Murdoch Mysteries (2004) s20e04 Episode Script

1
The city is all abuzz about
Le Canard Bleu's new menu.
The ladies I play euchre with
say that the dishes resemble edible art.
What good is an art exhibit
that I get to digest
at the end of the day?
There was nothing wrong
with their old menu.
Their full bird was the best in town.
Well, you better learn to like it.
After all, we're part owners.
I can't believe I let you
talk me into this investment.
We'd better turn a profit, Margaret.
Oh, Thomas, the best currency
is of the social variety.
- Shall we?
- Yes.
(MAN): C'mon, lady, you gotta leave.
(CHERRY): I am a respected
member of the press.
My paper can be a serious help to you.
- Or a hindrance.
- This is a dinner for investors.
It is not a publicity event.
We cannot have you
sneaking about the kitchen.
Now, if you do not remove yourself,
I will have you
arrested for trespassing.
Margaret, keep your head
down and your feet moving.
- Ah, good evening.
- Chief Constable!
- Good evening.
- Mrs. Brackenreid.
I know them. I know I know them.
Chief Constable! I know them. I
Louise Cherry gets everywhere!
Is she always that pushy?
- Pushy doesn't even cover it.
- (GASPS) Oh.
Chief Constable Brackenreid.
Chadwick Vaughan.
I thought you'd run off
to Paris in disgrace.
Ah, a sojourn.
But I am surprised to see you here.
I trust you didn't sell
your lovely wife's pearls
just to sit at the big table.
Is everything all right, Thomas?
I very much doubt it,
Margaret. Shall we?
(INDISTINCT CHATTER)
(BELL RINGING)
Esteemed investors.
The Windsor House is
pleased to welcome you
to what will soon be the most innovative
French haute dining experience
in all the world, Le Canard Bleu.
(APPLAUSE)
The launch of our new menu
is finally just two days away.
(APPLAUSE)
Ah. Our first course.
(BRIGHT MUSIC)
Fresh milkweed pods
with basil oil in a garlic-tomato aioli.
You'll notice the presentation
reflects the meadow
- Oh!
- where they were hand-harvested
by members of our kitchen.
Bon appétit.
Call that a course?
It's barely a mouthful.
Thomas!
(MARGARET CHUCKLES)
(BRIGHT MUSIC CONTINUES)
Mm.
(IMPRESSED MURMURS)
Mm!
(INDISTINCT CHATTER)
Mesdames et messieurs,
the curator of tonight's
experience, Chef Lloyd Aleister.
(APPLAUSE)
Chef, tell our investors a
little bit about yourself.
my menu tells my story.
(CHUCKLING) He's very humble.
- Go on.
- Mm.
Well, I studied under
Chef Auguste Escoffier
at The Savoy in London.
- Oh!
- Like him, I'm a retired serviceman.
As such, I value timing
and meticulous planning.
- So I really must be getting back
- Oh, um,
could we have a tour of the kitchen?
Oh,absolument ! Fantastic idea.
Oh, ho-ho! I do like a
good kitchen. (GIGGLING)
The fish course was divine.
I've never had rainbow trout
prepared in that manner.
Chef Aleister has a beautiful
mind for these things.
Right, Chef Soap?
Your dishes are so small.
You took the skin off the
fish and fried it to a cracker.
- You know, the old menu
- had a full bird. They know!
The old menu didn't have
anyone itching to invest,
did it?
Chef Aleister
is challenging what the
restaurant experience is.
It's not about leaving full.
It's about feeling fulfilled.
It's gastronomy.
It's a lot of gas, that's what it is.
Thomas!
Eugene?
Oh, my God. Something's
happened to Eugene!
(TENSE MUSIC)
Dear God.
Oh, mon Dieu. He's dead.
(SNIFFING) I can smell gas.
Everyone out of the
kitchen, now! Move it! Move!
(THEME MUSIC)
(OMINOUS MUSIC)
Oh, this gas line's been cut.
I don't smell anything.
Well, the tank is likely spent.
(HANDLE RATTLING)
The door is locked.
Well, that's odd.
Ooh. Bloody hell.
Are you two trying to join
the young lad in the morgue
- holing up in here?
- Sir, the lock mechanism
has been tampered with, and
the gas line has been cut.
So, not an accident, then.
(MURDOCH): Did anyone in the
kitchen wish Mr. Belco harm?
Of course not. This is a brigade,
one unit working towards a common goal.
My men have nothing but
esteem for one another.
Perhaps someone who was jealous
of his position in the kitchen.
Belco was the garçon de cuisine.
The kitchen boy.
Nobody with sense would
kill for his position.
Who was the last person to enter
the refrigerator prior to Mr. Belco?
That would have been Finley.
When exactly did this happen?
Beginning of dinner preparation.
I had to get the trout
out for the lemon bath.
And do you recall the
smell of burnt matches?
- I didn't smell anything.
- Are you quite sure?
Chef Kershaw was in there with me.
In fact, I left the refrigerator
before he did. Ask him.
Chef Finley did leave me in there,
but then Chef Aleister held the door,
then went in himself.
So, Mr. Aleister was the last one
to enter the refrigerator
before Mr. Belco?
Yes, I went in to inspect
the grouse. What of it?
Someone cut the gas line
and manipulated the lock mechanism.
And according to the
timeline, Mr. Aleister,
that person would be you.
I wouldn't murder my own man.
The only enemy is time.
There's never enough of it.
I was the last in the refrigerator,
but nothing was amiss when I left.
Was anyone else in
the kitchen last night?
On advice of legal counsel
What was it?
"On advice of legal counsel,
I decline to answer."
Miss Newsome, i-is
this really necessary?
- I'm simply trying to ask Mr. Berk
- "Bairk".
- "Bairk".
- And I am simply looking out
for my client's best interests.
He doesn't know anything.
And I won't have him cajoled by police
into making an errant statement
that could be used against him.
All I want to know
is if there was anyone
else in the kitchen
beside the staff prior
to the start of the tour.
- Go ahead.
- No.
Is that all, Detective?
Oh! Someone did go into the kitchen.
I'm sorry, sweetheart.
(CURIOUS MUSIC)
Refer to me as legal counsel.
(WHISPERS): So sorry.
You two
Who did you see in the kitchen
- last night, Mr. Berk?
- "Bairk".
Clement Guy, our old sous.
A former employee?
- Was he fired?
- He sure was.
Guy and Chef Aleister
had a bit of a dust-up
and he subsequently
promoted Chef Kershaw.
(BREATHING HEAVILY)
What's in the bag?
Just the tastiest, spiciest meat pie
I've ever eaten in my
life. Hey! Get your own!
Oh!
This is marvellous.
I'd love to add this to
my personal dining guide.
I've drawn every picture
of every great meal
I've had across my travel. Hm.
- You draw them from memory?
- Before we eat.
Drives Vivian mad to have to wait
while I capture the dish, but hm.
- Henry, where did you buy this?
- I just picked it up
while I was walking my beat.
Well, we'll just have to
walk your beat again, hm?
(BRIGHT MUSIC)
Thank you again for being by my side.
That, uh, Detective
Murdoch is really sharp.
That he is. (EXHALES)
You don't have anything to worry about.
I know you wouldn't hurt anyone.
- Oh.
- Oh. Mm-hmm.
(CHUCKLING)
(GASPS) Effie!
(CLEARING THROAT) Mrs. Brackenreid.
- Yes and ?
- This is Ali Berk.
- Ha.
- Charmed.
Wait! I know you.
- You work at the restaurant at the Windsor.
- Yes!
- He's actually the pastry chef.
- Oh.
Well, I was very disappointed
not to try your, um
disassembled nannyberry tart.
Ah! Well, I will have Effie
forward you the recipe.
- Ah.
- Good day, ma'am.
Yes. Lovely.
Pastry chef?
Uh. No. (CHUCKLING)
No, no.
(OFFICE PHONE RINGING)
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)
Detective. I've brought
what you asked for.
Ah! I'm conducting an experiment,
and I was wondering if
you would like to help me.
I'd be delighted.
(CURIOUS MUSIC)
(SQUEAKING)
(HART): The toxic gas
was sulphur dioxide.
When concentrated in a confined space,
it can be lethal in minutes.
(MURDOCH): That, Miss
Hart, brings me to a theory
I'm looking to prove.
Mr. Guy entered the kitchen
at the start of the evening's
culinary preparations,
meaning he would have been
first into the refrigerator.
Sixteen point-five.
(HART): You're
wondering when exactly
the concentration becomes noticeable.
(MURDOCH): And lethal.
If the timeline supports it,
Clement Guy could be a viable suspect
who may have a clear motive
to sabotage the restaurant.
Given our conclusions,
I suppose you're off to see Mr. Guy.
Indeed.
(TENSE MUSIC)
Mr. Clement Guy?
You two better not be more reporters.
I already wasted a break
jabbering with that other lady.
- What other lady?
- Said she was writing
an exposé about Le Canard.
(BOTH): Louise Cherry.
No.
(SIGHS)
You two are coppers?
Damn shame what happened to Belco.
You got Chef Aleister behind bars?
Do you think he did it?
Chef Aleister is a sadistic brute.
He takes pleasure in breaking
people, especially Belco.
Mr. Aleister had a particular
dislike for Mr. Belco?
That'd be putting it mildly.
And Belco, he didn't do himself
any favours, showing up drunk, but
Chef Aleister, he
treated everyone that way.
Well, except for Chef Soap.
- Why's that?
- Spent a lot of time together.
- I think he's sweet on her.
- Mm.
But there was a particular animosity
between Mr. Aleister and Mr. Belco?
It's interesting because none of
the others mentioned that to us.
Yeah, of course not.
Everyone fancies him some
kind of genius of gastronomy
and no one can say boo to him.
What did he do to the young boy?
Couple o' times Belco
shows up, sauced to stars,
chef strips him down to his union suit
and forces him into the
refrigerator to sober up.
And no one was gonna
stand up to him, so I did.
It's what got me fired.
So then what were you
doing there last night?
I was picking up last week's pay
from Leclercq. He'll confirm it.
Look, you gotta understand
Chef Aleister,
he's like a god in that building.
Everyone to a man on that
line would lie for him.
Or worse.
(CURIOUS MUSIC)
(CLEARING THROAT LOUDLY)
What are you doing in my kitchen?
Ah. Chef Aleister.
Unfortunately, in light of new evidence,
you're our prime suspect
in the murder of Chef Belco.
Wh-What new evidence?
This missing piece of the
refrigerator's lock mechanism
found on your desk, for a start.
You're under arrest, Mr. Aleister.
(TENSE MUSIC)
I've never seen that
nobbly bit in my life.
And I did not kill my garçon de cuisine.
I find it telling that he was murdered
in a refrigerator when
that is exactly how
you chose to punish him in the past.
And nobody mentioned your
brutishness in the kitchen.
Only the man that you
fired for insubordination.
He's jealous.
And I take great umbrage at
any accusation of brutality.
You locked one of your employees
inside of a refrigerator.
There was nothing
untoward about my conduct.
One's profession dictates the
terms of acceptable discipline.
Perhaps I operate beyond the limits
of what you civilians deem acceptable.
I know. You think all
we do is make food.
That's precisely what you do.
No. We do not make food.
We forge the perfect dining
experience through sweat and blood,
and my methods are the
only way to achieve this.
But I wouldn't kill my own man!
Thank you. That's all
for now, Mr. Aleister.
I'd like to speak with
the kitchen staff again.
I found it curious that they
never mentioned his cruelty before.
Perhaps there's more
that they're hiding.
Mm.
So, anyway, I was
continuing to walk my beat
and, uh, well, here it was.
- Huh.
- Uh
(STAMMERING)
That is a garbage receptacle!
- Henry, did you feed us trash?
- No. No, no.
Well, yes. But it was above
the cylinder in a paper bag.
Adjacent to refuse is
still refuse, Henry!
It's about time you lot came around.
Someone came into my
apothecary and held me up.
And he had that bag with him.
This bag?
How do you know it was
this particular paper bag?
He put it on the counter
while I emptied the register.
Left an awful grease stain.
Did you get a look at that man?
He had some sort of
kerchief about his face
and he was moving so quickly.
He was in the throes of a coughing fit.
Well, Henry, not only
have you fed us garbage,
it seems you fed us
evidence from a robbery.
Oh, my!
I understand Mr. Aleister administered
aggressive and sometimes
violent punishment to his staff.
No. I never saw anything like that.
Chef is firm,
but fair.
Mr. Aleister himself
admitted to locking Mr. Belco
in the refrigerator as punishment.
He may have crossed a
line in that instance.
But Belco brought it upon himself.
What behaviour could have
possibly warranted such a response?
He was late.
Late and drunk.
Chef Soap was always covering for him.
She's a rose among thorns.
But you can't hide
anything from Chef Aleister.
And you never witnessed
any other behaviour
from Mr. Aleister that crossed the line?
- No.
- No.
No.
Well
on advice of legal counsel,
I decline to answer.
Miss Newsome, I will be frank with you.
I do not consider Mr. Berk
to be a suspect in this case.
- Good.
- However,
recalcitrant behaviour on
the part of a material witness
is not looked upon favourably
by the constabulary.
It would be a shame if
your client's silence
were to attract unfair treatment
from this station house.
See? This is exactly
the kind of police bias
- and overreach I'm trying to protect him from.
- We might be forced
to perform a search
of your client's home.
And the home of his romantic partner.
- I think you're bluffing.
- Are you willing to risk the intrusion?
Well played, Detective.
Again, I ask you, Mr. Berk
have you witnessed Mr. Aleister engaging
- in brutality toward his staff?
- Yes.
But only when we did something wrong.
What have you seen?
He once shoved Chef Kershaw
into a counter so hard
that his ribs were
bruised for several weeks.
But he had over-seasoned the grouse.
I think he would even tell
you that was his fault.
- Has he hurt you?
- Nothing I can't endure.
Mr. Berk, why are you and the others
so reticent to admit this?
(STAMMERING) Chef
Aleister did nothing wrong.
He is the finest chef in the country.
We would all give our
left eye to work for him.
And if he has taken this
punishing behaviour a step too far,
would you still be willing to
give your left eye to protect him?
He didn't kill Belco.
It was pure dumb luck that Belco
was even in the refrigerator that night.
- What do you mean?
- Well, Chef Aleister
is particularly particular
about his desserts.
If it wasn't for the investors
disrupting the routine,
he would have gone in there himself.
(INTRIGUING MUSIC)
You think one of my chefs
is trying to kill me?
You said yourself that dinner
service is meticulously planned.
If that is the case, we
believe you to be the target.
Dissent? Within my ranks?
I-I don't believe it.
They wouldn't dare.
We also think someone
is trying to frame you
by placing the lock
mechanism on your desk.
We both took the Queen's shilling
and I've got as much
invested in the success
of this restaurant as you do.
But you must consider
postponing the menu unveiling.
At least until we can find out
who on your staff is trying to kill you.
I don't fear the ever after.
If either of you were
in the Queen's service,
then you would know we
don't run from danger.
We run towards it.
The service is tomorrow and that stands.
(TENSE MUSIC)
What on earth?
What?
Look at this discolouration.
Oh, Murdoch, I'm not worried
about your science at the moment.
I'm more worried about my
investment in this bloody restaurant.
Could be something.
(KNOCKING)
Don't tell me those are more desserts.
They're pawpaw pastries.
Now, I know what you're thinking.
What on earth is a pawpaw?
That's exactly what I asked Chef Soap!
Apparently, the pawpaw is the
only tropical fruit in Ontario.
It's practically a miracle of nature.
- Mm.
- Mm.
Certainly tastes like a miracle.
It tastes like a tangy banana custard.
Mm.
Before Chef Aleister
and the renovations,
the kitchen used to be
open to the dining room, so
we could watch everybody
enjoying their food.
So that's why you endure it.
Well, feeding people is-is
giving people pleasure.
I think it's quite beautiful.
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)
(CLEARING THROAT)
Apologies, Miss Newsome.
I didn't realize you had company.
Shall I return once you've finished?
Oh, that's not necessary. Ali Berk.
You look like you could
use something to eat.
These aren't even on the menu yet.
Uh, pardon, are you
Are you seeing a baker?
He's a pastry chef.
Apologies, Mr. Berk.
- "Bairk".
- "Bairk".
An honest mistake.
Sometimes otherwise-refined people
make rather obvious mistakes.
Isn't that true, Miss Newsome?
Good day to you, Mr. "Bairk".
(GENTLE MUSIC)
(MARGARET): I'm
worried about Effie.
Seeing a pastry chef? I
mean, he seems nice enough
and I hate to say it, but
I think she's courting
below her station.
Your mother felt the same about me
'til she fell for my Yorkshire charm.
My euchre partner, Aggie,
has a nephew who works
here at city hall.
Well, you've invited Effie
to the menu unveiling.
Have a word with her then.
Elouise's son.
He's an accountant!
Him?
He sucked his thumb
'til he was seventeen.
She needs a man, Margaret.
(CLEARING THROAT) Aggie also let it slip
that Chadwick Vaughan was
seen with a new companion.
- Oh. That doesn't surprise me.
- Mm.
Apparently, he left his wife in Paris
for some trollop half his age.
Vaughan.
It's been staring me in the face.
He was there the night
the kitchen boy was gassed.
Maybe I'll pop by the restaurant,
ask Aleister if Vaughan's
been hanging around.
The hotel owners are
having a private dinner.
- Hm.
- Mm.
Chief Constable. Ma'am.
Miss Cherry, as I live and breathe.
I'm investigating allegations
of murder and barbarity
at Le Canard Bleu.
Do you care to comment on the
rumours that the chef de cuisine
murdered one of his underlings?
- Oh. Well, I would
- No comment.
- Nope.
- Now, thank you, Miss Cherry.
If you'll excuse us.
We have things to discuss. Privately.
- Mm-hmm.
- Bye-bye.
Bye.
(LAUGHING)
(INDISTINCT CHATTER)
(SOFT INTRIGUING MUSIC)
And what shape do these
Ontario delicacies ?
Excuse me, young lady.
Is this gentleman bothering you?
Yes.
Though it's no business of yours.
What do you want with her?
As you know, I'm an
investor in this restaurant.
I was simply minding my investment.
- Penelope!
- Oh! Vaughnie!
(OFFICE PHONE RINGING)
(SIGHS)
(DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES)
Effie!
Louise! What are you doing here?
I am waiting for the detective
to go on record for my story.
But it seems like everyone
is giving me the runaround.
What do we have here?
Pawpaw pastries.
Ali made them for me, along with
several other ices and treats.
My apartment's overrun with them.
Oh, poor you. A man has
filled your life with food.
- What a hardship.
- I'm not complaining.
I'm not! I-I have no
room in my ice box.
There's nowhere to put them all!
Well, I can help you with that.
So, how is your new courtship?
He's very kind. He's sweet.
It's nice to be taken care of.
- But?
- I like him very much.
But something's off. I
don't know what it is.
You're a fool. You should
marry this man tomorrow.
Ali made an even better batch,
but the gas leak ruined the whole lot.
He tasted them before dinner
service and they were perfect.
(CURIOUS MUSIC)
I beg your pardon,
but did you say Mr. Berk was
inside of the refrigerator
prior to dinner service?
Mm. I don't believe I
Because that's not what he told me.
I'll be needing a word with
your client, Miss Newsome.
(LIVELY INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
I wanted to ask you about
one of the investors.
Vaughan. Has he been
hanging around much?
The only investor lurking about is you.
Behind!
How long on the walleye, Finley?
We're dragging like the hem
of a drunkard's trousers.
After all that, you bring
it to me 30 seconds under!
You call yourself a chef?
(LOUD BANG) No answer from the kitchen.
I asked if you call yourself a chef!
Yes, chef!
- Whoa, whoa, whoa!
- This is my kitchen.
I've stepped in better
chefs walking behind a horse.
You'd be more useful as an ashpan.
Is that really necessary?
Don't question my methods.
There's an art to war. We
must suffer for our art.
- There's no other way.
- I don't think that's true.
I command a number of men
and I find it more important
that they respect you
than that they fear you.
Blue walleye on a sea-salted
stinging nettle crisp
with a citrus velouté.
You eat the fish and
its habitat in one bite,
nature reborn on the tongue.
You don't get this kind of
perfection pretty-pleasing.
You get it from rigid,
unfaltering discipline. Service!
Last plate's out. Only dessert remains.
I usually treat myself
to a drink before dessert.
Where exactly in England are you from?
(CLEARING THROAT)
(CLEARING THROAT)
- (GROANING)
- Chef? Chef?
(COUGHING)
Someone's tampered with the cognac.
One of you get help now, quick!
All right! I-I'll go, I'll go!
(COUGHING)
Someone poisoned his cognac.
We're certain he was
the intended target?
Well, it was his own bottle.
He always had a drink before dessert.
Then our theory is sound.
Someone in the kitchen
staff is trying to end him.
Mr. Berk? I'd like a word, please.
Down at the station house.
I'll catch up with you later, Murdoch.
- Leclercq. Can I have a word?
- Yes.
I was trying to talk to
Aleister about Vaughan.
Had you seen him hanging around much?
- More than I'd like.
- The night of the murder?
He didn't leave the
dining room that night.
What was he doing?
He's been accosting the staff,
criticizing how I do my job and
taking stories to the hotel owner.
Which member of the
staff was he bothering?
Chef Soap asked me to
keep him away from her.
She wouldn't tell me what he said,
but I'm sure it was most unbecoming.
Hm.
So, it's a crime spree, then?
Yes. There was another
robbery near the apothecary,
a masked man swigging a
bottle of milk of magnesia
in between coughs.
He wrote out his demands
on a piece of butcher paper.
Speak to the local butchers.
Maybe he works there,
or perhaps he's a patron
and someone can make the handwriting.
If only we knew exactly what was inside,
we might be able to
figure out who made it.
- Hm.
- Let me taste again.
- No.
- What we need is an expert,
someone with a sophisticated
sense of taste, hm?
(INTRIGUING MUSIC)
Why did you lie about
leaving your station
the night of Mr. Belco's murder?
You told him?
It was a mistake. I'm sorry.
That makes you the last person
to enter the refrigerator
before Mr. Belco died.
I didn't kill Eugene!
I was just in there
checking on the pastries.
Did you smell burnt
matches when you entered?
I don't remember.
The-The door latch was
stuck when I opened it and
I-I was just trying to close
it and get out of there.
Did you say the door latch was sticking?
That means the lock had
already been tampered with.
If that's all you were doing,
then why did you lie to me?
(SIGHS) Chef Aleister would
have been furious if he knew.
We are never to leave
our stations, ever.
Please, Detective,
do-don't tell him, okay?
- It's my fault.
- No, it's fine.
- I just don't want him to go blabbing.
- Oi.
You're a cook, aren't you?
- Pastry chef.
- Berk.
We're in need of your expertise.
We're trying to solve a robbery.
To do that, we need to know
what's in this meat pie.
What?
Uh! Uh.
Mm.
Oh, that's good.
Beef, garlic, onion,
a chili pepper.
No, a bonney pepper.
Mm. The yellowish colour
comes from a spice.
Ah, small bites, man!
- It's all we have left.
- It's very hot.
I'd say it's turmeric.
You would do well to go
down to Cedric's in the Ward.
He has all manner of rare spices.
- Hm.
- Thank you.
Need a glass of milk.
Chadwick Vaughan?
Just hear me out.
Margaret's friends have finally
said something worth listening to.
Vaughan got divorced and
he's seeing a younger woman.
Now, I saw him talking to Chef Soap
at the kitchens at the Windsor Hotel.
Clement Guy did mention
that Mr. Aleister
- may have eyes for her as well.
- Exactly.
Vaughan wants to kill
Aleister because they're both
after the same young strumpet.
It's a tale as old as
time, me ol' mucker.
Certainly is possible.
Knowing what Vaughan is capable of,
I'd say it's highly possible.
(INHALING DEEPLY)
Got to look sharp for
the menu unveiling.
Well, those of us with a table.
I've learned that you've been
pursuing Miss Soap romantically
and we believe her to be in a
relationship with Mr. Aleister.
That would give you strong
motivation for attempted murder.
Is that what this is about?
Miss Soap has ambitions of her own.
An eatery featuring Ontario
delicacies, or some such.
A ridiculous prospect, really.
I did not try and kill Aleister.
I'm the only reason he's still employed.
What do you mean?
The hotel owner is an old friend.
You know, one of those
people you and my wife
tried to turn against me.
When the maître d' repeatedly
tried to fire Aleister
over budget concerns,
my friend asked me to evaluate the food.
Budget concerns?
Aleister overspent. All these delays.
The man is a perfectionist
and it cost a mint.
So Mr. Leclercq wanted
to fire Mr. Aleister?
Of course. (SNAPS FINGERS)
The budget is his domain.
The only reason he wasn't fired
is because I assured him the
food was on par, or better,
than the finest eateries
in all the world.
I see.
(GASPS) Oh!
No harm done, my good man.
Until next time, Detective.
(SOFT TENSE MUSIC)
So Frenchie had a motive
to get rid of Aleister.
And he had access to the kitchen.
To the none-too-soon
demise of Chef Aleister.
Did you say demise?
(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)
Mr. Leclercq, we'd like a word.
I didn't mean demise as in death.
I'm simply pleased he's gone.
Mr. Leclercq, isn't it true
that you tried to petition the
owners to fire Mr. Aleister?
Of course I did! Countless times.
The man spends like a Babylonian king.
I mean, the owner keeps saying,
"Jean-Luc, make the budget sing,"
"Jean-Luc, make Chef Aleister happy."
Nobody on Earth could do this job!
They think he's a genius. What is this?
It is not French cuisine!
What is a pawpaw?!
Huh?!
Bloody hell. Shouldn't
you be in hospital?
(SNIFFLING, GRUNTING)
This is still my restaurant.
(TENSE MUSIC)
Look, I admire your
grit, but you're not well.
- Let Kershaw run the pass.
- This is my night, my menu.
I'd rather die.
(OMINOUS MUSIC)
(BIRDS CHIRPING)
Mr. Fefferman?
- Duncan Fefferman?
- That's right.
Food critic of the New York World?
What is this about?
A preview of tomorrow's
edition of The Sentinel.
I think you'll find my
article very interesting.
- This is your paper?
- (HOOVES CLOPPING)
Oh. The prose, your voice, it's
subjective.
It's an acquired taste.
Read with a dry red.
(COUGHING SOFTLY) On order.
You're not fit to stand,
much less run a kitchen.
The battle is over, the war is lost.
That's not an option.
Hand it off to Kershaw.
Mr. Aleister.
Uh, we need to speak.
- Kershaw! Come here. You're in charge.
- No.
What's the matter, son?
- Don't make me do this.
- Why?
I thought this was your dream.
I'm a chef, but I'm not a leader.
I can't do what Chef Aleister does.
Go back to your station, son.
- Right then, lads! And young lady!
- Hm?
Service is upon us.
Once more unto the breach for
God, St. George and England!
- (ALL): Yes, chef!
- Right then.
Two-top table, on order,
two fiddlehead salads,
two spruce grouse pâtés.
(ALL): Yes, chef!
Let's go get 'em!
(INDISTINCT CHATTER)
(GASPS) Oh! Effie.
- This
- Is Roy Davenport.
- Oh! You know each other?
- We do.
Oh, well, what a small world.
Roy is my friend's nephew
and I thought you would
enjoy each other's company.
- How lovely.
- Yes.
Allow me.
(GASPS) Oh.
(CHUCKLING)
When I saw pawpaw pastries on the menu,
I decided to take a closer look.
And a pattern emerged.
Fried milkweed pods.
Stinging nettle. Quail in half-mourning.
Flemish Beauty pears.
These dishes, though French-inspired,
carry a very strong Ontario influence
and they are all hallmarks
of Esther Soap's cooking.
(BRACKENREID SHOUTING)
Well congratulations.
You know the truth.
I'm a fraud.
I'm the least of Escoffier's disciples.
I'm not even from England.
- I'm-I'm from Winnipeg.
- I knew it!
Mr. Aleister, i-if you
stole Miss Soap's menu,
is it possible she tried to kill you
for claiming her creations as your own?
No, that's that's not possible.
You go and talk to her, Murdoch.
- I'll take care of Mr. bloody Winnipeg.
- (COUGHING)
Is this the place?
That's what the clerk
at the spice store said.
The only person who'd buy
that combination of spices
- was a Millicent Weatherburn.
- Yes?
What you want?
Terribly sorry, ma'am. We're
investigating a robbery.
Are you Millicent Weatherburn?
Yes, but me never rob nobody.
Uh, we're not saying you did.
But the man who did
dropped that brown paper bag
in the garbage while fleeing the scene.
(CURIOUS MUSIC)
What? How wicked swine.
Imagine, me make my
tenants them beef patty
outta the goodness of my
heart, and them dash it 'way.
Uh, the man we're looking for
handed this note to the cashier.
- Ahh, uh, Mr. Eastman, dat.
- Who?
Mr. Eastman.
Him work at the butcher
shop on Elizabeth.
Ah! See him deh. See him deh.
Look, look, look. See him deh.
- Hey! Hey!
- Ah, ah, ah!
(HIGGINS): You're under
arrest, Mr. Eastman.
We ought to arrest you
just for throwing away
- these delicious pastries.
- Ah, they were too damn spicy!
Ah, my-my stomach
hasn't been right since.
Prison food is usually better
on the stomach. Come on.
Miss Weatherburn, you really
ought to consider selling these.
Perhaps a-a food cart.
I would eat them for
lunch every day if I could.
What all you nice.
But why would me wanna work
all day and serve people?
Well, because they're the
tastiest thing in all the city.
I'd do anything for another.
Look pon my likkle friend. (CHUCKLING)
Yuh like spice?
Well, you could stand to
make them a touch milder
- for people like me and Mr. Eastman.
- Look here, massa.
Me not change my recipe for suit nobody.
How me make it is how
you have to take it.
Then, yes, all right. I will, of course.
It was actually the Inspector's
idea to change the recipe.
- Uh!
- Really, now? Is that so?
Well, uh, him.
Did you try to kill Chef Aleister
- for taking your credit?
- What?!
No, of course not.
But he did steal your menu.
Well, yes.
But if chef were gone,
I would lose everything.
How so?
No one will hire me
as a chef de cuisine.
I'm a woman.
I asked that lech,
Vaughan, to invest in me
and he said that I was crazy.
Without my own restaurant,
this is as close
as I will ever get to exploring
the limits of gastronomy.
So you knew he was stealing
from you from the beginning.
I was delighted.
Yes, I am living in
Chef Aleister's shadow.
But it's my menu.
It's you, isn't it?
The brains behind the menu.
I beg your pardon, sir. Who are you?
Duncan Fefferman, food critic.
Oh. Where did you get this?
That brash newspaper
woman. She was just outside.
I wonder where Thomas is? Excuse me.
(MARGARET CHUCKLES)
Well, this evening
took an unexpected turn.
What do you mean?
You knew you were being set up with me?
I was invited and I accepted.
- You can't be serious.
- Think about it.
This is a moment of mutual opportunity.
A man like me would
be very good for you.
I don't think so.
In a field like ours,
you'd do well with a
suitable, established husband.
What's in it for you?
If I were to marry you, a lawyer,
I'd be seen as serious and progressive.
I'd be on the bench in five
years with you on my arm.
I'd rather gnaw my own arm
off than dangle from yours.
I need to know the source for
your story about Miss Soap.
Oh, now you need something from me.
But when I need an interview,
I'm treated like a leper.
Well, I don't have it.
A lot of the tips were anonymous.
But whoever it was is
pretty sweet on Chef Esther.
- How so?
- The letter he wrote called her
a rose among thorns.
He said he hoped that it would
bring them closer together
to give her the praise
that she deserves.
Did you say rose among thorns?
(CURIOUS MUSIC)
Thomas Charles Brackenreid.
Not now, woman. I'm running a kitchen!
Now where's my quail in half-mourning?
Um
- Kershaw, you twit! It's under!
- Allow me.
Chef Kershaw, just put
it back in the oven.
We're almost home, son.
You're doing a good job.
See that? Encouragement.
It's not hard, is it?
- Mr. Finley?
- Uh, can't you see I'm busy?
The anonymous tipster that wrote
in to The Sentinel newspaper
described Miss Soap
as a rose among thorns.
Precisely how you described
her to me in your interview.
What? So?
Your knife blade is discoloured.
The cause is a chemical
reaction between steel
and sulphur dioxide,
the gas that was used to kill
Mr. Belco in the refrigerator.
- What? No.
- It was you, wasn't it, Mr. Finley?
- I-I didn't mean to. I swear, I
- No, you didn't.
You meant to kill Mr. Aleister.
Cyril.
No, I did it for you.
He was stealing your menu.
You're the one who deserves the credit.
I never asked for that.
I just thought that if I gave you
what you wanted, you'd fall for me.
- I love you.
- Fall for you?
How could you possibly
know what I would want?
You're the real genius!
You deserve to be head chef.
You deserve someone who appreciates you.
You don't even know me.
And now Eugene is dead.
How dare you?
Please, Soap.
- Soap.
- Mr. Finley, you are under arrest.
(PLAYFUL MUSIC)
Oh! Thomas.
I just heard that the
food critic loved the menu,
thanks to my husband,
a man of many talents.
Mwah! (CHUCKLING)
Ooh! Oh!
Sir, I-I've heard that both Mr. Aleister
and Mr. Leclercq have quit.
- What of your investment?
- I've had a word with the owner.
He's going back to the old
menu with the full bird.
Ah! So you may yet turn a profit.
As soon as I can, I'm taking
my money out of this place.
I am not being partners
with Chadwick Vaughan.
Oh, but-but this could be an opportunity
for a second career for you, sir.
You were incredible in that kitchen.
Oh, that's just what I need.
I've not been on my feet this much
since I had my own beat.
Before you know it, I'll be
making bloody dinner for Margaret.
- And her sisters.
- Oh, no.
Life's funny sometimes.
Only sometimes?
I find it to be a barrel
whenever I'm with you.
- I was propositioned tonight.
- (COUGHING)
No, by-by a-a horrible, terrible man.
I would never give it any thought.
- Oh.
- I'm
Relationship with him would be awful.
Hm.
But it did get me thinking
what kind of relationship I do want.
Oh, and-and what kind of
relationship would that be?
I don't think I want one at all.
At least, not right now.
(GENTLE MUSIC)
I'm sorry. I hope I
haven't wasted your time.
No, no. It wasn't a
waste of time. Not for me.
It-it's never a waste of time to
meet nice people and, Miss Newsome,
you are nice people.
Well.
I believe Miss Weatherburn made
this batch spicier on purpose.
Hm. I can't believe she
took a liking to Henry.
I did a bit of gardening for her
and she gave me a whole bag.
It's a fair exchange in my books.
Hm. I don't care how spicy they are.
I'm sure these things
will catch on one day.
(THEME MUSIC)