All roads were leading to Mr. Finkley. He was the right height for the cloaked individual and no matter what he said, Murdoch thought there was more to the rumour of a feud than he let on. They even found a cloak amongst his possessions (albeit it was hidden well). So it was that he was being thoroughly interrogated back at the precinct.
"All right," he said, throwing up his hands, "I admit it! I was in the alleyway the night before his murder!"
"And what were you doing there, sir?"
"I was spying on Gary," he muttered. "I was on my way home that night when I saw that glutinous creature of his run...or rather, shuffle into the theatre. Gary was never very far away from that...thing so I assumed he must be nearby. I wanted to see what he was doing there so late." He smirked and then quickly hid it. "Poor man."
No doubt you were planning on using this knowledge to your advantage when and if it were ever needed.
"So you knew he was living there and yet you didn't put forth this knowledge to the constabulary when a body was found? Surely you can see how I find that suspicious, sir."
"Yes, which is exactly why I didn't say anything. Given our reputation, it seemed best not to associate myself with the remains."
"Regardless, Mr. Finkley, I will need to check your alibi for Friday night."
He seemed incredibly relieved at this information and said, "But of course, detective. I was out with friends until well past midnight."
"I'll be needing a list of their names."
"Whatever you need, detective, I am your humble servant."
George confirmed his alibi. Therefore the only viable suspect now was Mrs. Prenfrew. But with no way to positively determine her whereabouts that night, Murdoch was forced to turn to a rarely used tactic: the pneumograph or as George tried to sell it once, the truthizer. One might think that Murdoch would always use such a thing since it was highly accurate in determining lies, but the problem was that the courts still did not recognize such a thing as admissible testimony. Even to this day, they barely liked fingermarks as a source of evidence though they begrudgingly allowed it. They still seemed to much prefer written confessions to anything else (even if they were obtained by beating the suspect up). This was simple, this was easy to comprehend for their unscientific, often backwards thinking minds.
But again they hit a dead end. It was quite clear that she had not been lying about killing her husband. So unless she somehow figured out how to trick the machine within a few seconds, she was not their arsonist. Not surprisingly, Brackenreid avoided this revelation like the plague, going into coughing fits whenever either George or Murdoch mentioned it.
It took much deliberation but in the end, all they determined was that they needed to go over what they already knew to see if they had overlooked something. Murdoch was still coming up empty handed so he paid Julia a visit in the morgue that evening. Perhaps she could be of service as she had been many times before?
She was busy with some paperwork when he entered and so seemed to welcome his interruption.
Taking one look at his expression she said, "I take it you have your doubts as to Mrs. Prenfrew's guilt?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so Julia." He sighed. "Frankly, I am at a loss as to who could have done this."
Smiling, "So naturally I am to be your sounding board once again?"
"If you are not too busy, Julia, that could prove to be quite useful."
Looking around the empty room she said sadly, "I'm afraid I'm quite swamped, detective."
Murdoch smiled and then they discussed the details for the case for about ten minutes before a breakthrough was made.
"Forget everything else for a moment and go back to the basics."
"What do you mean, Julia?"
"Well, William, have you thought about why the theatre was burned down?"
"Clearly it was done out of a strong emotion, whether rage or hatred or otherwise."
"Well, yes, dear," she said stifling a laugh, "that much is obvious. But what could prompt someone to do such a thing? What had Mr. Prenfrew been involved in that caused someone to literally burn his livelihood? Besides Vaudeville?"
Murdoch was silent for a moment and said slowly, "He had been showing flickers-"
"There, detective, that's your answer."
He looked at her quizzically. "What's my answer, Julia?"
"Maybe someone else did not take so kindly to these flickers. After all, from what you yourself have told me, Mr. Prenfrew was about the only man to show such things in Toronto. Maybe someone else had a problem with the content that was shown?"
"Are you suggesting that I look for someone who viewed the flickers?"
"Yes," she said nodding, "precisely."
Murdoch made a face. "But that could be anyone, Julia! This hardly narrows the investigation down!"
She frowned. "There's no need to get all huffy with me, William. I was just trying to be helpful."
"I'm sorry, Julia." He rubbed his forehead. "It's just that at this rate, this case could take forever to solve."
"Sometimes in order to narrow ones search, one has to first expand it in order to see the bigger picture." She took his hand and squeezed it. "You'll figure it out. I have faith in you, William."