Transcripts - Forever Dreaming

♪ I heard as soon as the jury read the verdict she launched herself headlong through the window.

I heard she went mad and att*cked everybody with an axe.

How did she get an axe into a courtroom?

She didn't att*ck anyone.

Annabella Maloney grabbed a fire axe to smash a window and escape.

- (TELEPHONE RINGING)

- Perhaps we should spend less time talking about Miss Maloney - and more time looking for her.

- Crabtree.

All transit points are covered, sir.

Thank you.

Annabella's been spotted on Bismarck St.

That's all the way up by Yonge and Bloor.

Well, she may have been trying to get to North Toronto Station.

If she did...

look.

This line goes right through Claremont.

- Her hometown.

- Hold it.

Nesbit Daniels' office is at Yonge and Bloor.

You think the lawyer's involved in this?

No stone unturned.

You two look into it.

Right.

This lock's been broken.

Someone's clearly been in here.

It looks as though she was trying to find something.

John, look at this.

The back door is open.

(DOG BARKING IN DISTANCE)

That's her!

She must have climbed over.

- I hear footsteps running south.

- We'll head off!

This way!

My truncheon.

John!

Coming!

Stop struggling!

Constable Brackenreid!

I hear you've caught a very big fish.

I'd simply forgotten my truncheon, sir.

Now now, no false modesty, Constable.

Young Brackenreid here noticed that his truncheon had fallen to the ground, which means the lid upon which he rested it must have moved.

Clever deduction.

It's a shame your father wasn't here to pat you on the back himself.

Inspector Brackenreid will hear all about this the moment he gets back.

Any idea when that may be?

- Last I heard, he was headed to New York.

- Oh...

Good for him.

Was anything found in Miss Maloney's possession?

Thirty-six dollars in cash.

Mostly twos and fours.

- Has the lawyer been contacted?

- Yes.

Mr.

Nesbit will be in shortly.

- Very good, John.

- Thank you, sir.

Do you think I'll get a chance to meet him?

Who?

The lawyer?

What do you want to meet him for?

I followed the trial.

I felt sorry for her.

John, she k*lled her mother with an axe.

Harriet Rawlins wasn't her mother.

Annabella was a home-child.

- So that makes it all right?

- She was beaten and tortured.

Her home-sister admitted as much.

The home-sister that Annabella then tried to m*rder?

Rosemary Rawlins was abusive as well.

That's what made it such a brilliant defense.

The victim was painted as a villain.

The villain painted as a victim.

- Annabella Cinderella.

- So you're a fan of the lawyer as well?

- He took her case for free.

- Nobody's motives are purely altruistic.

It's all in the service of his political aspirations.

He's running for Mayor, don't you know?

- Here he comes now.

- Mr.

Daniels.

- Detective Murdoch.

Thank you for coming in.

- Of course.

I'm aware how this might appear, but I want to assure you that I had nothing to do with her escape.

Then what was she doing in your office?

She knew that I kept a cashbox for out-of-pocket expenses.

She tore apart my office until she found it.

Any idea how much was taken?

- Thirty - six dollars.

That's the amount that was found on her.

I'll be sure that you get it back.

Her father was a thief.

The apple never falls far from the tree.

Still, you do your best.

Yeah.

Right this way.

Alright, alright.

- Hop on it, John.

- Me?

It's only fair that you see this through and deliver her to prison.

Thank you, sir.

I won't let you down.

Try to make Dunbarton by nightfall.

They have a good hotel for the price.

Sir.

I'll telegraph from Kingston.

The Police Investigative Handbook.

Yes.

Every Station House is to get them.

I suppose it can't hurt to be apprised of all the latest developments.

Indeed.

I've been very eager to read this.

Can I at least have a fork?

You may have a spoon.

I am handcuffed to the bedpost.

Oh, you think I'm going to s*ab you.

I believe the word is thank you.

I'm supposed to be grateful?

There's a lot you should be grateful for.

Are you pulling my leg?

I'm going to prison.

For life.

- You could be at the end of a rope.

- Ha!

You sound like my lawyer.

- The lawyer who took your case for free?

- The one who bollocked it.

Instead of proving my innocence, he tries to excuse my guilt.

- But you were guilty.

- Is that so?

- Were you there?

- No, but your sister was.

Rosemary is not my sister.

- She said she saw you k*ll your mother.

Was she lying?

- Yes.

No, she wasn't.

She walked into the room just as you plunged an axe into your mother's chest.

- She was not my mother!

- Then you chased poor Rosemary through the house, out the front door and down the lane.

And you probably would have axed her too if it wasn't for the neighbour who came out and wrested the w*apon from your grasp.

Or is he lying also?

Not to mention the evidence.

Your footprints in the blood.

Your fingermarks on the w*apon.

You were right to give me a spoon.

It's 10 o'clock.

- Did you get any sleep?

- A little.

Wake me at 2.

It's you.

- The one who hates me less.

- I don't hate you.

I feel sorry for you.

Not you too.

How did you become a home-child?

My father was a thief, my mother was a whore and I was a pickpocket.

How did you become a copper?

My father is a police inspector.

Not exactly fair, is it?

Right, I'll settle the bill.

You finish up here.

I need to use the privy.

- Again?

- It's a long ride.

This is where she b*rned you with cigarettes.

- Only when I made her mad.

- That's awful.

A lot of things are awful.

You're not, though.

We better...

we better hurry.

Let me know when you're done.

How do you know so much about my case?

I read about it in the paper.

I even went to watch on my lunch breaks.

You looked at me once.

You probably don't remember.

You smiled.

Are you done?

Annabella?

(KNOCKING)

I'm coming in.

Constable Crabtree!

Constable Crabtree!

- What's going on?

- She handcuffed me to the towel rack.

- She's got my key.

- How?

- She's a pickpocket!

- Unlock yourself.

Hurry!

Annabella!

God, I'm such a fool!

Detective Murdoch will k*ll me.

My father is going to find out, isn't he?

He certainly will if we don't catch her, which we certainly won't do standing around here.

- You believe we can catch her?

- Think.

Where has she gone?

I imagine she wants to get as far from us as she can.

- And how would she do that?

- Ride hard.

Horses tire.

Maybe she's going to hide until dark.

- Where's the nearest train station?

- Pickering is just over a mile away.

Right, so what would you do?

Would you...

ride hard or lay low or take a train?

Train.

Let's hurry.

It's ours, all right.

I recognize her.

Alright, well, let's go.

Sir, have you seen a young lady, freckles, blue dress?

She would have been here only ten minutes ago.

- Pretty?

- Yes, very.

She asked to buy a ticket on the train.

- Which train?

- Westbound.

You just missed her.

- What's the next westbound stop?

- Scarborough Junction.

John, I think we're going to have to alert the authorities.

- Do we have to?

- Ahem!

I don't think we can keep this a secret anymore.

- I don't think she's on that train.

- Where do you think she's gone?

Her hometown.

Look, it's only ten miles north.

Claremont?

Why would she go there?

Maybe she has a friend who will give her shelter.

Why was the horse tied up at the station?

Why didn't she give it a smack and send it running?

It's how we knew she'd been here.

Why did she ask the ticket man if she could buy a ticket on board?

You can always buy a ticket on board.

She has no money.

She wants us to think she's on the train.

Alright, here.

Take this to the nearest livery.

Get us two saddles and another horse.

Try not to lose that.

Sir, may I use your telephone?

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

- Station House Four.

- [Watts.] - Watts, I need you to do me a favour.

- What?

- [We've lost Annabella.] - How?

Never mind that.

I need you to go to the office of Nesbit Daniels [and find the names and addresses of anybody in Claremont] [Annabella might be possibly seeking shelter with.] And Detective...

if you can find a way to keeping this between us for now.

I understand.

Catching a k*ller is one thing.

- Losing a k*ller is...

- Have you read this?

[Goodbye.] - Not yet.

Why?

- It's...

it's unacceptable.

Nowhere in the entire book is there any mention of...

Unacceptable indeed.

Oof, I need to get some air.

Apparently, she's escaped.

Escaped?

Again?

When?

- About two hours ago.

- And she's going to Claremont?

We need the names of anyone she might be seeking shelter with.

If she's going to Claremont, it's not to seek assistance.

Then what?

The moment she was convicted, she swore to k*ll every person responsible.

- Like witnesses.

- Everybody.

Including me.

- Especially me.

- Who's everybody?

You'll need to get the complete file from the Crown Prosecutors.

I'll call the Claremont general store and see that people are warned.

Alright.

(SCOFFING)

You see what I'm saying.

It's positively antediluvian.

At best, it's a painful elaboration of the obvious.

Does it include a single technique developed in the past decade?

- I don't think it does!

- The identikit.

The tele facsimile.

Rontgen rays to peer inside of objects undetected.

Not a single mention of Landsteiner's blood groupings?

The very idea of employing scientific knowledge as an investigative tool...

entirely absent.

Did they even think to consult us?

(LAUGHING)

- I have to get back to work.

- Myself as well.

It's not as though they could have been entirely unaware of our work.

The Gazette regularly mentions techniques that you've developed.

And you're celebrated in your profession.

William.

Hardly celebrated.

You're often cited in medical journals.

- You check my citations?

- Of course I do.

I'm proud of you.

To think that public money is being wasted on this.

- Are you Constable Crabtree?

- Yes.

Did you get a message for me?

Oh, we got a message all right.

Are you the ones that let Annabella go?

We didn't let her go.

She escaped.

- And now she's out to k*ll us all.

- What?

- Who told you that?

- Her lawyer.

- It's what she told him, apparently.

- He called.

- I put the word out.

- I'm Annabella's neighbour, Edmund Mathers.

- The one who stopped her from k*lling her sister.

- Home-sister.

That's me.

You're Rosemary Rawlins.

This is my fiancé, Robert Duncan.

Alright, did Detective Watts leave a message for me?

Yes.

He said he would be on the 12:15 from Toronto.

What time does it arrive here?

Five past one.

- Detective Watts.

- Mr.

Daniels.

It appears we were on the same train.

Everyone is to be gathered at the general store, - which I believe is this way.

- Oh.

Why would Annabella want to k*ll you?

She hated me.

Why did she hate you?

I had nicer things.

I had a mother who wasn't a whore.

I got to run the store instead of working in the fields.

Who knows?

Maybe she was just hateful.

That's the problem with these home-children.

They're street urchins.

You can put 'em in a nice house, but you'll never wash the gutter off.

Though Lord knows Mother did try.

Your mother.

I heard she was...

abusive.

There wasn't one of them that didn't get what they deserved.

They should have been grateful.

Instead they stole what they could, and when they were caught they would run away and Mother would have to bring in more.

Criminals, the lot of them.

She was horrible.

Annabella?

No.

Her home-mother.

Annabella was no picnic, but Harriet Rawlins?

The things she did to those children would turn your stomach.

She b*rned Annabella with cigarettes.

She did that to all of them.

And worse.

Why didn't you report her?

Because she, um...

she knew my secrets.

Ah, Detective.

- Mr.

Daniels.

- Is everyone here?

- Everyone that we telegraphed about, yes.

- Good.

Lady and gentlemen, my name is Detective Watts of the Toronto Constabulary.

I trust you all know why you're here.

The danger Annabella poses to you all is speculative, but as they say, "Better sure than sorry." You all know me as Miss Maloney's attorney, but until she's caught I'll be assisting the police in any way I can.

If any of you know anything that might help us, don't keep it to yourselves.

Do you have a space where we could speak privately?

- Yes, you can use my storage room.

- Alright.

(SNAPPING FINGERS)

With me, Constables.

Thank you very much, Detective Watts.

For everything.

- You as well, Mr.

Daniels.

- And I'm terribly sorry about all of this.

Of course you're sorry.

It doesn't change anything, so don't waste the energy in saying it.

Does Detective Murdoch know?

No, he doesn't.

And that's not the question you should be asking right now.

- Sorry, I...

- Nope.

- What is?

- How do we find her?

On the train over, I went through the file from the Crown Prosecutor.

- There's one more person we should protect.

- Who's that?

The doctor who filed the death certificate and attended the case.

Dr.

Beattie was never called to testify.

He provided evidence that helped convict her.

- Good point.

Let's go.

- No.

You stay.

This is police business.

Alright.

I'm not saying she's innocent.

I just pointed out there are other people who may have wanted to k*ll her mother.

Which, if they did, would ipso facto make her innocent.

- Did she say she was innocent?

- She did, yes.

- T'was ever thus.

- (KNOCKING)

(KNOCKING)

Oh my God.

Still think she's so innocent?

- This is my fault.

- It's not your fault, John.

Losing the prisoner was your fault.

This is a merely a consequence.

One cannot be held accountable for every consequence, because the consequences of every action are infinite.

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

Your feelings are irrelevant.

It's simply the truth of it.

It does confirm our fears.

The girl's out for bloody revenge.

The choice of the axe was intentional.

She was clearly making a point.

She may be planning to visit all of her intended victims.

Head back to the store.

Find out where they live.

John and I will join you after we're done with the crime scene.

What should I do?

Well, this is a doctor's clinic.

Find a thermometer.

Found one.

Here, take this.

Keep it for evidence.

What is it?

- Very likely nothing of importance.

- Then why keep it?

I'll pretend you didn't say that.

Get a pen and paper.

Ambient temperature 76 degrees.

Time...

2:47.

He's lightly clothed.

Looks to be about...

160 pounds.

Oh, write that down?

Yes.

It affects the algor mortis.

Oh.

A corpse cools at a set rate according to variables such as weight, internal temperature and ambient temperature.

A formula determines the approximate time of death.

Why are we concerned about that?

Well, as there is no coroner available, it behooves us to do as best we can with what we have.

No, no, I mean, we already know who k*lled him and when she must have done it.

You do know our entire system of justice depends on evidence, not just casual suppositions of guilt?

- I suppose.

- You suppose?

I mean, yes, of course.

You're right.

For your breathtaking sloppiness in thinking, you get to take the internal temperature.

Not in the mouth.

Hello, I'm Mr.

Clements.

Detective William Murdoch.

- My wife, Dr.

Julia Ogden.

- Hello.

Your message was urgent.

Yes.

- You are the publisher of this book?

- I am.

We are.

- Who is the author?

- I don't know.

(SCOFFING)

You don't know?

We are a subsidiary.

Our parent company originally commissioned the book for the New York City Police.

Is there something wrong with the book?

This handbook should represent the latest - in investigative techniques, wouldn't you say?

- Of course.

- Well, it does not.

- No.

This is your urgent matter?

(LAUGHING)

Whew.

Here is a list of investigative tools and methods that should be included in any such handbook.

- It's by no means comprehensive.

- How do you know of these?

Detective Murdoch developed most of them himself.

Your book also lacks any forensic techniques which should work hand in glove in any police investigation.

This is a list of forensic techniques that should've been included.

- And these techniques are effective?

- (SCOFFING)

We've solved every crime we've ever investigated.

(CHUCKLING)

So if a handbook of these techniques were published, - it would represent a new standard.

- I should think so.

This would be unprecedented.

The subsidiary holding the rights to the standard.

We don't usually publish original material.

You must write it.

- What?

No, no.

- No.

We are not writers.

We could perhaps be...

- involved in...

- Consulting.

- Consulting.

- We can consult.

- Yes.

- This is an advance on royalties.

If this becomes the North American standard for police investigative manuals, multiply that by ten.

- Where is Mr.

Duncan?

- He's tending his store.

He took his r*fle.

We were sorry to hear about Dr.

Beattie.

Hm.

Robert says if he sees her, he's going to sh**t her on sight.

I'd advise against that.

Detective Watts.

The numbers we found in the doctor's pocket look like the numbers we put down for his algor mortis.

Hm!

- What does it mean?

- It means he'd recently attended a body of his own.

He was a doctor, after all.

I've visited each of the houses.

No sign she's been to any of them.

(g*nsh*t)

- There!

It's Annabella!

- Don't sh**t!

Dammit, man!

John.

Look.

- Blood.

- She was hit?

It would appear so.

Let's look for more.

Congratulations.

If you've hit her and she dies, it's m*rder.

- Bollocks.

- Not bollocks.

Where did you first see her?

She was in my store.

I came in from out back and she bolted.

Do you think she's hurt bad?

Not badly enough.

I can't find any more blood.

I'm worried for her.

Is that crazy?

It's not crazy, just stupid, John.

You don't think she would bury an axe in your chest if she had the chance?

Alright.

She could have gone in any direction.

We're not going to find her like this.

(SIGHING)

Well?

- She's wounded.

- How bad?

I can't say for sure, but she'll certainly be looking for a place to patch herself up.

Any house would have the means.

What do you think, Watts?

Is she out there playing knockyknockyninedoors?

I think more likely she'll go somewhere she knows.

- Is that the Crown's file?

- Yes.

Let me have a look.

I may spot something you've missed.

I saw that in your office.

It was on the desk.

Maybe she was looking at it.

Hm.

It's a copy of Dr.

Beattie's medical report from Harriet Rawlins m*rder scene.

There's his signature at the bottom.

Why would she look at that?

I would guess she wanted his address.

Everyone knows where the town doctor lives.

- John, read me the numbers we found on the doctor.

- Of course.


11:15.

- That's the time he took the reading.

- 4 over 20.

- That's April 20th, the date.

- One twenty five.

- Her weight.

- 73.2 and 91.6.

Those would be the ambient and internal temperatures.

- She was trying to prove her innocence.

- How so?

Those numbers give you the time of death, do they not?

You can work it out if you know what the formula is.

So maybe she has an alibi for when Harriet was actually k*lled.

Maybe she was hoping the doctor would do the calculation.

Why else would he have the numbers from Annabella's file in his pocket?

Yes, I see your point, but - why would she then k*ll the doctor?

- Maybe she didn't.

So who did?

Harriet Rawlins was dead four and a half hours at 11:15 PM.

That puts the time of death close to 6:45.

Rosemary claims she saw Annabella k*ll her at 9 o'clock.

She is innocent.

You're saying she was innocent?

That can't be.

You never thought to ask for the time of death?

There was no doubt of her guilt.

So much evidence compelled that conclusion, I focused on saving her from the noose.

Rosemary claims she saw Annabella k*ll her mother at 9:00 PM.

- Was she lying?

- But the neighbour corroborated her testimony.

- Is he lying?

- He only saw Annabella chasing Rosemary with the axe.

He didn't see the actual m*rder.

That doesn't make her innocent.

If she didn't k*ll her at 9, she could have k*lled her earlier.

I don't think so.

- What's your reasoning?

- The doctor was m*rder*d.

He didn't do the calculation yet, so she had no motive.

But the real k*ller did.

Rosemary says she witnessed the m*rder.

Hm.

- I'll talk to her first.

- May I join you?

I'd like to give her the cross-examination I should have in court.

You two talk to Robert Duncan.

Find out what Annabella was looking for in his store.

The two of us, writing a book!

- I can't argue with the logic of it.

- Neither can I.

A comprehensive manual of the techniques we've developed would be an invaluable contribution to crime detection.

But will you have the time?

You're a practicing surgeon, still overseeing the morgue.

I already make the time to spend with you.

We'll just put that time to better use.

Very efficient.

It's positively romantic.

I didn't lie.

I came home at 9 o'clock.

I went up to my mother's room to tell her I was home and I saw Annabella put an axe in her chest.

I saw it.

With my own eyes.

Why would I lie about that?

- Well, perhaps you k*lled her.

- My own mother?

- I loved her.

- Nevertheless, your mother was k*lled two hours before you came home.

So either you're lying or you're mistaken about what you saw.

She was standing over her.

She had the axe in her hands.

But you never saw her bring the axe down, did you?

Could Annabella in fact have been removing it from your mother's chest?

Then why did she chase after me?

Perhaps Annabella was trying to tell you the truth...

she'd only just come home herself and discovered your mother already dead.

She kept screaming for me to stop.

I thought she was trying to k*ll me, I really did.

If she's really innocent, I feel terrible.

Oh my God.

Robert sh*t her.

She was going through my ledger.

Why?

Damned if I know.

This is the way she left it.

- April 7th to the 21st.

- Harriet Rawlins was k*lled on the 20th.

Why would Annabella look at the day her mother was k*lled?

Did she buy something?

Is that her alibi?

Even if it is, it wouldn't hold up.

Her house is just a few minutes' walk from here.

Look.

This part has different handwriting.

Perhaps Annabella wasn't so much trying to prove an alibi.

She was pointing a finger at someone else.

This is my father's writing.

He mans the store when I'm not here.

Where were you?

I can't recall.

The last entry you wrote was for a jacket purchased by Edmund Mathers.

What time was that?

- How would I know that?

- Is Mr.

Mathers a farmer?

- No, he works at the mill.

- And what time does the mill close?

- Six o'clock.

- So, you wrote that and left the store sometime after 6.

Does that jog your memory?

Maybe this will ring a bell.

It was right around the time that Harriet Rawlins was k*lled.

You think I k*lled her.

- Why did you sh**t Annabella?

- She was getting away.

Or was she getting at the truth?

You've got this all wrong.

Convince me.

Stop lying.

Where were you at the time of the m*rder?

And don't say you don't recall.

You have to promise not to tell Rosemary.

It would be the end for us.

You were with another woman.

Yes.

Give me her name.

I'll be discreet.

Good luck finding her.

The other woman was Annabella.

If he's telling the truth, they both have alibis.

And we're back to where we started.

You mentioned others with motive to k*ll Harriet Rawlins?

I did?

Oh, right.

Well, he didn't actually say he wanted to k*ll her.

- It was more my speculation as...

- Who?

- Mr.

Mathers.

- Alright, let's go talk to him.

Mr.

Mathers.

Um, you said Harriet Rawlins knew your secrets.

And from that, you think I k*lled her?

She knew everyone's secrets.

It's how she got what she wanted.

What did she want?

You name it.

- Are you saying she extorted you?

- She extorted everyone.

Ask her.

She leaned on people for favours.

It was never about money.

Hm.

Miss Rawlins?

When we opened up her estate, we found a safety deposit box with a thousand dollars in an envelope.

Good Lord.

Where did the money come from?

- I have no idea.

- But you think it could've been the fruits of some kind of extortion?

- Possibly.

- Was there anything else in the box?

No.

Just some documents.

What kind of documents?

Home-children contracts, mostly.

I still keep them in a box above the pie safe.

John, why don't you escort Rosemary home - to retrieve the documents?

- Sir.

I must also take my leave.

In light of this new evidence, I must petition the courts to reopen her case.

Right.

Well, thank you for your assistance.

Thank you.

What are we playing?

They're right here.

I don't understand.

I kept them right here.

They've been b*rned.

Annabella?

Why would Annabella want to burn her home-child contract?

(GASPING)

- What is it?

- Blood.

- (THUD)

- Annabella?

She's trying to escape!

Annabella!

Annabella, stop!

- We know you're innocent!

- Liar!

She was dead when you found her.

That's why you went to the doctor.

To prove it and you did.

She was k*lled around 6:30.

You have an alibi for that time.

Mr.

Duncan told us.

Nobody believed me.

Not even my lawyer.

Well, we all believe you now.

Let's see that arm.

(WHIMPERING)

Why did you burn the home-child contracts?

Are you protecting someone?

Do you know who k*lled her?

I didn't burn anything.

Someone else did.

- Who?

- I don't know.

I was hiding.

They came into the house.

I smelled smoke and they left.

- How long ago?

- Just before you got here.

Rosemary, run to the store.

Tell Detective Watts and Constable Crabtree to meet me at the train station.

Hurry.

Why are we here, Constable?

Mr.

Daniels is our k*ller, sir.

He knew about the documents and left ahead of us to destroy them.

Ridiculous.

Why would I do such a thing?

- Yes.

Why, Constable?

- I don't know.

But you did.

And who have I supposedly k*lled?

Harriet Rawlins?

She was dead before I met her.

Dr.

Beattie was dead before I arrived.

Your Detective will attest to that.

Did you meet on the train or after you arrived?

After.

Go on.

- That's all I have.

- (TRAIN CONDUCTOR YELLING)

Well, that's my train.

It's been a nice chat.

Annabella, I'm happy to continue to represent you if you choose.

Roll up your sleeve.

I've got a train to catch, son.

Mr.

Daniels, roll up your sleeve, please.

Look, it's just like Annabella's.

You were one of Harriet Rawlins' home-children.

Odd that you never mentioned that.

- He didn't want anybody to know.

- Why?

No shame in being a home-child.

Unless, of course, you have political ambitions.

What were you trying to hide?

Were your parents criminals?

You may as well tell us.

It's all going to come out.

My father was a m*rder*r.

And that was the secret Harriet Rawlins was going to tell the world.

That money they found.

You paid her to keep her quiet.

But she wouldn't have stayed quiet, of course.

So you k*lled her.

And then Annabella came home at just the wrong time.

You became my lawyer just so you could see me convicted.

I should have let you hang.

- (GRUNTING)

- (MEN GASPING)

(GROANING)

Let's take that train ride, shall we?

(LAUGHING)

So what will you do now?

I'm going to Berlin.

A home-sister has offered to put me up until I get on my feet.

Oh.

Thank you.

If it wasn't for you, I'd be spending my life behind bars.

Constable Brackenreid.

You're wanted in the Station.

I saw you in the courtroom, by the way.

I smiled at you.

- I don't know if you remember.

- I remember.

Oh, uh, I don't know, fellows.

That's my dad's.

It's an established principle that whiskey belonging to a man belongs to his son.

Oh yes, says so in the bible.

Corinthians, I believe.

To Annabella.

May all criminals be as innocent.

And as pretty.

To Annabella.

(FOOTSTEPS)

I understand you lost your prisoner.

I did, sir.

But you're since recaptured her.

- That's right.

- And it turns out she was innocent.

You found all this out and caught the real k*ller.

But none of this would have happened if you hadn't lost her in the first place.

Well, I suppose that's true.

Well, Constable Brackenreid, that isn't generally how we carry out our work here.

But it seems all's well that ends well.

Good work, John.

Thank you, sir.

- Good night.

- Good night.

I've a toast to make.

- Go on.

- To my father.

May he never find out about this.

Cheers.

So, where would you like to begin?

- How about the title?

- Ah, yes.

Yes.

I was thinking...

Crime Detection: Reasoning and Methods.

That's rather dry.

It's what the book is about.

Yes, but there's no point writing a book if the readers are going to be asleep before they open it.

Well, what title would you suggest, then?

I'm not sure, but certainly not that one.

Criticism without solution is no answer.

Now William, if you want to become a writer, you're going to need to develop a thicker skin.

Fine.

How about a bit of alliteration?

Puzzles and Poisons: A Diagnosis of m*rder?

- Ooh, that's good!

- What?

I was joking.

Nonsense!

I'm writing it down.

Puzzles and Poisons...

What was it?

- A Diagnosis...

- A Diagnosis...

I suppose we'll need an introduction.

"Hello.

You have stumbled upon a m*rder." - No, William, that's nonsense.

- No.