03x10 - The Curse of Beaton Manor

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THUNDER RUMBLES

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!

It can't be. Timothy?

Oh, dear God. Please don't, I'm sorry.

I'm so very sorry, Timothy. Timothy!

DOOR OPENS

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.

I never get to see the city like this any more.

How was your day?

Fine.

And?

It was fine. And yours?

Also fine.

Sir. Doctor.

A rotten old night out there. The rain's got the sewer blocked up, there's rats as big as pumpkins roaming the street.

What brings you here, George? Sir, there's been a suspicious death at Beaton Manor.

Well, Chauncey Beaton's neck was broken. In two places, it feels like.

It appears he fell from that window. Oh, that would do it.

Was it accidental then? Or was it su1c1de? Or was he pushed?

I'll tell you what k*lled 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 k*lled Master Chauncey.

What do you mean the house k*lled 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 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 above Mr Chauncey's body, I thought I saw someone standing in that window.

My Lord, Sir. He's still there. George.

Detective Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary. Identify yourself.

Ronald Beaton.

Brother of the deceased.

I take it he is...

..deceased?

I'm sorry for your loss, Mr Beaton.

Where were you at the time of the incident?

Strange question.

I had assumed Chauncey k*lled himself.

Why assume that?

su1c1de 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 of a window, detective.

The exertion would have k*lled me first. How so?

I have a bad heart.

Two att*cks already. The doctors say the next will be my last.

What do the... 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... Look at that!

Several witnesses report hearing shouting just before the victim fell, sir. Ah.

That must have been what awakened me.

George, gather all 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 k*lled himself last February.

Ah, 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 o'clock?

On my way to meet a business acquaintance.

They can confirm this?

Actually, no. He never arrived.

It's not surprising on a night like...

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

For God's sakes, man, it was a su1c1de! Who told you that?

I just assumed.

It's the curse. Who said that?

The next person to breathe that word will be in 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, would you assume that your brother committed su1c1de?

Chauncey was a troubled soul.

Was his soul troubled by the su1c1de 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 d*ed, father took up with a member of the household staff.

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?

Chante d*ed last year of pneumonia.

Timothy blamed me for that.

Apparently the doctor I brought in was inadequate.

And what wrongs had Chauncey committed?

They quarrelled the night before he d*ed.

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 calls his brother Timothy a few names, then feels so bad that he throws himself out of a window?

Sir, Timothy Beaton did k*ll 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, perhaps there is something to this curse business. Curse?

Yes, Beaton Manor is said to be cursed.

Ah, 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 m*rder 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 d*ed on impact.

Could have? It wasn't necessarily the fall that k*lled him.

In the seconds before, he suffered a massive heart att*ck.

But to fall out of a window, surely a heart att*ck 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 att*ck in a man barely 30 years of age?

A number of things really. Birth defects, week arteries.

Extreme shock. Like an att*ck by an assailant intent on m*rder?

Perhaps.

Did you know them at all, the Beatons? Not well.

I met Timothy on a number of social occasions.

He was a sweet man. A bit tormented, I sensed.

You're aware he committed su1c1de? Yes. Do you have any idea why?

It was rumoured that the woman he loved married one of his brothers.

Byron, I believe.

What have you learnt, George? Quite a lot, actually, sir.

Would you like to ask me questions, or shall I regale you?

I sense you are in a regaling mood.

You would be correct. So, the Beatons are not actually Beatons.

Their original family name was Beton. French?

Then Haitian.

They held large plantations in what was then Saint Dominique.

They fled during the sl*ve 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 the 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. Sir, I believe they are 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 att*cks, 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 d*ed at the age of 60, three years ago, from a...

Heart att*ck? 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 d*ed.

Did you recognise this man?

As God is my witness, Sir, it was Timothy Beaton.

Who here believes they have 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?

WOMAN CRIES How dare you! Gentleman.

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 k*lled himself because of me.

You can't possibly know that. No?

He wrote a letter the day he d*ed 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 eyes 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's 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 heart b*at 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?

He was my cousin's son, you know.

Her name was Chante.

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 being 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...

Not your bloody aunts again. This 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 what not, marked in blue.

Each numbered in chronological order beginning with November 8th.

This all started 10 days ago? Yes. Always at night.

Usually between midnight and 3am.

Nine incidents? That's one per night.

Right. We're going to be spending a 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. Goodnight.

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.

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 d*ed, my Aunt Primrose awake to find him standing at the foot of the bed.

Maybe she was still dreaming.

I once awoke to find a group of dwarfs staring down at me, and I was terrified.

I must admit I find them a bit unnerving myself.

Anyways, once I awoke fully, I realised there was nothing but piles of clothing.

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 d*ed.

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. DISTANT FOOTSTEPS 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?

Oh, 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.

DISTANT BANGING What was that?

It came from...

This is the room Chauncey Beaton fell from.

Who's there?

Show yourself!

CAT SQUEALS It's 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.

It's nothing. They have these dolls that you stick pins into. CREAKING What's with these windows?

That's him! That's the ghost.

There he goes.

Where did he go?

Higgins, fetched Detective Murdoch.

By myself, George?

Just go.

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

Sir, it's three storeys straight down.

A man doesn't simply disappear, George.

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

Perhaps he went into his death mask.

Perhaps you're right, Higgins, perhaps this is where his soul resides.

YELLING Bloody hell, it's back there.

You two stay here. Keep an eye open.

Well?

He's dead, sir.

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 d*ed 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 d*ed in 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's that, sir?

The Beaton family lawyer. I thought I'd have a chat.

Very good.

It's an unusual will, in that the estate in its entirety was passed on 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 is 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 Ailmer. What is the second reason?

There was a concern expressed by one of the siblings that the youngest son, the um...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.

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 su1c1de was an act of hatred.

I'm not convinced it was a su1c1de.

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 k*lled Timothy.

No, I'm suggesting you k*lled 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 m*rder.

What about Ronald's death?

I was sleeping in my bed.

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 d*ed.

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.

You could've covered that distance in half the time. 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 mould.

Latex rubber, you say?

Yes. Recent additives have made it pliable and strong.

The process would have been familiar to a rubber magnet like Byron.

Speaking of, I have completed the post mortem on young Ronald.

Heart att*ck? Massive.

Almost goes without saying.

Very good, William.

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

Colour the skin.

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

Wouldn't there be a gap between the mask and the skin around the eyes?

I believe that Byron glued the mask to his face.

Try it on. Oh, I...

All right.

William, you are a sport.

By the way, there's a lecture tonight on the Michaels and Morley experiment. Seven o'clock.

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... Bloody hell.

Good God, man. It's quite effective.

Is this how Byron did it, then? Yes.

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 are looking for.

By whose authority?

We 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 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, fetched a crowbar. I won't have you destroy 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.

Emory Beaton and his family escaped with their lives through secret passageways built in the house during the sl*ve rebellions in San Dominique.

Advantageous to have a ready escape in the event your slaves rise up against you.

This must be where the foot falls 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 k*ller used.

Yes, George.

Arrest Byron Beaton.

What are you thinking, sir?

This is a quality piece of work, very detailed.

Even sewn the eyebrows.

What have they used for the eyes, stained glass?

Easier to see through, I suppose. Why not just cut out the eyeholes?

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 over-thinking this, Murdoch.

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

The k*ller 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 k*ller. 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 she and Timothy's mother, Chante, 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 m*rder 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 k*ll anyone. Mr Godfrey...

I didn't k*ll anyone!

We encountered Godfrey here, 1.14am.

George and Henry found the ghost here at 1.20am.

Which gave him six minutes to change into Timothy's clothes and scare the 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 servant's 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 k*ller 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 is a man who wakes from the dead after a certain voodoo spell.

And did he reconstitute himself from his burnt ashes, as well?

George, where did you learn about these zombies?

From my readings, 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 paralyse 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 bokor's powder?

I suppose, it's possible.

But you can't 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.

Oh, 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.

Yes, I understand. Bad memories.

My husband m*rder*d 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 is 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.

Won't be long, Tom.

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

I'm looking for a 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?

It's something to contemplate.

It 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.

Hmm. Should probably sell it myself, but who would want it?

A 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.

Glad to hear it.

Well, thank you for everything.

Good day, Mr Beaton.

And, superstition be damned, good luck.

HE STRAINS

Mr Beaton?

Mr Beaton!