- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -
(theme music)
(music and conversations)
Thomas. Those are for the guests.
- So what am I? - Well, it's my new business,
so you are the help.
They should be finished.
Oh don't worry about it, Margaret,
everything will be fine, I'm sure.
Just lend a hand where it's needed.
And keep an eye on those milling about.
I don't want anything stolen.
- (old style car horn) - (gasping): Here they are!
Hurry along Thomas. Hello!
(to himself): Bloody woman.
Hello Mrs. Cummersworth!
- Hello! - Hello!
Everything is in order, I assure you.
Thank you.
Just this way. We don't want the groom to see you.
- Thank you. - Thomas Brackenreid.
- Samuel Birkett. - The bride's side I take it?
- Most definitely the bride. - Most definitely?
The groom's a pompous windbag.
Always rapping that cane as if he were a sergeant.
Says he was injured in the war.
I wager he's never seen a battlefield.
- I was in Afghanistan. - Were you now?
"Writing class to be taught by renowned novelist.
Signed book by author to be included in price of class.
Bring writing sample." What do you think, Henry?
I suppose it would depend on the teacher.
I'm the teacher.
You think writing one book qualifies you as a writing teacher?
I do! Now, I've signed 20 copies
of The Curse of the Pharaohs, hopefully that will be enough.
- I'd imagine so. - (baby cooing)
Sir.
Shouldn't he be walking by now?
(more cooing)
I have no idea, sir.
Perhaps he's slow.
I mean I...
wouldn't worry about it, sir.
My mother said I didn't walk 'til I was almost three.
Will you love him,
comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health;
and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him
as long as you both shall live?
I will.
Elizabeth Cummersworth and Oliver Pym,
having witnessed your vows of love to one another,
it is my joy to present you to all gathered here
as man and wife.
You may kiss the bride.
(applause and sweet laughter)
Ladies and Gentlemen...
(electric charge, cries and gasps)
Please sir, stand aside.
May be an idea to start planning the funeral.
His skin is pale, and his eyes are cloudy with dilated pupils.
There are contusions on the palm of his hand.
And his hair is slightly singed.
I already told you, Doctor, I was there. The poor sod was electrocuted.
The question is was it accidental or deliberate?
William. Where's Roland?
Oh, I've left him in excellent care.
(mouth noise and gentle laughter)
Where are you going, George?
- I'm off to meet my students. - Well...
You're not gonna leave me with...
- (baby cooing) - Try not to let him outsmart you, Higgins.
(voices, conversations)
My condolences.
Why are you still here?
I'm trying to determine the exact cause of your husband's death.
That hardly matters now, does it?
Wouldn't you want to know the reason why?
I know what I need to know.
Are we almost done here?
I'm gonna need to have everything cleared away
- as soon as possible. - (knocking)
- Mrs. Cummersworth... - It's Pym now.
Oliver died after the vows were taken.
Mrs. Pym. May we have a word?
- What would you like to know? - Is there anyone you can think of
who might want your husband dead?
- Not a soul. - Is everything all right?
- Quite. - And you are?
- Judith Baxter, a friend. - I was the lady-of-honour in the wedding party.
They've laid out some tea for us.
Was there anything else?
- We do have more questions. - Can they not wait?
This woman is newly bereaved.
- Of course. - Then you'll excuse us.
We'll need to return the wedding gifts immediately.
And of course we'll need to make funeral arrangements.
The grieving bride.
She doesn't seem terribly affected by her husband's death.
No, she does not.
The groom then kisses the bride...
Figuratively!
They both turn and head down the steps.
No, they didn't.
The groom called everyone to attention.
These lights are powered by this electrical wire
which seems to enter the alter up along this pillar.
Now, there is a significant puddle here.
This planter appears to be responsible, it's been over watered.
This one isn't.
So the deceased was stood in a puddle
- when he went to make his speech. - And the bride wasn't.
But sir, have a look at this.
The wire has been stripped bare, allowing it to make contact
with the assembly and electrifying it.
So the groom raised his cane,
made contact with it,
and his body closed the circuit.
If the bride or daughter had anything to do with this,
- they likely would have needed help. - Why is that?
You don't think women are devious enough to murder?
(voices)
Ah!
Are we going to get started?
Yeah... Right. Um...
We already know your name!
And we paid for a two full hours of instruction.
It's already five past seven.
So you will be going to five past nine.
Very well, um...
Right. Why don't we begin with
you telling me a bit about...
let's start with each of you
telling me a little bit about yourselves and what you hope to
achieve from the class. You must be
- Eunice? - No flies on him.
Thank you. I would like to write my memoirs.
My life has been full of mystery and romance.
Excellent!
Excellent, Eunice. That's very intriguing.
- Uh... You, sir... Howard? - Yes.
I plan on writing cowboy stories
and selling them to the weeklies.
- I hope to make a living at it. - Excellent!
Write what you know. I take it you've spent time on a ranch?
- No. - Did you spend some time in Ancient Egypt?
- No. - Then why did you say: "Write what you know"?
Alright, that piece of advice comes from none other than
Mark Twain. A man I have met personally.
Well, bully for you!
- Perhaps you could get HIM to teach the class. - (big exasperated sigh)
(knocking) I'm so,
so very sorry I'm late. I apologize.
It's just it's been tremendously exciting
to be in Toronto for the first time. The clothing stores, my word!
I went out for one little thing and 2 hours later, well,
you can see the trouble I've gotten myself into.
No need to apologize, Miss.
Where are you coming from?
I hail from Cavendish,
the most beautiful town in all of Prince Edward Island.
You've come a long way, then.
I trust your purpose wasn't solely
- to attend my writing class? - Indeed, it was not,
but I thought this class might do me some good while I'm here.
I've had some success with short stories and poetry,
but I'm very keen to crack the novel form.
Very good, what's your name?
Lucy Montgomery.
But friends and family call me Maud.
(voices)
Whose idea was it to run the electrical lights around the altar?
The wedding planner's.
The woman wanted a spectacle.
I guess she got it.
Had you any previous experience with such lights?
A light is a light.
And a wire is a wire.
Unless that wire has deliberately been stripped bare.
"If" the wire was damaged,
it was the fools who built and decorated that altar.
We were exceedingly careful. We always are.
That's why we're the best in the business.
The electrician believes you may have damaged the electrical wiring.
Well, he doesn't know what he's talking about.
We completed our work before the wiring was done.
I would not overwater the plants.
That arrangement was extremely sensitive.
You couldn't have made a mistake?
Are you questioning my professionalism?
You took a keen interest in Mr. Pym's metal cane.
- I didn't know you were a copper. - I never offered.
Did you know that metal conducts electricity?
- No. - Are you sure about that?
I don't know anything about electricity.
And if I was going to kill him, I would have done it face to face.
Why?
Because...
Elizabeth deserves better.
We might want to consider something.
- What's that, sir? - Well, that it was just an accident.
None of that lot seem to have the spark to electrocute a man.
- Perhaps. - Did you get that: "Spark"?
- Yes. Very good sir. - Gentlemen.
- How were your suspects? - Clean as a whistle.
Take a look at this. Can I hold him?
- Of course! - I was speaking to a woman
at the Suffrage Association about Elizabeth's wedding
and her husband's demise. And her response?
"Oh, no, not again!"
_
- Five husbands? - Elizabeth, née Drabble.
Married the first time in 1884
to Paul Durrell, 22 years of age.
He died in a fall off of a bridge.
Number two: Lucas Gibson in 1887.
Died in a hunting accident.
Seven years later to one Thomas McEwan.
His charred remains were found in a fishing lodge that burned down.
Her most recent last name
came from Bernard Cummersworth in 1898.
He died after a piano that was being moved fell on top of him.
And now, number five, Oliver Pym,
by electrocution.
Elizabeth Pym is either the unluckiest woman in the world
or one very competent murderess.
I'd wager the latter.
William, with your permission, I'd like to observe.
Of course!
(baby cooing)
Sir, if you wouldn't mind...
- Thank you. - (more cooing)
Promise me you won't grow up to be like those two.
How about a thimble full of scotch? Heh heh!
I understand this isn't the first husband you've lost.
No,
I've lost all four of my husbands prior to Oliver.
You have to admit that's rather suspicious?
On the face of it.
The only common element in all these deaths is you.
I was nowhere near any of my husbands
when they died. Excepting, of course, Oliver,
whom, as you may know, I was standing next to.
In fact, had he reached out to touch me at that moment,
I'd likely be dead as well.
Nevertheless, Mrs. Pym,
these deaths are connected,
and I believe you are involved in all of them.
Indeed, I am.
They all made the mistake of marrying me.
And leaving you their money.
If you want to try to prove that I had something to do
with the deaths of my husbands,
be my guest.
Now,
I have many things to take care of.
Mrs. Pym,
I'll be needing your fingermarks before you leave the station house.
Do you have any objections?
Not a one.
What in the blazes do you think you're doing?!
How dare you treat a lady like this?!
It's all right, Samuel. I agreed to this.
Please wait for me outside, in the car.
That should do, Mrs. Pym.
Thank you for your cooperation.
The woman is absolutely fascinating!
She makes no effort whatsoever
to hide her lack of feeling about five dead husbands.
She puts me in mind of that insect species
where the female consumes the male
right when they're in the middle...
- Procreating. - Yes! The female praying mantis
is known to devour her mate during the sex act,
as is the widow spider.
That's the perfect name for her: the black "preying" mantis.
Only change the 'a' in praying to an 'e'
- because she preys upon... - Thank you, George.
I think we should focus on the husbands.
I'll look into the fire at the fishing lodge.
Sir, I'm quite intrigued by this falling piano.
First thing tomorrow, then.
And perhaps the Inspector will be able to find someone
connected to the Hunt Club where Mr. Gibson was killed.
Julia, could you look at the previous coroner's reports?
Perhaps something was overlooked.
Of course!
- Anything else, George? - Sir,
I was hoping you might be able to advise me
- on a little problem I've encountered. - Of course.
As you know, I've undertaken to teach a writing class.
Oh. Very good.
Well, the samples of the writing I've received, sir, are...
to put it kindly... Uneven.
And I'm not sure how to give criticism
without unduly hurting somebody's feelings.
Well, the best advice I can give
is to look for their positive qualities
and give those equal weight to your criticisms.
Sir, what if there are no positive qualities?
- Suggest another occupation. - Sir?
Why would one waste valuable effort
on a vocation for which they have no facility?
It was 1855 when my husband died.
I was not so sad. I did not like him.
I was pretty and I always liked a handsome boy.
He was not handsome. But my mother said he was a good catch.
So I married him. But I never did like him...
... very much.
Uh...
the honesty of it is...
remarkable, admirable, poetic even.
I think perhaps the sentences are a bit repetitive.
Perhaps it's just your voice. But also,
I think the content could be more colourfully described.
- You don't like it! - I didn't say that.
It's my life story.
Well, perhaps we need to consider
that not every life story is worth telling.
(The lady gasps.)
- Well... - I didn't mean to suggest...
- ... I never! - Oh, please...
- I never!!! - (George sighs.)
Right, then, who's going to read next?
(A door slams nearby.)
- Where's Mr. Raymond? - He withdrew.
Then I suppose I shall go next.
Ahem!
It was just after sundown
in the wild, wild west.
The man with the black cowboy hat
and the sharp silver spurs got off his high horse.
Doing evil was on his mind.
He spat on the dusty ground.
He went into the saloon and ordered a whiskey.
He pulled out his gun.
"Is there anyone here brave enough to fight me?"
- he asked the crowd of cowboys... - Oh, sweet mother of mercy,
please, Mr. Howard, stop!
Just stop! Why are you wasting your time?
Nobody would publish that!
- How dare you, you little sod. - I'm sorry,
but it's nothing more than a... collection of clichÃ©s.
There is not a single original thought in there!
I don't want to encourage you to waste your time
in a vocation for which you have no facility.
My writing's as good as yours!
I couldn't even get through the first chapter
of that daft thing you call a novel!
You're no teacher,
you're a fraud!
(George sighs.)
Looks like it's just the two of us.
And what did you think of... MY writing, Mr. Crabtree?
Please, George.
George?
I did think you had significantly more aptitude than any of the others.
But there were a few things I would like to discuss.
I didn't come here to be coddled, but for honest opinion.
That is what I'd like to hear from you.
- Are you sure about that? - I am.
Alright then.
Well, seeing as it's just the two of us,
perhaps we could find a more comfortable venue for our discussion.
I'd like that.
(conversations, dishes)
So...
"George"?
What did you really think?
There's no question in my mind, Maud:
you have a real gift.
How kind of you.
Uh, I've read the first several chapters of this novel you intend to write,
- this "Anne of Green Gables"... - Yes?
... and I think your style is very good.
Excellent even.
I just wonder if Anne should be...
born into a more interesting family.
I mean, they're all rather dull, don't you think?
You might be right about that.
I'll give it some further thought.
And you do tend go a bit overboard with the nature stuff.
I mean, nature is terrific,
but after a while, how many trees and
streams can a reader take?
And it takes so long before anything actually happens.
And... when it finally does,
I find this Anne character's misadventures are, uh...
what's the word? Um... uh...
Trivial, uninteresting.
And the red hair and the freckles, that's all a bit overstated, isn't it.
Anne tends to go on and on and on, about every little thing.
I think you should consider making Anne a boy.
I mean, then she'd be able to have real adventures.
Can we go back to the parts you liked?
As I mentioned before, I think your use of the English language is...
exemplary.
Since my language skills... are exemplary,
I'll make this short and sweet.
Goodbye, Mr. Crabtree.
(chimes from the door)
Lucas Gibson was with the Crothers Woods Hunt Club.
His shooting was assumed to be an accident.
Were they able to determine which of the hunters' guns
- the bullet came from? - No.
But the guide that took them out that day was the only one
unaccounted for when the victim was shot.
He vanished shortly afterwards.
- George? - Sir, I spoke to somebody at the moving company.
He said when the piano fell and killed Cummersworth,
one of the movers that day was a new chap
and right after the incident, he disappeared.
- How did it fall on him? - Improperly strapped, apparently.
It fell a full five stories.
Must've caused quite a mess.
- Oh sir, the splatter reached a call box across the street... - Gentlemen...
- (baby cooing) - ... please.
Aah...
Right Murdoch, what did you uncover?
Another missing man.
When the lodge burned down to the ground,
an unknown man alerted the Sheriff.
He was also never seen again.
So there was a suspicious male present
when each of these supposed 'accidents' occurred.
And all three times he disappeared straight afterwards.
What about the first husband?
Was there a missing man there?
Dr. Ogden wasn't able to find much detail
in the coroner's report, except that Mr. Paul Durrell
died from a head injury sustained
- from a fall off a bridge. - Any mention of a witness?
Unfortunately no.
But it does seem likely that this disappearing man
- could all be one and the same. - And our killer.
- This picture shows the six - man hunting party.
There's the guide that disappeared.
Hard to tell what he looks like now; it was fifteen years ago.
We have met this man before.
The florist, from the wedding.
And the grieving widow's accomplice.
How do you account for the fact that each of your husbands
died after they married you?
How many is it now? Five?
- It's my bad luck I suppose. - YOUR bad luck?
They're the ones who keep on dying.
You're the one who keeps on getting richer.
Inspector, there's no need for that kind of tone.
And if you think you've got such bad luck,
why is it you keep on getting married?
That's my prerogative and really, none of your business.
What can you tell us about Fergus Dexter?
- Who's he? - The florist at your wedding,
the most recent one, that is.
She's already told you she doesn't know him.
I neither hired nor dealt directly with any of the workmen.
Talk to that idiotic wedding planner.
(Clears his throat.)
Maybe you hired him for a less savoury job.
If you'll excuse me, I have a funeral to get ready for.
- We're not finished here, Mrs. Pym. - I am,
so charge me or let me go.
Well if she won't talk,
perhaps the "florist" will.
If he is still in town.
Best talk to the idiotic wedding planner.
Miss Montgomery!
Mr. Crabtree, could... I have word?
I was hoping I would see you again.
- I really want to apologize. - As do I.
No, no, no. I never should have been so
aggressive in my critique.
And I should not have asked for a critique if unprepared to hear it.
Once I'd calmed myself,
I realized how greatly I could benefit from your comments on my novel.
I wonder if we could speak further.
- Yes, of course. - Henry.
Tell the Detective I'm taking my lunch.
- Will you cover for me? - What's in it for me?
A chance to prove your mettle as a police officer
if the Detective calls on you.
After delivering that insult about his child,
I would think you would want to make amends.
Thomas, why are you badgering me?
Where did you find Fergus Dexter?
I didn't find him, he found me.
He approached me at the mansion.
I have his address in here,
I'm sure, let me see. No,
no, no. Ah, so many papers!
Ah! Ha! Here it is.
(sighing with relief): Excellent work, Margaret.
Come on, Murdoch.
- Thank you! - Hm! (after sighing): Oh!
Remind him he needs to send me his invoice. Thomas!
It appears Margaret may have saved a few bob.
Sir, the bullet appears to have entered the back
of Mr. Dexter's head, and not the side.
A clumsy attempt to make a murder look like a suicide.
Interesting that it happened so soon after we told
Elizabeth Pym that Mr. Dexter was under suspicion.
Makes it pretty difficult for him
to answer questions about his connection to her.
At least we have this.
- Done? - Done!
Thank you.
Father is off to find a murderer.
(Julia laughs softly.)
There.
And now, for Elizabeth Pym's fingermarks
in the exact same spot.
A little lower on the left.
There.
- Alright. - Sir,
what's this contraption here?
It's called a macro lens attachment.
It magnifies the image so that I can get a higher resolution
photograph of just what I need.
In this case, the right index fingermark.
A higher resolution;
- that means you can see more clearly? - That's right.
Oh, that'll be all Henry.
Sir,
I didn't mean to speak ill of your son earlier.
No offense taken.
I would be proud if he would grow up to be a stalwart
young man such as yourself, Henry.
Thank you, sir.
It bears repeating that I think your novel has true greatness in it.
I just think you ought to...
do away with some of the dull bits
and flesh out the parts that are more rousing.
That is sound advice.
And have you reconsidered making it
- "Dan of Green Gables"? - Absolutely not.
Why should I?
Half the world is made up of women.
I suspect there should be a large readership
for a novel with a female protagonist.
You make a good case.
By the way, you need to grab your readers right off the top,
make it exciting.
I think that's the technique that made my novel successful.
How do you suggest I accomplish that?
Well, you have the haunted wood scenes.
They're just buried a long way in. Try moving those up at the beginning.
And give us some ghosts. We need to actually see them.
And a dead body.
Maud, a dead body would go a long way,
people wouldn't be able to put the book down if it had all that at the start.
I don't know about an actual corpse, George.
- It's not meant to be that kind of novel. - Fair enough, no corpse.
But definitely ghosts. And they need to DO something.
- You may be right. - I'm certain I am.
What about a white lady who walks along the brook at night,
who wrings her hands and utters wailing cries,
appearing when there's a death in the family?
That's perfect.
Maud, that's perfect. And then, maybe the ghost of a murdered child
who haunts the woods
and creeps up behind you, and he puts a...
a cold hand on your shoulder.
And a headless man...
who stalks up and down the path
and skeletons that glower from between the boughs.
Headless man?
- Have you ever seen a headless man? - No. Have you?
I have.
It's quite something.
I think it would be a good idea if your pen name
was to include all three of your names,
like some of the greats: Robert Louis Stephenson,
Arthur Conan Doyle, H.G. Wells...
- Louisa May Alcott. - Exactly.
What a wonderful thought, George.
I do like the sound of it.
"Lucy Maud Montgomery".
(glasses clinking)
You know, it's one of the great tragedies of my life
that I have only one given name. I was a foundling, you see,
so my naming was rather a utilitarian affair.
- You were an orphan? - Mm...
I was found on the church steps in an extremely old carpetbag,
which held me and all my worldly possessions, so...
I think it's safe to say it wasn't very heavy.
(soft snicker)
Did you ever come to know the mother and father
- who brought you into the world? - Yeah, I did meet my mother eventually.
I remember as a child, I used to pretend that...
I was really the son of some great earl
and I'd been stolen away by a cruel and wicked nurse
who ended up dying before she had a chance to confess.
What a positively romantic story.
Were you terribly sad and lonely?
No, everything worked out exceedingly well for me actually.
Adversity can be the making of a man.
- George. - Yes?
Please come closer.
This is a photograph of the fingermarks
that were taken from the pistol that was found in Mr. Dexter's hand.
As you can see, they're undistinguishable.
But...
if I overlay
these two fingermarks...
like so...
Now what do you see?
It's the same image.
Precisely. When oriented correctly,
these two fingermarks form the one
that was taken from the pistol.
And who do they belong to?
Fergus Dexter and Elizabeth Pym.
Seems like her luck's finally turned.
We now have proof that you killed Fergus Dexter.
Don't be ridiculous. I don't even know the man.
I believe you do.
Do you recognize this?
That's similar to the gun that's kept in my car.
I assume it's a common weapon.
Well, this one was found at the scene of the murder.
And it has your fingermarks on it.
As I've said, I don't know any Fergus Dexter.
And if that is my gun, I have no idea
how it was used in the murder of this man.
- Now, are we done here? - Far from it, Mrs. Pym.
You knew that we were on to Fergus Dexter.
So you killed him before he could implicate you
and made it appear as though it were a suicide.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
We can't arrest you for the murders of your husbands.
But we can prove that you killed Fergus Dexter
and that is enough.
I don't understand.
He murdered your husbands and you paid him well for it.
- I did not. - We can prove that Fergus Dexter was present
at all of your husband's deaths.
Lucas Gibson,
Thomas McEwan and Bernard Cummersworth.
But why?
You mean...
you think someone was responsible for all of my husbands' deaths?
Yes.
And that person is you.
Someone I don't even know killed all four of them?
- (She sighs.) - Excuse me.
Something doesn't make sense here.
She very clearly referred to four murdered husbands
rather than five. I wonder why?
Which one is she omitting?
Could it be the first husband, the one who fell from a bridge?
The only one that Dexter wasn't present for.
Did she kill him herself?
Could I talk to her, William?
Elizabeth?
Tell me about your first husband, Paul Durrell.
Were you responsible for his death?
I was.
He died after falling from a bridge.
- Did you push him? - No.
Were you present when he died?
No.
Then how are you responsible?
I told him I no longer loved him.
That I wanted our marriage annulled.
I drove him to it.
In his note Paul told me exactly
why he was going to do it.
It was all my fault
I killed him.
Paul Durrell committed suicide?
I knew he was unstable...
he threatened suicide...
... but I left him nonetheless.
But there was no suicide note in the coroner's file.
It was nobody else's business.
I didn't want to shame his memory any further.
I didn't kill the other four.
I swear.
Elizabeth, do you still have the note that he left you?
Yes, I do.
I carry it with me to this day.
You started this writing class
as a means of meeting young ladies, didn't you?
Don't be ridiculous, Henry!
However... (Takes a bite from an apple.)
... Maud is really quite something.
I mean, I feel she not only has genuine potential as a writer
but that she's also my intellectual equal.
Is that supposed to be a compliment?
You know, I'm having dinner with her tonight.
- I think she could be the one. - Whoa... The one?
- Yes. - Which one?
"Which one... "
And you're certain about the first husband?
She's provided the suicide note.
Elizabeth Pym was overcome with profound grief
after Mr. Durrell's death.
Then she experienced trauma after trauma
as each of her subsequent husbands died.
And you don't think she's lying?
I don't.
The string of traumas could explain her detached manner prior to this.
I suppose it's possible...
At the very least, it gives some validity
to her claim of having no part in the other husbands' murders.
If she didn't hire Fergus Dexter...
then what motivated him to kill them all?
And who killed Dexter?
Elizabeth claims the murder weapon was in her automobile.
Might be time to have a word with the driver.
I saw the way you looked at her.
I won't deny I'm sweet on her.
Always have been.
But I'm not responsible for any murder.
Where were you between the hours of one and 3 PM yesterday?
I drove Elizabeth to her lawyer's office for the reading of the will.
I was in the waiting room all the while.
Who else besides Elizabeth might have had access to the car and gun?
Well?
This is Dr. Julia Ogden.
She often consults with me on police matters.
I should disclose to you that she is also my wife.
How lovely. You work with your wife.
And what sort of Doctor are you?
- A psychiatrist. - Ah, a charlatan.
You've had experience with psychiatrists?
You also lost your husband.
Yes. What bearing does that have?
His name was Edgar Durrell,
- is that right? - What of it?
Elizabeth Pym's first husband was a Paul Durrel.
We were acquainted shortly after her first husband's death.
His suicide.
Elizabeth's first husband was your son, wasn't he?
We know that he was.
The question is, does Elizabeth know who you are?
That witch killed him.
That must have hurt.
- How did you find out how he died? - Paul sent me a letter.
She'd told him she was leaving him.
He was very distraught.
I booked passage to Toronto,
but by the time I arrived,
my boy was gone.
She is responsible for that.
And who was Fergus Dexter?
A dalliance, a friend... a lover.
And your own personal assassin.
A fact that he would have disclosed to me
had I been able to speak to him.
She killed my son.
She deserved everything that came her way.
You then killed Mr. Dexter
- to cover your tracks... - (She sighs impatiently.)
... and tried to frame Elizabeth Pym for the murder.
Yes. So?
- All these years. - (with a bit of a snicker)
If you sought revenge,
why not take just Elizabeth's life?
Why kill all those men who did you no harm?
Because of her, I lost my only child.
I wanted her pain to be as enduring as mine.
I wanted to cause her so much guilt and sorrow
that one day, she could bear it no longer
and she would take her own life.
I live for that day.
Well, now you won't see it.
(sigh)
(knocking at the door)
Coming.
(sigh)
I waited for you.
I'm sorry.
May I come in?
George, I must speak with you.
You are such a robust personality,
I can't help but find you extremely appealing
on every level.
That's a good thing.
And that's why I didn't come to dinner. George,
there's no room in my life for another person right now.
I must return to Prince Edward Island to care for my grandmother.
My hands will be almost full with that alone and
it will be all I can do to find ample time to write.
- We've only just met. - I know.
And that's why I must end this now.
Romance with you is extremely tempting.
It's a detour I'm not prepared to take at this time in my life.
I must devote myself to writing.
Don't despair, George.
Someone of your calibre will not be on his own for long.
Hm...
I've rewritten the first several chapters.
I'd love to hear your opinions.
But...
if you'd rather not, I'd understand.
It would be my pleasure...
Lucy Maud Montgomery.
Thank you.
My postal address is on the front page.
- And George... - Yes?
... I don't leave until the morning.
I will be asked to speak in her defense.
Of course you will.
She's not of right mind.
That is for the Crown to decide, Julia, not I.
Oh, Julia.
How long before children are supposed to walk?
I have no idea.
We should find out.
Henry, listen to this:
"It has all my worldly goods in it, but it isn't very heavy.
It's an extremely old carpetbag."
Isn't that how you were found, in an old carpetbag?
Yes, exactly!
I'm thrilled that she used some of the ideas that we came up with together:
the ghost of the murdered child, the lady in white,
the headless man and whatnot. But
there's something else here.
What's that?
Well, she's turned the character into a spunky orphan,
found in a carpetbag, who's prone to flights of fancy!
Henry;
Anne of Green Gables is me!
Announcer: On an all-new Murdoch...
A white man killed in a coloured church.
Announcer: Solving a sinful murder...
No member of my congregation would do this.
Announcer: Will take a leap of faith.
Perhaps this is what the killer was looking for.
You need to tell me what you're hiding.
Announcer: Murdoch Mysteries,
next Monday at 8:00 on CBC.
- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -