George Crabtree had asked for some paper and pen, and had begun to write his final letters. The Crown Prosecutor would be coming by tomorrow, and George intended to plead guilty, leaving no room for any changes to his plan with a complicated trial. In return for his full confession, he would ask for a swift date with the executioner, meaning he would be long dead and buried before anyone might trace the murder back to Edna or Simon. Hopefully.
He had already decided that he wanted to save his letter for Edna last, in which he would explain how the past few months had been the happiest of his life, and why he did what he did and how she could repay his act by being happy-that was all he asked. Thus, his first letter was for his beloved aunts, expressing his undying gratitude to them for their love and kindness, for being the mothers he would otherwise never have had, and for making him the man he was today. He didn't explain that he was confessing to a murder he hadn't committed, but he did ask them to know all was not as it appeared and he had noble reasons for doing what he did.
His second letter was to Higgins, reminding him to remember him as he was before everything happened and acknowledging him for being a true friend for all of these years. Next, he wrote to the Inspector, thanking him for being a mentor and for giving him the opportunities to grow both personally and professionally. He also mentioned that he regretted that he had let Station House #4 down with his actions, and for that, he was truly sorry.
Speaking of regrets, he stared at the blank paper meant for his letter to the Detective. This letter was proving to be as difficult to write as the one for Edna. He supposed he could express his eternal gratitude to the detective for being the older brother he'd never had, and for showing him what it meant to behave with honor and bravery, even when you were terrified or were feeling anything but honorable inside. But would the man ever understand that he had been a role model for him? Would Detective Murdoch even care what he had to say after he had betrayed his hard won trust?
Putting the pen down, George ran his hands through his hair and stood up to pace the cell. He knew that what he was doing was the correct and honorable thing, but his heart still cried out at the unfairness of it all. In moments of weakness such as these, he wondered if he was strong enough to stay the course. He prayed that he could, and hoped that his date with the executioner came much sooner rather than later. He didn't know how long his nerves could stand waiting to die.
Not for the first time, he choked back a sob, feeling it burn in his throat. He supposed that he now knew what it felt like for soldiers going off to certain death in battle; he wasn't ready to die, but had come to terms with his fate. But that didn't mean that he was excited about it.
The books, plays, romances, poems, war novels, and penny dreadfuls had it all wrong: there was nothing gallant or beautiful about death.
Though it was late in the day and almost time to go home (Margaret was making Yorkshire pudding tonight and he didn't want to miss it), he knew his people must have caught a big break when they excitedly called him over to Murdoch's office.
In their excitement, Doctors Ogden and Grace as well as Detective Murdoch were using lots of big words and names that sounded foreign, and quite frankly the lot of them were giving him a headache. But even through his annoyance, he knew it had to be important if they were that worked up over what they had found.
"One at a time, and small words please. You high-forehead types are acting like a gaggle of geese before a storm. What the bloody hell are you trying to tell me?" he queried.
Ever the gentleman, William slightly bowed and gestured toward the ladies.
George had put the letters away for now, hoping more appropriate words would come later that night or tomorrow. Instead, he read the Bible, particularly the Gospel of Luke, where Jesus prayed at Mount Olive, accepting his fate and destiny, yet still asking for the burden to removed if it be the Lord's will. George had read the passage countless times, and had always thought it poignant, but he had never identified with it as strongly as he did now.
Reflecting upon the similarities between him and Christ, George was soon startled by the outer door being flung open, and several sets of footsteps clicking on the concrete, where they stopped in front of his cell.
Turning around to see who it was, he was shocked to see the Inspector, Detective Murdoch, and Doctors Ogden and Grace. Taking a set of keys from his pocket, Detective Murdoch opened his cell door and stepped inside.
"To the interrogation room now, George. All is not what you believe it to be."
"If I refuse?" George asked?
Stepping inside the cell with the detective and himself, the Inspector answered, "Then Murdoch and I here will have to carry you ourselves. It's not a request, Sunshine."
Nodding, George got off his bunk and acquiesced to their demand, following them to the interrogation room, dreading what was about to happen. He didn't know if he was strong enough to withstand another round of impassioned pleas from the Inspector and Detective Murdoch.
Seated in the interrogation room, the three men stared at one another, at a seeming impasse. Murdoch had hoped that curiosity would get the better of the younger man, and he would ask why he was here, but it appeared that he was still insistent on maintaining silence, keeping his cards close to this chest.
Very well, he'd open this questioning. "George, aren't you curious as to why you've been called here? Why we're questioning you once again?"
George tried hard to school his face into passivity, but Murdoch could read the inquisitiveness in his eyes. However, Crabtree remained silent.
Pushing his chair back in frustration, Murdoch stood up and looked out of the window. Julia and Dr. Grace stood there, curious to see how this played out. In addition, Julia smiled and nodded, encouraging him to keep going.
She was right, this was no hardened thug; this was affable George, who truly believed that he was acting in the best interests of the woman he loved. Sighing, he turned around and decided that he was going to go all in, but not all at once, he wanted to know what George knew or at least what he thought he knew.
Taking a deep breath, William began. "George, it's been a very interesting past few days around here-especially for me. First of all, I was an unwitting contestant in a blood sport, and someone tried to kill me in front of my wife. Then one of my closest friends was implicated in a murder that I don't think he committed."
George's eyes widened at that last remark, but he quickly recovered, his face once again a mask of stoicism.
"Of course, once I recovered from my shock, I had to investigate. My instincts were telling me that all was not as it appeared, something more was going on, and that's where I need your help, George. I need to know who killed Sgt. Archibald Brooks so that the wrong man isn't convicted of a crime he didn't commit. I've found Mrs. Brooks and Simon, or rather she found me. She was desperate for word on you, she didn't know what was going on, didn't know her husband was actually dead this time, and was devastated to learn that you were currently in jail for his murder."
William paused, watching the reaction on George's face. It was a combination of anger and fear, and William decided to quickly allay the man's concerns.
"She told me that you sent them to a small lake cottage in Mimico, and I went there to speak with her myself. I've interviewed them, and as it turns out, they have solid alibis that check out. They couldn't have committed the murder, George, so you're not protecting them. Your silence is not doing her nor yourself any favors. I've compared the gun found in your desk to a bullet found in Sgt. Brooks' body, they're not a match. The bullet didn't come from your gun, and their apartment wasn't the crime scene was it, George? The blood stain there and on your police issue boots isn't human-it's from a pig," William finished.
Sitting back, he looked at George's face, a mixture of varying emotions, waiting for George to understand all of the new information he'd just been given.
Abruptly standing up, George paced the interrogation room, trying to get a handle on what he'd just learned. Turning to look at William, George had a wild look of desperation in his eyes. Murdoch knew he was debating whether or not he could trust his secret to him, and Murdoch knew it was time to get personal.
As if this case had ever been anything but.
Taking a deep breath, William went for broke. "George, this is me to whom you are speaking. You've known me for years, and you know my history. You know what I've gone through to be with Dr. Ogden. You know the agony, waiting, frustration, and desperation I've felt over the years. Your situation may not be exactly the same as mine, but it's similar enough, George! Why didn't you come to me? Did you really think I wouldn't understand or have some sympathy for what you were going through?"
The two men stared at one another for a moment and George sat back down at the table, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Sir, I…I thought I was covering up for Simon. I don't think Edna would have ever done it, but Brooks...he…he hit her. And when Simon tried to come to her defense, he hit Simon as well. Simon was trying to defend her as I should have, I just assumed that the boy snapped and well, I couldn't let him hang or rot in jail for doing what I myself would have done if I'd had the chance. I had to protect them sir, and if this was the best way, well, I had to choose and act fast, and this was my choice," George finally admitted.
George rubbed his face and ran his hands through his hair before continuing. "Tell me sir, if you had found out that Doctor Garland had been mistreating Dr. Ogden, wouldn't you have done something? Would you have really left everything up to the courts to decide, knowing Dr. Garland's wealth and standing would most likely buy him immunity, as Sgt. Brooks' war hero status undoubtedly would have done as well?"
Murdoch visibly blanched, and looked at his wife watching through the window, who had stepped back in shock. As far as he was concerned, Garland had been mistreating Julia by pressuring her to fit an ideal that she wasn't, expecting her to subvert her dreams and desires for his greater good, and finally, by toying with her emotions by refusing to grant her the divorce while running around with another woman.
Still, he knew the point George was making, and he agreed. If Garland had indeed ever laid a finger on Julia in anger, a single punch would have been the least of the doctor's concerns. "No, George, I wouldn't. I would have handled matters myself. I too, would have done whatever it took to ensure that he would never hurt her again, no matter what it cost me," Murdoch admitted, looking directly at the man and holding his gaze to show George he knew exactly why he did what he did, and there were no hard feelings on his part for having been deceived.
To be honest, he looked only at George because he was afraid to make eye contact with his wife. He knew she would undoubtedly be angry after hearing what he'd just said about her former husband.
"Chuffing hell," muttered the Inspector, this time it was his turn to get up from the table and pace the room.
Knowing that the Inspector was more than likely uncomfortable at the uncharacteristic displays of romanticism and sentimentality from both men, William steered the topic back to the question that still hadn't been answered. "George Crabtree, will you state for the record, did you kill Sgt. Archibald Brooks?"
Shaking his head, George replied in the negative, "No, sir, I did not."
"Tell us exactly what happened, buggalugs," the Inspector asked, having recovered from the unexpected display of emotion.
"After Sgt. Brooks attacked Edna the first time, I made her promise to come to me if he came back. Later that evening, she came to my apartment with Simon, he'd beaten them again, and was angry that I'd been seen talking to them. I gave them some money, and put them in a carriage to Mimico-in a lake cottage owned by a friend. Well, it didn't take Brooks long to figure out what happened, and he called me, furious for hiding his wife and son from him. He demanded to meet with me behind MacGuire's Tavern, where we could settle this like men, and I met him there at the appointed time and place-and he was there, but he was already dead. I just assumed Simon had snuck back into town and done it, and well, I panicked. I arranged for the body to be transported into the morgue, and I staged the apartment to look like a crime scene," George added.
"George, surely you knew I wasn't going to calmly let you go to the gallows? You had to have known that I would have the blood and weapon examined, that I wouldn't have let it go so easily," William replied.
George nodded. "I knew that it was likely, but I had to take a chance, buy as much time for Edna and Simon to get away.
"Why didn't you trust me George? Why didn't you tell me the truth? Why lead me on a tangent?" William wanted to know.
"Because to you sir, the truth is of the utmost importance. It's more important to you than the greater good. You wanted the truth; I wanted what was best for Edna and Simon. Those were two different goals, sir," said George.
Laughing bitterly, William considered what George had just said, and how it mirrored what Father Keegan had earlier said to him. He always thought that the truth would set one free, but apparently, that was not always the case. Laughing at himself, he asked the next question everyone wanted to know: "Well, George, if you didn't kill Archibald Brooks, and it wasn't Mrs. Brooks or Master Brooks, who did?"
Bewilderedly, George again shook his head. "I honestly don't know, sir. I wished I did. Do you think that Edna might be in danger from them as well?"
"I don't know, George. As far as I know, she's still in Mimico where I left her this afternoon. Perhaps you can call her and speak with her yourself."
Standing up, he escorted George to his office, where he called Mrs. Brooks and they mutually reassured one another of their safety and well-being. It was also agreed that she and Simon would both return to Toronto in the morning where the Toronto Constabulary would be better able to look out for their safety.
Standing outside his office to give George some privacy, Julia walked up to him, still caught off guard by what she'd heard earlier in the interrogation room.
William had always dreaded the day when Julia might find out the entire truth about his interactions with Dr. Garland as well as how he obtained the film that secured her release and acquittal for her husband's murder, and knew that the time had come.
"William, about what you said in the interrogation room…" she began.
"Julia, this is not the time or place. When we get home?" he interrupted, hoping to avoid the scene this conversation might cause.
"Very well, William. You've earned a reprieve, but not a stay. I'm going to ask again once we've returned to the suite."
William nodded. It was the best he could hope for.