- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -
Horace, dearest, lunch is ready.
Where are you?
Would you like me to bring it to you?
Horace?
Oh, there you are. Are you napping?
Wake up, Horace. I've brought you your lunch.
Horace?
Horace! Oh!
(screaming)
As you know,
Inspector Brackenreid has joined Mr. Pendrick
in his quest to recover a scientific formulation
that could be of great benefit to mankind.
- Have we had word from them yet, sir? - I received a postcard
only yesterday from the Port of Havana.
Apparently they're bound for Panama.
He didn't go into great detail,
but it's clear that his absence will be of some duration.
Accordingly, I have been appointed
Acting Inspector until his return.
To that end...
Then do we refer to you as Inspector or Detective?
Or Acting Inspector?
That would just sound silly, Henry.
Why would it sound silly? It's what he is.
- Acting Ins... - We can just stay with Detective.
Please. Now, back to what I was saying.
During the Inspector's absence,
I will be making some organizational...
changes...
that I believe will make our operations
run more effectively,
starting with our filing system.
But we can discuss that another time.
Talk amongst yourselves.
- Detective Watts. - Ah, Detective.
Actually, it's Acting Inspector for the moment.
Oh.
Will you be wanting this office then? I'm happy to take yours.
- No, I'll be keeping my office. Thank you. - Good, good.
I prefer this one. Separate entrance. Very handy.
- Detective Watts... - I was asked to vacate Station One.
Personality issue.
Mine, I suppose.
Then I heard that by happy coincidence
this space was available.
Excuse me, sir.
There's been a murder.
(woman sobbing)
Oh, my Horace.
My dearest, dearest,
my best and only companion. The love of my life.
How can this be?
My Horace is dead.
He's been murdered!
Oh.
Mrs. Frizzle, I understand the death of your dog,
must be a terrible loss.
I offer you my condolences.
He was my closest family.
Nonetheless, it isn't really within the purview of
the Toronto Constabulary to attend to the death of dogs.
Is it possible your dog died of natural causes?
Absolutely not.
He had just been thoroughly examined
by the finest vet in the country.
Right. Did Horace have any enemies you know of?
- George... - The Toronto Dog Show is in two days.
The owners of the dogs nipping at Horace's heels
for the championship would all have loved to see him out of the running.
Sir, that sounds like motive.
Everyone knew that Horace
was the odds-on favourite to win Best Dog In Show.
And the next stop was the show of shows...
Westminster at Madison Square Garden in New York City.
- (telephone ringing) - Excuse me.
Hello.
Yes, it is.
I can't believe it.
It's just so appallingly horrendous.
George,
this is not a murder. This is...
- canicide. - Exactly, sir.
Like homicide or suicide.
An unlawful killing.
But there is no law against the killing of an animal.
You know that. Now, stay with her
- and help her bury the dog. - Bury him?
Without a funeral?
My caller wishes to speak with you, Detective.
With me?
Detective Murdoch.
Yes, Mr. Mayor.
No, I understand.
George,
see that the body
is transported to the morgue.
And find out everything you can
- about the other competitors. - Sir.
You there.
Ah, Detective Watts.
Constable George Crabtree. We worked together some time ago.
Oh yes... eager fellow, weren't you?
What does the Detective have you working on today?
Actually, I'm trying to ascertain the killer of a dog.
- A dog? - A very important dog, mind you.
- And you're all engaged on this... case? - (laughing)
You there. Can you read and write?
Of course.
Your demeanour suggested that might not be the case. Do you have a name?
- Does my demeanour suggest that I don't? - Ho-ho.
Very good. Backbone. Wit.
With me, Constable.
- Have you seen this? - _
I have.
We should not be wasting valuable police resources on a dog,
regardless of its relationship
to the sister-in-law of the Mayor.
People like dogs, William.
Now we add a little peroxide of manganese to the solution.
Eureka.
The cause of death was strychnine poisoning.
So it appears you do have a murder to solve.
Canicide is not murder, Ms. James.
Only humans can be murdered.
Be that as it may, we also found veronal in the dog's intestines.
Meaning?
Death by strychnine can be very painful.
The veronal would have eased the symptoms.
As if the poisoner was attempting
to minimize the dog's suffering.
Maybe the dog killer was also a dog lover.
It's been suggested that this may have been motivated
by a dog competition.
A rival dog owner, perhaps.
I imagine the stud fees of a champion must be quite high.
Dogs were bred for a function.
Not to be household pets
or show animals of the rich.
People of all classes own dogs as pets, William.
I believe they can be very beneficial
to the health and well-being of their owners.
Hm.
Have you anything else to report?
Yes. In examining the dog's stomach contents,
we found a barely digested piece of beef steak.
Yes, I believe it was filet mignon.
Filet mig... for a dog?
That is ridiculous.
- Do you have any idea what that would cost? - Yes,
- but it does taste good. - (laughing)
Anyway, that's all the information we have for you.
We have to finish up. The dog's been requested for the funeral.
I imagine you'll be attending.
Thank you. I appreciate it.
What have you, George?
Sir. It's a who's who of the Toronto canine competitive society.
This is Sebastien Melrose.
His dog, Kaiser, once took Best in Breed.
He also has some of second and third place finishes
in group categories.
This gentleman is Buck Christopher,
he's a sheep farmer, sir. He just started showing his dog Duke.
Some people question Duke's pedigree,
but he's already charmed his way into a couple of ribbons.
Oh.
Isn't that Ruth Newsome?
Yes, sir. And her dog,
who she's named Roger,
after her late brother.
Something of an unusual tribute.
Thank you, dear friends,
for being here
on this unbearably sorrowful occasion.
Horace Frizzel was my beautiful, beautiful boy.
Among his peers, he was a champion.
And in every ring he entered,
he would carry his one hundred and fifty pounds
with ease and grace.
Now, Miss Newsome and Roger
are new to the scene, sir, but they've already picked up a couple of ribbons
and are considered a real threat by the other owners.
...we won at Westminster in New York City.
George, which of these dogs is likely to become
- the new champion now? - Sir, they're all strong entries,
but the lead contender is not here.
- Where is he? - She.
Pistachio, sir. A Labrador Retriever of unequalled perfection.
Or so I'm told. Her owner is Beaumont Stoddard.
I pray that his killer will be found and punished.
What more can be said
of a creature so beautiful
and noble...
...and beloved?
Actually sir, he's just arrived.
Is that Beaumont Stoddard?
The man walking Pistachio is the trainer, Michael Dubois.
Stoddard is the man just behind.
- Good - night, sweet prince,
and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
- How dare you! - (murmurs)
I've come to pay my respects to a great animal.
- That you've killed! - George.
I understand you're grieving.
Get out!
Come, Pistachio.
You too, Dubois.
We know when we're not welcome.
Beaumont Stoddard couldn't stand the fact that
Horace bested Pistachio in every category.
Surely some of the other contenders felt the same way.
- None who could have done this. - How can you be sure?
I have given this a lot of thought.
Now, Kaiser is a great competitor,
but his owner, Sebastien Melrose, is a friend of mine.
He never would have done such a thing.
And what of the Basset Hound?
Duke?
That hound is an imposter.
And his owner, Buck Christopher, is a simpleton.
He lacks the sophistication to perpetrate a dog murder.
- Ruth Newsome? - Hmm...
Roger has potential,
but Ruth herself is an ineffectual nitwit.
No,
Stoddard is the murderer.
And now that terrible man stands first in line
to win the competition.
What do you notice?
They're all from different years,
- but they describe similar circumstances. - Mm-hmm.
Read this one.
"Maybelline. If you're reading this, please come home.
Your children miss you and I've changed my ways."
How many are like that?
There's four from this year alone.
Last year, six. Before that, four.
Three in 1900.
Women are leaving their families.
A reasonable conclusion. Except, look at 1899.
No such advertisement. 1898, none.
1897, none.
You grasp the implications, Constable.
- Indeed. - A woman leaves her family,
she goes somewhere else. To her parents. To her sister.
Word gets back, no need to place an advertisement.
But these woman have vanished.
Kidnapped? Murdered?
All I know is women are going missing.
There's more every year.
And it all began in 1900.
And you'd like me to help you find them?
Oh no.
I want you to take notes. I tend to lose mine.
Or you could rejoin your colleagues on their dog case.
- I'll get my pen. - Mm-hmm.
(classical music)
Mr. Stoddard, a word?
What can I do for you, Detective?
I understand Mrs. Frizzle's dog was poisoned.
Yes, and Edith is convinced I did it.
Frankly, with her for an owner, it's entirely possible
the poor creature took his own life.
Do you know of any reason why she would suspect you in particular?
She's labouring under the delusion that her dog
stood in the way of my victory,
when it's obvious that Pistachio is the superior animal.
- (Dubois choking) - That's not the way the judges saw it.
That was last year, before I hired Mr. Dubois.
(choking)
You believe it to be strychnine poisoning?
Given the symptoms you've described, there seems little doubt.
Although vomiting after strychnine poisoning
would be unusual, wouldn't it?
I'll take the sample back to Miss James,
- get her to analyze it at the morgue. - Thank you.
It was you. You did this!
- Mr. Stoddard. - I'll kill you.
- I will kill you! - Mr. Stoddard, that is quite enough.
You are coming with me.
This is an outrage! She is the one who should be in here.
I've done nothing wrong.
You uttered a death threat, Mr. Stoddard.
- Where's Pistachio? - She's been entrusted to the constabulary.
You'd better take good care. She has a tendency to wander.
- Good girl, Pistachio. - George.
You and Henry will need to mind the... dog
- while Mr. Stoddard is in custody. - Sir, when will that be?
Once he's had a chance to calm down.
(chuckling)
She's taken a real shine to you, sir.
You know, they say that a dog can sense a true dog lover.
(barking)
Well, they are wrong.
Shoo. Shoo.
(barking)
I think Pistachio might need to take care of some business.
(barking)
- Where are we going, sir? - Here.
- Are these the missing women? - Yes.
With whatever details I've learned.
What does this say?
Lynn Clark, 40s, new to Toronto.
You assured me that you could read.
Those are all my notes, by the way, so don't lose them.
I've decided the best way to approach this is to concentrate
on one missing woman at a time, starting with...
Natalie Sykes. Twenty-six years old.
Her family hasn't heard from her since the fire.
- Why her, sir? - She's first on the list.
Oh, right. That makes sense.
My aunt Primrose and Azalea are big dog lovers.
I bet they never had any of the breeds they have
- at these high class dog shows. - No, they're all mongrels.
But it's said that mongrels are not only smarter,
but healthier than these purebreds.
What is it?
We might as well take a break.
Oh.
You thirsty, Pistachio? Come on.
Come on, Pistachio.
- That should be him there, sir. - Mr. Harding?
Who wants to know?
It's my understanding a Miss Natalie Sykes
lived across the hall from you earlier this year.
For a time.
When was the last time you saw her?
- Early May. - May?
That was after the fire.
Did you not know she was reported missing in mid-April?
She didn't look missing to me.
Do you have any idea where she might have gone?
- Church. - Church?
Saint Stephen-in-the-Fields.
That's where she was heading when I last saw her.
And weren't you concerned when she didn't return from church?
It was not my business.
You said you read, Jackson.
- Sir. - Do you know the works of Karl Marx?
- Can't say that I do. - He said the more industry grows,
the quicker it destroys community.
He may be right.
Do you think the Detective will make us do more work
than the Inspector did?
He may implement some efficient systems.
- So we may do less? - Give it back!
I don't know what you're talking about.
- What's the trouble here? - Thank you.
This barkeep has stolen my travel journal, and it's irreplaceable.
Travel journal? Where are you travelling from?
All across the country. I'm a historian,
telling the true tale of this great land
as her iconic birthday fast approaches.
- Canada is having a birthday? - Oh yes. Look at this.
This is from an eleven-year-old girl in Lunenberg, Nova Scotia.
And this...
a celebratory birthday song from Newfoundland.
- Newfoundland is not a part of Canada. - Oh, it will be.
Oh, really? When exactly will this transpire?
George... his irreplaceable book.
When did you last see this book? I'm sure it didn't just disappear.
Well, I was sitting right here.
I turned to admire that lovely dog you have over there,
who's no longer here, by the way.
I turned back and there was me book, gone.
(both): Pistachio!
Why else was Edith at the dog show?
It was revenge. An eye for an eye. It's as simple as that.
By poisoning your trainer?
- My trainer? - Mr. Dubois.
Good God. I'd hardly be this upset if she was after Dubois.
After Horace was poisoned,
Dubois wasn't taking any chances.
He was eating Pistachio's food?
It was his idea. He's very dedicated.
- So the dog was the intended victim. - Of course.
That's why I find it so appalling.
A self-confessed dog lover.
Mrs. Frizzle did not try to poison your dog.
How do you know?
The poison that was used was strychnine,
the same that was used on Horace.
I'm sure she sees it as ironic justice.
She was never told that it was strychnine.
The same poison used in the same manner
would suggest the same poisoner.
Unless you believe that Mrs. Frizzel
- poisoned her own dog... - Who then?
Who had access to your dog's food?
Dubois buys meat from the local butcher
who holds the highest standards.
And where was it kept?
In a crockery pot in the stall.
Was it ever left unattended?
During Pistachio's training run.
Anybody could've had access.
What time was that?
Three o'clock, thereabouts.
- George? - Sir, I hate to tell you this...
- Where's Pistachio? - Well...
Well, what? Where is she?
We were breaking up a disturbance at a bar
- and we turned around... - You jackasses!
I told you she has a tendency to wander!
- We'll find your dog, Mr. Stoddard. - You are all useless.
I'll find my dog and the poisoner by myself.
Sorry, sir.
Get Constable Jackson and get out there looking.
- Jackson's not here, sir. - Where is he?
Detective Watts
needed some help with a case. Jackson's been working with him.
Has he, now?
Well, get other Constables to help you look.
- And don't come back without that dog! - Sir.
- Pistachio! - Pistachio!
Pistachio!
Have you seen a golden retriever?
I'm sorry. I didn't notice anyone
at Pistachio's stall besides Mr. Dubois.
And where were you during Pistachio's training run?
I was here with Kaiser all afternoon.
Can anyone confirm this?
I can.
I was in the next stall clipping Duke's toenails.
- Miss Newsome. - Oh, did you see Roger's run?
- Yes... - Isn't he something?
My dear brother would be so proud.
Indeed. Miss Newsome, I must ask,
where were you at three o'clock?
I was around here somewhere.
I'm afraid I'll need you to be more specific than that.
Oh. Well, alright.
- Three o'clock, I was with... - Pistachio!
- No. Not Pistachio. - (barking)
Pistachio! Come back here!
Do you have any idea of the trouble you have caused,
you unruly mutt?
(barking)
Half of Station House Number Four is looking for you.
Let's go.
Stop that.
- Let go. - (growling)
What is it?
(whining)
Come.
(barking)
Pistachio, there's nothing out here.
(whining)
Oh...
Good dog.
When they body was brought in,
the temperature had fallen no more than seven degrees.
Rigor mortis hadn't fully set in yet,
so I'd estimate he died no more than an hour before you discovered him.
So shortly before I arrived at the arena.
Were you able to identify the weapon that was used?
The wound appears to be inflicted
by a curved blade about four inches long.
(dramatic music)
As in a pair of grooming scissors.
These are the only scissors in your kit?
Yes.
I distinctly recall seeing
a pair of curved ones in your possession yesterday.
They seem to have gone missing.
I see.
And where were you between the hours
of five and six PM last evening?
I would have been on my way to the arena with
Kaiser.
You blame Beaumont Stoddard for the death of your dog.
I do.
I see.
And you've brought none of the grooming items as I requested.
They were all buried with Horace,
along with his favourite toys.
I would never use those things on another dog.
Horace cannot be replaced.
And where were you between the hours
of five and six PM last evening?
I was at Horace's graveside.
My servants can confirm my whereabouts.
How do you explain the fact
that there are no scissors in your grooming kit?
I leave Duke's hair natural.
I never use scissors at all. I just...
brush him for the shine.
Ooh! Here they are.
So Ruth Newsome's scissors were not the murder weapon, sir?
Not unless she did a very good job of cleaning them.
- Ah, Detective Watts, a word. - Of course.
I agreed to let you work out of Station House Number Four,
- but there are limits. - Have I done something to...
It is not proper protocol for you to commandeer
one of my Constables without checking with me first.
- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep... - Next time, ask.
- Mm-hmm. - Sir.
I'm wondering what to do with Pistachio, now that her owner's dead.
Can't her handler take her?
I understand Mr. Dubois is still recovering from his recent poisoning.
Right. Then perhaps she could stay with you for the night?
Sir, I'd love to, but my landlord no longer allows animals.
Well then, I'm sure one of the other owners can keep her
until Mr. Dubois can reclaim her.
Sir, one of the other owners is likely the poisoner.
We can hardly take that chance.
Right.
What are you suggesting?
I believe your hotel allows pets, sir.
They may. I do not.
All right, I suppose I'll stay here with her.
Here?
I'll bunk down in one of the cells, I suppose.
Very well.
I won't get much sleep tonight, sir.
I may not be at my best tomorrow.
(whining)
George.
This way. This way.
Pardon me. Pardon me. This way.
Terribly sorry. This way.
Oh, what a delight. I've always wanted a dog.
It's for one night only. Let's be clear.
Mr. Dubois is released from the hospital tomorrow morning.
Oh. What a clever good girl you are!
- Hardly clever. - (growling playfully)
Julia, Julia, if the dog chews through the socks,
they'll be no use to me anymore.
- I'll buy you another pair. - That's hardly the point.
Be nice, William.
Pistachio's been very helpful to you so far.
She may even help you find your murderer.
I think you overestimate this dog's intelligence.
I believe she wants you to take her for a walk.
No. Absolutely not.
(whining)
You know, I haven't really stopped to think
how this must be affecting you.
Eh, Pistachio?
Who do you think killed your Mr. Stoddard?
(door closing)
Hello.
Well, you seem a lot calmer.
Well, the walk was pleasant enough.
But let's make one thing perfectly clear:
under no circumstances
is that dog to be allowed in that bedroom.
No.
You, Pistachio, will sleep
on this bed.
You lie down here.
- (whining) - Come.
(whining)
Alright. We know the murder weapon to be
a curved pair of grooming scissors,
and three of our suspects have been unable to produce theirs.
Mr. Melrose claims that he has lost his.
Mr. Christopher denies ever owning a pair,
and Mrs. Frizzel claims that she's buried hers.
She was probably telling the truth, sir.
We dug up the dog Horace; these were buried with him.
- Oh. - And the other contestants
claim that Mr. Christopher took pride in not cutting Duke's hair.
- Bragged about it, in fact. - Leaving Mr. Melrose with
no scissors and no explanation as to where they have gone.
And sir, with Horace out of the way, his dog Kaiser
could possibly leap right to the top
- of the podium. - (barking)
Pistachio!
- Why would she do that, sir? - I have no idea.
- What did you just say? - I said...
Kaiser could
- leap to the... - Pistachio!
- Well-trained animal, sir. - Detective,
would you mind if I borrowed Constable Jackson again?
- I'm sure he would leap at the chance. - (barking)
Alright, George. That's enough.
Take this dog, and these.
Come on, Pistachio.
Detective, this case of yours...
Cases, actually. Plural.
- You believe there to be a connection? - I don't know.
You've of course considered that these may be people
- who don't wish to be found. - I have.
But I'm not sure I believe that to be the case.
Still, with no new evidence...
That is what I am endeavouring to find.
And as far as I'm concerned, finding a missing person
is of equal importance to solving a murder.
Are you saying you would rather I didn't squander your resources?
No, no. As long as you understand that
there may not be a solution.
I don't expect any of this to end well.
But with murder, there is certainty.
Without certainty, there's hope and...
Well,
hope can be a terrible thing.
- Doctor. - Detective Watts.
William. I have something.
When we further investigated Mr. Stoddard's body,
we discovered this in the coagulated blood around his wound.
A hair?
The hair of a dog.
And I believe I know which dog it belongs to.
Now, be careful with those.
- Henry Higgins! - Hello, Miss Newsome.
How perfectly wonderful to see you again!
- I knew you'd come around. - It's not like that.
You don't have to play shy with me, Henry.
Come along. Perhaps we could share a martini cocktail.
It's not a social call.
Oh. Then what did you want to talk to me about?
Ruth Newsome,
you're wanted for questioning
in the murder of Beaumont Stoddard.
A strand of your dog's hair was found
in Mr. Stoddard's wound.
How do you explain that?
I really can't say.
I believe your grooming scissors to be the murder weapon.
You don't believe I could do something so
horrible?
Yesterday, you showed me a pair of scissors
that were not unlike the ones used.
Did you procure a second pair to cover your tracks?
Oh.
Oh, this is rather embarrassing.
I dropped my pair somewhere in the arena
and Roger was in desperate need of a little trim.
I searched everywhere but I couldn't find them,
so I borrowed Sebastien's.
I completely forgot that they weren't mine when I brought them in.
I hope I haven't caused you boys too much trouble.
Excuse me.
Henry, please ask Mr. Melrose if the scissors
that Miss Newsome surrendered are indeed his.
Sir, I think Miss Newsome may be telling the truth.
She's not the sharpest tack in the box.
Well, the case remains that her scissors killed Mr. Stoddard.
Are we really gonna charge her?
She doesn't seem capable of stabbing anyone.
Miss Newsome, you're free to go.
Oh, thank you. There's just enough time for Roger and I
to get ready for the competition tonight.
Now please remember, a killer is still at large.
Be mindful of your dog,
and also of yourself.
Perhaps Constable Higgins could accompany me home?
Absolutely.
Come on.
- Let's go. - Uh...
Do you remember Miss Sykes?
She was one of a dozen or so homeless
who stayed here after the fire.
Did you know that she'd been reported missing?
That she had a family that was
desperately seeking her out?
- I had no idea. - She's still missing.
I'm sorry to hear that.
When was the last time you saw her?
Sometime mid-May.
- Where was this? - On the street.
She was walking with a woman.
What woman?
I don't know her name,
- but I'd seen her before in the church. - Describe her?
Tall,
maybe in her forties.
Blonde?
Yes.
Thank you. Would you mind coming to the station
- to assist with a sketch? - Certainly,
after Mass.
My notes. Where are they?
Sir, I transcribed them.
Brilliant.
Let me see here.
Lynn Clark. Last seen in the company
of a tall blonde woman in her middle years.
- We have our first suspect, Jackson. - And it's a woman.
Sugar and spice and everything nice.
Excuse me, sir?
I always wondered how they came up with that.
Never believed it myself.
So Ruth Newsome took Mr. Melrose's scissors
without asking, which is why he didn't have them
and didn't know where they were.
And a hair from Miss Newsome's dog was found in the wound,
making her actual scissors
almost certainly the murder weapon.
Somebody else could have picked them up.
Perhaps Mr. Stoddard discovered who the poisoner was,
confronted him, threatened to expose him.
The poisoner then followed Mr. Stoddard,
picked up Miss Newsome's scissors,
once they were out of the arena, stabbed him.
So that would mean the dog poisoner
and Stoddard's murderer
- are one and the same. - Exactly.
Pistachio looks to have made herself quite comfortable.
Mr. Dubois. Glad to see you've made a full recovery.
Well, not full, but
hopefully well enough to keep up with Pistachio
on the course tonight.
Pistachio, come!
Oh, we won't be needing any of those items. Just the leash.
Oh, right.
Have you determined
- who poisoned Pistachio's food? - Not yet.
And Mr. Stoddard's murder?
Unsolved, unfortunately.
Well, Godspeed,
and thank you for taking such good care of her, Detective.
It was no trouble at all.
Take care, Pistachio.
You be a good dog now.
She always is.
Thank you again. And good-day to you.
Good luck with the competition tonight.
(barking)
Sir.
You must be a little sad to see her go.
Not in the least.
Now that she's back in proper hands, we can
concentrate on more important things.
Right. There are two possibilities, George.
The killer and the poisoner are one and the same,
or they are not.
But either way, we know for certain
that both of these crimes are connected
- to this competition. - (Pistachio barking)
Well, Pistachio and Kaiser
are the two main contenders for Best Dog In Show,
with Roger and Duke following closely behind.
Maybe the perpetrator will make another attempt today.
And now to the bulldogs, ladies and gentlemen.
Particularly handsome group this year, as you can see.
Beautiful breed.
You are distracting the dogs, Detective.
This area is designated as a calming area for dogs
- and handlers only. - I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Dubois,
but it is necessary that I be here.
- I'm on police business. - Nonetheless. Come.
(whining)
Thank you to the bulldogs.
- (applause) - And now we have the hounds.
First up is Duke,
a three-year-old Basset Hound.
Weighs in at sixty pounds,
height at shoulder fourteen inches.
Owner and handler Buck Christopher.
(applause)
What in the blazes?!
What are you doing?
I was returning this undercoat rake I had borrowed.
With permission.
- Julia. - William.
Miss James made a discovery that could have some bearing on this case.
- What is it? - She analyzed Mr. Dubois's stomach emissions
and found that, along with a minuscule amount of strychnine,
there was a large quantity of ipecac.
- Ipecac. - Yes, it's an emetic.
It would have caused the vomiting, ensuring
that he didn't die from the strychnine he consumed.
So what you're saying is...
Mr. Dubois was never actually in danger.
He was trying to throw suspicion off of himself.
- Thank you to the hounds. - (applause)
Mr. Dubois, stop right there!
It was you!
You poisoned Mrs. Frizzel's dog.
- I did no such thing. - I believe you did.
And I also believe you killed Mr. Stoddard.
- You have no proof of that. - I have enough.
- Oh, my goodness! - Mr. Dubois.
- Stand back. - Let her go.
- You're coming with me. - I don't think so.
Pistachio! Leap!
- You stay. - (barking)
Good girl.
Sit.
Mr. Dubois killed Horace,
motivated simply by a desire to win.
But why kill Mr. Stoddard?
Mr. Stoddard discovered who was responsible for the poisonings.
As competitive as he was, he believed in playing by the rules.
He confronted Mr. Dubois,
threatened to expose him
and was killed for it.
It's a shame Pistachio won't get to compete,
after all her training and hard work.
Oh no.
No, no, no. Absolutely not.
No.
Owner Miss Ruth Newsome
and her very distinguished American Staffordshire Terrier, Roger.
Looking fine, Miss Newsome.
Of course the dog will need a new home.
It just, it seems a little soon.
- I know. - Mr. Sebastien Melrose
- and his English Setter, Kaiser. - (applause)
But do remember that Mr. Dubois
is the villain in all of this, not Pistachio.
And finally, Pistachio, the Labrador Retriever,
squired by novice trainer
- Detective William Murdoch. - Oh!!
(whistling)
Sir.
Still looking for your travel journal?
Well, the trail has gone cold,
but I am not one to give up.
The CN Tower.
Looks like a spaceship on a stick.
Once the world's tallest free-standing structure
built right here at Front and John.
You, my friend, have a vivid imagination.
I didn't dream this stuff up. Now I must stay the course.
Canada is turning one hundred and fifty
and I am not gonna miss the party.
(whistling O Canada)
Did he say Canada's turning
- one hundred and fifty? - He did.