08x05 - Murdoch Takes Manhattan

[bunniefuu]

Ah!!

And you say there's nothing wrong with it at all?

How should I know? I've never driven the thing.

It's a fine automobile, George. And the price...

(chuckling)

What do you think, Jackson?

You know what I think.

I already gave you my share, George.

We could own a motorcar, George.

And for only $50.

The price does actually seem rather low, ma'am.

Well, you can pay more if you like.

Makes no difference to me.

Are these yours?

George, why would a woman need driving gloves?

I don't know whose those are, but you can have them if you take the automobile. Do we have a deal?

(laughing)

Come on, Jackson.

(Honking)

(laughing)

Well, Doctor, what with Murdoch off gallivanting in New York, it appears it's just you and me.

I'm sure we can manage most ably, Inspector.

Looks like this poor bugger was worked over.

Strange. The body is cold but there is still a lifelike hue to the skin.

Run down by a motorcar, I imagine?

It certainly appears that way.

He must have hit our man and kept driving.

Except it seems that he left his automobile.

Must have gone off on foot.

A hit and walk, as it were.

Judging from the body's position, it's hard to tell whether the driver or pedestrian was at fault.

Of course it was the driver's fault.

These bloody devil wagons think they own the roads.

They're as bad as cyclists.

Surely not all automobile drivers behave that way.

What's wrong with a horse and carriage and a good Sunday constitutional?

I myself am fascinated by motorcars.

I hope to own one someday. Bloody hell!

First you want the vote and now you want to drive.

Women want all the privileges of being a man without any of the pain. Besides, Inspector... a woman driving an automobile?

I think they're dangerous enough already, thank you very much.

Automobiles, or women?

Inspector, this is unusual.

What is it, Doctor?

This tire tread here is different from the one that ran him over here.

Two treads?

I believe this man was run over by two different motorcars.

William... How luxurious!

A honeymoon demands luxury, Mrs. Murdoch.

Thank you.

I've got those.

Hello. Reservation for Murdoch, please.

Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch.

Actually, I am Mr. Murdoch, and this is...

Yes.

Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch.

I'm proud to be called Mrs. Murdoch.

For convenience sake.

Sir, I regret to inform you the room you booked is not available.

The honeymoon suite? But I reserved it.

Yes, sir.

We can offer you another room.

Are you saying I didn't reserve it?

I'm saying it is unavailable, sir.

Well, yes.

As it should be. To everyone else but me, who reserved it.

Please, whatever room you have will be lovely.

Very good.

The room is very nice.

Julia, this is our honeymoon. We're meant to be in the honeymoon suite.

Even a brick wall can be romantic, William.

Ahem!

Is there anything else you'll be needing, sir?

No, no, that'll be all, thank you. Here you are.

Sir? This, uh, this doesn't appear to be real money, sir.

Oh, right, it's Canadian money. We're from Toronto, Canada.

I'll get my money exchanged later today and be sure you get your gratuity.

William, I have some American currency.

Oh, no, no need.

It's all settled.

She said...

You know, it's all our money. We must get used to sharing in everything.

Yes, but Julia, this honeymoon is my gift to you.

Then I promise, no matter what the circumstance, not to tip a single bellboy.

Tell me what you saw right before you hit him.

I... I didn't see anything.

Bill, take your hat off.

You look a mess. Was he standing or was he lying down?

I don't know.

How'd you find me?

(Scoffing)

There are only a hundred automobiles in the whole city.

You left yours at the scene of the crime.

Crime?

No, I didn't do anything.

You ran him over.

I can't be blamed for something I did in a drunken stupor.

A man was k*lled. Someone's at fault.

Now, what I want to know is... whether he was standing at the side of the road when you hit him, or whether he was already lying down.

I'm sorry.

I can't remember.

(sighing)

Yep, she's a real beauty. The power of eight horses under there.

And the gold stripes match the oil lamps. Very sharp.

You bloody fools. Where'd you get this?

Sir, we got it this morning.

And as we have the day off, we're gonna take a little road trip.

Would you like to go for a ride, sir?

In that? With you lot?

Sir, are you sure you don't need me to stay at the Station?

I mean, the incident this morning and the Detective off in New York...

Crabtree, I'm a police inspector. I can handle a case on my own.

Just make sure you're back to work tomorrow morning, bright and early.

Sir.

Yes, sir.

That's it then, lads, the open road is ours.

There's only room for two up front, though.

Driver!

Beside driver!

Dicky seat again.

Crank her, Henry.

Hey, you gotta earn your keep. Start her up.

Jackson...

(honking)

Faster.

(honking and laughing)

Tonight, we'll dine at Delmonico's.

Assuming they honour that reservation.

But first...

(telephone ringing)

Hello?

[The bear will bleed.]

[The red arrow drops at noon.]

I'm sorry?

Hello? Who is this?

(Hanging up)

That was strange.

Who was it?

I don't know. A man.

He said, "The bear will bleed."

"The bear will bleed?" What else did he say?

"The bear will bleed. The red arrow drops at noon." Then he hung up.

Strange. No matter.

Clearly it was a message for someone else. Now, you and I have a date with the Museum of Natural History.

William!

Broken tibia on the left leg.

Significant abrasions on the right, possibly due to being dragged.

Numerous gashes including large wounds to the right arm, shoulder, and the head.

Meaning?

Other than the lifelike skin tone, everything is consistent with being run over. Twice.

So can you tell which motorcar hit him first?

No, but I can confirm that he was already dead as of sometime late last night.

So the driver from this morning isn't responsible.

Any idea who the dead man is?

I'm afraid not. But I did find these driving gloves. And he was wearing this pin.

Toronto Auto Club.

An auto enthusiast himself, it appears.

Take a right in here, Jackson.

Right? That takes us out of our way.

Well, we're on an adventure, just take a right.

Another one?

We're in no rush. Just cut right in here, Jackson.

There we go.

Here?

Pull it in there. Pull it in there.

Where are we going, George?

Right here, right here. Stop here. Stop here.

What are you two doing up here? Why are we stopping?

Yes, why are we stopping, George?

Lads, this is what having a motorcar is all about. (Honking)

Hey!

Mrs. Brooks.

George Crabtree?

Where did you find yourself an automobile?

This is my automobile.

Ahem!

Our motorcar.

Me and my chums chipped in and purchased it this morning.

A purchase like this hardly seems wise on a Constable's salary.

Three Constables' salaries.

Well, even so.

Isn't there a saying about fools and their money?

Well, it's a shame you find it so foolish, otherwise I should think I'd like to take you for a drive at some point.

Well, I have always wanted to go for a ride in a motorcar.

Maybe I could call around tomorrow?

All right then, yes.

Excellent! Alright, lads, on we go.

Ontario is ours for the discovering.

Press the pedal.

Here we are.

Press the gas.

Yup.

Put your back into it.

I'm trying!

I'm trying!

Good man, Henry.

Good man.

Huzzah!

Tally ho!

Oh! Oh!

No, no, here we are.

Aha!

Here we are.

I'm getting the hang of this.

Hey, why don't we switch seats?

I hate it back here!

Julia, really, I am so sorry.

It's fine, William.

How was I to know the museum would be closed today?

I had no idea it was an American holiday.

What on Earth is "Decoration Day"?

Some kind of memorial holiday, I believe.

We can have fun right here.

Why don't we open that bottle of champagne?

Oh, good idea. I'll get some ice and I'll meet you upstairs.

Or we could just have it sent up.

It'll be much faster if I get it.

(laughing)

Hello. Five, please.

Julia, what did the voice say on the telephone again?

Why?

I just saw two suspicious characters on the elevator on their way upstairs. They were armed.

How odd.

Good afternoon, gents.

Inspector Thomas Brackenreid of the Toronto Constabulary.

Why, Inspector, what a surprise to see you again.

Roger Newsome.

Oh right, the puzzler.

Taken a fancy to automobiles now, have you?

More than a fancy, Inspector.

I'm a charter member of our Auto Club. Please, let me introduce my dear, dear friends...

Frederick Fetherstonhaugh, charter member. This is Dr. Perry Doolittle.

Charter member.

And our gracious host, Manfred Larkin.

Provisional member.

Pleasure to meet you, Inspector.

Are you an auto enthusiast yourself?

No.

I'm here to find out if you can identify a man that was found on Winchester Street this morning.

Oh, no! No, no, no! Poor Diderik.

Diderik.

Dutch, was he?

Yes. Diderik Haan.

A dear, dear, dear friend.

One of our charter members, in fact.

Oh please, Roger.

You never cared for Diderik.

You ridiculed his "lack of manners" and his "ruddy face."

We had our differences, but he was a dear, dear, dear friend...

Gentlemen, gentlemen, please, let us remain civil.

Emotions run high upon hearing such awful news.

When did you last see Mr. Haan?

Last night.

All of us were here.

What was the occasion?

We were tuning Diderik's machine for our upcoming automobile rally.

Although why here instead of at my estate, I don't know.

Manfred doesn't even have a full garage.

I have plenty of tools in my carriage house.

And better scotch, Perry.

What time did Haan leave?

The usual... ten-thirty, ten-forty-five.

This tire mark.

Are you familiar with it?

Ha!

Do you find that photograph amusing, sir?

No.

I know that tread.

It belongs to a prototype from the Ransom Olds company.

A capital machine, only one in the city.

I tried to buy it myself, but I was outbid.

You see?

It was here last night.

Diderik Haan's pride and joy.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Haan.

Chief Inspector Thomas Brackenreid, Toronto Constabulary. I have news of your husband.

But first, I need to take a look at his automobile.

Oh, I sold it this morning.

Oh, I can't wait to see the look on his face when he finds out how little I got for it.

What's he done now? Found trouble with another two-bit hussy?

You sold his motorcar this morning?

Mm-hmm. To three Constables, in fact. (Laughing)

Bloody hell.

According to the window, Crabtree, Jackson and Higgins, are carousining in the automobie that ran over our victim.

They could afford an automobile?

That's not the point, Doctor.

That motorcar is essentially a m*rder w*apon.

Yes, but how much did they pay for it?

Does it matter? It's evidence.

Right. Of course, Inspector.

So, where's the automobile now?

Out in the middle of nowhere, I expect. They'd better bring it back in one piece, otherwise we'll have nothing to go on.

Why was the widow selling it?

Disposing of the evidence, perhaps?

According to Mrs. Haan, she had no idea her husband was dead until she heard it from me.

Then why sell his automobile?

He was caught out tomcatting one time too many.

This morning, he was gone but the motorcar was still there.

She believed he was with another woman, so she sold it to spite him.

Well, I admire her gumption.

But it does give her motive. The maid swears that she never left the house last night. Regardless, my gut tells me that she didn't do it.

Your gut?

Is that similar to women's intuition?

We have no scarcity of suspects.

That fancy damn Roger Newsome hated the man.

Haan seems to have made enemies of nearly all his friends over the years.

Because of all his philandering?

Philandering, back-stabbing, reckless business dealings... according to the widow, he's a right piece of work.

I need to take a good look at that automobile.

Really, though, you must know how much they paid for it?

Hi there. Frank Rivers.

I'm the detective here at the inn.

Detective William Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary. Please come in.

This is...

Dr. Julia Ogden.

Canada, uh? Gotta tell you, I love that Canada.

McGuire's. Am I right?

About what?

McGuire's beer, William.

Brewed in Toronto.

Damn right.

Stronger beer for a stronger people.

Well, I don't drink much beer.

Oh, neither do I! (Chuckling)

(all laughing)

So, Bill, why don't you tell me what's concerning you?

Actually my name is...

We had a phone call. Around two o'clock.

Was it threatening?

More strange than threatening.

A man's voice. Slightly muffled.

"The bear will bleed. The red arrow drops at noon."

Hmm. Well, I will talk to the girls down at the switch, and see if they recall putting that through. Was there anything else?

Actually, about an hour or so later, I saw two men in dark suits in the elevator. And I'm quite sure that they were armed.

(chuckling softly)

Well, I admire the police work there, Bill.

You see, I myself was with the New York Police Department for more than twenty years.

Now, if you two are willing to keep a secret, I can let you in on a little confidential information.

Of course.

We have the President of the United States arriving tomorrow.

President Roosevelt?

No wonder the suite wasn't available.

Two suites.

He's got the whole sixth floor.

A suite for him, and a suite for his security team.

The White House has a whole squad, just to protect him. Even when he's traveling.

Sending men in advance still seems excessive.

Well, after the assassination last year, it's better safe than sorry, I suppose.

You're damn right about that, Bill.

Well, thank you for setting our minds at ease.

This still doesn't explain the phone call.

Well, that's probably just a wrong number.

Thank you.

Jackson, do you suppose I could use the motorcar on my own tomorrow evening?

Does this have something to do with that young lady, George?

It's not like that.

I'm just taking her for a drive. I mean, who wouldn't want to go for a drive in an automo... bile.

(The engine stops.)

What was that? What's happening?

What's going on?

I don't know.

It could be out of gasoline.

It's not out of gasoline, Henry.

What's wrong with it, then?

I don't know.

Well, how do you know it's not out of gasoline then?

(Honking)

Constable Crabtree!

Come now, surely you remember me.

Roger Newsome! Of the Mimico Newsomes.

Oh, yes.

Mr. Newsome, of course.

Appears you gentlemen could use some help.

We can manage, thank you.

No, we can't. We are broken down, sir.

Hang a minute.

You gents bought this machine from Diderik Haan, did you?

From his wife, actually.

I'm sure we can lend a hand. I know Diderik's old girl well.

Almost as well as you know his old lady.

Just what are you insinuating?

Nothing. Nothing.

Diderik's wife is a friend, Roger. She deserves our compassion for having been stuck so long with that blasted fool.

Hey, Roger, please, we're all friends here.

How much did you three pay for this, anyway?

We may be Constables, but we are men of means.

I'm sure that you are.

I'm simply trying to make you an offer.

How much would you take for it?

It's not for sale.

We are roadsters, sir. We live for this automobile.

Every man has his price. Just name it.

Now, Freddie, that's enough.

It's terrific that police Constables can afford a motorcar.

The automobile is the great democratic instrument.

If every man has a motorcar, the streets will be overwhelmed.

Then we will build more streets, all interconnected with a single roadway that reaches from coast to coast.

Now that's an idea. What a journey that would be.

It would take forever.

What would you call it?

The "Transverse Continental Motorcar Thoroughfare."

It's a bit of a mouthful. Maybe just the Trans-Canada.

No, that's a stupid name, George.

Wouldn't you run out of gasoline?

When every man has a motorcar of his own, petrol stations will populate every city and town.

That's a fine vision, Perry, but I think we need to focus on getting city council to raise the speed limit.

Indeed, Manfred.

They say ten miles per hour is "scorching?"

I say not so.

There you go, Constables.

Give that a try.

Put your back into it.

Alright, alright.

Say, why don't you join us at our rally tomorrow?

We start at my estate, hit a few checkpoints on the way to Niagara, and double back.

Great fun.

That sounds wonderful, but we'll be unable to attend.

Not much of a machine, really.

And you know this belonged to a dead man.

So? We own it now.

Ah!

Just run over last night, and you three have already swooped in to claim his belongings.

Run over? Are you saying this automobile belonged to the man who was found on Winchester Street?

That's right.

We have to go back to the Station.

Now hold on... how much will it cost for me to buy this automobile?

It's not for sale, sir.

It's evidence.

What do you have, Doctor?

This wound on his head, Inspector.

It isn't consistent with the automobile-related injuries.

Someone hit him on the head?

With some kind of wooden object.

I found minute splinters in the wound.

Is that what k*lled him then?

In comparison to his other injuries, it is quite minor.

But I do not believe the road accident k*lled him either.

The damage to the internal organs was inflicted after the man was already dead.

Then what was it?

Remember I noted how lifelike the body appeared after death?

Well, I've attributed it in part to the redness of the blood.

Certain poisons, like cyanide, can result in bright red blood.

So you think he was poisoned.

Well, it would seem that way.

He was dead before he was run over.

Before both times he was run over.

Perhaps whoever k*lled him wanted it to look like a road accident.

He was bashed on the head, poisoned, and then maimed by his own motorcar.

Someone really wanted this poor bugger dead.

It seems it's time to retire to the bedroom, Detective.

Indeed it does, Doctor.

(loud thud)

(thud)

Dear God!

What was that?

Excuse me. Can I help you?

Yes, we'd like to go up to the next floor.

Oh no, sir, I'm afraid I can't allow that.

We heard a noise upstairs.

Someone may have had a terrible accident.

I can assure you, there's nobody on that floor. Both suites are vacant.

But we just heard a disturbance not two minutes ago.

No, sir. That's impossible.

Look, I understand your reluctance to say anything.

But we know about the President's visit.

Something happened up there, and I intend to investigate.

Sir.

I've spoken to the President's security.

Everything is under control.

Is this about the gratuity?

Please.

Return to your room.

I found no traces of cyanide, so I'm testing out other poisons.

What I'm looking for is something that would k*ll a rat, but also oxygenate its blood to make it appear bright red.

So, you k*lled all these rats with poison?

Oh no, no.

Some of them survived. I'll save them for my next experiment.

Oh, well.

Lucky them.

What I've learned so far is that carbon monoxide acts like oxygen in making the blood red.

But instead of giving the body oxygen, it inhibits the blood cells from carrying it.

Too much carbon monoxide would k*ll a rat or a man very quickly.

So you're saying that this carbon oxygen is what k*lled Diderik Haan?

Carbon monoxide, and yes.

Well, what is it? Where would someone get it?

It's a by-product created by combustion.

Any machine that runs on petrol would produce it.

Like a motorcar.

Indeed.

Sir, why would someone run over a man who was already dead?

To make it look like an accident.

Dried blood.

So if the automobile belonged to the dead man, who was driving?

One of his so-called friends from the Auto Club, I imagine.

He was last seen with one of them.

Sir, the very tall one, he was eager to buy the motorcar from us.

Perhaps he didn't want the Constabulary looking at it too closely.

Frederick Fetherstonhaugh.

Lawyer, I believe. Never trusted lawyers.

But then that Dr. Doolittle also mentioned some sort of friendship with the dead man's wife. Said he sympathized with her for having been married so long to a "blasted fool," as he put it.

Helping a friend get away from a bad marriage... that's a motive.

The widow also said something about Larkin owing Haan money.

Wouldn't somebody who owned an automobile be extremely wealthy?

Present company excluded, of course.

(laughing)

Larkin's a silk-stocking dandy.

You should see the size of his estate.

Sir... They're gone.

The gloves.

What gloves?

There was a pair of gloves in there when we bought the thing. Mrs. Haan didn't know who they belonged to.

It's unlikely they were the dead man's... he was wearing gloves when we found him.

Well, they probably belonged to whoever drove the car last. Whoever ran him over.

Then who could have taken them?

The only people who were close to this automobile besides myself and the lads were those chaps from the Auto Club.

So that lot comes across your lot. One of them sees the gloves, realizes that's evidence left behind.

Whoever it is snatches them back, thinking it's the last link between him and the m*rder.

So one of the men from the Auto Club is our k*ller.

I knew it from the second I laid eyes on those poncey twits.

Looks like you, Jackson, and Higgins are going to be attending that auto rally tomorrow, sunshine.

William?

What on earth are you doing?

Julia.

I have created an elongated circumscope.

Now, instead of merely peering around a corner and remaining unseen, this will allow us to see what's going on in a room a full storey above us.

I see. Where did you find those tubes?

Oh, uh... don't use the water closet. Now, if you could help me by opening this window, we'll see what we can find in the room above us.

Unfortunately, the field of vision will be quite small.

Refracting the light over such a distance will mean that the image will be tiny.

Oh, it's so big.

But it goes in quite easily.

And reaches right into that... perfect spot.

Is it working?

Nice and still.

Ah, yes...

I can see an overturned chair...

Some blueprints, possibly of the hotel lobby.

I imagine the presidential security team would need to study the floor plans of the hotel to ensure against surprises.

Anything else?

No.

Oh, wait.

I see a shoe.

Or at least I think it's a shoe.

Possibly on a man's foot, but I can't quite...

We need to see from a different angle.

I have an idea.

Constable!

Glad you could join us.

Looking forward to a speedy jaunt?

Mr. Newsome, where did you get those gloves?

Hmm?

Your gloves.

These? I bought them from my preferred glover.

I'm going to need you to accompany me to the station.

Excuse me? What is this poppycock?

You're under arrest, Mr. Newsome. On suspicion of m*rder.

So the fumes from a motorcar k*lled him.

Yes.

But for exhaust inhalation to cause death, the motorcar would need to be left running in a small space.

Why would anyone leave an automobile running?

They were in a hurry, perhaps. Many of those engines are quite difficult to turn over.

So our k*ller knocked Haan on the head and left him with the engine running in an automobile stable.

I believe they call them "garages."

"Garage"?

What kind of word is that?

French.

Slimey Frenchies, they're even naming our barns now?

They're bloody stables for bloody automobiles! Yes, very good.

Any of the auto stables I've seen would be too large and allow for too much airflow. It's more likely Mr. Haan and his motorcar were stowed in a small, enclosed structure... something big enough for an automobile, but not much larger.

I have plenty of tools in my carriage house.

Larkin's carriage house.

I need to get to that Auto Rally.

Auto Rally?

I should accompany you, Inspector.

In case there are any medical matters.

Grab your hat.

They're not my gloves. I was lying.

Please, I can't be arrested again. Do you have any idea of the condition of your cells?

Those gloves were in Diderik Haan's automobile.

I know.

I stole them, I admit it. I'll pay you back for them.

I think you stole them because you knew they were evidence.

Evidence?

I stole them because I liked them.

A man of your means, Mr. Newsome, stealing...

What's going on?

Mr. Larkin, I'm afraid I'm placing Mr. Newsome here under arrest.

No.

No, I can't let you do that.

Excuse me?

Get in the motorcar.

We're going for a ride, gentlemen.

After you.

I can't fit.

My shoulders are too wide.

I think I can fit.

Julia, are you sure? It's quite dark and dusty in there.

Dust? Oh my, how could I ever manage?

Oh! I've got it.

I can see... nothing, really. The floor.

Hold on, I can turn it.

Dear God!

He's dead.

What? Who?

I don't know. A large man. He's covered in blood.

One of the President's security men.

If they k*lled him, perhaps they're planning to assassinate the president.

"The bear will bleed." William, the telephone message!

"The red arrow drops at noon". "At noon."

It must be some kind of code for the assassination.

Well, if that's the case, the President is about to arrive.

He'll be walking straight into his death!

Jackson! Where's Larkin?

I don't know, sir.

Where's Crabtree?

There, sir!

Inspector!

Just keep driving!

Jackson. Come on, let's get after them! Higgins, stay there!

Hey, Inspector!

We're not going to catch them in that carriage!

Thank you. Jackson, get in the back!

But I...

You sure you can handle this thing?

There can't be much to it.

Aw... that's my car.

I'm afraid the elevator is currently closed to guests, sir.

I could take you to the service elevator if...

My God, man, this is an emergency!

I haven't got any American currency!

Please, hurry.

Right this way.

Julia!

Now just what is going on here, Manfred?

We're taking a little trip across the border. I have a safe house there from which I will be sending the ransom demand to your family.

You don't intend to kidnap me, do you?

I am kidnapping you, Roger. At this very moment.

Kidnapper. Kidnappee.

Innocent bystander.

Sorry about that, Constable.

But I've been working on this plan for months. I didn't let Diderik get in the way, and I'm certainly not gonna let you ruin this.

Rather fast, don't you think?

Constable Crabtree's life could be at stake.

Rather him than me.

There they are! We can catch them.

Go faster.

I'm trying.

I know how fast this motorcar can go.

The pedal is extended all the way, Mr. Larkin!

The pedal is pressed against the metal!

This bloody flivver won't go fast enough!

Language, Doctor.

We're carrying too much weight.

Jackson! You're slowing us down.

Uh, well...

Well, jump off, man!

Ah!

Ah! Ooh! That's more like it!

Sorry, sir, the service elevator can run a little slow sometimes.

We should have taken the stairs.

You're right.

Give it up, Manfred! You'll never get away with this!

Keep quiet, Roger!

Man alive! Don't sh**t, you maniac!

Stay down, Roger!

Steady on! Stop swerving, Constable!

I'm trying!

Get him, Constable! Yes! Pull the car over safely!

I'm in a very precarious position back here!

Sorry about this, Constable. You weren't supposed to be part of the plan.

Newsome. Help!

Sincerest apologies, Constable!

Larkin. You're under arrest.

George, are you all right?

Yes, I think I am.

Thank you, Emily.

Mr. President! No!

President Roosevelt!

No, wait!

Sir, I'm terribly sorry, I'm a police detective from Toronto, Canada and I believe these men are impostors attempting to assassinate you.

Dear God, man. Impostors? Ha, ha, ha!

I may have more men on my security team than I can count these days, but I'm quite sure that Williams and McDermid are on my side.

Sir... Mr. President, there is a dead man in this hotel, and we saw these men coming from that floor.

Dead, are they?

Both of them.

I suppose there was no other way.

There was a plot to do me harm.

My men discovered it and arrived last night to... take care of the problem.

Oh.

It appears we were a bit overzealous.

How very embarrassing.

I hope you can accept our apology.

Of course. Good day.

Good day.

I'm fine.

Let me check you...

I'm fine.

McGuire's, am I right?

- The red arrow drops at noon Julia.

There's a third man. The Detective from this hotel... he was in the room with those men. He knows their plans.

Plans for the assassination.

The red arrow drops at noon.

William!

Stop right there! Hands behind your back!

We got him, Mr. President!

Oh, my God...

You really have saved my life.

It's true, I'm broke.

Cleaned out.

I hoped to hold Roger for ransom and... start fresh.

What about Haan?

You k*lled him when no one would pay his ransom?

No.

No, he found out.

When he threatened to spoil my plan, I panicked and hit him with a piece of timber.

But that didn't k*ll him.

I never intended to k*ll him!

I locked him and his motorcar in the carriage house just in case any of the others came back.

Then I went inside to have a stiff drink and figure out what to do next.

And when you came back, he was dead.

I still don't understand what happened.

You left your motorcar running is what happened.

The carbon monoxide k*lled him.

The what?

Fumes from the exhaust. Deadly in the wrong circumstance.

How was I supposed to know the exhaust from his motorcar would k*ll him?

(chuckling softly) Well, you'll have plenty of time to read up on it in prison.

Oh, by the way... next time, you might want to think of taking a carriage.

These are for the detective.

Dr. Grace, I wanted to thank you again. You may have saved my life today.

Well, it's a good thing I'm a better driver than you.

Well, now, I was trying to get caught.

So you're saying you were holding back?

No. I'm just saying who knows if you would have caught me if I didn't wrestle the gunman and stopped the motorcar? (Laughing)

Well, perhaps you can take me for a drive in your new automobile sometime.

As a thank you for saving your life.

Of course. Any time.

I'm free this afternoon.

I can't this afternoon.

I have to pick up... an appointment.

I have an appointment.

Oh. I see.

Well, another time then.

Certainly, yes.

I can't thank you two enough.

I certainly didn't expect that from a former police officer.

He was only a hotel detective, wasn't he?

He was with the New York Police Department, or so he told us.

Ah. When I was Police Commissioner, I cleaned out a lot of bad apples, which made me a lot of enemies. He must be one of them.

I suppose. Well, glad to be of help.

You could in fact do me one more favour.

Of course, Mr. President.

Yes.

Keep this little incident to yourselves?

After what happened last year in Buffalo, well, news of another attempt on the life of a U.S. President might create unnecessary panic.

Yes, of course. You have our word.

I thank you once again.

Now, how is it that we're so lucky to have you two in New York City this weekend?

Actually, we're on our honeymoon.

Honeymoon?

But they've put me in the honeymoon suite.

This is not right.

Here, please.

Oh, we wouldn't dream of it.

Nonsense. You can. You will.

Absolutely not.

I'm the American President, my good man.

I am not accustomed to refusal.

We graciously accept.

Thank you, Mr. President.

A woman of beauty and sense.

You're a lucky man, Detective.

Well. It seems your plan for luxury may be coming together after all.

Saving the life of the President of the United States does have its perks.

(Laughing)

Good afternoon, Mrs. Brooks. Are you ready to be chauffeured about town in this fine automobile?

Indeed, I believe I am.

We can go anywhere you'd like this afternoon.

We could go to the country... and to the Scarborough Bluffs...

But who would see us way out there?

King Street it is.

(The engine stops.)

Oh... oh no.

It's... it's done this before.

I'd say I know how to fix it, but I don't know how to fix it.

It's alright. It's fine.

I'm sorry.

I fear our outing has ended rather quickly.

Well, why don't we take a walk down to the arcade?

I thought you wanted to go for a drive.

I did. But I could fancy a stroll.

Is this a date, Edna Brooks?

I suppose it is, George Crabtree.

Well, good. (Laughing)

Sir?

My apologies, George, but I'm about to be late for the ceremony.

Sir, did you know my book Curse of the Pharaohs didn't even make the long list for the Giller Prize this year?

How many Canadian books were even written in a year?

Perhaps they don't tend to award prizes to books written about Egyptian mummies.

I should have written about zombies, sir.

I realize that now.

Still, if they just heard a couple of passages...

Like I said, George, I'm going to be late.

(stutters) "As she turned back to the creature, her look was no longer one of fear, but one of desire."

Sir?

Good luck at the Giller Prize Gala, sir!