It had been a year of firsts. For the first year ever, our stout hearted inspector was without his beloved queen mother. This resulted in the first ever Victoria Day celebration on May 24th, 1902. The gang was now in the Edwardian era, something Brackenreid would lament for years to come. Things weren't all doom and gloom though. Olivia had taken her first steps and spoken her first words (they had been 'Ben' and just a few days later, 'bad'). Speaking of Ben, he had finally been allowed a puppy to look after as his own (a gift for his seventh birthday). On a far less pure note, it was also the first time in which Julia and Murdoch had skinny dipped in the same lake she had been caught in all those years ago. Extreme heat and alcohol had been involved. Fortunately this time they had not been caught. Needless to say, that would not have reflected very well on their records.

This year also saw Canada's first ever permanent movie theatre constructed in Vancouver (permanent in the respect that it was used for that one purpose only). It was called The Edison Electric Theatre, so named for the father of modern film technology (who also tried to attain a monopoly on the industry but I won't be getting into that, let's just say he wasn't successful).

Toronto may not have had a permanent structure that was wholly devoted to showing movies, (or 'flickers' as people back then sometimes referred to them since the images were not exactly stable) but it did have several establishments that one could view the latest film in (I'm guessing). This story begins with just such an establishment, or rather, it's scorched remains.

"Has the fire chief determined the cause yet, Murdoch?" asked Brackenreid as they wandered around in the blackened structure, looking for additional clues.

"Yes, sir. It's definitely the work of a fire bomber. We've found evidence of a molotov cocktail."

"A fire bug, huh? What of the body? Have you identified the poor bugger?"

"It's bodies, sir."

Brackenreid raised his eyebrows at that. "I was informed that there was only one." Scowling, "Higgins had-" here he slipped on some shifting boards and Murdoch quickly supported his weight before he fell. "Thanks, me old mucker!"

"Don't mention it, sir." Brief silence. "You misunderstood me before, sir. There was only one human body present but there was also what appears to have been a rather well fed cat."

His boss smirked. "A fat cat?"

"Yes, sir."

He laughed. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed merrily, laughing some more. Murdoch cleared his throat and that sobered him up. "Yes, well, what of the bloke?"

"His identity remains unknown. No one was listed as a tenant to this building. In fact, it was not designed for living in. It was a theatre of sorts owned by a Mr. Prenfrew." Murdoch smirked inwardly at that, remembering the time Julia had given him that alias.

"So a street rat then? Maybe he snuck in after hours?"

"It's possible," said Murdoch, "but the feline element is causing me to think otherwise."

Brackenreid looked at him confusedly. "But those types usually have some sort of stray for a pet."

"Yes, sir," he replied, nodding, "but none so well fed."

The inspector made a face as if to say, 'Oh I get it now and boy do I feel stupid!'

Murdoch led his boss over to where his wife was hunched over the mans body. Both had been moved to outside of the destroyed area (on the sidewalk) as kneeling in that debris would have ruined any clothing that came in to contact with it and there was no sense in her skirt becoming sooty. That wasn't the only reason though, as previously illustrated, the rubble was fairly loose and it was easy to lose ones balance.

"What have you, Julia?"

Standing up she grimaced and said, "Nothing, I'm afraid. The fire has destroyed any external evidence that may have been present."

"Hmm, well, thank you anyway, doctor Murdoch."

She smiled and gestured to the two constables standing nearby. They came over and lifted the mangled corpse towards the waiting carriage. Unflinchingly she picked up the dead creature by the tail and joined them. Brackenreid and Murdoch went back into the somewhat structurally unsound building to continue looking around. After another half an hour, they concluded there was nothing else of value here.

They found George nearby interviewing some odd looking people. Their attire was very silly, similar to what a clown might wear but more 'distinguished' if that was the right word for it as they were mostly dressed in black. As well, no makeup was worn.

You may be wondering what George was still doing working at the constabulary after striking it so rich. Well, it had to do with the simple fact that he was and would forever be an eager student of Murdoch's as the mans knowledge was inexhaustible. Besides, what else would he have down with himself? True he could have wholly devoted his time to writing but George was never one to sit still for too long at a time, finding himself easily bored. Murdoch was glad that his protege and brother-in-law had not left the force. For all his annoying foibles, Murdoch still much preferred George to any other helper, so he was additionally glad that there was no other case at the moment. If there had been, George would have taken lead on that as he was still acting detective of station house four and Murdoch would have been left with far less motivated individuals.

"Sirs," George said turning to face them as they approached.

"Anything new to report, Crabtree?"

"Well, sirs, these three chaps,"- he gestured behind him at the eccentrically attired men- "claimed to have worked here on occasion."

"Doing what?" asked the inspector, giving them a once over.

"They were part of the vaudeville circuit and had an act together; The Three Fools." George smiled, "They showed me a bit of it, sirs and I must say, they are quite good! Very amusing stuff, physical comedy!"

Brackenreid made a face. "Vaudeville is crackers! True art will forever live on in the theatre and opera! Nowhere else!"

"As you say, sir," said George quietly.

"Did they know anything about the deceased, George?"

"No, sir, they did not."

"George, track down Mr. Prenfrew and bring him to me at the station. Hopefully he can shed some light on this matter."

Touching the brim of his hat, "Right away, sir."


An hour later George entered his office and Murdoch looked up from his desk enquiringly.

"Sir, I couldn't locate Mr. Prenfrew. I was however able to find his wife. She's waiting outside right now."

Murdoch looked past George at an annoyed looking middle aged lady who was quite big boned. "Bring her in."

"Sir."

George escorted the woman over and closed the door behind them.

"What's all this about, then?" she asked in a short manner. "I have things to do today. We don't all have the luxury of servants."

"Forgive this intrusion on your time, Mrs. Prenfrew, but I only have a few questions and then you can be on your way." She nodded once and he continued. "Can you tell me where your husband is?"

"Humph," she said making a face, "he could be anywhere. I kicked that rat bastard out days ago."

Arcing his eyebrows, "Oh? And may I ask what the source of this domestic discord was?"

"He was a no good bum, that's what!"

"So he was having an affair then?"

She looked at him incredulously. "That coward? He would never have dared!"

"If not that, ma'am, then what?"

"My dear husband got it into his head that those silly flickers were the future of the entertainment industry! He was going to cut out the other acts and only show those! As if those would bring in any real money! A woman needs to eat! And we were barely making ends meet as it was!"

"I find that hard to believe, ma'am. Your husband was the owner after all."

"Well, it's the truth! That bastard has always paid those tramps far too much!"

"Tell me, ma'am, did your husband own a cat?"

"That damn thing!" she exploded at him, as if this was her biggest object of complaint thus far. "He doted on that ugly furball! He fed it better than me! I had half a mind to eat it myself!" Abruptly and more calmly, "Wait a minute, why do you ask?"

Soberly he caught her eye. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, Mrs. Prenfrew."