Murdoch Mysteries

More coffee, dear? - Yes. Yes.

Fools don't know how to run a footrace, let alone a country.

What?

What's this, then?

What is it, dear?

Is this one of your little practical jokes?

Well, I'm not laughing, Dorothy.

I -- I assure you, Harrison, I know nothing of this.

Maybe it was Roger, then.

Scoundrel's always coveted my position at the bank.

Perhaps it's just a mistake, dear.

Mistake, my foot!

Where are you going?

Straight to the newspaper to give them a piece of my mind.

All right, dear.

Hmm?

Oh!

He had only just stepped out the door when...

Where was he going?

To the offices of The Toronto Gazette.

For what purpose?

Harrison had meant to complain to the paper

about a-a dreadful error they had made in the morning edition.

It's so cruel.

It makes no sense.

This is the paper he was holding when he died?

What kind of a horrible person would do such a thing?

His own obituary.

Not much mystery as to the cause of death.

Certainly not.

It is unfortunate timing for the poor man.

I suspect there's more at play here than mere bad luck.

It's unlikely the planter fell of its own accord.

And there's the curious matter of this obituary.

The damnedest thing!

A dead man whose obituary was published before he died.

Yes, we were just discussing that.

More than passing strange.

Definitely needs to be looked into.

Indeed.

The obituary in effect predicted

the exact day the fellow would die.

Suggesting the writer played a part

in making the obituary come true.

My thoughts exactly.

His neighbors claim he was a bad sort,

so I pulled his crime sheet.

He had a criminal record?

For petty theft and gambling offenses and such.

I understood him to be a bank manager.

His garb is certainly fitting of a trussed-up man of money.

- Oh. That's not Gibson. - Gibson? Who is Gibson?

Oh, there.

That's Murray Gibson's body coming in now.

Fell off his fire escape.

This man's name was Harrison McCallister.

That's Gibson.

Both published hours before their actual deaths

and both dying of apparent accidents.

What's the connection?

I don't know.

They were both placed in the early edition

of The Toronto Gazette.

I just love seeing you in your uniform.

Ahh!

Give us a moment, McNabb. A bit early for you, isn't it?

Well, I wanted to tell you as soon as I knew for certain.

Knew what?

Some of the girls have got a show together,

and they've been offered a spot at the Moulin Rouge.

In Paris.

Well, that's fantastic.

Traveling expands the mind, you know?

I'm one of the girls.

- Paris? - Yes.

From what I hear,

Paris is a-a veritable den of thieves and cutthroats.

Which is why I would like a constable with me.

To keep me safe.

I don't know, Nina.

Newfoundland is the furthest I've ever been from Canada.

I mean, I can't imagine what a journey like that would cost.

Oh, don't worry about the cost. I've got a double berth.

So you'll come?

Thank you.

The obituaries editor can't confirm who posted the notices.

They were typewritten,

placed through the mail slot with a cash payment.

Is that the usual way of these things?

He saw nothing amiss.

Sir, someone's come in to report an obituary

written about themselves.

Right. Bring him in, George.

It's not a him, sir. It...

Oh. Good morning, Sister.

Sister Anna maria. It's a pleasure to meet you, Detective.

I understand you've found an obituary.

About myself.

And as you can well see,

I'm standing right here in front of you,

living and breathing and still in my earthly vestments.

Someone has made a terrible mistake.

Urn, It may not be a mistake, exactly.

What do you mean?

This isn't the first such obituary we've found today.

Sister, as a precaution,

I would ask that you remain here

at the station house for a time.

Certainly. I'll do whatever you say.

George, if you could find Sister Anna maria

a comfortable spot...

Right away, sir. Sister?

A banker, a gambler, and a nun.

It sounds like the beginning of an unfortunate joke.

Three fraudulent obituaries.

What if there are more?

George.

Sir.

- Excuse me, sir. - Where to, Constable?

Actually, I was wondering

if you knew anything about the gentleman

mentioned in this obituary -- Joshua Martin.

Indeed I do. He was my father.

I buried him this morning.

My condolences. Thank you.

Don't be so stupid! He died two days ago!

L-I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am.

Uh, sir, are you Leonard Stoker?

Yes. What of it?

Good! So you're not dead, then.

- Is that some kind of threat? - No, no, no, no, no.

But I-l will need you to come down to the station house.

That must be for somebody else.

Is there more than one Leonard Stoker,

1901 boxing champion of Toronto?

Look

Eddie Crawford.

I didn't do anything wrong.

I didn't say you did.

Oh. Well. So, what's on your mind?

Saving your life.

- You're pulling my leg. - I wish I were.

We need you to come down to the station house right away.

Over a silly prank?

Eddie, two of the pranks on this page have just been killed.

Regardless of what we think of you,

we don't want you to be next.

Come on.

Well, if it isn't my old friend Eddie Crawford.

You can wager I'm as glad to see you as you are me.

True enough.

Even so, I'd rather see you alive than dead.

Well, that's very kind of you, Inspector.

What's going on with these obituaries?

Some creative genius is making every effort

to make his fictional writing come true.

You're one of the lucky ones who's not dead yet.

Ooh!

Can I help you?

I went to make a complaint at the newspaper

and they sent me here.

Oh, dear. An obituary?

Yes, how did you know?

See? For Agnes Swift.

With all the correct details.

That makes six.

Six what?

Just a moment.

Oh. Mrs. Swift?

It's Miss.

Might we have a moment?

Hello there, young miss.

I find myself wondering

what your favorite school subjects might be.

Miss Swift, there are others

who have had similar obituaries written about them.

Two died earlier this morning,

shortly after this paper was published,

most likely killed by whoever wrote and posted these.

- Good Lord! - Yes.

We were hoping that you would remain here at the station house

so that we may ensure your safety.

You don't understand.

I'm Virginia Swift.

The obituary wasn't written about me.

Agnes Swift is my daughter.

Could I trouble anyone for a cup of tea?

I did ask that constable,

but he seems to have forgotten.

We can see to that.

Constable Brackenreid, tea for Sister Anna maria, please?

Yes, sir.

We at Station House Four greatly appreciate

your cooperation in this investigation.

How long is this gonna take? I have a fight tonight.

And I will need to be back for afternoon prayers.

We thank you for your patience.

And as long as you're here with us, you'll be safe.

Meanwhile, we are working hard to discover

who is behind all of this.