This first installment is from Julia Ogden's point of view. The setting is Toronto, 1896 (Murdoch Mysteries Season 2).

I stepped into my empty morgue and breathed in the peace and quiet. My glance passed over the test tube racks, the microscopes, the equipment cupboards and settled on the bare examining table. Satisfaction curled into my soul. Finally, I had no crime scenes to visit, no bodies to autopsy, no reports to write. About time. It had been months since I'd had an undemanding day at work and I was looking forward to plunging into the stack of medical journals waiting on my desk. I passed through the main morgue to my office, trading the clinical smells of antiseptic, rubber, and formaldehyde for the calmer scents of paper, ink and wood.

Settling myself at my desk, I picked up the latest edition of the Buffalo Medical Journal. Work had been relentless and I certainly deserved the opportunity to luxuriate in the latest science. I had just finished, 'Modern Gastronomy for Stricture of the Esophagus' and was about to start 'Involuntary Intoxication from a Medico-Legal Standpoint,' when a thought struck me. William would love to hear about this article. Perhaps I could tempt him with a stroll to discuss it, or even lunch? As if conjured by my very thoughts, Detective William Murdoch entered the morgue.

"Good morning, Julia," William called out pleasantly and I walked over to greet him.

"Hello, William," He looked just like a trifle, beautifully composed and delicious. "I was just thinking about you." I said mischievously.

"Oh really?" He answered warmly. When it was just the two of us, he let some of his formality soften and the man might actually flirt, if subtly.

I played along, looking down, embarrassed, but still smiling deviously, "I came across a fascinating article you'd be interested in, on the medical-legal perspective of involuntary intoxication."

William's eyes lit up, "That does sound interesting. We must take the time to discuss it properly."

I said nothing but nodded encouraging. If he didn't ask me to lunch then I'd suggest a stroll through the park. The space between us filled with my expectation.

"Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?" He asked. I caught the eagerness in his voice and he added more somberly, "to discuss the article."

I wanted to jump for joy, but settled on a bright smile, "Yes, that would be lovely."

He looked at me intently, our eyes locked together and I felt an invisible pull, tugging me towards him. The moment stretched into a beautiful, aching silence, until I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him wickedly. Instead, I forced my gaze away and asked professionally, "Was there something you wanted to see me about?"

Blinking the daze out of his eyes, William handed me a file. "Yes, a disputed case from Station House No 5's district. Apparently, a cook at the Ontario Jockey Club was found dead, but Inspector Davis doesn't feel it warrants a criminal investigation. However, the deceased's husband is insisting on an inquest and autopsy. Inspector Brackenreid couldn't help but take the bereaved man's side against Davis. He also knew you didn't have any cases at the moment, and took the liberty of boasting that you would most definitely find grounds for a criminal investigation in your examination."

I sighed, having no choice but to accept the file. "Of course, I'll examine the body, but I can't make any promises about proving Inspect Davis wrong." I reassured myself that at least there would be time to read the article before this new body arrived.

"Excuse me Dr. Ogden. An urgent message came from Dr. Fields, the provincial coroner." Hodge said as he handed me a note.

Turning my attention to this new matter, I put the file down and scanned the message.

I said to William, "He wants me to pull an autopsy file from three years ago. He needs the information today so the local magistrate can keep their suspect in custody." I was not fond of the provincial coroner. Dr. Fields was an antiquated physician who did not hold with females in the profession.

William nodded, "You should go find that file. I'll speak with you about the case later, Dr. Ogden."

I looked longingly at the open Buffalo Medical Journal on my desk. But no. I told myself the request shouldn't take overly long and I would not lend Dr. Fields any credence to his claims that women doctors were not professional. The article I'd just enticed William with would have to wait.

It took me a quarter of an hour to find and methodically review the file in question. Nothing seemed amiss in the autopsy or my report. I became puzzled as to what Dr. Field might be looking for, but felt confident with my work. Unfortunately, when I telephoned the provincial medical office, Dr. Fields was absent. Getting no helpful information from his assistant, I squashed my irritation and settled for leaving a message.

I sat back in my chair and turned my attention back to the article I needed to study before dinner. I began to read, 'Alcoholic excesses, when once established, may be classed into three divisions …"

"Dr. Ogden!" Constable Crabtree burst through the door, frantic. "Come quick, Henry's bleeding all over the place!"

I rushed to follow Crabtree, grabbing my medical bag. "What happened?" I asked. Perhaps a suspect had become violent or there had been a skirmish in the cells.

Crabtree professed, "It was an accident. I swear!" I should have known.

Presently, inside Station House No. 4, I found Inspector Brackenreid shouting at a cluster of constables, "Give the man some space! Bloody Hell. It's like you're a bunch of soft hearted old biddies. Haven't you ever seen a bloody nose before? Back to work, all of ya!" The inspector's fury had been loosed and he looked even more ruddy than usual. As soon as he saw me, his mood softened and he looked relieved, "Ah, Dr. Ogden, good. Will you tend to Higgins? It seems he and Crabtree were having a bit of fun and Higgins got his face smashed with a ledger."

Constable Higgins was holding a handkerchief to his face, but blood was still seeping down the front of his uniform. I was relieved to see that his injury wasn't life-threatening.

Crabtree pleaded, "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Honest!"

Higgins spoke up, his voice pinched, "George was trying to demonstrate the telephonic abilities of Venutians."

Crabtree corrected his friend, "Telekinetic Henry, not telephonic. Telekinesis is the ability to move objects with one's mind." Then he scoffed, "It's not like Venutians can call Earth on the telephone, now can they?"

Their foolishness reassured me as much as the findings of my physical exam. Higgins would be fine. I bandaged his nose while Crabtree hovered anxiously nearby.

I told Brackenreid, "I recommend Constable Higgins go see a colleague of mine, Dr. Westmoreland. Higgins's nose may be broken and it is best to get it set right away."

Inspector Brackenreid agreed to send Higgins for treatment immediately and Crabtree insisted on accompanying his friend. Even though Higgins had no trouble walking, Crabtree kept one arm around Higgins' shoulders protectively as they left the station.

As I closed my medical bag, Brackenreid said, "Oh, Dr. Ogden, did Murdoch mention the case from Station No. 5? That I'd agreed to have you perform an autopsy to prove Davis wrong?"

I hesitated and tried to think how I could tactfully remove myself from their feud. "Inspector, you know I can't promise …"

Brackenreid cut me off, "I know it's an unusual request. And believe me, I don't want to ask you to be unprofessional. But I get the feeling that Davis's been shirking his duties. Only last week, a couple of trainers at the Woodbine racetrack got trampled by thoroughbreds, poor sods. Davis didn't call for an investigation. He just dismissed the whole thing as an unfortunate accident. Sounds like poor police work if you ask me."

He must have seen that I wasn't convinced and hurried on "It's a strange case. No obvious cause of death. Woman was found dead in the Jockey Club kitchen. " He grinned and rubbed his hands together, "I assured Inspector Davis you'd sort it out. We'll show him how a real constabulary operates."

When I returned to the morgue, the cook's body was being moved to my exam table. I had just started the dissection, when the phone rang in my office. Not wanting to miss the call from the provincial coroner, I set down my instruments and raced to answer the telephone

"Hello, Julia?" My spirit sank. It was my sister.

"Hello Ruby," She never failed to surprise me, "I didn't realize you were in town."

"Yes, I'm working on an exposé about the Queen's Plate. Did you know that Seagram stables has won five years in a row? I suspect something underhanded." I remembered what Brackenreid had said about the suspicious deaths at the racetrack. An image of my sister's crumpled body under the hooves of a prized thoroughbred flashed through my head.

"Be safe, Ruby." I advised. "The Woodbine Raceway isn't exactly polite society." The moment I said it, I knew it was a mistake. Telling her to be cautious was like throwing fuel on a fire.

She answered defiantly, "I know how to handle myself Jules. You needn't fret about me." Then her tone softened, "Although if it makes you feel better, you can accompany me to the track tonight."

"I'm afraid I already have plans for this evening," I said firmly.

"Don't tell me you're attending some stuffy scientific lecture," she teased.

"No, nothing like that. Look, Ruby, I have quite a bit of work and ..."

"Oh is it with that sober detective? Murdoch?" I didn't answer quickly enough and she pounced, "It is with Detective Murdoch! Wonderful."

"Ruby, Detective Murdoch and I, we ..." I protested weakly and trailed off.

"It is settled then. Promise me you'll come with me racetrack on Sunday and you can tell me all about it."

She rung off and I returned to the body on my exam table. At first, the autopsy seemed straightforward until I opened up the thoracic cavity and made an unexpected discovery. Now this was interesting. I was actually glad that Inspector Brackenreid had accepted this body for me to examine. I decided to forgo lunch and was just about to make an impression of the fatal wound, when Constable Hodge came to the door again.

He said "Dr. Fields is on the line asking for that information from that autopsy. He says he needs it immediately."

Frustration boiled inside me. I couldn't pause my autopsy now or the media would prematurely harden and I'd have to start the impression all over again.

"Tell him I'll call him in five minutes." I snapped.

After the impression was set, I rushed to call Dr Fields and answer his questions. Irritatingly, the coroner only wanted to know if I had examined the victim's mouth and determined if he had a full set of teeth. I was flabbergasted. That was all? Couldn't he have said so in his message? Somehow, this proved the twin brother was lying about his alibi - something involving false teeth. Dr. Fields droned on, lecturing me about the merits proper autopsy protocol. I held my tongue and listened politely.

My attention drifted to the unread medical journal at my desk. What if I didn't get a chance to read the article? What if I wasn't able to talk about it with William? Would I have to cancel our dinner plans? Not wanting to disappoint William, I rang off as quickly as I could and began reading again.

I only got a paragraph into the article on involuntary intoxication before another knock sounded at my door. I couldn't believe it. Another interruption!

"Enough is enough!" I cried and slapped the journal down on my desk.

"Julia?" a familiar voice asked tentatively. I looked up to see William looking pained, like I just struck him with some Venusian telekinesis.

Exasperated and embarrassed, I sighed, "I'm sorry William, but this day has been maddening. I thought that, for the first time in months, I finally had an empty morgue and I'd hoped I might have a quiet day to read through my medical journals, but every time I think I can sit down at my desk and have a moment to read I get interrupted either by the provincial coroner or Constable Crabtree or my sister..." I stopped abruptly, realizing I was rambling.

William's stunned silence made me take a deep breath and start again, more calmly, "I'll be alright, it's just been a trying day."

William took a long slow breath and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to say, when his eyes caught the body from Station House 5. His face lit up, "Is this the new case? Have you found the cause of death?"

Grateful for the change of subject, I answered excitedly, "Yes. Actually, it's an interesting case. The victim had an unusual physiological condition. I'd only ever read about it in anatomy textbooks."

William's enthusiasm reflected my own, "Oh?"

"Yes, dextrocardia!" I excitedly pulled back the sheet to show the dead woman's open thoracic cavity. "It is a rare birth defect. Perhaps only one in ten thousand people have it, although most live their whole lives without any symptoms at all." Warming to my topic and goaded on by William's interest, I continued, "I found a small incision in the right chest wall and significant bleeding into the thoracic cavity. I took an impression of the wound. It should be done by now."

I took the victim's heart out of a metal dish and removed the finished impression of the wound. "I've determined that the weapon was thin and long, approximately 8 inches, and it entered at a 40 degree angle. Since the victim's heart was on the right side of the body, not the left as is the normal case, the wound was fatal."

"Excellent work, Julia!" William continued, caught up in my excitement, "This means the attacker was the same height or slightly shorter than the victim, and must have been ... " Facing me, he raised his right hand and then his left hand, turned it into a fist, and made a small stabbing motion, stopping right before my right breast.

"Left handed." We said at the same time.

William dropped his hand and smiled. I felt that lovely, invisible pull towards him again. I felt my own thoracic cavity swell with affection.

"Was there anything else?" I asked hopefully.

"Actually, yes. There is a letter with which I'd like your assistance," William said with respect and tenderness.

"Certainly." I replied fondly.

Back in my office, I unfolded the paper he handed me and read aloud, 'Dear Detective. Can you please ask my father to be home for supper by seven? Mother gets into an awful fit when he comes home late. Also, he says he's going to take me fishing but he keeps having to work. Nobody else's fathers have to work after dinner or on Sundays. If he forgets about us, can you remind him? Sincerely, Bobby.'

I looked up at William, "Mrs. Brackenreid brought her sons to the station house yesterday, didn't she?"

William grimaced, "Yes," and then asked, "Can you help, Julia? You're better at this sort of thing than I am."

I reassured him, "I promise I will discuss it with Inspector Brackenreid at the very first opportunity."

William said seriously, "Thank you Julia. You do so much for me, for the constabulary and for all the people of Toronto. I hope you know how valuable you are ... to all of us."

I nearly swooned...

… and then nearly cursed when Inspector Brackenreid walked in. "How's that case from Station House No 5 coming, Dr. Ogden?" He boomed, "Tell me you have some incriminating evidence I can give to our old pal, Inspector Davis."

I took a step back from William and answered, "Yes, I was just telling Detective Murdoch what I've discovered."

William took a breath, stood up a little taller, and announced, "Indeed, Dr. Ogden has done some fine work, practically solved the case."

"Really?" Brackenreid replied, his tone switching from surprise to delight. "That's bloody brilliant!" Then he mused, "It's too bad we can't get them to investigate those deaths at the racetrack. I know something wasn't right with that business either."

William volunteered "Why don't I inform Inspector Davis of the details?" He shot me look, but I didn't understand.

Brackenreid made it clear he did not like William's idea, "No you don't. I'm the one who's going to lord it over Station House 5." He demanded.

Then, William looked at me expectantly and I understood. I said to the Inspector, "Actually there is something I'd like to discuss with you. Something of a personal nature."

Brackenreid turned to me, concerned, "What's that?"

"Yes, why don't you have a seat." I gestured to my office and followed the inspector to my desk.

William slipped out after sending me a grateful look.

I took a deep breath and resigned myself to having a heart to heart with my superior about finding a better balance between his job and his family. Thankfully, Brackenreid was touched by his son's letter and receptive to my advice. He warmed to my suggestion of 'father-son time' to make his boys feel treasured.

As soon as Brackenreid left, William popped back in. He must have been waiting for the inspector to leave. My heart sunk. I realized I'd have to postpone our dinner engagement but I resolved to keep my composure. There'd be other opportunities to spend time with William.

"How was your conversation with the Inspector?" He asked eagerly.

"It went very well, I think. He really is a good father and cares about his sons very much." Although my words were positive, my tone betrayed my regret.

"Then, what is the matter?" William asked carefully.

I sighed and plunged ahead, "I'm sorry William, but I'm afraid I won't be able to go to dinner with you tonight. Perhaps another day?"

"Oh, that is disappointing." His crestfallen expression matched mine. "May I ask why?" he asked.

I was on the verge of tears, but not wanting to repeat my distraught performance from earlier in the day, I held my voice firm, "I never got a chance to read that article. Things were so busy today, I'm afraid I never found the time."

William said earnestly, "Julia, it doesn't matter how many articles you've read or haven't read. We will have dozens, no hundreds, of interesting conversational subjects from which to choose." Like everything else about him, the man's voice and gaze were steady, "You must know I always enjoy your company."

My left-sided heart beat with joy and I laughed at my own doubt and foolishness. "Of course, you're right. And I'm famished." I put on my hat and coat and took his arm as we left for dinner.