The Murdoch Mysteries (2004) s03e12 Episode Script

Where are you taking me? Into the garden of earthly delights.
A change? What kind of change? I'm not sure exactly.
When HG Wells was visiting, he made a most peculiar comment.
He said he could tell there was something missing from my life and that he hoped I would find it.
That was rather presumptuous of him.
Yes, it was.
But the odd thing is, he was right.
You're so beautiful.
I dream about you every night.
Luther But I thought you loved your work.
I do.
And it goes without saying I enjoy working with you.
But I'm a doctor, William.
Not a detective.
You'd make a very good one.
I could put a word in with the superintendent.
I was the only woman attending medical school in Montreal.
It was very important to me that I succeed.
And you have.
I'm the only one from my class who's still cutting up cadavers.
The Hippocratic Oath was wasted on me.
What is it? What did I do? There are a hundred good doctors in this town.
But only one that can do what you do.
William Julia, you have a gift.
I thank you for that, but this is not just about my work.
What, then? WHISTLE PEEPS It appears we are needed again.
She hasn't been here long.
Fewer than 12 hours, I'd estimate.
She was strangled.
So it would appear.
What have you, George? The young lad and his lady friend found the body, sir.
What were they doing out here? Just having a stroll, they said.
No blood, no signs of a struggle.
Perhaps the body was moved here.
At least we know who she was.
"Miss Abigail Tunstall.
" And an address on Wellesley Street.
Oh, my.
According to Miss Tunstall's landlady, she was a kitchen hand.
Quite a wardrobe for a kitchen hand.
I'll say.
I can't imagine she was chopping cabbage or curdling cheese in these fineries.
How did she afford all this clothing, I wonder? Perhaps she was one of those women who can really spot a bargain.
My Aunt Primrose says any girl can dress like a lady if she has an eye for value.
Not according to Aunt Iris who has a rather low opinion of Aunt Primrose.
Called her a gluttonous imbecile once.
Not to her face.
George, how many aunts do you have? Well, let's see There's Aunt Amaryllis, Aunt Aster, Aunt Azalea, Aunt Begonia, Aunt Bryony.
Thank you, George.
Sir, that's just the As and Bs.
You can fill me in on the Cs through Z another time.
I'll look forward to it.
We'll have some tea.
Oh, my goodness.
Sir, I think you'll want to have a look at these.
Oh, my.
Rather saucy.
Indeed.
Looks like our girl was involved in some risky business.
Yes.
Perhaps that's why Miss Tunstall has turned up dead.
She died some time between midnight and 2am.
What can you tell me about her attacker? A man, judging by the size of the hand.
A good few inches taller than her, by the angle.
Any other injuries? Anyinterference? No sign of that.
Small comfort.
Such a beautiful girl.
Such a pity she ended up this way.
But not entirely unexpected.
William, just because she posed for titillating picture postcards.
It's a fact that women is this line of work invite unhealthy attention.
They "invite" it? Wellattract it.
Pornography sets men's minds todark urges.
From what you've described, the postcards in question are hardly pornographic.
Yes.
Well.
Perhaps they were more than enough for her killer.
PHONE RINGS You'll have my report by the end of the day.
Very good.
Dr Julia Ogden.
Dr Folwell.
Yes, I did receive your letter.
Tomorrow evening would be perfect.
I look forward to it.
OK, let's have those back.
Give me those.
Very funny.
Have some respect for the dead, for Pete's sake.
Oi! What's all the racket? Whatever it is you're up to, pack it in and get back to work.
Crabtree, I expect you to set a better example.
Me, sir? Murdoch.
You and Happy Dafty, my office.
Happy Dafty! What did you do? Well? What's this girl's story? Miss Tunstall worked in the kitchen at the King's Goose Tavern.
She finished her shift and left just after midnight.
Some bloke followed her out? No-one saw anything.
Any boyfriends? According to her workmates at the tavern, there was no-one special.
Let me see these.
Mm.
Nice.
Inspector, really.
I was referring to the quality of the work.
The composition is professional, and the paper stock is top notch.
The paper stock, sir.
First thing I noticed.
Judging by these, I'd suggest a visit to my old friend Marcus Evans.
That's perfect.
I thought I told you to shut this place down.
George, the girls.
Ladies.
A pleasure to see you again, Sergeant.
It's Inspector.
Moving up in the world, I see.
Unlike you, Evans, still crawling around in the gutter.
Let me see this camera.
Not my camera.
Shift, Evans.
It's evidence.
Evidence of what? My work is purely artistic.
Artistic! Tell that to the wives of the husbands who buy your trash.
And this time it's not just about saucy postcards.
Perhaps you recognise this woman.
Abigail.
What of her? She is one of your models, then.
Was.
She quit a while ago.
I haven't seen her since.
She's been found dead, Marcus.
Any theories? Oh, no.
Oh, poor Abby.
Mr Evans, do you know of anyone who would want to harm Miss Tunstall? No-one.
She was Everybody liked Abby.
Except whoever did her in.
I've got their names and addresses.
I'll get full statements once they're dressed.
Grab any negatives, Crabtree.
Please! I can't afford to replace those.
And the camera.
Not the camera, Inspector! It's my livelihood.
A young lady in your employ is dead.
I think it's time for a career change, sunshine.
Miss.
Is there something else, Miss? Mahoney.
Moira Mahoney.
Miss Mahoney.
You knew Abigail, didn't you? Yes.
Me and Abby were pals.
Then I'm terribly sorry for your loss.
Have you any idea who may have wanted to harm her? No, but thing is, when she quit here, she went on to something else.
Something else? There was an apartment.
Abby took men there.
She asked me if I wanted in on it.
I thought about it.
Miss Mahoney, it's all right.
I'm only interested in who may have wanted to harm Abigail.
I went along once, but changed my mind before I ever went inside.
It was it wasn't right.
Do you recall the address? It looks like a doxy's digs, sir.
Certainly does.
It would appear Miss Tunstall was involved in more than just cheeky pictures.
What did you find, George? Just a small kitchen and a water closet.
A darkroom.
Yes.
The question is, what's it doing in a doxy's apartment? A hobby, perhaps.
George, go turn on the light in the boudoir.
George, come and have a look at this.
Oh, my goodness.
A mirror you can see right through! It's a half-silvered mirror, George.
They're used in scientific experiments to split beams of light.
I suspect the use in this case is somewhat less scrupulous.
Sir, imagine we had one of these at the station, in the interview room.
We could observe suspects without them knowing we were there.
In this case, I believe the intention was to photograph people without their knowledge.
People in the bed.
Yes, George.
What have you there, sir? A hinge.
This is a camera? It's no bigger than a cigar box.
Remarkable, isn't it? It's the latest from the Eastman Kodak company, the "Pocket Kodak".
But the plates? How do they fit? Plates are a thing of the past.
George Eastman has introduced a new flexible film made of cellulose.
It stays INSIDE the camera.
What will they think of next? What are you doing? You've been at that half an hour.
I'm trying different combinations.
I thought you'd cracked it.
What's the bloody stethoscope for? You can hear the bolt pass over the first tumbler.
The other are trial and error, I'm afraid.
But that's 60 numbers.
Times another 60.
Each number has a leeway of one digit either side, making a total of 400 possible combinations, of which I've tried 76.
Murdoch, just drill the bloody thing.
Don't look so smug.
What's inside? Money.
Photographs.
Oh, my.
These make Evans' postcards look like invitations to a church social.
Look closer, sir.
Good God.
Alderman Merrick.
And Clarence Chislett, the District Court Justice.
I'll be years trying to forget these.
A record was kept of their names and addresses.
All important toffs.
Was it blackmail then? Such men would pay a lot of money to ensure these photographs were never seen.
It wouldn't take much for a beauty like Miss Tunstall to lure them to the apartment.
I wonder who took these photos.
This could be our answer now.
What have you, George? According to the landlord, the apartment was leased two months ago by a John Smith.
John Smith.
John Smith, George.
Clearly, that's not his real name.
Oh.
So how do we find him? George, this camera is brand new.
Telegraph the Eastman company.
Find out what stores in Toronto carry this model.
Sir, right away.
A dangerous game they were playing.
One of these "clients" could have done Miss Tunstall in.
Yes.
They would have had motive.
We'll interview all of them.
Tread carefully, Murdoch.
These "gentlemen" carry a lot of clout.
More of the same? No.
These photos were taken elsewhere.
Different vintage older.
Why yes, Mrs Pendrick.
Is this a social call? How wonderful.
Iced water.
Sir.
Sir, it's Sally Pendrick.
Detective Murdoch.
What fiendish crime of mine brings you here this time? Mr Pendrick, I apologise for my unannounced visit.
What do you think of my latest concept, Detective? Toronto of the future.
Millions of people in fully self-sufficient towers, connected by a vast grid of underground railways and elevated paths, fed by endless acres of rooftop farms.
Whole generations never need set a foot outside, working and playing in the sheltered security of their tower communities.
Fascinating.
Actually, I'm here to speak with your wife.
I see.
I trust you don't intend to accuse her of some dastardly deed.
Not at all.
I have an art question for her.
Ah.
One of those urgent art questions.
At any rate Wait here.
I will see if I can find her.
Art question.
A model of the solar system.
You and James, both fascinated by such things.
Mrs Pendrick.
To what do I owe the pleasure? Actually, it's imperative I speak to you in the utmost privacy.
Certainly.
What could possibly demand such intimacy? This.
Oh, my God.
It was found in the course of a murder investigation.
Murder? A young woman named Abigail Tunstall was found murdered yesterday.
Possibly by the man who took these photos.
I'm sorry, I must sit.
Of course.
I was young and without prospects.
He offered me money.
Good money.
Who did? His name was Colin McTavish.
He kept an apartment in Albany.
I was to bring men to the apartment and entice them to disrobe.
That was all.
I never prostituted myself.
You must believe me.
Did you know he was blackmailing the men in the photographs? I didn't want to know, but it doesn't surprise me.
He's been blackmailing me.
Apparently he saw my photo in the Gazette and remembered me.
He threatened to show the photos to James.
How much? So far, $1,500.
So far? He keeps coming back to the well every couple of months.
I'm due for another payment any day now.
Why didn't you come to me? I was ashamed, of course.
If only one could erase all the poor decisions of one's past.
Should this Colin McTavish contact you again I'll let you know immediately.
Detective Murdoch? I beg you not to mention this to James.
He knows nothing of my past.
It would devastate him.
Sir.
I spoke with a retailer who said he sold a black leather Pocket Kodak just three weeks ago.
Have we a name? The buyer was Mr McTavish.
First initial C.
Said he was a nature photographer.
That's one way of putting it, I suppose.
The initial C stands for Colin.
He hails from New York State.
He's blackmailing Mrs Pendrick, as well.
Quite the gold mine, there, sir.
Indeed.
And, if the past is any indication, he'll be back for more.
Then we'll have him.
Colin McTavish.
Do you think he's our killer, sir? He could be.
But so could any of the men in those photographs.
Have we identified them all? All except for this fellow, sir.
And his name wasn't on the list you found.
Keep looking, George.
Sir.
SHE HUMS You seem cheerful.
Do I? I must have forgotten myself.
I came to see if you would like to have a walk with me this evening.
We never got a chance to finish our conversation yesterday.
Yes, I would love to, truly, but I have an engagement.
Ah.
A meeting? A dinner, actually.
With a colleague.
A business dinner.
Perhaps another time, then.
Yes.
Yes, another time.
Sir.
What have you learned, George? All the men confirmed receiving copies of the photos in the mail.
With threats to make them public if monies weren't paid.
You're correct.
$50 in most cases, mailed to a post office box in town.
$50 is substantial, but hardly worth killing over.
I shouldn't think so.
Alibis? They all gave a complete account of their actions the day Miss Tunstall was murdered, including Judge Chislett, who in fact admitted to accosting Mr Evans at one point, thinking Evans was behind the blackmail note.
You found them to be truthful? I think so.
Embarrassed, mostly.
At any rate, I have Higgins confirming the alibis.
Discreetly, I hope.
Though one of these men could be our killer, the rest are simply victims of blackmail.
Of course, sir.
Excuse me, sir.
A Colin McTavish was released from New York State penitentiary last June.
They're sending his Bertillon measurements.
Thank you, Constable Worsley.
Well, that would explain Mr McTavish's sudden re-emergence.
"Dear Sally, I very much enjoyed our last meeting "and thought it was time we meet up again unless you'd prefer that your husband learn your true nature.
" As frightening as this is, Mrs Pendrick, it's precisely what I'd hoped for.
I want him apprehended as badly as you do.
Will I be required to testify? We have him on a number of other blackmail charges and he's our number one suspect in the murder of Miss Tunstall.
I see no reason for you to have to take the stand.
He's expecting you at eight, I suggest we leave at quarter to the hour.
So, I meet him, give him the money and leave.
We'll have other men posted nearby.
The moment you're clear, they'll move in.
And I'll be safe? McTavish has no reason to harm you, Sally.
It's clear he intends to continue demanding money.
I'll put an end to that tonight.
Dr Julia Ogden, I presume.
Why, yes.
I am Dr Martin Folwell.
I'm delighted to meet you in person.
Thank you.
Now, what shall you have? A glass of champagne, perhaps? Champagne? I'm endeavouring to woo you, Doctor Ogden.
You must allow me my methods.
We'll be late.
He'll wait.
Of all the outcomes I ever imagined for myself.
Here I am with my future dependent on the retrieval of a sordid photograph.
There's a certain dark humour in it.
Yes, I suppose.
I do wish that you hadn't learned of my indiscretions, Detective.
That's long in the past.
Yes.
But your respect means a great deal to me.
I just hope My respect for you is undiminished.
To your lovely city.
I do believe it is almost as attractive as Buffalo.
Yes, I've heard it said.
I'm most interested to hear more about your new hospital, of course.
The Children's Hospital of Buffalo.
A nurturing environment dedicated to our most vulnerable.
We have high hopes.
I imagine it would be quite effective to have a staff dedicated solely to the treatment of children.
That's it, precisely.
And, as I mentioned in my letter, such a progressive hospital would do well to have a female physician as our head of paediatric surgery.
Is that something you would consider? I used to sing.
Growing up in Montreal, my dream was to become a famous soloist.
I was quite good, actually.
Unfortunately my parents thought singing to be a sordid career choice, so I ran away to New York.
Took some voice lessons, I did a bit of performing.
You didn't pursue it? I ran out of money.
Living in New York City, I could barely feed myself.
Do you know what that's like, Detective? I can only imagine.
I was hungry, alone and terrified.
Easy prey for someone like Colin McTavish.
He He convinced me I could support my singing career if I moved to Albany to work for him.
I believed him.
How I regret that now.
That's close enough, driver! Whoa! The warehouse is just ahead.
Return immediately upon completing the transaction.
I have men posted all around the warehouse.
They won't make a move until you're safely out.
EXPLOSION Sally! Sally, can you hear me? Sally.
What happened? There was an explosion.
Are you all right? I think.
It's just a small cut.
Oh, God.
If we'd arrived just a moment earlier.
Indeed.
McTavish.
George, have the men take a look.
There might still be someone inside.
Sir.
Sally! Sally, you're hurt.
I'm fine.
What are you up to? Are you trying to get my wife killed? The more pertinent question, Mr Pendrick, is what are you doing here? Did you follow Sally? That's Mrs Pendrick to you, sir.
Her well-being is my concern.
Why exactly did you bring her here? That's police business.
Your "police business" risked my wife's life.
I'll be making that point to your superiors.
Sir, there's a man inside the building.
Dead or alive? Very much dead, sir.
It's Colin McTavish.
The Bertillon measurements leave no doubt.
Most of the blast wounds are on his right side.
This embedded debris.
Yes.
Flying shards of wood and metal and glass.
Beyond that The state of the body is making the post-mortem rather difficult.
That's unfortunate.
Any word on the cause of the explosion? The Fire Chief seems to think it was a gas leak.
You don't sound convinced.
It's the timing.
Just at the moment when Sally Pendrick was supposed to enter the building.
Yes.
How is she? She had quite a close call.
She's shaken, but she'll be fine.
You must be relieved.
Yes, quite.
Julia, are you concerned about the nature of my relationship with Mrs Pendrick? Is that the cause for this distance between us? No.
I promise you.
It has nothing to do with Sally Pendrick.
If the explosion was the result of a gas leak, as the Fire Chief suspects, something ignited a roomful of gas.
McTavish, lighting a cigar.
Or a lamp.
Either of those.
The resulting explosion would have sent debris outward in all directions.
Like this.
However, McTavish's injuries were concentrated to the right side of his body, as if the explosion came from one side of the room.
What would have caused that? I don't know.
I'd like to return to the warehouse and take another look.
If McTavish WAS murdered, it was likely by the same person who killed Abigail.
I'll wager it was one of their blackmail victims.
Except, sir, all those men have alibis for the night of Miss Tunstall's murder.
We must have missed something.
Have we interviewed them all? Everybody except for this chap we couldn't identify.
Right, George.
Enlarge that photograph.
And make copies.
Perhaps someone at another station can identify him.
Sir, will do.
What's all this? The remnants of a bomb, sir.
This pile of leavings? It was found at the blast site.
So no gas leak.
There was a ruptured gas line, but that was a result of the explosion, not the cause of it.
What do you plan on doing with all this? If I can determine how the bomb was made, it may lead us to the person who set it.
The answer lies in reconstructing the bomb.
You can do that? I can try.
KNOCK ON DOOR Dr Ogden is asking for you, sir.
It's quite curious, but there's no doubt about it.
Colin McTavish was dead before the explosion occurred.
There is no trace of searing or ash inside the lungs.
How long has he been dead? Not long.
Perhaps a day or two.
Why would anyone go to the trouble of blowing up a dead body? Why indeed? And the actual cause of death? I'm still trying to determine that.
Thank you, Doctor.
I must be off.
Sir.
I've enlarged the photograph.
Did you make copies? Not yet.
I thought you should have a look first.
Ah.
I still don't recognise him.
Not him, sir.
Her.
Look in the mirror.
That's not Abigail.
No.
It's Moira Mahoney.
The one who stayed to speak with us at Marcus Evans' studio.
Miss.
So it is.
She swore she was never in the apartment but there she is.
In the flesh, so to speak.
Well done, Crabtree.
Bring her in.
Immediately.
Will do.
DOORBELL RINGS Detective.
Mrs Pendrick.
Is your husband here? Why, no, he's at the office.
Good, good.
Sally, you have to leave here.
You're in danger.
What in the world are you talking about? That explosion wasn't a gas leak.
It was a bomb and I believe it was meant for you.
Me? How do you know? McTavish was already dead when the bomb went off.
Someone else lured you to the building, knowing you'd arrive just in time for it to explode.
My goodness.
But why leave here? I can think of only one person who might want both you and McTavish dead your husband.
Mr Pendrick must have found out about your involvement with McTavish.
He must have overheard us talking.
He was in another part of the house.
Perhaps he has hidden microphones.
I hardly think! How did he know you'd be at that warehouse? He followed us.
He said as much on the carriage ride home.
He was concerned about your attentions towards me.
I believe he lured you to that warehouse.
The note came from Colin.
Perhaps Mr Pendrick forged it.
Or he killed McTavish after he wrote it.
No.
That can't be.
I've always believed someone else was behind the Rembrandt theft.
Four people died in that incident, one of them shot by your husband.
James shot Luca Carducci to save your life.
Or to silence him.
And what about the Eugenics Society? What about it? James wasn't responsible for Linus Malling's death.
Still, his views on the matter are entirely sinister.
I believe your husband is a dangerous man.
I simply don't believe you.
James would never hurt me.
Mr Pendrick has the technical capability of building an explosive device.
So do many people.
What proof do you have? Hm? Sally, please for your own safety.
I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Detective.
And it's Mrs Pendrick.
But I'm quite serious.
Get out.
My office, George.
Sir, the Inspector is with Moira Mahoney in the interview room.
She's the one in the photo with the mystery man.
Really? Hm.
George.
These are the remnants of an exploded bomb.
It's my intention to put it back together.
GEORGE LAUGHS You're serious.
Yes.
But first I need you to clean the carbon residue off of every piece.
I don't know who that girl is.
Look in the mirror.
Look closer.
It was just the one time, I swear.
I'm not that kind of girl.
Really.
You didn't have any problem stripping down for Marcus Evans.
That was different.
I never had to go starkers and no-one ever touched me.
I'm not a doxy! I don't care if you're the whore of Babylon! I want to know everything you know about this operation, starting with him.
Who is he? I don't remember his name.
Rubbish! Abby knew him.
I didn't.
I've never seen him before or since.
How did you choose your marks? I didn't.
I told you.
I wanted no part of it.
How did Abigail Tunstall know which men to approach? She had Mr Evans' client list.
She stole it? She didn't have to steal it.
He gave it to her.
Is that so? Abby told him she wanted to know which men liked to buy the postcards of her.
So then Abigail contacted those men and invited them up to the apartment.
How many of these so-called gentlemen were on the list? A lot.
Abby was very popular.
I wasn't nearly so.
Evans just handed over the list, did he? Well, he didn't know what she wanted it for, did he? If he had known, he never would have agreed.
Why? Because of his abiding moral conscience? No.
Because it would have broken his heart.
He was crazy in love with her.
They were lovers? No.
She'd never let him.
If he'd known what she was doing it would have killed him.
I'm not convinced, sir.
I still think Pendrick planted the bomb in that warehouse.
You're always on about bloody Pendrick.
Sir, he had motive and he was in the vicinity of the warehouse when it exploded.
You're barking up the wrong tree, Murdoch.
Evans is our boy.
He was in love with Abigail Tunstall, who ditches him for McTavish, and just as a final kick in the old plums, she takes his client list.
Evans has motive to kill the both of them.
All right, let's go.
Hats and coats.
You never learn, do you? Just wait there.
It's time to come clean, Evans.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Abigail Tunstall and Colin McTavish.
You killed them.
I did not.
Your best girl.
Your little angel.
Want to see more? No.
There are dozens of them.
All of Abigail Tunstall and your ex-clients.
It must have driven you insane, knowing Abigail ditched you for that sort of business.
You've got it all wrong.
I didn't know why Abby left the studio.
The love of your life, and you didn't bother to find out why? She had them lined up around the block, Evans.
Making money hand over fist, her and McTavish, blackmailing your clients.
I don't know what you're talking about.
That's funny, because Judge Chislett told us he confronted you.
You knew, didn't you? What was it like knowing what the love of your life was doing with all these men? Any man, in fact, but you.
Stop it! Stop it! What were you doing between midnight and 2am on October 3rd? I don't remember.
It was three days ago! I'll tell you what you were doing.
You had your fat fingers around her pretty little neck.
You killed her, Evans.
And you killed McTavish! I didn't kill McTavish! I never even set eyes on him! I wish I had done him in, though.
Instead of Abigail? I didn't mean to.
I just wanted to show her how much she'd hurt me.
She was so heartless.
I lost my temper.
I remember grabbing her, shaking her.
The next thing I knew, she was dead.
What about Sally Pendrick? How does she figure into this? Sally who? Evans had a reason to kill Abigail and McTavish, but not Sally.
While Pendrick may have wanted both McTavish and Sally dead, but not Abigail Tunstall.
Thank you.
So we're dealing with two separate crimes.
One of which involves James Pendrick.
You know you're treading on dangerous ground.
Pendrick has already spoken to the Chief Constable about you.
If you're wrong I'm not wrong.
Not this time.
So what's the plan? At the moment I have a bomb to put back together.
Interesting.
So the explosive material was contained in this metal pipe.
That's right.
And this is the remains of a timing device which would have been attached to a blasting cap.
Which would ignite the explosives once the timer reached eight o'clock.
That's right.
But some of the pieces appear to be missing.
Unless they have been blown beyond recognition.
Sir, I think this piece is for your lot.
It's a cogwheel of some sort.
George, what country of origin would you say begins with the letters S-W? There are several I can think of, sir.
Swansea that's in England, I believe.
Sweden.
Swaziland, I think is a real place.
Switzerland, George.
Switzerland.
What are the Swiss famous for? Chocolate.
Cheese.
Cheese with holes in.
Clocks, George, the Swiss are famous for fine Swiss clocks.
Fine Swiss clocks require fine clock wheels.
George, I need you to run another errand for me.
Detective, please! James Pendrick, you are under arrest for the murder of Colin McTavish and for the attempted murder of your wife, Sally Pendrick.
Really, Detective, you've outdone yourself.
This is no laughing matter.
This is a clock wheel from the timing mechanism of the bomb that almost killed your wife.
Yes.
And? It is identical to the clock wheels used in this remarkable model that I was so impressed with months ago.
So it matches.
That means nothing.
These clock wheels are very rare and not readily available here.
I had my constable check with the manufacturer in Switzerland.
They confirmed a shipment of several of the clock wheels was sent to a Pendrick Steel Company in Toronto.
A record of the transactions is in the mail as we speak.
You're dead wrong, Detective.
I've heard that before, sir.
You'll regret this, Murdoch.
Darling, don't be concerned.
I'll be home before dinner.
MUSIC: Violin Concerto by Tchaikovsky Dr Folwell.
What a pleasure to see you again.
So this is your headquarters.
A rather dreary one, I'm afraid.
Tchaikovsky, is it not? Yes.
From his Opus 35.
Do I have good news to take back to my colleagues at the Children's Hospital? Oh, I really, so soon? I've not even had the chance to discuss this withmy family.
There's no immediate rush.
But I take it you're not saying no? I must admit I have been contemplating a change.
Yes.
A grim business, always dealing in death.
It can be, yes.
And the chance to heal children.
I look forward to your decision then, Doctor.
Good day.
I'm afraid I was rather high-handed earlier.
I apologise.
In spite of the circumstances, this must be very difficult for you.
It is difficult.
But, truly, it is I who should apologise.
I turned a blind eye to my husband's faults.
He is a very clever man.
Yes, and you were right about him all along, it seems.
I owe you my life.
I must confess to a concern.
How will you fare on your own? I've always come out all right.
One way or another.
Mrs Pendrick Sally.
Sally.
If you are ever in need of assistance, I would be honoured if you were to call on me.
Thank you, Detective.
I might just do that.