04x03 - Buffalo Shuffle

[bunniefuu]

Keep the change, kid.

Good morning, Inspector.

It is indeed! Our special camera has made the front pages again.

"Station House number 4 is the pride of Toronto. Detective William Murdoch, the inventive and, blah, blah, blah, has deployed a device he calls "the scrutiny camera" to catch a jewel thief in the act."

Sir...

"The remarkable camera can take photographs at night "without a flash," said Station House number 4's Inspector Thomas Brackenred..."

Brackenred!

Get me that reporter on the phone.

I want my name spelt correctly by the afternoon edition.

I will do, sir, but right at this moment...

Someone broke in last night, sir. They ransacked the place.

I can see that. Was anything taken? Not as far as we can tell.

The armoury? All the g*ns and amm*nit*on have been accounted for.

Murdoch? Sir, he's not in yet.

It's nearly 8.30am. Where is he?

Oh, my...

Good of you to join us, Murdoch.

Please forgive my tardiness, sir, I had to collect a telegram.

As you can see, we've had an incident that might interest you.

Clearly this was the point of entry.

Still damp.

Our intruder must have been caught in the downpour - we had heavy rains around 2:35am.

I happened to be awake.

So he breaks into a station house, rats around causing mayhem, and doesn't take anything.

Nothing was taken? It doesn't seem, sir.

Well, then, sir, perhaps it was simply hooligans on a lark, more nothing more than that.

Nothing more than that? No request for finger marks or tracing of footprints and so on, and so forth?

Well, yes, of course, sir, but George can take care of that.

And might we get you your breakfast? Maybe a scone?

Inspector, please forgive me, but I need to take the next few days off to tend to a private matter.

You, booking off? Are you ill, sir?

No, George, I'm fine, but I am needed elsewhere.

In fact, I should head to the train straightaway.

Well, be back by Monday.

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Sir, you know he mentioned a train? He has a sister in a convent in Montreal.

Perhaps he's going to visit her.

His sister's a nun? Yes, sir.

I do hope she's all right.

Just get this mess cleaned up, Crabtree.

Yes, sir.

Thank you, sir.

MURMURED CONVERSATION Right this way, sir.

Julia, what on earth?

Your telegram alluded to something urgent, but what has you so cautious?

No-one can know I've asked you here, especially if my fears are borne out.

What fears? Are you in danger?

William, I believe there's a k*ller on the loose in this hospital.

A few days ago, one of our cancer patients d*ed, a 12-year-old named Ben Digiorno.

The hospital listed cause of death as complications of leukaemia.

But you suspect otherwise?

His condition was steadily improving, then one morning he was dead - it made no sense.

Was there a post-mortem?

No, and I couldn't very well demand one without revealing my suspicions.

The frustrating thing is Ben's body is still in the hospital morgue and I have no basis on which to examine it.

And no-one else voiced surprise over Ben's death?

No, that was unusual. When I expressed concerns to Dr Falwell he insisted the cause of death was leukaemia and that was the end of it. Quite out of character. Dr Falwell?

He's the head of medicine and the man who hired me. Aha.

The hospital's in the midst of a massive fundraising campaign run by the wife of Dr Lawrence Abbot.

He's the hospital founder and administrator.

And any whiff of impropriety during a fundraising drive...

Much less m*rder.

So why not simply go to the Buffalo police?

The Abbots have influence and I only have suspicions and no hard evidence.

Perhaps it was simply leukaemia that k*lled Ben?

I don't think it was.

I guess I'm just asking you to trust me.

And I do, Julia. After all, I am here.

But there is also the issue of my jurisdiction.

That's why I'll introduce you as a wealthy patron from Toronto interested in donating money to the hospital.

Wealthy? But I...

You look fine.

William, I need your help.

Then how can I say no?

I'm to join a patron's tour in 15 minutes.

Dr Falwell and the Abbots will be there and so will you.

Very good.

Julia, I meant to say how good it is to see you.

Oh, and I you. I mean, yes, William, it's so wonderful to see you.

You've been well?

Yes. Myself as well. And Buffalo is even... You're enjoying Buffalo?

Oh... Am I enjoying it?

Yes, even better than expected, yes.

Working with the living instead of...

Yes, yes, instead of...

Well, I'm truly delighted for you.

Yes.

Yes.

Inspector?

The bugger polished off my best whisky.

A man saves up for that, he makes certain sacrifices.

My sympathies indeed, sir. That reporter, Paddy Glynn, is here.

He wanted to interview Detective Murdoch about the scrutiny camera.

Marvellous, with our house in pieces.

Send him in. Will do.

Actually, sir, here he is now.

Thank you, Constable Crabtree.

Inspector, I see there was some mischief last night?

It's Brackenreid, Glynn, not Brackenred.

Oh, that's the typesetters, Inspector, dunces.

Now, where's Detective Murdoch? On a case, can't be reached.

Oh, dash it, now I have nothing for the morning edition.

Except perhaps this break-in.

You'll not be writing about that, son.

Why? Your station is a crime scene, that's ironic. The public will love it.

Crime reporters like you depend upon the likes of me for inside information.

You wouldn't want that to dry up now, would you?

May I remind you of the power of the press?

How's this for a headline? "Bungling Brackenreid Baffled By Break-in."

BRACKENREID CHUCKLES You're living dangerously, Glynn.

Here's what I'll do for you. I'll hold off on Bungling Brackenreid for now.

Solve this break-in and I'll make you out the hero instead.

"Intrepid Inspector Ensnares Irritating Intruder."

And what do you get? The exclusive scoop on any big cases that come into the station.

Deal. Excellent. And if you get broken into again, please give me a suspect.

It's been a pleasure, Inspector.

Crabtree!

Sir?

I've got a little project for you.

If you'll follow me, ladies and gentlemen, we'll get back to the ward a little later so you can meet more of our little angels.

Why, Dr Ogden, there you are at last.

Head of paediatric surgery, everyone, Dr Julia Ogden.

May I introduce Mr Willard Prenfrew, an Ogden family friend from Toronto.

Mr Prenfrew is a generous contributor to medical sciences.

Willard, this is our head of medicine, Dr Martin Falwell, our chief administrator, Dr Lawrence Abbot, his wife Letitia, the head of our hospital foundation.

So glad you could make it, Mr Prenfrew.

It's a pleasure to meet you all.

A warm welcome to you on behalf of the Children's Hospital of Buffalo. Well, shall we continue...? Ah!

Everyone, this is Dr Darcy Garland, one of our dedicated and caring physicians who's treating little...

Victoria. Oh. And what a beautiful little lady she is, aren't you, dear?

Dr Garland, what is Victoria's particular affliction?

She has an idiopathic inflammation of the pericardium.

An ailment of the heart.

Mmm. And how are you treating her?

She's been cut to six ounces between the left scapular and the spine.

Calomel and Dover's powder are administered every four hours.

Wonderful, so she's getting better.

She's...under observation. Splendid, Dr Garland.

Come, Victoria, why don't we get something to eat?

Well, you are in for a treat. I know you're very excited to see the invalid ward.

Willard Prenfrew?

I don't know, William, I needed a name.

Now, I must rejoin the tour.

Yes. Where was Ben's area, then?

The ward is just through those doors.

Ben had the second bed on the right.

And if anyone asks after me?

I'll make something up.

What are you doing?

And you are?

That was Ben's bed, you shouldn't be poking around it.

Did you know Ben? For a little while. That's as long as you know anybody here.

I didn't like him.

Why is that?

Some people you just don't like on sight.

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH There you are.

I hope my absence didn't raise any eyebrows.

I think it's fine. What's this?

Ben's notepad.

It's curious. There's a skip in the pages here which denotes a missing page.

Oh, looks like an M, and here a Y.

Possibly.

Do you have a pencil sharpener?

Of course.

I hope you don't mind.

Looks like "zoo".

There's a G, D, N...

"Ogden".

I hope not.

Golden? "My golden zoo?"
It's gibberish.

I do love a puzzle.

Alas, I fear this puzzle may be of no consequence.

I had somewhat of a run-in with one of Ben's ward-mates.

Oh, that must be Ezra - the ward bully.

He seemed a sullen lad. His hostility toward Ben gave me pause.

Not all of the children here come to accept their condition.

They're angry and it never leaves them.

You mentioned Ben's condition was improving. Is it possible Ezra resented him for this?

Enough to k*ll him?

Julia, I fear that without a post-mortem to establish the reason for Ben's death...

Dr Falwell would never allow it, nor would Dr Abbot, especially if one of them is involved.

Perhaps in this case it would be better to ask for forgiveness later than permission now.

I'm telling you, I have ever seen Detective Murdoch so out of sorts.

It's understandable with his sister taking ill.

It's not just that, it's been going on for months now.

He's impatient, short-tempered, butting heads with Dr Francis.

I think he's suffering some sort of general malaise.

Malaise? Yes, it's Italian for "gloomy", I believe.

I think he's lovesick for Dr Ogden, George. It's plain and simple.

I think we're all done here, George.

All right, let's test it.

What is it? I don't know. I don't like being watched, I suppose.

That's the whole idea, George. One day the entire city could be under the scrutiny of cameras like this, watching our every move and keeping us safe. Crime will be a thing of the past.

Well, I wouldn't want to be a copper in the future!

You'd have nothing to do except drink tea and exude intestinal vapours.

There's evidence of Mees' lines on his fingernails, signs of corneal necrosis - neither of which are symptoms of leukaemia.

Interesting.

The liver's enlarged, the spleen as well.

Leukaemia could account for that but I'll need blood cells for testing, and I'll need to open him up, William.

Stop what you're doing this instant!

Dr Falwell... I demand an explanation, Dr Ogden.

As I told you, I believe Ben Digiorno d*ed under suspicious circumstances.

What is Mr Prenfrew doing here?

I'm Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary.

Toronto? You have no jurisdiction here and there has been no crime.

The cancer k*lled Ben, Doctor.

What you are doing here is competently unwarranted and beyond insubordination.

I realise that... No, I don't think you do.

This seriously jeopardises your position at this hospital.

Dr Falwell, I have worked with Dr Ogden extensively in Toronto and learnt to take her speculation as seriously as any fact.

I urge you to appreciate the consequences should I discover Ben Digiorno's death was in fact m*rder.

The consequences? To me?

Interfering in a m*rder investigation is obstruction of justice in any country.

This is not obstruction of justice, there was no foul play here.

I want both of you out of here now and, Dr Ogden, I will deal with you in the morning.

Unless I miss my guess, lads, we had a visitor last night.

All right!

Well done, sir. Hey!

Although there is a conspicuous lack of ransacking.

He was here, Crabtree, I don't care how he got in.

Let's get that photograph developed and see what we've got.

Do you know what I'm looking at, William?

Not offhand, no. SHE SIGHS My career in Buffalo coming to a screeching halt if these samples are normal.

Interesting. High levels of heroin and arsenic.

The heroin's expected, it's a painkiller, but the arsenic shouldn't be there.

Young Ben was poisoned then?

Arsenic poisoning would account for the Mees' lines and the corneal necrosis.

m*rder.

I wonder how Dr Falwell will react to that.

Ah, good, I'll see you in my office immediately, Dr Ogden.

I secured blood samples from Ben Digiorno's body.

What? I thought I told you... There were high levels of arsenic in his system.

The boy was poisoned, sir.

Yes, he was.

By me.

I administered arsenic trioxide to Ben.

It's a radical new technique using chemical therapy to fight cancerous cells.

I didn't realise that chemical therapy used arsenic.

That's because it's new.

Dr Park at the University of Buffalo found that arsenic lowers the white blood cell count.

I reasoned it might battle Ben's leukaemia.

At the risk of k*lling the boy?

With any advanced cancer, risk is a relative term.

Ben was at a late stage, the treatments showed positive results.

I don't understand why he went suddenly.

Did you even consider the interaction could be fatal?

Of course, that's why I kept the heroine to such a low dosage. A low dosage?

We found high concentrations in his blood.

What? That can't be. Let me see those samples.

Higgins, spread out.

Gentlemen, we are about to launch a new era in crime-fighting techniques.

Well, sir, technically, Detective Murdoch has already launched the...

Right then.

Oh, my.

A mouse? A bloody mouse?!

Hang on, sir, hang on.

There's somebody there.

That's a man. What's so interesting about Murdoch's filing cabinet, sunshine?

May I help you, ma'am? No.

I'm the mother, come to fetch my boy's clothes, but they've gone and thrown them out they said. Perfect good condition!

Mrs Digiorno, may I offer my condolences?

Save it, I've got eight others and they'll be needing something to wear too.

Ben, he was one of the better ones.

Last thing he said to me was, "Our money troubles will soon be over."

One less mouth to feed.

Ben's stuffed toy, a little bunny rabbit, where's that got to?

One of the others could have used it.

I'll keep an eye out for it.

Sure you will.

Dr Falwell and I are certain, William.

Ben was overdosed with heroin. Oh? Dr Falwell is in shock.

I'm sure he had nothing to do with this. Hmm.

Who could have administered the fatal dose then?

We checked Ben's charts. Nurse Rowan would have given Ben most of his sh*ts but it seems she hasn't reported to work for a few days. Oh?

We'll need an address then.

Miss Rowan?

Hello?

Did you know her well?

Only what one gleans from a working relationship.

(Yes.)

I haven't really had time to get to know anyone here, outside of the hospital.

I'm sure that will change.

Yes.

William, I've been...

COCKING OF g*n

Turn around slowly, and put your hands up in the air.

Detective Murdoch? Detective Callaghan?

What the hell are you doing in Buffalo?

I came to find Miss Effie Rowan, she's a nurse at the hospital.

Yes, she was washed ashore at the creek this morning. I came here looking for a su1c1de note and I find you instead. You and...

Dr Julia Ogden of the Children's Hospital of Buffalo, Detective Patrick Callaghan of the Buffalo Police. Hi.

Yes, hi.

The truth is we were hoping Miss Rowan could shed some light on a suspicious death at the hospital.

A suspicious death? Let's start from the beginning.

Higgins!

This folder has been misfiled. So?

So Detective Murdoch keeps absolutely perfect filing...fidelity.

That's the jewellery store robbery case, George.

Higgins, I believe our intruder was after this folder.

Why wasn't it taken? The jewellery store case is over, the thief's in jail.

Why was our visitor interested in the file but not enough to pinch it?

I helped Detective Murdoch with this file, I'm quite sure nothing was taken.

I do agree with you, though. It seems odd to break into a police station just to read the thing. Sir!

What's wrong with this picture?

So the Digiorno boy dies of a heroin overdose and the nurse that might have done is also dead.

You have my attention. But you suspect su1c1de.

Well, I'm not so sure any more.

Either way, we'll need a post-mortem on Nurse Rowan right away.

YOU'LL need? By we, I mean you and I.

You're not here officially, Murdoch.

A lot of noses can get bent about that and I'm not big on desk duty.

But you did help me with the Baby Emerson abduction in Toronto so I owe you one, just so long as I get the collar.

The collar?

Yes, of course. The coroner has scheduled the post-mortem on Miss Rowan for 2.00pm.

I'll let him know you'll be there, Doctor.

Then I'd best be on my way.

Right. Gentlemen.

Used to be a pathologist, huh?

Oh, yes, indispensable to my work.

Uh-huh.

Well, let's turn this joint over. Yes.

What am I supposed to be seeing? This is the original photograph but the background is not as clear as it is in the newspaper reprint, which makes no sense, as you know, sir. Right.

A reprint of a photograph can't be clearer than the photograph itself.

Why can't you see this man's face in the original?

Sir, I think this original has been altered.

Bloody hell. Are you telling me this is not the original original?

Yes, sir. And I fear the negative has been altered as well.

Our intruder stole the original photograph and negative when he broke in the first time, and replaced them with these versions the second time, when Murdoch's scrutiny camera caught him in the act. I think so. I just can't imagine why.

It's a fair bet the passer-by in the photo and the intruder are one and the same.

And no-one goes to these lengths unless they're guilty.

It's The Tell-Tale Heart, sir. The what? The Edgar Allan Poe story.

A k*ller buries his victim's heart beneath the floorboards but then he begins to hear it b*ating and it grows louder and louder and louder and then...

Well, then I stopped reading, I was terrified. But I think this is very much like that.

Our intruder has a guilty conscience? Exactly.

You might have just said that. Oh, you know I get carried away sometimes.

I do like this guilty conscience bit. I'm going to work that into my m*rder mystery. Put that away.

I want a list of all the crimes committed in the vicinity of the jewellery store robbery that occurred around the same time, anything at all. Sir.

Let's hope that Nurse Rowan's locker is more enlightening than her apartment.

This doesn't look good.

That's the Abbots and Dr Falwell. Detectives.

Tell me it's not true.

An investigation has been launched into Nurse Rowan's death and the Digiorno boy's?

It is, as a matter of fact, and we think the two cases are related.

Are you suggesting one of our staff might be culpable?

We made no such suggestion.

But you just did. How dare you talk to my husband like that?

My wife is in the midst of fundraising. We can't have these incidents in the papers.

Yes, that would be a shame.

Detective Callaghan, any injury to this hospital's reputation will be swiftly answered by my lawyers.

And you, Detective Murdoch, deceit from the beginning, and from a Canadian.

I shouldn't have told them. I'll see if I can calm them down.

Detectives, Nurse Rowan is dead?

I'm afraid so, Dr Garland.

Did you know Nurse Rowan well, Dr Garland? Me?

I often worked with her. She was a conscientious, caring nurse.

Had her behaviour changed at all recently?

She seemed more quiet of late, troubled, you might say, but I didn't pry.

Detective Callaghan, what are all these questions?

Just being thorough. And why is a Canadian policeman involved in the affair?

I'm here at Dr Ogden's request.

Oh, you're an acquaintance of hers?

Well, I have work, I'll leave you both to it.

Such a terrible business.

What is your read on that Garland fellow?

Hard to tell, he seemed very careful.

A letter from Nurse Rowan to persons unknown.

"My darling, I am enfeebled with no hope of cure.

"Please tell me what to do to bring you back to me, to hold you to my..."

I'm not saying that.

It's a perfectly acceptable word. I have my principles.

Very well. "To hold you to my bosom once more "near our China roses."

William?

Ah, Doctor, have you news from the post-mortem?

Indeed, Nurse Rowan didn't drown.

The coroner found that she d*ed of an injected overdose of heroin.

A needle went through her uniform into her back. An unlikely place to inject oneself?

Precisely. She was m*rder*d.

Possibly by a man eager to shed himself of her.

With easy access to a supply of heroin - like the doctors in this joint.

I think we can assume whoever k*lled Nurse Rowan also k*lled Ben Digiorno.

Nurse Rowan had suspicions when the boy d*ed and confronted the k*ller.

Except that Miss Rowan was k*lled before Ben d*ed.

Before? Two days before, the post-mortem confirms it.

She mentions China roses. So?

We found rose thorns embedded in Miss Rowan's skin.

If I'm not mistaken, there are China roses in the hospital garden.

Sir, I spoke with a detective at station 5.

He says on the morning of April 23... St George's Day.

Erm... Congratulations.

Also the day of the last jewellery store robbery, he investigated the m*rder of a young girl on sh**t Street. Three blocks from the store.

All these suspects that the detective spoke to had alibis, including the prime suspect, a neighbour of the victim, one John McLeod.

He claims he was in Hamilton at the time. What's his story?

He was a photographer.

Why are you showing me this, Crabtree? Sir, have a close look at the young girl's eyes and hands.

Oh, sweet Jesus, she's dead! It's a living dead photograph.

After a death in the family, the dearly departed is dressed and posed for a photo.

The eyes are added in after, during the printing and developing process.

The same trickery used to alter the scrutiny camera photo.

If anybody could have altered the negative, it's this McLeod.

Good work, Crabtree. Bring the ghoul in.

Sir, will do.

So it's likely Nurse Rowan and her paramour had their trysts here under the cover of darkness.

If so, someone may have seen them.

China roses, no question.

Well, Murdoch...

Look here, Detective.

Some tracks. A wheelchair, perhaps?

Yes.

Look here, a piece of cotton.

Nurse Rowan's uniform was torn. The coroner and I assumed it had snagged on some rocks in the water.

I'll take this to the coroner and see if it matches the uniform.

If it does, this may be where Nurse Rowan was k*lled.

Ezra?

Were you watching us from the window?

I was having trouble breathing.

It helps to stand.

Would you like Dr Ogden to give you something?

No.

I'm feeling better.

Ben Digiorno's stuffed rabbit.

This must be what his mother was looking for.

Ezra... why do you have Ben's toy?

It was no good to him after he was dead.

Was the toy torn like this when you found it, Ezra?

Yes.

All ready, sir? Almost.

Sir, I've been thinking, McLeod may have paid off his alibi witness to say that he was in Hamilton when he was actually here in Toronto, Of course he paid him. Wouldn't you to avoid the hangman?

McLeod is a passer-by in a jewellery store picture fleeing the scene.

He's also the man on the scrutiny camera photo.

It's not for dead certain, but we both know it's true.

Right then, let me take a cr*ck at him.

Sir, I was wondering, might I?

You? All respect, Crabtree, but... Sir, I have an idea.

I think I can get McLeod to confess to k*lling that girl. Is that a fact?

Yes, sir. There's just a few things I need to prepare before I speak with him.

I'll be in my office. Thank you, sir.

I thought you were just as proficient in photography as Detective Murdoch judged, maybe even worse.

Firstly, Higgins, it's not "the" photography, it's just photography.

Secondly...

You're not wrong.

Right, we know that Nurse Rowan was m*rder*d first, injected with a lethal dose of heroin, likely in the hospital garden.

Correct. And there's a significant probability that the k*ller is the lover that jilted her.

Most likely a doctor on staff.

And having m*rder*d Nurse Rowan, the k*ller needed a means to remove her body from the garden without raising suspicions should they be seen.

Hence the wheelchair. Yes.

What if he WAS seen?

There's a direct line of sight from the ward to the garden below.

I believe Ben saw the m*rder and the k*ller saw him and knew on the spot that he would have to silence the boy.

Except he waited two days before k*lling Ben.

In that time, Ben could have told anyone what he'd witnessed.

Excellent observation, Julia.

Why wait indeed? It's possible we are wrong.

It's possible I'm wrong and Nurse Rowan's k*ller didn't see Ben in the window after all.

But then how did the k*ller know Ben had seen him m*rder Nurse Rowan?

Last thing he said to me was, "Our money troubles will soon be over."

Ben told his mother that their money troubles would soon be over.

She assumed that it meant one less mouth to feed, but there's more than one way to solve money troubles.

Blackmail?

But, William. Ben was 12 years old.

A starving family is ample motivation for a resourceful young boy.

And blackmail is ample motive for Ben's k*ller.

Well, as Inspector Brackenreid would say, that's all well and good, Murdoch, but where's the evidence?

Ben's notebook.

It's possible that what you thought was the word zoo was in fact 200, as in dollars.

The amount he was demanding?

And 'm' and 'y' are the first and last letters of... money.

And 'g', 'd', and 'n' are not Ogden, but...

Garden.

But Ben was not well enough to go outside.

That's true, but it all points to blackmail nonetheless.

If Ben collected the money before he was k*lled...

Where did he keep it?

Ezra?

Wake up. Go away.

You're not in any trouble, now sit up.

Ezra, did Ben stuff anything into this toy?

No.

Ezra, we know you're lying.

Where's the money that was in here?

I don't know what you mean.

There appears to be $200 here, Ezra. All right.

I saw Ben stuff the money in the toy. When? Who gave it to him?

I don't know.

But the day before he d*ed, he went down to the end of the hallway.

I had to go to some treatment and when I came back I saw Ben stuff the money in the toy.

That's all I know, I swear.

There's soil on it.

Look, I didn't steal from him.

I wouldn't.

But he was dead.

I thought, when I'm cured I'll need money.

Julia, this is a gardenia plant.

Yes?

The note, it wasn't referring to the garden where Nurse Rowan was k*lled, but the gardenia plant where the blackmail money was to be left.

Only the k*ller knows this, and now us.

This gives us the opportunity to convince the k*ller that his blackmailer is still alive, perhaps a cryptic note left on the ward notice board. I don't follow.

A note, one which only the k*ller would understand, one that convinces him that he m*rder*d the wrong boy, one that demands another payment.

To be left in the usual place.

It might be enough to force our k*ller's hand.

So, McLeod, how long do you think it will be before we get the truth out of your friend in Hamilton?

The one who lied for you about your whereabouts April 23?

He's not lying, and I will not confess to a m*rder that I couldn't possibly have committed.

KNOCK ON DOOR Higgins, you can't just come barging in here. Can't you see that I'm in the middle of an interview?

I'm sorry, Constable Crabtree, I thought you'd like to know that you were right. Ah.

There WAS a safety negative in Brackenreid's office.

Are you sure it's of the jewellery store robbery? I made a print of it myself, sir, it's the original all right.

Well, well, well, McLeod.

What do you have to say for yourself now?

Just as I thought.

That was odd.

I've never seen Mrs Abbot go into the ward other than on her tours.

Step away from Ezra's bed, Mrs Abbot.

Yes, he'll be needing it to sleep in when he gets back.

Why did you think it was Ezra?

Because he was a malicious child.

But you k*lled Ben first.

I watched him take the blackmail money but when I saw the second note, I realised that Ben must have been doing Ezra's bidding.

You were right the first time, Mrs Abbot. Ben Digiorno was your blackmailer.

You can rest assured you k*lled the right boy.

But what could Nurse Rowan have possibly done to you?

Why k*ll her?

Because Nurse Rowan and Dr Abbot were lovers. Please.

Don't speak of it.

Your husband was her secret lover, and when he tried to break it off with her she wouldn't go quietly, would she?

The hospital foundation is my life.

When I found out about them I demanded Lawrence stop endangering everything that I'd worked for.

His vulgar secret was bound to get out.

He did as I asked.

But she...

She had to be stopped.

So you lured her to their secret rendezvous spot with a note supposedly from your husband asking for a reunion, where you injected her with enough heroin to k*ll her instantly.

But you didn't know that Ben had seen it all until afterwards, when his blackmail note found its way to you.

You knew what you had to do next.

I had no choice.

Mrs Abbot, you k*lled Nurse Rowan and a young boy, to preserve your standing in the community. I...

I cannot find the words.

And so I instructed my lads to alter the film negative so they could convince McLeod he'd been caught out.

b*at him at his own game, I did.

Very clever, Inspector. You're the hero.

You said your readers love irony, Paddy. Well, they're going to love this one.

'Photographer hoisted on his own petard caused by photographic sleight of hand'.

And he'd have got away with it if he'd left well enough alone. You can quote me on that. Make sure you spell the name right.

Of course, if this sleight of hand ever catches on with the public, how will you ever trust photographic evidence again?

Still, all kudos to you, Inspector.

Glynn.

Glynn, come back.

I've just recalled a few important details. Crabtree, get in here.

Yes, sir.

Are you sure you wouldn't consider a posting with the Buffalo force, Detective?

I can guarantee you that we have more crime here.

I'll take your offer as a compliment, sir.

It was. If you need anything, you let me know. I will.

Thank you, Detective Callaghan.

I wouldn't let her go either, if I were you.

My offer stands.

So I guess this is goodbye.

Yes.

I've enjoyed our time together.

As have I. It's like old times.

It's done my heart good to see you again, William, but I feel that we haven't had nearly enough time together to just be ourselves.

I agree.

Julia, I... William!

What are you doing?

Nothing... I...

William...

I can't possibly renew our relationship together.

What's to stop us?

I'm engaged to be married.

Oh, I see.

Why didn't you tell me?

There was never a good time.

There still isn't.

May I ask to whom? Well, yes.

You've met him.

It's Dr Darcy Garland.

Where are my manners? Congratulations to you, Julia, and to Dr Garland as well. Thank you, William.