Murdoch Mysteries

- It's about to start. - Fantastic.

Watts. Over here.

Oh, I do hope people like it.

Of course they'll like it. They'll eat it up.

How long do you suppose this will be?

Oh William, at least try to enjoy it.

I will. I just want to know how long I will be trying to enjoy it.

Where have you been?

I stopped for snacks.

- Watts. - For Pete's sake!

What's going on?

I don't know. It's probably part of the play.

- Oh. - Damn!

- My dear. I have terrible news. - No.

Darling daughter.

I entered the drawing room not moments ago

and found your mama.

She is dead.

No.

Someone's killed her. It's murder.

That is for the police to say.

I have awoken.

Oh, grandmama. No.

Resume your rest on the chesterfield.

That must be the Detective.

Good evening.

Detective Roderick Justice.

She's dead.

It's murder.

This must be the murder weapon.

What is he doing?

It could have fingermarks or...

Then one of you is the murderer.

Instrument of death.

And now I shall harness your destructive powers

to take the life of another.

But no. I cannot.

For I am not a killer.

Or am I?

Sorry, sorry,

- could you please move, sorry. - Yes. You seem upset.

- Are you OK? - Oh, it's nothing.

It is just that my mother is dead,

dead and oh, it's nothing.

So it is you.

The one who took my Lillian.

I am the one who has grown old. My life matters not.

Why take her and not I?

Why not take us both?

No.

Death is not the answer.

- I thought she was going to shoot herself. - What is she saying?

It's a melange of philosophical drivel.

Goodbye, forever.

No, no.

Dammit Lilian, I can't leave you.

Not without solving the crime of your mother's murder.

Not without

you.

What is the point of this character?

She's just a love interest, she has no personality of her own.

Oh, I don't know.

The killer cut the electricity,

plunging the house into total darkness.

He arranged for the victim to be in this exact position.

He entered the room.

And he committed murder in the first degree.

No. No.

But it wasn't you of course.

- Oh, no. - It was you.

- Was it him? - That's right. I killed her.

But my thirst for death is not abated.

No!

What happened?

They're all bloody dead.

What kind of ending is that?

It's a tragedy. Shakespearean.

And John's bloody Macbeth!

I was not expecting that.

Annabeth?

Annabeth!

No! NO! There's blood! She's been shot!

She's dead.

She's really dead.

That's our cue.

Nobody move!

- Keep distance, please, from the deceased. - Mum!

I'm sure we'll all have a chance to say something

respectable afterwards. Is anyone related...?

I don't understand.

They were supposed to be blanks.

Did you load this weapon yourself?

No, but we did it over and over in rehearsal.

What happened? How is this possible?

We'll find out.

- How well did you know the victim? - Know her?

We'd just been married.

She was shot.

Thank you, Doctor.

I found this tucked into her dress.

Sixty dollars.

Sixty dollars.

And she's missing an earring, for all it's worth.

I can't imagine it means much,

we all saw what happened.

- Are you sure you're all right? - Yes, Mother, I'm fine.

Don't use that tone with me.

You were standing beside a woman who was shot.

And I'm more concerned about her than myself.

- Look, I am your mother. - Leave him alone, Margaret; the boy's fine.

You were bloody good, you know.

- In the play. - Thomas!

Did you really think so?

Five spent shells.

The sixth chamber is empty.

This is the shot that killed her.

The casing is clearly a different colour.

It had a real bullet in it.

It's hard to imagine it was an accident.

Were the shots always fired in the same order?

Of course they were. Joan Dalloway, director.

The sequence had been rehearsed repeatedly.

And Franklin would never err.

He is a fine and precise actor.

Theatre is his only vocation.

So everyone involved

would have known which shot would be aimed at the victim.

Yes.

- Who loaded the gun? - I did.

I have a box of blank rounds in the green room.

I loaded the five rounds and proceeded directly

to place the gun on the stage.

It sat here in full view of the audience

until the lights went down.

Is it possible you accidentally loaded a real bullet?

Of course not.

Thank you, Miss Dalloway.

I'm sorry Miss Dalloway,

do I recognise you from somewhere?

Oh, likely from one of the many newspaper features

written about my storied career.

I don't usually read the theatre section.

The papers here are rather enamoured with my life's story,

well, who knows why.

Oh. How nice.

I'm from New York, you see.

Grew up on Broadway.

I was born into the theatre.

And yet you moved to Toronto?

I've helmed many Broadway productions.

It is a greater challenge to bring drama to less

cultured corners of the world.

The director could be lying.

She could have changed the bullet in the gun herself.

But if we are to believe her version of events...

The question becomes who had opportunity

to swap the blank for a bullet?

Well, I arrived early.

I saw her set the gun out on the stage.

It was visible the entire time.

So it had to be done during the play.

Right. George, you can release all of the audience members.

The killer is clearly part of the company.

Ladies and gentlemen, please make sure that

I or one of the other constables has your name

and address before you leave.

We'll contact you if we have any further questioning.

Other than that, you're free to go.

Excuse me.

The audience was released.

Herbert Gould, Rosedale Ledger.

I am in their employ as resident exegete of the dramatic arts.

Aha. You're the critic.

Indeed.

The role of the critic has always fascinated me.

Whether the work is good or bad,

your purpose is to find fault.

To arraign that which is created by others.

You are the enemy of human expression.

Ignorance.

I do not destroy expression.

I demand it be of the utmost quality,

challenging humanity to be greater still.

But you yourself create nothing.

Neither, my good man, do most self-described "artists".

Excuse me. You sir.

Were you in the audience?

In a way, sure.

Barney Finch,

I wrote the damn thing.

Oh, yes, of course.

Where were you watching from?

The wings. You see,

I'm the one who goes out and shoots the gun at the start.

That way, I'm the gun.

And the gun is the most important character.

Is that right?

You know, I find that quite fascinating. You know,

I'm a bit of a writer myself.

How nice. You know, I was thinking of trying my hand