Note: For those who didn't notice, I posted two chapters in one day last time.

The first and possibly last interrogation for this case was underway in interrogation room two. Brackenreid and George were watching the goings on from the viewing 'window.' Mrs. Prenfrew was predictably bristly when it became apparent that she was under suspicion of killing her husband.

"Were you aware that the reason for your money woes was not due to overpaying his employees?"

"What do you mean? What else would he have been doing with it?"

"Charity, Mrs. Prenfrew, he was giving it away to charity. Specifically those who served in the wars. Do you have any idea why he would have been doing that?"

She was troubled. "He used to talk about it some, his time in the war. The things he had to do, they...affected his mind. He tried to hide it but I could see how lost he was inside. I tried to help him... but I couldn't. I imagine he was giving all our money away out of survivor's guilt."

It was Murdoch's turn to be confused. "But the men were not dead. He was not giving it away to their widows."

"Well, then, they were broken in some way or other, right?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"There you have it. Garry always wanted to fix everyone else's problems, he never wanted to deal with his own."

"And you had quite a few I take it?"

Frowning, "What of it? Every couple does."

"Did you often get into physical altercations with one another?"

Narrowing her eyes further, "No, he never laid a hand on me."

"And what about you, Mrs. Prenfrew? You are a robust woman, did you never strike him in anger?"

"No, I most certainly did not!" she shouted, slamming the table with her fists.

George made a move as if to go in but Brackenreid barred his way. Murdoch simply seemed amused by her display.

"You are not helping your case, Mrs. Prenfrew."

No response as she seethed. Whether smart or not, Murdoch pushed on with this interrogation.

"Were you aware that your husband had life insurance?"

She became wide eyed. "No, I did not."

"So you did not kill him for the money?"

"How dare you accuse me of that!" she yelled, hopping to her feet, the chair flying out behind her. Murdoch was unperturbed.

"Sit down, Mrs. Prenfrew."

She grumbled and did as he said.

"When we first met, you had a number of grievances against him. Chief among them were your financial concerns."

"That may well be the case, but I didn't kill him over them! No matter our problems, I always loved him!"

"Where were you on Wednesday night at eleven o'clock?"

"At home, of course, in bed."

"Can anyone corroborate that?"

"I don't see why they would. Anyone I know would also have been asleep by then."

"You can see how this poses a problem. After all, you have no alibi and you were the only person to know your husband was staying in the theatre."

Mrs. Prenfrew laughed without mirth. "There you are wrong, detective. I wasn't the only one to know that. One of his past employees also knew."

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"One of those idiots, what were they called-"

"The Three Fools?"

"Yes!" she agreed, nodding, "one of them."

"Which one?"

"I don't know, they all look the same to me in their silly outfits."

"Why did you not inform us of this earlier?"

"You never asked."

Murdoch became suspicious. "I hope you did not do anything foolish to those men, Mrs. Prenfrew."

At that, she crossed her arms and would say no more.

It was obvious that if she was guilty, she was not going to give herself up. Her demeanour signalled the end of the interview. This new information could be a wild goose chase but it could also lead to something of value. Besides, without further conclusive evidence, he could not charge her with anything.

"Well, Mrs. Prenfrew, you are free to go. But we'll be in touch so do not attempt to take any sudden vacations."

Higgins was ordered to keep a close eye on her from now on, to his utter delight.

It took some time as they didn't have their real names but they eventually tracked down the three men. This time they were normally attired in suits. Murdoch interrogated them one by one as they were located. The first suspect was completely useless and too dimwitted to have pulled this off, the second was far more plausible. He was a very handsome, lean and tall, thirty something man. Murdoch imagined he would be quite popular with the ladies even taking into account his obvious self absorption and vanity.

"Has Mrs. Prenfrew visited you in the last day, Mr. Steadman?"

"As a matter of fact," he said somewhat annoyed, "she did. Accused me of killing her husband and threw a plate at my head." He stroked his face with his thumb and forefinger and smiled. "Almost marred my loveliness."

"Why didn't you report this?"

He shrugged. "She was grieving. I figured she had gone a little mental."

"Mr. Steadman, you claimed to know nothing about the deceased when you were first interviewed."

"Yes, that is correct. I had no idea it was Mr. Prenfrew."

"So you did not know that he had been living in the theatre for several days prior to his death?"

"Why would...ah, a product of his dear wife, no doubt."

"Yes."

"How unfortunate."

"Indeed. It's a pity that he was there."

"No, that's not what I mean, detective."

"Then what, sir?"

"Mr. Prenfrew had recently approached me with an interesting idea. He seemed to think I would make quite the star on the big screen and wanted to introduce me to his friends across the border. As you can imagine, I was quite flattered by this notion. Flattered but unsurprised."

"And were you going to accept? Were you going to give up Vaudeville?"

"Absolutely! Do you know how much I detest this work? Constantly making a fool of myself for others amusement? It is too much to be borne!"

"Forgive me, Mr. Steadman but if that was the case, I fail to see why you were doing this in the first place."

"It was a favour to an old friend."

"Who?"

"Sam Dunder. We go way back. Besides, I was having trouble securing work at the time so I didn't see the harm. After all, handsome men need to eat just as much as the rest of you. But apparently my luck is just as atrocious as ever."

"What do you mean, sir?"

Despairingly, "Isn't it obvious, detective?" Whatever chance I had of making it big, died as soon as Mr. Prenfrew did."

At those words, Murdoch instinctively knew what had happened. In order to prove his theory, he had to talk to the final man.

"You found out about Mr. Prenfrew's offer to David, didn't you, Mr. Dunder?"

"What are you talking about? What offer?"

"Come now, sir, don't play coy. I know you knew about it. David told me as much."

"Okay, fine, I knew about it, so what?"

"This must have been troubling news to you. If David accepted Mr. Prenfrew's offer, it would mean the end of your act. You didn't want that to happen, not when business was booming. So you took matters into your own hands. You killed Mr. Prenfrew before he could ruin everything."

"No, I didn't!" he exclaimed, becoming frantic. "When I last saw him that night, he was still alive!"

"You saw him the night of his murder?"

"Yes. When I found out about the offer to David I wanted to talk to Mr. Prenfrew about it. But he wouldn't listen to reason! I was just so angry and I guess I must have hit him!"

"And what happened after you hit him?"

"His head smacked against the wall and I was afraid I had killed him. But then he opened his eyes and appeared to be fine. I left soon after."

"So you did not burn down the theatre later?"

"Absolutely not! I was mortified when I learned what happened! And I knew what you would think so I kept my mouth shut!"

As far as Murdoch could tell, Mr. Dunder appeared to be sincere but he had been wrong before.

"It was her," said Brackenreid a little later in his office. "It's always the wife." Murdoch opened his mouth. "Don't bloody well say it."

Murdoch had been about to say he had his doubts. Assuming the cloaked individual had come back the next night and was responsible for the fire, Mrs. Prenfrew was much too short to be the killer. Besides, she had already accused three other men of murdering her husband. So unless it was all just for show, it was highly unlikely she was the killer at this point.

"Sirs," said George, "there's still one thing that's been bothering me."

"And what would that be, George?"

"Well, if Mr. Prenfrew had such a great need to give all his money away, why was he planning on tossing out the acts? Why would he risk ruining his business for an unsure thing like flickers?"

"You make a good point, George. I don't have the answer."

"I'll tell you why," said Brackenreid, a perturbed look crossing his features. "It's like the wife said, he had a few bolts loose in his noggin. I've seen the type before, hell, I've been the type before. You lose sight of things and you become a restless wanderer, always wanting to move on to some new scheme, always trying to distract yourself from the terrible thoughts inside."

There was silence for awhile, during which the inspector poured himself and consumed a drink.

"In any case," said Murdoch, "we still have to determine a new course of action. We have no evidence as of yet, just ideas, just theories."

"That's right, me old mucker, we need something more concrete to prove the wife did it." Again Murdoch opened his mouth and again his boss told him to can it.