With his collar unbuttoned, Maxwell Best left the hotel room, and leaned against the hall wall, sweat pouring down his brow. Everything was a blur to be sure, but he felt euphoric after the hour he had just spent with Raquel Wilkins. He stood in the hallway for a moment as he fumbled with this collar. He then pulled on his suit coat and hat and walked down the hall to the staircase at the end. He was whistling slightly and felt like he was in his twenties again. He even had swagger in his walk. Nothing was going to ruin his mood, that was until he got home and faced his wife. He tried not to think of it at the present, instead he focused on his current mood, and plotted what to take next to make good his promise to Wilkins.

Best stopped and looked at his reflection in the hotel door window, and smoothed out his ruffled greying hair, and straightened his tie. He noticed a little bit of lipstick on his left cheek and quickly wiped it away. His next stop would be home, after all it was dinner time, and surely the missus would be looking for him by now.

Maxwell leisurely strolled home and paused at the end of the walkway that led to the veranda. Suddenly his euphoric mood was gone, and he was back to reality. His shoulders sagged slightly and he sighed. Slowly he walked along the cobble walk and climbed the stairs, feeling he true age coming back with each step.

He said nothing as he turned the knob on the door and entered the home. He hung the hat in the coat tree inside the door before he walked to the sitting room and took his place in his upholstered wing-back chair scooping up the newspaper as he did so.

Florence Best entered the room from another doorway, "Well it's about time you came home," she growled. "Where have you been, and why are the police looking for you?" she asked curtly.

Maxwell slowly dropped the newspaper to his lap, "What do you mean, the police are looking for me?" he turned in his chair asking.

Florence seemed even more confused, "They said you were found in a alley near the saddle factory," she blurted out.

Maxwell's expression changed from one of question to one of concern, "How ridiculous," he then said, standing up. "What's for dinner?" he asked changing the subject as he walked toward the dinning room.

"Where were you just now?" Florence asked further.

"I had a meeting," Maxwell replied. "A very important meeting," he stood by his wife's chair waiting for her to sit down. He didn't care anymore about what was prepared. His mind was racing around to try and remember what happened at the old saddle factory. All he could remember was that it was night time and it was raining. Numbly Maxwell took his place at the table; if Florence was talking to him, he wasn't paying any attention to her. Florence finally gave up talking and just ate. She watched her husband and was undecided what to think of him. Perhaps he was injured.

Murdoch and Brackenreid finally made it back to Station House No. 4. Thankfully they weren't completely soaked. The Inspector headed straight to his office and poured himself a drink. Murdoch paused in the bullpen, "What have you George?" he asked the Constable.

Crabtree looked up from his typewriter, "Fingermarks, Sir," he replied. Murdoch wasn't in the mood for jokes, and his face showed it. Quickly George reached over and picked up the fingermark cards on his desk, "There's three. One yours, one of Mrs. Best, and one of Councillor Best," he stated.

"Could you match Councillor Best's to any on the shrunken head?" the Detective asked.

Crabtree shook his head no, "The texture of the shrunken head's skin makes that impossible, Sir," he said.

Sadly it made sense to Murdoch. "This gets us nowhere again," he said.

"Did you have any luck with your lead?" Crabtree asked.

"A dead end right now," Murdoch sighed.

"That's too bad," Crabtree lamented.

"Indeed. I think I"ll be going home now," Murdoch said as he checked his pocket watch. It was going on nine pm.

"Have a good evening, Sir," George replied and resumed his work. The Detective acknowledged his comment before he walked over to the Inspector's office and rapped gently on the door jamb, "I'm heading out no," he informed his boss.

"I won't be far behind you," Brackenreid lifted his partial glass of scotch. Murdoch knew what he meant and smiled as he bid his boss a good evening. It had been a troublesome day from the get go, and frustrating one to boot, with more questions then answers – not a way Murdoch liked to end the day.

The Detective made his way to the hotel where he and Julia seemed to have taken up permanent residence, until he was able to find their dream building lot to build their dream home. So far that wasn't in the cards.

Murdoch unlocked the door and entered their suite. He hung up his hat on the peg inside the door and then removed his suit coat, which he carried with him to the main living quarters of the suite. He draped it over the back of a chair. Julia looked up, "You look exasperated," she commented on her husband's face.

"That's putting it mildly," William sighed as he sat down. "We thought we had a rock solid lead in the Councillor Best case, but it turned out to be a dud," he said as he sat down next to his wife.

"It certainly is a puzzling case," Julia agreed as she sipped on her glass of red wine.

"Indeed. Maybe I'm just missing something," the Detective looked over to Julia.

"Like a body, perhaps?" Julia joked, causing Murdoch to smirk. "Well, there is that," he noted with his right eyebrow lifting. "Perhaps once I've slept on it, something will come to light," he said.

"That's usually the way," Julia smiled. "I'll be busy tomorrow with the hospital, so I hope nothing goes awry," she sipped on he wine.

"That is a pleasant thought," Murdoch smiled. "It would give me time to focus on this most perplexing case.

The Murdochs sat and chatted for a while longer until they decided it was time to get some sleep – they both turned in the night.

Across town, Maxwell Best had turned in much earlier. His wife was was sleeping soundly in her bed, which is what he was waiting for. Very carefully, he pulled back his blankets and sat up, swinging his legs over the side if the bed. He slowly crouched down and retrieved his shoes, which he would put on down stairs. He thought it was clever to have gone to bed fully dressed.

Maxwell made his way out of the bedroom, down the hall and the stairs, where he put on his shoes. He quickly walked through the sitting room and opened a cupboard door retrieving a small flask of brandy. He hustled to the front door where he lifted his hat and over coat off the rack before he unlocked the door and left the house, locking the door behind him. He stuffed the small flask into his coat pocket. The street was quiet, and the almost full moon gave him enough light to travel by; his destination the University of Toronto.

As Best continued his journey he thought of his rendezvous with Raquel and his mind got all foggy in lust. He wet his lips in determination to full fill his promise. And there it was. The University. Maxwell looked around the street before walked to the janitor's door, and knocked.

"Who's there?" the grumpy voice asked from within.

"It's me. Maxwell. I have something for you," Best spoke through the door. The Councillor heard some commotion from within the room and wait for the door to open. He smiled as Harry Parker pulled the door open. Maxwell waved the bottle up in front of him to show the janitor he had what the said he did. Parker wet his lips and opened the door further, and quickly looked around outside; he saw no one. Best was equally cautious and stepped into the little apartment.

"What brings you back?" Parker asked as he took the bottle.

"Nothing in particular," Best smiled. "I like to take care of my constituents, with the town election coming up," he smiled.

"Well this is mighty friendly. Care to share?" Parker asked.

"Oh, no. I have business to attend to later," Best smiled. "You enjoy," he sat down and watched as the janitor poured himself a large drink. It was only a matter of time now, and Best waited patiently.