05x05 - The Enchanted Mirror

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Eliza Scarlet, yet again.

Do you think you're
someone special,

like the normal rules
do not apply?

Well, you're wrong.

You're not special.

Far from it.

Eliza Scarlet,
are you listening to me?

Good.

And to get it through that
stubborn head of yours,

you will write out 100 times...

"I am no one special."

Come on, hurry up.

"I am no one special."

"I am no one special."

"I am no one special."

What...whatever it is you think
I know, you're mistaken!

You've been poking around,

asking questions.

And then I find you in my room.

I...I can explain.

But not here, at Scotland Yard,

because that's where you're
going, Mr. Skinner,

right now, in fact.

Good evening, Miss Scarlet.

Detective Fitzroy, gentlemen,

punctual as ever. As promised,

I deliver to you
Mr. Silas Skinner,

arsonist, robber and blackmailer
to a client of mine.

Put him in the wagon.

Who are you?

No one special.

Ah good, you're here,
Detective Fitzroy.

I had to read your message
three times

before it sunk in, Sir.

I could hardly believe it!

The great Abraham Barratt, dead.

I take it you're an admirer?

Indeed, I am, Sir.

In my estimation,
Barratt and Kapoor

are second only to
Gilbert and Sullivan.

I have often wondered...

forgive me, Sir, this is not
the time.

Go on...briefly.

I have often wondered,

in such a partnership
which I would prefer...

To be the composer of the music,
like poor Mr. Barratt here,

or to write the stories,
like Mr. Kapoor.

And what was your conclusion?

I should prefer to be a writer.

But a composer is still
quite a thing.

The man's dead,
Detective Fitzroy.

he will not be offended.

Speaking of the writer
it was Mr. Kapoor

who was last seen with
the deceased.

A stagehand saw them arguing
in the auditorium

after tonight's performance.

Twenty minutes later,
a g*nsh*t rang out from in here.

The press has always
fueled rumors

of a tempestuous relationship
between the two men.

But whatever their tensions,

their operettas were a joy.

In fact, I tried to
obtain tickets

to tonight's final
performance of

The Shadow Queen, but...
it was sold out.

Can you imagine anything
so disappointing, Sir?

Yes, several things.

So...we have a g*nsh*t
to the heart,

and from the powder burn
on the shirt,

it was close range.

But no m*rder weapon.

However, we do have this glove

covered in specks of blood.

The deceased still wears
his gloves,

so I'm assuming this belonged to
the sh**ter.

A safe disguised as a mirror.

Ingenious.

An empty safe.

Could it be a robbery, Sir?

Possible.
Or made to look like one.

Let's start with his partner,
Mr. Kapoor.

Gather some men, go to his
house, see what you can find.

And then bring him in
for questioning.

- Oh, and Detective Fitzroy?
- Sir?

The man's a suspect,
don't ask him for his autograph.

Yes, Sir.

Detective Phelps, I thought
you had some days off?

I do, but I heard about
the Barratt m*rder,

and I thought you might
need me in.

I appreciate the offer,
but there's no need.

- Enjoy your time off.
- With respect, Sir,

something this high-profile

needs one of your more
senior men.

An experienced eye.

As I have said,
I don't need any more

assistance on the investigation.

What's she doing here, then?

Oh... morning,
Inspector Blake.

Miss Scarlet, we seem to have
a communication problem.

I have requested
on several occasions that you

do not enter my office
without permission.

I heard about the m*rder
of Abraham Barratt.

The mighty composer, dead!

You assume changing the subject

will somehow distract me

from your unauthorized entry?

- Did it?
- No.

- Oh.
- Just state your business,

and then please allow me to get
on with mine.

My, er, my colleague,
Mr. Clarence Pettigrew,

is visiting Liverpool on
financial business,

and in his absence,
he's left me a list

of unpaid accounts
he wishes me to settle.

One of which is my fee
for the Hawkins case.

- It's been a month.
- That is a matter for

the accounts department, not me.

I also heard that you're
the lead investigator

- on the Barratt case?
- The account department's

on the ground floor,

third door on the right.

Miss Scarlet,
how nice to see you.

Good morning to you too,
Detective Fitzroy.

How is Mr. Skinner this morning?

On his way to Wormwood Scrubs,
as we speak.

Ah, yes, I heard about
his arrest.

Silas Skinner has evaded us

for more time than I'd like to
admit. Bravo, Detective!

Oh, I had very little
to do with it, Sir.

It was all down to Miss Scarlet.

She practically
hand-delivered him.

Oh.

Well in that case, bravo,
Miss Scarlet.

Thank you, Inspector Blake.

So, I gather from your presence
in my office, you have something

you wish to share with me,
Detective Fitzroy?

Yes, Sir, Mr. Kapoor is ready
in interview room two.

Mr. Kapoor?

As in Amil Kapoor...
as in Amil Kapoor,

the dead man's partner?

- Yes.
- No.

Thank you, Detective Fitzroy.

I will be along momentarily.

Yes, Sir.

I, er, heard a rumor that you

searched Mr. Kapoor's house?

Good day.

May I just point out that
I'm between cases at the moment,

so should you need
any assistance...

I won't.

Then I will bid you good day.

My friend is dead,

and I am dragged in here

and thrown into a cell
for the night,

- suspected of his m*rder?
- You were not dragged anywhere,

Mr. Kapoor, nor were you thrown.

I presented my evidence to you
last night,

and you've had no plausible
explanation.

I did not k*ll Abraham,

there's nothing more to say
on the matter.

You were the last person
to be seen

with the deceased,
and witnesses claim

there was an argument
between you.

As I explained...Inspector,

Abraham and I had some
cross words,

nothing out of the ordinary.

Cross words about what?

My wife was one of the cast.

He was criticizing
her performance,

like he always did.

There's also the matter of
a white glove,

matching the one left
at the crime scene,

found at your property.

So too was a revolver,

one which had recently
been fired.

The b*ll*ts match the one found

in Mr. Barratt's body.

I have no idea

how my glove
got into Abraham's office,

nor can I account
for my revolver,

but as I have said...
numerous times,

I went straight home
after our disagreement,

and I remained there
all evening.

To an empty house where no one

can verify your presence?

My wife was out

with the rest of the cast,

celebrating the final curtain.

How many times
must I explain that?

Have you had any more thoughts
on what might have been stolen

from Mr. Barratt's safe?

No.

I have not.

And I find it difficult
to think about

anything other than the fact

that my oldest friend is dead,

and I have been accused
of k*lling him.

Mr. Kapoor, I have no choice
but to charge you

with the m*rder of
Abraham Barratt.

So, you will be taken from here,
and held at Newgate Prison,

pending further investigation.

Can I help you?

I'm looking for Miss Scarlet.

You've found her.

My name is Matilda Barratt,

widow of Abraham Barratt.

Abraham is not yet cold,

and I should be at home
in mourning,

but I was asked to find
a private investigator,

and it is a call for help
I could not ignore.

By whom?

The man accused of k*lling
my husband.

What, his partner?

Mr. Kapoor?

Amil Kapoor is not just
my husband's partner,

he has been my lover
for the past year.

Amil protests his innocence,

but they're now transferring him
to Newgate Prison,

which is why he sent me an
urgent message this morning.

He instructed that I go to
the two largest

investigation
agencies in the city.

Gill & Son and Culpeppers.

And prior to coming here,
I did just that, but...

they both refused
to take the case.

Well...if Mr. Kapoor has been
transferred to Newgate,

the evidence against him must be
robust indeed.

It'll be a hard case
to prove him innocent.

Do you believe he is?

I'm unsure what to believe.

I know that I love him,

and that if he's convicted,

he will hang.

Amil is married, and my husband
is not yet buried.

I must ask that you keep
my involvement

in this matter strictly
confidential.

I will need the full facts,

both Mr. Kapoor's side
of the story

and the evidence against him.

But he...he won't be allowed
visitors at Newgate,

and even if he was, women
aren't permitted

access to the prison.

But I'll find a way,
Mrs. Barratt.

Er, Mr. Fulton?

I apologize for
the interruption,

but I believe you know
an associate of mine,

Mr. Patrick Nash?

It was through your arrangement

that I was able to visit
Mr. Nash here,

and I was hoping for
a similar arrangement

to visit another inmate.

Don't remember no Nash.

Er, c*ck, Irish,
owes you money?

Very well.

Perhaps I can inform
the Prison Governor

about your little sideline.

Might that jog your memory?

I need a thorough understanding
of your case, Mr. Kapoor.

The b*llet that k*lled
Mr. Barratt matches the ones

found in your revolver.

How do you account for that?

I cannot.

Nor can I square the fact that

my glove was found at
the crime scene,

but I did not k*ll my partner,
I swear it.

And I assume the police
are unaware

of your relationship
with his wife?

There is something else I did
not share with them.

After the final show last night,

Abraham told me that,
locked inside his safe,

was a manuscript for
a new operetta.

But the police informed me

that when they found
Abraham dead,

the safe was unlocked and empty.

So, someone had stolen
the manuscript?

Then, why not tell
the police that?

Because the manuscript
was for...

Abraham's first solo production.

That was the real reason
for our argument.

He was dissolving
our partnership.

Hmm, gloated that it would be
the biggest hit yet,

some magical story about
an enchanted mirror.

The truth is,

Abraham was the real talent

in our partnership.

Oh, we began as equals.

I wrote the book, er, the story
and the dialogue,

and...he composed the music.

We set up a theater company
with actors and musicians,

and we had residencies
in so many theaters.

But increasingly he began
to do it all.

The story and the composing.

And...

the more his talent grew,

the more mine seemed to
diminish.

Abraham leaving me behind

would be the end of my career.

Yes.

That look on your face
is exactly why

I didn't tell the police.

Quite the motive for m*rder,
is it not?

So, you think whoever stole
the manuscript is the k*ller?

I do.

And I think they're doing
their best to...

implicate me in the crime.

Well, do you know who would
do such a thing?

That's why I hired you.

Thank you for waiting.

Miss Scarlet?

Detective Phelps.

This is no place for a lady.

What on earth could have
brought you here?

Research.

Research?

- Do go on.
- I've been interviewing

a number of prisoners
to better understand

- the nature of the criminal mind.
- Oh, well that's good.

That's very good.
You do know how to

cheer me up, Miss Scarlet.

Now, what are you
really doing here?

I believe I just told you.

Good day.

As senior detective...

I'm leading the investigation
into the Barratt m*rder,

and I have a strong suspicion
you've been

talking to our prime suspect.

So, I'm asking...

no...

instructing...

that you share any
and all information

about this case.

Have you never heard of
client confidentiality?

So, the accused is your client?

Well...

now you've shared something
with me,

would you like me to share
something with you?

Not really.

I went to see Mrs. Barratt,

to ask about her husband's
m*rder.

She wasn't at home, so...

I spoke to her driver instead.

He told me she'd paid a visit

this morning
to the Lady Detective.

So that got me thinking...

you must have spoken to
the widow

before you spoke to the man

accused of k*lling her
husband...

which is all very intriguing.

Are you drunk?

You didn't answer my question.

You didn't answer mine.

Perhaps I should ask
Inspector Blake instead.

Hmm, very well,

I'll find out what's going
on myself.

Julius!

Julius!

Have you any idea

the distress that this episode
has caused me?

My husband is in prison.

Which is exactly where
he belongs.

How dare you speak to me
in that manner.

I will speak to you

in any manner I choose.

Your husband is a m*rder*r,
Violet,

and nothing you say can
convince me otherwise.

Come back here this instant,
and apologize!

Julius!

Julius!

How typical of Amil

to hire a private detective

rather than contact
his own wife.

Selfish to the core.

I doubt it's even occurred
to him how all this affects me.

I am completely alone.

Well, I'm here, Mrs. Kapoor,

because your husband
pleads his innocence.

And if I can prove that that's
the case,

then he can return home to you.

The night of the m*rder,
you were not at your house

when he returned?

As always, we have a soiree

at the end of the run.

I was with the rest of the cast,

and we had dinner.

Amil was meant to attend,

but he didn't show up.

By the time I got home,

the police were there
searching the house,

and they arrested him.

Can you imagine my humiliation

in front of all the neighbors?

That man has ruined my life!

He has let me down
time and time again.

I would have made a magnificent
Shadow Queen.

And yet again, Amil's promises
were never fulfilled,

and I was stuck in the role
of lady-in-waiting,

always the bridesmaid,
never the bride.

The gentleman you were
arguing with

seems convinced of your
husband's guilt.

Who cares about Julius?

He's just a talentless fool

with delusions of grandeur.

No doubt he will be
insufferable

at his brother's funeral,

certain to make it all about him

and his grief.

He is Abraham Barratt's brother?

Well, not that it did him
much good.

Always desperate to get
some of his own writing

into one of the shows,
and never was it good enough.

He's only the violinist
in the orchestra

because his brother
felt sorry for him.

He's a dreadful musician.

I only came here to pack up
my dressing room,

and instead I had to
suffer that man

screaming at me in such
an unseemly manner.

He is no gentleman,
no gentleman at all.

I heard a rumor, Mrs. Kapoor...

It is not true.

I have always been faithful
to Amil.

A rumor about Mr. Barratt
writing a new operetta?

A solo endeavor.

Solo? What nonsense.

My husband would never have
stood for it.

They have been a partnership,
always.

So, you are unaware of
a new production

about a magical mirror?

A magical mirror?

Is there a part in it
for a leading lady?

I hear you're
a private investigator

working for Amil?

Word travels fast.

Well... I could tell you a thing
or two about him,

and his vile wife.

Amil is an arrogant snob,

disliked by many...

including his own wife.

You think Violet Kapoor
capable of m*rder?

Her husband wasn't the only
person she loathed.

She hated my brother too,

and the feeling was mutual.

Abraham used to say,

the only successful acting
that woman ever did

was pretending to fall in love
with Amil,

so that he would marry her.

Let me tell you the type
of woman Violet Kapoor is.

While her husband festers
in prison,

she carries on performing
in any godforsaken hole

that'll have her.

All that woman cares about
is her fame

nothing else.

Certainly not her husband.

Alice watched the White Rabbit,

as he fumbled with the list,

feeling very curious to see what

the next witness would be like.

So, imagine her surprise

when the White Rabbit read out,

at the top of his shrill
little voice,

the name, "Alice!"

Right, time for sleep,
you have school tomorrow.

I hate it there, Papa.

It'll get better, I promise.

Did Eliza Scarlet like school?

Eliza Scarlet?

Who is she?

She came to the house
not so long ago.

Remember that morning
you were late for school?

Is she a lady policeman?

No sweetheart,
there's no such thing. She...

is a private detective.

Is that allowed?

No more questions. Alice has
gone to bed, and so must you.

How do you know that?

Because...

when I close the book,

Alice goes to sleep.

And tomorrow night,

when I read the next chapter...

she will awaken, like magic!

You're silly, Papa!

I know.

- Morning, Inspector Blake.
- Miss Scarlet.

I wonder if I might have a word?

Does that word involve me
sharing information

about the Barratt case,
since apparently Mr. Kapoor

- is now your client?
- I...I don't know what

Detective Phelps told you,
but...

Phelps isn't working the case,

he's on leave.

- What?
- One of my men

was delivering a prisoner
to Newgate Prison,

he saw you there.

I don't know how you wrangled

your way inside,

nor do I want to.

Oh...

Yes, erm, I'm working for
Mr. Kapoor,

but surely it would
benefit all parties

to share some basic information?

Very well, what do you have?

Well, I...I've only just begun
my investigation,

but I know of
the evidence against him.

Then you will also know that
it is most substantial?

Yes, but cases are rarely

this open and shut.

Shouldn't we consider

all lines of inquiry?

There is no 'we', Miss Scarlet.

How about this?

We each allow each other
one question

and see where we go from there?

Very well, what's your question?

I wish to see the evidence
against Mr. Kapoor,

the glove, the revolver.

- May I have access to it?
- No.

When you were a child,
did you enjoy school?

- What?
- That's my question.

I meant a question
about the case.

It's my question, so it should
be of my choosing.

I attended a convent school.

The nuns were cruel,

and my classmates even more so.

I...I hated it there.

Thank you, Miss Scarlet.

Good day.

Please forgive my lateness,

I, er, I did receive
your message

but I had some business
to attend to

regarding Mr. Kapoor's case.

Did you manage to see Amil?

I did.

He mentioned something to me...

a new operetta that
your husband had...

written by himself

A solo production.
Were you aware of this?

A solo production, without Amil?

Well, no, I know nothing of it.

Mr. Kapoor believed that
the manuscript

for the operetta was stolen

the night that your
husband was m*rder*d.

If Amil says this is true,

then who am I to question it?

But please be aware,
Miss Scarlet,

his and Abraham's relationship

was increasingly strained.

My husband may have said it
out of spite?

How did Amil seem to you?

Well, considering the
circumstances,

I think extremely well.

Do you think you might be
able to assist him?

I am working on it.

Thank you.

I needed to hear something
uplifting.

My days are filled with
a constant stream

of mourners coming to the house,

and black everywhere I look.

I must confess,
I never understood

the covering of mirrors.

The notion that it stops
the deceased's spirit

from being trapped inside
is odd, don't you think?

I think we have many customs
that are more than a little odd.

Yet we follow them
without question.

Your note said that you wished
to tell me something?

There was a man outside
the house this morning,

taking photographs.

I sent the maid out
to speak to him,

but he hurried off
without saying a word.

I believe he might be
a journalist?

Perhaps he's learnt about

myself and Amil?

Oh, if it should ever get out,
the scandal...

Could you describe this man?

Red hair, red beard...

an unsteady gait,
as if he'd been drinking.

How did you find me?

I'm a private detective.

May I come in?

No!

Inspector Blake told me that
you're not working

the Barratt m*rder case?

Why lie to me, and tell me
that you were?

Someone matching
your description

was seen outside
Mrs. Barratt's house,

taking photographs.

Either you tell me
what's going on,

or I'll inform Inspector Blake
that you're

working this case without his
authorization.

Phelps?

Charlie?

My missus left a couple of
months back,

and took the kids
and went to her sister's.

I started drinking a bit.

Err...well...a lot.

That's when the landlord
turfed me out,

and...I ended up here.

It's all 'cause of him...Blake.

Y...your wife left you
because of Inspector Blake?

After twenty years in the force,

getting that promotion
to Detective Inspector

was the best day of my life.

I knew it was only temporary,

but I was sure it would
end up permanent.

Then he came along, Blake.

And the powers-that-be dropped
me like a tart's knickers.

That's when I started drinking.

That's when the missus left me.

I still don't understand
why you're investigating

the m*rder of Abraham Barratt?

I know what my superiors
think...

that I'm some...useless old sod

who should have retired
years ago.

So, I wanted to show them
what I can do,

maybe find something
that he'd missed.

There's a...

vacancy for inspector

coming up at Bow Street.

I thought solving...

such a high-profile case
might help.

I even got a camera
from Scotland Yard

to build up the picture
of Barratt's life,

his home, the theater.

But I'd had a skinful,
so I don't know

what I got in the end,

a couple of the actors...

his brother...Julian...

Julius?

Waste of time.

Maybe they're right.

I am useless.

You'll tell Blake all of this,
I suppose?

Give him an excuse
to get rid of me.

I will tell no one.

And for what it's worth,
you are respected

by your colleagues.

Fitzroy maybe,
but he likes everyone.

No, not just Oliver.

There are many who sing
your praises.

They're not always complimentary
about your manner,

but...no one questions
your skill in the job.

May I offer you some advice?

Put the self-pity aside,
ease off the whisky,

and, erm...

maybe tidy up a little?

It's not my fault.

I got robbed earlier.

- Robbed?
- It's no surprise,

the door don't shut properly,
bloody dump!

I haven't got much to nick,

but they took the camera

and the photographic plates.

I borrowed them from
Scotland Yard,

I'll have to replace them now.

God knows how,
I'm broke.

Would you like me to make you
another coffee?

No, that was horrible.

What do we have?

The victim was stabbed

several times,

mostly from behind,

once through the neck.

The landlady has identified him

as Julius Barratt,

brother of Abraham Barratt.

Anything found on him?

A pocket watch and a wallet,

and inside was this.



I gave Julius Barratt
my business card,

should anything else
occur to him.

It's shocking indeed,
to hear of his death.

It is, of course,

possible that Julius Barratt's
death

is unconnected to
his brother's, but...

I would wager the same person
k*lled them both.

That's the line of inquiry
I think we should follow.

There's that 'we'
again.

Let us not forget that it was me

who warned that this may not be

an open-and-shut case after all.

I'm curious, Miss Scarlet,
do you think

any conversation with
the underlying point of,

'I told you so', ever ends well?

Is that drinkable?

..just about.

Thank you.

Why did you ask me if I enjoyed
being at school?

Oh, that.

My daughter's struggling
with her teachers.

Her classmates seem no kinder.

She's never found it easy
to make friends.

Now, I know she misses
her mother, and...

I try my best to
fill the void...

...but...

When I was school, I was

continually made to feel...

unimportant...

worthless.

But I was lucky.

My father made me feel special.

Sophia has you.

And from what I've seen,
you are a fine father.

How long since your wife died?

Three years.

It was the anniversary
not so long ago.

I had hoped this year
would be easier.

But... thankfully my job keeps
me busy.

Work is indeed
a good distraction

from matters of the heart.

Speaking of work...

in light of the second m*rder,
there is something

I should perhaps share with you.

My client, Mr. Kapoor,

believes there was
something stolen

from Abraham Barratt's safe.

Some manuscript.

It's a new operetta that he'd
written by himself.

He was ending their partnership.

Well, I can understand
why Kapoor

wanted to keep that quiet.

It is indeed a strong motive
for m*rder.

Julius Barratt thought
it possible

Violet Kapoor could have

m*rder*d his brother

and placed the blame
on her husband.

What if Julius found out
that she was the k*ller,

and she got rid of him too?



If Violet Kapoor is
involved in their murders...

how would the manuscript
benefit her?

Well, she's an actress,

desperate for a leading role.

I believe she'd k*ll her own
mother for one.

So...

she steals the manuscript,

kills Barratt...
plants evidence on her husband,

then plans to produce
this new show

under her own name?

A little bit far-fetched,
don't you think?

These are theater people,
Inspector Blake.

They're not your everyday folk.

? Come into the garden, Maude?

? For I'm at the gate alone?

? For I am at the gate alone?

? For I...?

? Am at the gate...?

? Alone...?

Bravo!

Bravo!

Bravo.

Where were you earlier
this evening,

around eight o'clock?

I was here, rehearsing.

And when was the last time
you saw Julius Barratt?

The other day. I had a meeting
with a producer,

completely pointless of course,

because no one will hire me now.

All anyone cares about
is the fact that

my husband is a m*rder*r.

What has this got to do
with Julius Barratt?

As I left my meeting,

Julius was waiting to see
the producer too.

Always trying to come out from
his brother's shadow,

peddling his own music,

not that anyone
is ever interested.

And...that was the last time
I saw him.

What's this producer's name?

Have you ever considered
the stage, my dear?

You have the face of an angel.

Does she not, Inspector?

Mr. Cinelli, if you
wouldn't mind

keeping to the point.

You were talking about
Mr. Barratt?



Yes, Julius, he had
he misguided notion

that he was as
talented as his brother,

an inflated sense
of his own self.

He even got his initials

engraved on his
violin case in gold, 'JB'.

As if anyone would want
to steal it!

Excuse me...

And you had a meeting
with Mr. Barratt on Tuesday?

Those cheekbones.

Those cheekbones would set fire
to the coldest of hearts

and those eyes...

I could make you a star.

That's very kind of you,
Mr. Cinelli,

but I, er, I have no desire,

nor indeed talent,
for a life in the theater.

When a woman is as beautiful
as you are, my dear,

there's no need for talent.

Oh, for God's sake, man.

We're not here to discuss
Miss Scarlet

changing professions.

She asked you a question.

My apologies, Inspector.

I seem to have hit a nerve.

Yes...we had a meeting
on Tuesday.

He said to me that he had
written a new operetta.

He kept it locked in
his violin case,

like some dramatic secret.

As he put out his instrument
and prepared to play,

I assumed it would be dull
as always.

But it wasn't?

No, not at all.

It was absolutely astonishing.

The best work he had
ever produced.

Can you tell us about
his operetta?

Ah,

The title needed some work.

but the music, it was exquisite.

A story of, er, alchemy,

witchery and magic.

"The Enchanted Mirror".

Are the two of you courting?

Because I think he likes you.

Idiotic man!

I...quite agree.

- So, the case?
- Yes, the case.

If Julius Barratt stole
his brother's new manuscript,

then perhaps he was
the m*rder*r.

But who k*lled him?

We must go to Julius's lodgings,

and see what we can find.

I should have arrested him,
that would have

wiped the smile off his face.

- Who?
- Cinelli.

Impresario.

Bloody imbecile, more like!

Cinelli said that the manuscript

was locked inside a violin case.

It doesn't seem to
be here, though.

It must have been
difficult for him,

having such a successful
brother.

I went to a lecture once

on the nature of
sibling rivalry.

It was at the Royal Institute.

The conclusion was that pursuing
the attention of our parents

ensures our survival.

It's a continual fight
to be noticed,

to be the best in the tribe.

And I should know,
I'm one of seven.

Do you get along with
your siblings?

Yes, when I don't see them.

And you...

I would wager an only child?

How did you guess?

Independent,

ambitious, determined,

but in need of a little
reassurance now and again.

You have all the answers,
don't you, Inspector Blake?

Well, I have the advantage
of having one

just like you at home.

My only wish is that your father

were alive to advise me.

Well, he'd surely tell you
that you

have your work cut out for you.

Inspector Blake?

I suspect these didn't belong
to Julius Barratt.

In fact...

I believe he stole them.

And I know who from.

The camera was stolen
from your lodgings?

Yes, Sir.

And the photographic plates.

What's your connection
to all this?

You're not working on
the Barratt case.

Well, Detective Phelps and I
have known each other

for some time, and on occasion

he's been kind enough to help me

with my investigations.

For free, I should add,
during his time off work.

Detective Phelps helps you?

For free?

Yes.

And on this occasion, I required

surveillance photographs
to further

build a picture of
the key players

in the Barratt m*rder.

I didn't want to risk
being spotted myself,

so I asked Detective Phelps,

who, as you say, is, er,
not working the case.

Is that true?

The question is,
why did Julius Barratt

steal the photographic plates?

He must have followed
Phelps home

and broken into his lodgings.

Why risk it?

What was so important
about them?

Come.

The developed photographs, Sir.

Alright.

Let's see what we have.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

These are actually
quite good.

They are. And thanks to you,
Detective Phelps,

I think we may have
found our m*rder*r.

Julius and I were talking about
my husband's funeral.

We couldn't agree on the music.
What of it?

Well, we also have this
photograph of you, Mrs. Barratt.

If you look closely,
there are gold initials

on that violin case.

'JB' for Julius Barratt.

What are you insinuating?

That you stole his violin case,

because you knew he had
your husband's

manuscript locked inside.

The manuscript you told me
that you

had no knowledge of.

That's why you were arguing

with Julius Barratt, wasn't it?

He knew you'd stolen it
from him,

and he wanted it back.

I know nothing of
any manuscript.

Search the house if you want,
you won't find it here.

We don't need to search
the property, Mrs. Barratt,

because we know exactly
where it is.

That mirror wasn't here
when I previously visited.

Inspector Blake,
am I right in thinking

that the police returned
Abraham Barratt's possessions

from his office to Mrs. Barratt?

You're correct, Miss Scarlet.

And this, this is the mirror

from his office?

It is.

What are you doing?

I'm in mourning.

"The Enchanted Mirror"

by Abraham Barratt.

Very well, I lied, I knew about
the manuscript.

But it is not a crime to
take back the property

of my deceased husband.

No...

no, but it is a crime to m*rder
the person

who stole it from him.

I've m*rder*d no one.

Why on earth would I hire you
if I were the m*rder*r?

Yes, you did hire me,
after you informed me

that the city's two
biggest investigation agencies,

Gill & Son and Culpeppers,

had turned your case down.

Both of which myself
and Inspector Blake

visited before
coming here today, and...

none of them had any record

of even meeting you,
Mrs. Barratt.

Contrary to Mr. Kapoor's
request,

you didn't even attempt to hire

a large agency
with endless resources,

because you didn't want him
to be proven innocent.

Instead, you hired
Miss Scarlet here,

a lone female investigator,

the odds stacked against her.

But you underestimated her.

Why did you wish to be rid
of your lover?

Because like my husband,
I discovered

he was also being
unfaithful to me.

I was tired of them both...

the great Barratt and Kapoor.

Never was there a pair of more
self-serving grandiose fools.

So, your plan was to
get rid of them both,

and...then what?

When everything calmed down, I
would discover

my husband's new operetta
in the mirrored safe.

I would have it produced
in his memory, and...

enjoy the limelight
as his widow.

The attention of the world
would be on me.

Attention he never gave me.

Neither gave me.

I thought I was the only one
that knew about the manuscript,

but I was wrong.

Julius Barratt also knew.

After I shot Abraham,
I heard footsteps.

I hid behind the velvet drapes
in the office,

and watched Julius step in.

He looked at Abraham in shock,
but he didn't call for help.

Instead, he went straight
to the safe.

He knew where the key was kept,
he unlocked it

and took the manuscript.

It's ironic that the only people
my husband trusted

were me and his brother Julius.

And then you k*lled him too.

Come on, hurry up.

Get a move on.

I did love Matilda.

But I can't deny much of
the attraction

was because she was
married to Abraham...

the man who began as my friend

but who became my biggest rival.

I suppose it was my revenge.

And how I have paid the price
for it.

Abraham too.

What will you do now?

I'm in need of a stiff drink.

I might be able to
help you there.

Oh, is there no end

to your talents, Miss Scarlet?

"Here, cried Alice,
quite forgetting

in the flurry of the moment,

quite how large she had grown

in the last few moments.

And she jumped up
in such a hurry ..."

My classmates were mean
to me again.

Why, what happened?

They don't believe
Miss Scarlet is real.

Who cares what they think?

They...are nitwits!

You swore, Papa!

Nitwits is not a swear word,

neither is nincompoops.

Which is also what they are.

Eliza Scarlet is real,
isn't she, Papa?

She is, sweetheart.

Very much so.

Inspector Blake,
you wanted to see me?

I chased up
the accounting department,

this is what you're owed

for the Hawkins investigation.

Oh.

Thank you.

There was one other thing.

Are you available later?

When you say later,
do you mean...?

This afternoon.

This afternoon?

- What did you think I meant?
- Nothing. I'll be at my office.

Good, 'cause I have
a favor to ask.

Sophia, you remember
Miss Scarlet?

Good afternoon, Sophia.

Good afternoon.

And this is her office.

You see, Miss Scarlet
is a private detective.

She is real.

Goodness, it's quite
a relief to hear that I am.

Well, I suppose I should show
you up to my office,

so you can tell your classmates
about that, too.

Although I can't promise
that it's very tidy.