Eliza Scarlet, yet again.
Do you think you're someone special,
like the normal rules do not apply?
Well, you're wrong.
You're not special.
Far from it.
Eliza Scarlet, are you listening to me?
Good.
And to get it through that stubborn head of yours,
you will write out 100 times...
"I am no one special."
Come on, hurry up.
"I am no one special."
What...whatever it is you think I know, you're mistaken!
You've been poking around,
asking questions.
And then I find you in my room.
I...I can explain.
But not here, at Scotland Yard,
because that's where you're going, Mr. Skinner,
right now, in fact.
Good evening, Miss Scarlet.
Detective Fitzroy, gentlemen,
punctual as ever. As promised,
I deliver to you Mr. Silas Skinner,
arsonist, robber and blackmailer to a client of mine.
Put him in the wagon.
Who are you?
No one special.
Ah good, you're here, Detective Fitzroy.
I had to read your message three times
before it sunk in, Sir.
I could hardly believe it!
The great Abraham Barratt, dead.
I take it you're an admirer?
Indeed, I am, Sir.
In my estimation, Barratt and Kapoor
are second only to Gilbert and Sullivan.
I have often wondered...
forgive me, Sir, this is not the time.
Go on...briefly.
I have often wondered,
in such a partnership which I would prefer...
To be the composer of the music, like poor Mr. Barratt here,
or to write the stories, like Mr. Kapoor.
And what was your conclusion?
I should prefer to be a writer.
But a composer is still quite a thing.
The man's dead, Detective Fitzroy.
he will not be offended.
Speaking of the writer it was Mr. Kapoor
who was last seen with the deceased.
A stagehand saw them arguing in the auditorium
after tonight's performance.
Twenty minutes later, a gunshot rang out from in here.
The press has always fueled rumors
of a tempestuous relationship between the two men.
But whatever their tensions,
their operettas were a joy.
In fact, I tried to obtain tickets
to tonight's final performance of
The Shadow Queen, but... it was sold out.
Can you imagine anything so disappointing, Sir?
Yes, several things.
So...we have a gunshot to the heart,
and from the powder burn on the shirt,
it was close range.
But no murder weapon.
However, we do have this glove
covered in specks of blood.
The deceased still wears his gloves,
so I'm assuming this belonged to the shooter.
A safe disguised as a mirror.
Ingenious.
An empty safe.
Could it be a robbery, Sir?
Possible. Or made to look like one.
Let's start with his partner, Mr. Kapoor.
Gather some men, go to his house, see what you can find.
And then bring him in for questioning.
- Oh, and Detective Fitzroy? - Sir?
The man's a suspect, don't ask him for his autograph.
Yes, Sir.
Detective Phelps, I thought you had some days off?
I do, but I heard about the Barratt murder,
and I thought you might need me in.
I appreciate the offer, but there's no need.
- Enjoy your time off. - With respect, Sir,
something this high-profile
needs one of your more senior men.
An experienced eye.
As I have said, I don't need any more
assistance on the investigation.
What's she doing here, then?
Oh... morning, Inspector Blake.
Miss Scarlet, we seem to have a communication problem.
I have requested on several occasions that you
do not enter my office without permission.
I heard about the murder of Abraham Barratt.
The mighty composer, dead!
You assume changing the subject
will somehow distract me
from your unauthorized entry?
- Did it? - No.
- Oh. - Just state your business,
and then please allow me to get on with mine.
My, er, my colleague, Mr. Clarence Pettigrew,
is visiting Liverpool on financial business,
and in his absence, he's left me a list
of unpaid accounts he wishes me to settle.
One of which is my fee for the Hawkins case.
- It's been a month. - That is a matter for
the accounts department, not me.
I also heard that you're the lead investigator
- on the Barratt case? - The account department's
on the ground floor,
third door on the right.
Miss Scarlet, how nice to see you.
Good morning to you too, Detective Fitzroy.
How is Mr. Skinner this morning?
On his way to Wormwood Scrubs, as we speak.
Ah, yes, I heard about his arrest.
Silas Skinner has evaded us
for more time than I'd like to admit. Bravo, Detective!
Oh, I had very little to do with it, Sir.
It was all down to Miss Scarlet.
She practically hand-delivered him.
Oh.
Well in that case, bravo, Miss Scarlet.
Thank you, Inspector Blake.
So, I gather from your presence in my office, you have something
you wish to share with me, Detective Fitzroy?
Yes, Sir, Mr. Kapoor is ready in interview room two.
Mr. Kapoor?
As in Amil Kapoor... as in Amil Kapoor,
the dead man's partner?
- Yes. - No.
Thank you, Detective Fitzroy.
I will be along momentarily.
Yes, Sir.
I, er, heard a rumor that you
searched Mr. Kapoor's house?
Good day.
May I just point out that I'm between cases at the moment,
so should you need any assistance...
I won't.
Then I will bid you good day.
My friend is dead,
and I am dragged in here
and thrown into a cell for the night,
- suspected of his murder? - You were not dragged anywhere,
Mr. Kapoor, nor were you thrown.
I presented my evidence to you last night,
and you've had no plausible explanation.
I did not kill Abraham,
there's nothing more to say on the matter.
You were the last person to be seen
with the deceased, and witnesses claim
there was an argument between you.
As I explained...Inspector,
Abraham and I had some cross words,
nothing out of the ordinary.
Cross words about what?
My wife was one of the cast.
He was criticizing her performance,
like he always did.
Hmm. There's also the matter of a white glove,
matching the one left at the crime scene,
found at your property.
So too was a revolver,
one which had recently been fired.
The bullets match the one found
in Mr. Barratt's body.
I have no idea
how my glove got into Abraham's office,
nor can I account for my revolver,
but as I have said... numerous times,
I went straight home after our disagreement,
and I remained there all evening.
To an empty house where no one
can verify your presence?
My wife was out
with the rest of the cast,
celebrating the final curtain.
How many times must I explain that?
Have you had any more thoughts on what might have been stolen
from Mr. Barratt's safe?
No.
I have not.
And I find it difficult to think about
anything other than the fact
that my oldest friend is dead,
and I have been accused of killing him.
Mr. Kapoor, I have no choice but to charge you
with the murder of Abraham Barratt.
So, you will be taken from here, and held at Newgate Prison,
pending further investigation.
Can I help you?
I'm looking for Miss Scarlet.
You've found her.
My name is Matilda Barratt,
widow of Abraham Barratt.
Abraham is not yet cold,
and I should be at home in mourning,
but I was asked to find a private investigator,
and it is a call for help I could not ignore.
By whom?
The man accused of killing my husband.
What, his partner?
Mr. Kapoor?
Amil Kapoor is not just my husband's partner,
he has been my lover for the past year.
Amil protests his innocence,
but they're now transferring him to Newgate Prison,
which is why he sent me an urgent message this morning.
He instructed that I go to the two largest
investigation agencies in the city.
Gill & Son and Culpeppers.
And prior to coming here, I did just that, but...
they both refused to take the case.
Well...if Mr. Kapoor has been transferred to Newgate,
the evidence against him must be robust indeed.
It'll be a hard case to prove him innocent.
Do you believe he is?
I'm unsure what to believe.
I know that I love him,
and that if he's convicted,
he will hang.
Amil is married, and my husband is not yet buried.
I must ask that you keep my involvement
in this matter strictly confidential.
I will need the full facts,
both Mr. Kapoor's side of the story
and the evidence against him.
But he...he won't be allowed visitors at Newgate,
and even if he was, women aren't permitted
access to the prison.
But I'll find a way, Mrs. Barratt.
Er, Mr. Fulton?
I apologize for the interruption,
but I believe you know an associate of mine,
Mr. Patrick Nash?
It was through your arrangement
that I was able to visit Mr. Nash here,
and I was hoping for a similar arrangement
to visit another inmate.
Don't remember no Nash.
Er, cocky, Irish, owes you money?
Very well.
Perhaps I can inform the Prison Governor
about your little sideline.
Might that jog your memory?
I need a thorough understanding of your case, Mr. Kapoor.
The bullet that killed Mr. Barratt matches the ones
found in your revolver.
How do you account for that?
I cannot.
Nor can I square the fact that
my glove was found at the crime scene,
but I did not kill my partner, I swear it.
And I assume the police are unaware
of your relationship with his wife?
There is something else I did not share with them.
After the final show last night,
Abraham told me that, locked inside his safe,
was a manuscript for a new operetta.
But the police informed me
that when they found Abraham dead,
the safe was unlocked and empty.
So, someone had stolen the manuscript?
Then, why not tell the police that?
Because the manuscript was for...
Abraham's first solo production.
That was the real reason for our argument.
He was dissolving our partnership.
Hmm, gloated that it would be the biggest hit yet,
some magical story about an enchanted mirror.
The truth is,
Abraham was the real talent
in our partnership.
Oh, we began as equals.
I wrote the book, er, the story and the dialogue,
and...he composed the music.
We set up a theater company with actors and musicians,
and we had residencies in so many theaters.
But increasingly he began to do it all.
The story and the composing.
And...
the more his talent grew,
the more mine seemed to diminish.
Abraham leaving me behind
would be the end of my career.
Yes.
That look on your face is exactly why
I didn't tell the police.
Quite the motive for murder, is it not?
So, you think whoever stole the manuscript is the killer?
I do.
And I think they're doing their best to...
implicate me in the crime.
Well, do you know who would do such a thing?
That's why I hired you.
Thank you for waiting.
Miss Scarlet?
Detective Phelps.
This is no place for a lady.
What on earth could have brought you here?
Research.
Research?
- Do go on. - I've been interviewing
a number of prisoners to better understand
- the nature of the criminal mind. - Oh, well that's good.
That's very good. You do know how to
cheer me up, Miss Scarlet.
Now, what are you really doing here?
I believe I just told you.
Good day.
As senior detective...
I'm leading the investigation into the Barratt murder,
and I have a strong suspicion you've been
talking to our prime suspect.
So, I'm asking...
no...
instructing...
that you share any and all information
about this case.
Have you never heard of client confidentiality?
So, the accused is your client?
Well...
now you've shared something with me,
would you like me to share something with you?
Not really.
I went to see Mrs. Barratt,
to ask about her husband's murder.
She wasn't at home, so...
I spoke to her driver instead.
He told me she'd paid a visit
this morning to the Lady Detective.
So that got me thinking...
you must have spoken to the widow
before you spoke to the man
accused of killing her husband...
which is all very intriguing.
Are you drunk?
You didn't answer my question.
You didn't answer mine.
Perhaps I should ask Inspector Blake instead.
Hmm, very well,
I'll find out what's going on myself.
Julius!
Have you any idea
the distress that this episode has caused me?
My husband is in prison.
Which is exactly where he belongs.
How dare you speak to me in that manner.
I will speak to you
in any manner I choose.
Your husband is a murderer, Violet,
and nothing you say can convince me otherwise.
Come back here this instant, and apologize!
Julius!
How typical of Amil
to hire a private detective
rather than contact his own wife.
Selfish to the core.
I doubt it's even occurred to him how all this affects me.
I am completely alone.
Well, I'm here, Mrs. Kapoor,
because your husband pleads his innocence.
And if I can prove that that's the case,
then he can return home to you.
The night of the murder, you were not at your house
when he returned?
As always, we have a soiree
at the end of the run.
I was with the rest of the cast,
and we had dinner.
Amil was meant to attend,
but he didn't show up.
By the time I got home,
the police were there searching the house,
and they arrested him.
Can you imagine my humiliation
in front of all the neighbors?
That man has ruined my life!
He has let me down time and time again.
I would have made a magnificent Shadow Queen.
And yet again, Amil's promises were never fulfilled,
and I was stuck in the role of lady-in-waiting,
always the bridesmaid, never the bride.
The gentleman you were arguing with
seems convinced of your husband's guilt.
Who cares about Julius?
He's just a talentless fool
with delusions of grandeur.
No doubt he will be insufferable
at his brother's funeral,
certain to make it all about him
and his grief.
He is Abraham Barratt's brother?
Well, not that it did him much good.
Always desperate to get some of his own writing
into one of the shows, and never was it good enough.
He's only the violinist in the orchestra
because his brother felt sorry for him.
He's a dreadful musician.
I only came here to pack up my dressing room,
and instead I had to suffer that man
screaming at me in such an unseemly manner.
He is no gentleman, no gentleman at all.
I heard a rumor, Mrs. Kapoor...
It is not true.
I have always been faithful to Amil.
A rumor about Mr. Barratt writing a new operetta?
A solo endeavor.
Solo? What nonsense.
My husband would never have stood for it.
They have been a partnership, always.
So, you are unaware of a new production
about a magical mirror?
A magical mirror?
Is there a part in it for a leading lady?
I hear you're a private investigator
working for Amil?
Word travels fast.
Well... I could tell you a thing or two about him,
and his vile wife.
Amil is an arrogant snob,
disliked by many...
including his own wife.
You think Violet Kapoor capable of murder?
Her husband wasn't the only person she loathed.
She hated my brother too,
and the feeling was mutual.
Abraham used to say,
the only successful acting that woman ever did
was pretending to fall in love with Amil,
so that he would marry her.
Let me tell you the type of woman Violet Kapoor is.
While her husband festers in prison,
she carries on performing in any godforsaken hole
that'll have her.
All that woman cares about is her fame
nothing else.
Certainly not her husband.
Alice watched the White Rabbit,
as he fumbled with the list,
feeling very curious to see what
the next witness would be like.
So, imagine her surprise
when the White Rabbit read out,
at the top of his shrill little voice,
the name, "Alice!"
Right, time for sleep, you have school tomorrow.
I hate it there, Papa.
It'll get better, I promise.
Did Eliza Scarlet like school?
Eliza Scarlet?
Who is she?
She came to the house not so long ago.
Remember that morning you were late for school?
Is she a lady policeman?
No sweetheart, there's no such thing. She...
is a private detective.
Is that allowed?
No more questions. Alice has gone to bed, and so must you.
How do you know that?
Because...
when I close the book,
Alice goes to sleep.
And tomorrow night,
when I read the next chapter...
she will awaken, like magic!
You're silly, Papa!
I know.
- Morning, Inspector Blake. - Miss Scarlet.
I wonder if I might have a word?
Does that word involve me sharing information
about the Barratt case, since apparently Mr. Kapoor
- is now your client? - I...I don't know what
Detective Phelps told you, but...
Phelps isn't working the case,
he's on leave.
- What? - One of my men
was delivering a prisoner to Newgate Prison,
he saw you there.
I don't know how you wrangled
your way inside,
nor do I want to.
Oh...
Yes, erm, I'm working for Mr. Kapoor,
but surely it would benefit all parties
to share some basic information?
Very well, what do you have?
Well, I...I've only just begun my investigation,
but I know of the evidence against him.
Then you will also know that it is most substantial?
Yes, but cases are rarely
this open and shut.
Shouldn't we consider
all lines of inquiry?
There is no 'we', Miss Scarlet.
How about this?
We each allow each other one question
and see where we go from there?
Very well, what's your question?
I wish to see the evidence against Mr. Kapoor,
the glove, the revolver.
- May I have access to it? - No.
When you were a child, did you enjoy school?
- What? - That's my question.
I meant a question about the case.
It's my question, so it should be of my choosing.
I attended a convent school.
The nuns were cruel,
and my classmates even more so.
I...I hated it there.
Thank you, Miss Scarlet.
Good day.
Please forgive my lateness,
I, er, I did receive your message
but I had some business to attend to
regarding Mr. Kapoor's case.
Did you manage to see Amil?
I did.
He mentioned something to me...
a new operetta that your husband had...
written by himself
A solo production. Were you aware of this?
A solo production, without Amil?
Well, no, I know nothing of it.
Mr. Kapoor believed that the manuscript
for the operetta was stolen
the night that your husband was murdered.
If Amil says this is true,
then who am I to question it?
But please be aware, Miss Scarlet,
his and Abraham's relationship
was increasingly strained.
My husband may have said it out of spite?
How did Amil seem to you?
Well, considering the circumstances,
I think extremely well.
Do you think you might be able to assist him?
I am working on it.
Thank you.
I needed to hear something uplifting.
My days are filled with a constant stream
of mourners coming to the house,
and black everywhere I look.
I must confess, I never understood
the covering of mirrors.
The notion that it stops the deceased's spirit
from being trapped inside is odd, don't you think?
I think we have many customs that are more than a little odd.
Yet we follow them without question.
Your note said that you wished to tell me something?
There was a man outside the house this morning,
taking photographs.
I sent the maid out to speak to him,
but he hurried off without saying a word.
I believe he might be a journalist?
Perhaps he's learnt about
myself and Amil?
Oh, if it should ever get out, the scandal...
Could you describe this man?
Red hair, red beard...
an unsteady gait, as if he'd been drinking.
How did you find me?
I'm a private detective.
May I come in?
No!
Inspector Blake told me that you're not working
the Barratt murder case?
Why lie to me, and tell me that you were?
Someone matching your description
was seen outside Mrs. Barratt's house,
taking photographs.
Either you tell me what's going on,
or I'll inform Inspector Blake that you're
working this case without his authorization.
Phelps?
Charlie?
My missus left a couple of months back,
and took the kids and went to her sister's.
I started drinking a bit.
Err...well...a lot.
That's when the landlord turfed me out,
and...I ended up here.
It's all 'cause of him...Blake.
Y...your wife left you because of Inspector Blake?
After twenty years in the force,
getting that promotion to Detective Inspector
was the best day of my life.
I knew it was only temporary,
but I was sure it would end up permanent.
Then he came along, Blake.
And the powers-that-be dropped me like a tart's knickers.
That's when I started drinking.
That's when the missus left me.
I still don't understand why you're investigating
the murder of Abraham Barratt?
I know what my superiors think...
that I'm some...useless old sod
who should have retired years ago.
So, I wanted to show them what I can do,
maybe find something that he'd missed.
There's a...
vacancy for inspector
coming up at Bow Street.
I thought solving...
such a high-profile case might help.
I even got a camera from Scotland Yard
to build up the picture of Barratt's life,
his home, the theater.
But I'd had a skinful, so I don't know
what I got in the end,
a couple of the actors...
his brother...Julian...
Julius?
Waste of time.
Maybe they're right.
I am useless.
You'll tell Blake all of this, I suppose?
Give him an excuse to get rid of me.
I will tell no one.
And for what it's worth, you are respected
by your colleagues.
Fitzroy maybe, but he likes everyone.
No, not just Oliver.
There are many who sing your praises.
They're not always complimentary about your manner,
but...no one questions your skill in the job.
May I offer you some advice?
Put the self-pity aside, ease off the whisky,
and, erm...
maybe tidy up a little?
It's not my fault.
I got robbed earlier.
- Robbed? - It's no surprise,
the door don't shut properly, bloody dump!
I haven't got much to nick,
but they took the camera
and the photographic plates.
I borrowed them from Scotland Yard,
I'll have to replace them now.
God knows how, I'm broke.
Would you like me to make you another coffee?
No, that was horrible.
What do we have?
The victim was stabbed
several times,
mostly from behind,
once through the neck.
The landlady has identified him
as Julius Barratt,
brother of Abraham Barratt.
Anything found on him?
A pocket watch and a wallet,
and inside was this.
Hmm.
I gave Julius Barratt my business card,
should anything else occur to him.
It's shocking indeed, to hear of his death.
It is, of course,
possible that Julius Barratt's death
is unconnected to his brother's, but...
I would wager the same person killed them both.
That's the line of inquiry I think we should follow.
There's that 'we' again.
Let us not forget that it was me
who warned that this may not be
an open-and-shut case after all.
I'm curious, Miss Scarlet, do you think
any conversation with the underlying point of,
'I told you so', ever ends well?
Is that drinkable?
Hmm...just about.
Thank you.
Why did you ask me if I enjoyed being at school?
Oh, that.
My daughter's struggling with her teachers.
Her classmates seem no kinder.
She's never found it easy to make friends.
Now, I know she misses her mother, and...
I try my best to fill the void...
...but...
When I was school, I was
continually made to feel...
unimportant...
worthless.
But I was lucky.
My father made me feel special.
Sophia has you.
And from what I've seen, you are a fine father.
How long since your wife died?
Three years.
It was the anniversary not so long ago.
I had hoped this year would be easier.
But... thankfully my job keeps me busy.
Work is indeed a good distraction
from matters of the heart.
Speaking of work...
in light of the second murder, there is something
I should perhaps share with you.
My client, Mr. Kapoor,
believes there was something stolen
from Abraham Barratt's safe.
Some manuscript.
It's a new operetta that he'd written by himself.
He was ending their partnership.
Well, I can understand why Kapoor
wanted to keep that quiet.
It is indeed a strong motive for murder.
Julius Barratt thought it possible
Violet Kapoor could have
murdered his brother
and placed the blame on her husband.
What if Julius found out that she was the killer,
and she got rid of him too?
Hmm.
If Violet Kapoor is involved in their murders...
how would the manuscript benefit her?
Well, she's an actress,
desperate for a leading role.
I believe she'd kill her own mother for one.
So...
she steals the manuscript,
kills Barratt... plants evidence on her husband,
then plans to produce this new show
under her own name?
A little bit far-fetched, don't you think?
These are theater people, Inspector Blake.
They're not your everyday folk.
♪ Come into the garden, Maude♪
♪ For I'm at the gate alone♪
♪ For I am at the gate alone♪
♪ For I...♪
♪ Am at the gate...♪
♪ Alone...♪
Bravo!
Bravo.
Where were you earlier this evening,
around eight o'clock?
I was here, rehearsing.
And when was the last time you saw Julius Barratt?
The other day. I had a meeting with a producer,
completely pointless of course,
because no one will hire me now.
All anyone cares about is the fact that
my husband is a murderer.
What has this got to do with Julius Barratt?
As I left my meeting,
Julius was waiting to see the producer too.
Always trying to come out from his brother's shadow,
peddling his own music,
not that anyone is ever interested.
And...that was the last time I saw him.
What's this producer's name?
Have you ever considered the stage, my dear?
You have the face of an angel.
Does she not, Inspector?
Mr. Cinelli, if you wouldn't mind
keeping to the point.
You were talking about Mr. Barratt?
Mm-hmm.
Yes, Julius, he had he misguided notion
that he was as talented as his brother,
an inflated sense of his own self.
He even got his initials
engraved on his violin case in gold, 'JB'.
As if anyone would want to steal it!
Excuse me...
And you had a meeting with Mr. Barratt on Tuesday?
Those cheekbones.
Those cheekbones would set fire to the coldest of hearts
and those eyes...
I could make you a star.
That's very kind of you, Mr. Cinelli,
but I, er, I have no desire,
nor indeed talent, for a life in the theater.
When a woman is as beautiful as you are, my dear,
there's no need for talent.
Oh, for God's sake, man.
We're not here to discuss Miss Scarlet
changing professions.
She asked you a question.
My apologies, Inspector.
I seem to have hit a nerve.
Yes...we had a meeting on Tuesday.
He said to me that he had written a new operetta.
He kept it locked in his violin case,
like some dramatic secret.
As he put out his instrument and prepared to play,
I assumed it would be dull as always.
But it wasn't?
No, not at all.
It was absolutely astonishing.
The best work he had ever produced.
Can you tell us about his operetta?
Ah, hmm.
The title needed some work.
but the music, it was exquisite.
A story of, er, alchemy,
witchery and magic.
"The Enchanted Mirror".
Are the two of you courting?
Because I think he likes you.
Idiotic man!
I...quite agree.
- So, the case? - Yes, the case.
If Julius Barratt stole his brother's new manuscript,
then perhaps he was the murderer.
But who killed him?
We must go to Julius's lodgings,
and see what we can find.
I should have arrested him, that would have
wiped the smile off his face.
- Who? - Cinelli.
Impresario.
Bloody imbecile, more like!
Cinelli said that the manuscript
was locked inside a violin case.
It doesn't seem to be here, though.
It must have been difficult for him,
having such a successful brother.
I went to a lecture once
on the nature of sibling rivalry.
It was at the Royal Institute.
The conclusion was that pursuing the attention of our parents
ensures our survival.
It's a continual fight to be noticed,
to be the best in the tribe.
And I should know, I'm one of seven.
Do you get along with your siblings?
Yes, when I don't see them.
And you...
I would wager an only child?
How did you guess?
Independent,
ambitious, determined,
but in need of a little reassurance now and again.
You have all the answers, don't you, Inspector Blake?
Well, I have the advantage of having one
just like you at home.
My only wish is that your father
were alive to advise me.
Well, he'd surely tell you that you
have your work cut out for you.
Inspector Blake?
I suspect these didn't belong to Julius Barratt.
In fact...
I believe he stole them.
And I know who from.
The camera was stolen from your lodgings?
Yes, Sir.
And the photographic plates.
What's your connection to all this?
You're not working on the Barratt case.
Well, Detective Phelps and I have known each other
for some time, and on occasion
he's been kind enough to help me
with my investigations.
For free, I should add, during his time off work.
Detective Phelps helps you?
For free?
Yes.
And on this occasion, I required
surveillance photographs to further
build a picture of the key players
in the Barratt murder.
I didn't want to risk being spotted myself,
so I asked Detective Phelps,
who, as you say, is, er, not working the case.
Is that true?
The question is, why did Julius Barratt
steal the photographic plates?
He must have followed Phelps home
and broken into his lodgings.
Why risk it?
What was so important about them?
Come.
The developed photographs, Sir.
Alright.
Let's see what we have.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
These are actually quite good.
They are. And thanks to you, Detective Phelps,
I think we may have found our murderer.
Julius and I were talking about my husband's funeral.
We couldn't agree on the music. What of it?
Well, we also have this photograph of you, Mrs. Barratt.
If you look closely, there are gold initials
on that violin case.
'JB' for Julius Barratt.
What are you insinuating?
That you stole his violin case,
because you knew he had your husband's
manuscript locked inside.
The manuscript you told me that you
had no knowledge of.
That's why you were arguing
with Julius Barratt, wasn't it?
He knew you'd stolen it from him,
and he wanted it back.
I know nothing of any manuscript.
Search the house if you want, you won't find it here.
We don't need to search the property, Mrs. Barratt,
because we know exactly where it is.
That mirror wasn't here when I previously visited.
Inspector Blake, am I right in thinking
that the police returned Abraham Barratt's possessions
from his office to Mrs. Barratt?
You're correct, Miss Scarlet.
And this, this is the mirror
from his office?
It is.
What are you doing?
I'm in mourning.
"The Enchanted Mirror"
by Abraham Barratt.
Very well, I lied, I knew about the manuscript.
But it is not a crime to take back the property
of my deceased husband.
No...
no, but it is a crime to murder the person
who stole it from him.
I've murdered no one.
Why on earth would I hire you if I were the murderer?
Yes, you did hire me, after you informed me
that the city's two biggest investigation agencies,
Gill & Son and Culpeppers,
had turned your case down.
Both of which myself and Inspector Blake
visited before coming here today, and...
none of them had any record
of even meeting you, Mrs. Barratt.
Contrary to Mr. Kapoor's request,
you didn't even attempt to hire
a large agency with endless resources,
because you didn't want him to be proven innocent.
Instead, you hired Miss Scarlet here,
a lone female investigator,
the odds stacked against her.
But you underestimated her.
Why did you wish to be rid of your lover?
Because like my husband, I discovered
he was also being unfaithful to me.
I was tired of them both...
the great Barratt and Kapoor.
Never was there a pair of more self-serving grandiose fools.
So, your plan was to get rid of them both,
and...then what?
When everything calmed down, I would discover
my husband's new operetta in the mirrored safe.
I would have it produced in his memory, and...
enjoy the limelight as his widow.
The attention of the world would be on me.
Attention he never gave me.
Neither gave me.
I thought I was the only one that knew about the manuscript,
but I was wrong.
Julius Barratt also knew.
After I shot Abraham, I heard footsteps.
I hid behind the velvet drapes in the office,
and watched Julius step in.
He looked at Abraham in shock, but he didn't call for help.
Instead, he went straight to the safe.
He knew where the key was kept, he unlocked it
and took the manuscript.
It's ironic that the only people my husband trusted
were me and his brother Julius.
And then you killed him too.
Come on, hurry up.
Get a move on.
I did love Matilda.
But I can't deny much of the attraction
was because she was married to Abraham...
the man who began as my friend
but who became my biggest rival.
I suppose it was my revenge.
And how I have paid the price for it.
Abraham too.
What will you do now?
I'm in need of a stiff drink.
I might be able to help you there.
Oh, is there no end
to your talents, Miss Scarlet?
"Here, cried Alice, quite forgetting
in the flurry of the moment,
quite how large she had grown
in the last few moments.
And she jumped up in such a hurry ..."
My classmates were mean to me again.
Why, what happened?
They don't believe Miss Scarlet is real.
Who cares what they think?
They...are nitwits!
You swore, Papa!
Nitwits is not a swear word,
neither is nincompoops.
Which is also what they are.
Eliza Scarlet is real, isn't she, Papa?
She is, sweetheart.
Very much so.
Inspector Blake, you wanted to see me?
I chased up the accounting department,
this is what you're owed
for the Hawkins investigation.
Oh.
Thank you.
There was one other thing.
Are you available later?
When you say later, do you mean...?
This afternoon.
This afternoon?
- What did you think I meant? - Nothing. I'll be at my office.
Good, 'cause I have a favor to ask.
Sophia, you remember Miss Scarlet?
Good afternoon, Sophia.
Good afternoon.
And this is her office.
You see, Miss Scarlet is a private detective.
She is real.
Goodness, it's quite a relief to hear that I am.
Well, I suppose I should show you up to my office,
so you can tell your classmates about that, too.
Although I can't promise that it's very tidy.