or perhaps it was his zombie.

It wasn't his bloody zombie
either.

What is a zombie anyway?

Sir, it's a man who wakes
from the dead

after a certain voodoo spell.

And did he reconstitute himself
from his burned ashes as well?

George, where did you learn
about these zombies?

From my reading, sir.

But the maid, Claire, knows more
about them than I do.

Readings.

I don't know much about it,
Mr. Murdoch.

I stay away
from that kind of magic.

Tell me what you do know,
Miss Claire.

The bokor, he's a magic man,
a sorcerer.

He rubs some kind of
magic powder into you,

and it kills you dead.

But you don't stay dead.

When you wake up, your soul
is gone and it stays gone.

That's all I know.

It's a shame
Master Timmy's dead.

He could have told you
everything.

He knew about this?

Every time we'd go to Haiti,

he'd go to bokors
to learn their secrets.

I think he wanted to be
a bokor himself.

Turn his brothers into zombies.

A powder?
What sort of powder?

All I know is that when taken
into the body,

the poison induces
a death-like trance

from which the person
eventually awakens.

And you think Timothy
could have taken this powder

to fake his own death?

Yes.
Do you think it's possible?

William, I haven't even had
my morning tea.

Yes, I'm aware of that, but --

Well, I suppose it's possible,
in theory.

The poison of the puffer fish
can paralyze the diaphragm

and slow the heart rate
to almost zero.

The puffer fish
is from the Caribbean.

I believe so.

Could this poison have
constituted the baker's powder?

I suppose it's possible.

But you can't just slow
the body's heart rate down

without consequences.

The brain requires
a constant flow of oxygen.

Or tea.

The maid also said
that when these zombies awoke,

their souls were gone.

Perhaps what they perceive
as a lack of a soul

is actually brain damage.

Could this be done
without suffering such damage?

Well, you'd have to slow
the body's metabolic function.

To do that, you'd need to cool
the body to just above freezing.

By plunging it into
a frozen pool in February?

Puffer fish?

There's a fish
that's actually called puffer?

Yes, sir.

The effects of the fish's poison
last approximately 12 hours.

Long enough to get
a declaration of death

and to make a death mask.

How did Timothy avoid
being cremated?

I suppose he snuck
out of the casket

when he was sure
no one was around.

Would have been some trick
to find a stiff for the coffin

before it went up in smoke.

Not for a man of means.

Cadavers have been bought
and sold in the past.

He couldn't have done
all this by himself.

No.
I believe he had an accomplice.

Who?

I've given this some thought,
sir.

Timothy may be alive,

but he can't very well collect
on his inheritance.

No, it all goes to Byron
at this point.

That's right.

And if Byron is to hang,

then who would collect
once he was dead?

- The wifey.
- That's right.

The same woman
who discovered Timothy's body.

The same woman who was
once courted by Timothy.

And that should be
the last of it.

Going on a trip, Mrs. Beaton?

Yes, Detective.

I'm going to Montreal for...

Well, I don't know how long.

I just know that if I stay
in this house another day,

I'll go mad.

Ah, yes.
I understand.

Bad memories.

My husband murdered
his own brothers.

What could make him do
such a thing?

There must be some kind of evil
in these walls.

Is this a permanent move, then?

I don't know.

And what of the estate?

Let the lawyers have it.

I want nothing to do with it.

As far as I'm concerned,
it's all cursed.

Good day, Detective.

Good day, Mrs. Beaton.

Sir, you're not just
going to let her leave.

She's not leaving us, George.

She's leading us.

I won't be long, Tom.

Hello.

- Good day, sir.
- How can I help you?

I'm looking for Rowena Beaton.
I'm told she's staying here.

Yes, but I didn't know
she was expecting visitors.

Let me call for her.

Rowena?

A gentleman is here to see you.

And your name, sir?

Aldington Bird.

Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bird.

The same.

And you are?

Detective William Murdoch...

...of the Toronto Constabulary.

Damn you.

It was all a sham, then?

Every caress,
every sigh of affection.

I'm afraid so.

Rowena was a willing pawn
in your brother's revenge.

Whatever compassion
she had for you

was subverted by her desire
to be with Timothy.

It was my fault.

Would it have been so hard
to treat him with respect?

Something to contemplate.

I actually felt triumphant
when I stole Rowena from him.

Or thought I had.

Shameful.
I've deserved this.

Begging your pardon, sir.
No one deserved this.

What would they have done
with the estate?

I suppose sell off Beaton Manor.

I should probably
sell it myself.

But who would want it?

The cursed house
of a cursed family.

An all-too-human curse.

No ghosts, no magic.

I suppose you're right.

Dwelling on it is not worth it.

Perhaps I'll open our doors
to the public.

People love these
so-called haunted houses.

An intriguing idea.

I might haunt it when I die.

Which, given my family history,
could be any day now.

That was a joke, Detective.

I'm glad to hear it.

Well...

...thank you for everything.

Good day, Mr. Beaton.

And superstition be damned.

Good luck.

Mr. Beaton?

Mr. Beaton?