Power Trip: "Murdoch Ahoy," 07x01

"I didn't take your damn barrel!"

George looked at Annie Taylor.

"Liar!"

He pivoted to face her manager.

"You know what, I wish I had taken it! Then I could sell it and get you off my back!"

Good Lord. The Inspector and the detective can come back anytime, now.

"Constable Crabtree?"

Oh God, what now?

(He recognized the voice as Dr. Grace, though, which was a refreshing sound compared to the pithy argument he was currently being subjected to.)

George held up a hand inbetween Mrs. Taylor and her manager, fixing them both with a glare. "You two excuse me for a moment." As an afterthought, he added, "And no fisticuffs!"

No sooner had he turned his back, the arguing began anew.

"I bet that was your plan all along! Send me over the falls, then extort me out of my meager earnings!"

"Good God, woman, will you get ahold of yourself?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed Murdoch's office door behind him. "Please tell me this is important?" he told Emily. "What is it, Dr. Grace?"

"Shelley's missing!" Emily's tone was somewhere between angry and distraught.

George's eyes widened. "Someone stole a body?"

Next Victoria Day, I'm calling out.

Emily shook her head. "Shelley. My skeleton."

An image flashed through George's mind of the full-size human skeleton that was almost as tall as he was that hung from a hook in the morgue. How many times had he accidentally been terrified by Shelley out of the corner of his eye? Can't say I'd be sorry to see her go.

He caught Emily looking at him, and he covered up his malicious thoughts quickly with, "I-I didn't know she had a name."

"It's a he," Emily corrected him.

He frowned. "You named him…Shelley?"

She nodded, looking pleased with herself. "After the poet." At George's confused look she said, " Dead poet. Skeleton…?" Sighing, she shook her head. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I went to a lot of work to put him together! Every bone, every phalange screwed, drilled, wired…" She threw up her hands in frustration. "And now someone has just helped themselves to him!"

"Did you notice, did they take anything else?" George asked, trying to placate her. Thefts from the morgue were going to take priority over a missing barrel, so thank goodness for small favors.

"Not that I could tell."

Who in the world would steal a skeleton from the morgue, but not take any of the tools, o-or the medicines, o-or… George's deductive skills were on overdrive. There were a million more things more valuable in the morgue than Shelley the Skeleton. What in the- "Emily, I promise, I will get to the bottom of this-Jackson?" George looked up at the big constable, eyeing him suspiciously. "You look…flustered," George decided on finally.

Jackson rocked on his heels, then, finally, "Someone stole my helmet."

"Well someone stole my skeleton," Emily interjected, as if that was a higher priority.

"Your what?"

Oh, for the love of-"Oh. Wait." The wheels were turning. George tapped a finger to his lips, thinking. "A barrel," he ticked off his fingers, "a skeleton…and a copper's topper." He grinned.

Gotcha.

He turned to Jackson. "Jackson, take Higgins and go down to Parliament." He smiled. "You're looking for a group of university-aged lads." The other man looked confused, but nodded, and went to go find Henry.

He glanced back at Murdoch's office. Annie Taylor and her manager were still arguing. George sighed. "Now, to tell them the good news," he said to Emily. "That is, if I can get a word in edgewise."

About a half hour later, Jackson and Higgins returned to the station with three young men, a skeleton, Jackson's helmet, and a barrel between them. "Take those items to the Detective's office until they can be returned to their rightful owners," George told his fellow constables. He glared at the three boys, with what he hoped was a stern look. "And let's have the three of them to the Detective's office as well until we can decide what to do with them. It may be they're spending the night in the cells."

It was extremely statisfying to see all three boys' faces pale as Jackson pushed them ahead of him.

Emily glanced at him. "George, what-"

He held up a hand, waiting until the three boys were escorted into Detective Murdoch's office before saying, "They're not going to spend the night in the cells. They'll be going home after we have a little chat."

Then, he winked. "But they don't know that."

Emily's face lit up in understanding. "Might I be permitted to observe, Constable Crabtree?" she asked him.

He grinned. "Why of course, Dr. Grace," he responded. He coughed, and steeled his features. Then, he pushed open the detective's door with such force that it startled all three of the boys, who were standing on the wall, sweating nervously. He glared at them, pacing in front of them. "Every year," he began, "at the end of term, you fraternity chaps like to have a little fun. Don't you?"

One boy opened his mouth to respond and George fixed him with a Look. The boy shrank back. Smart lad. That's the same look the Inspector gives Higgins. Always wanted to try it. "But to do so on Victoria Day!" George continued, wagging his finger shamefully at them. "A day for showing respect for our dear, deceased monarch. It's not a day for this..this type of tomfoolery-"

He saw Emily's mouth twitch, like she was trying not to laugh, and it only encouraged him. "Or, rascality, or ballyhoo-"

"Constable," Emily cut in.

Maybe that last one was a little much. "Or shenanigans," he amended.

"George," Emily said, a little more forcefully. He paused, and she jumped on the boys. "If you've damaged Shelley…" she trailed off, letting the warning hang in the air.

"We're sorry!" the boy in the middle of the three burst out. "We were going to give it back, honestly!"

"Please, sir." The boy on the end's voice held a note of terror. "If my father found out…"

You'd be out of university on your entitled arse, George thought to himself, but didn't say it aloud. He looked at Emily, then at the three boys, as if debating a great decision. Finally, he said, "Never let it be said that George Crabtree is not a fair man," he began. He caught Emily's smirk and tried not to laugh. Stay in character, George. "You lads will wash this station from top to bottom," he informed them. "And your parents need not know about this little incident. And," he added, "you will write a letter of apology to Miss Taylor."

All three boys sagged in relief. But George wasn't done with them yet. "And if there's anymore of this waggery, or devilment-"

He saw Emily roll her eyes as if to tell him he was pushing it. "That's enough," he told the boys, jerking his head toward the door. "Get out."

The three of them practically tripped over themselves exiting, where Jackson and Henry were waiting for them with a mop, a bucket, and a cloth. Henry looked overly pleased, George noted. He's going to have a bit too much fun with this.

Oh, and you didn't? his conscience asked him, and George found he couldn't argue.