"Ripped By mstoll" "Sir?" "50 cents on William Murdoch." "Oh, George, I'm afraid your money would be best spent elsewhere." "I'm competing against professionals." "Well, sir, I thought about that, and I brought you this." "It's a caffeine drink, so it should level the playing field." "The strength of a bull in a bottle there, sir." "That's all right, George." "I've created my own advantage." "Sprockets." "Sprockets, sir?" "Yes." "Yes." "They allow me to change gears, offsetting pedaling resistance against a gradient in the course." "Well, sir, I hate to be the bearer of bad news." "I've just read about this very innovation in Cycler News." "Indeed." "Indeed." "The difference, however, is I've created a system of rods allowing me to change gears without dismounting." "Well, sir, that's brilliant." "Yes!" "Yes." "Oh, my." "Sir, are you quite sure?" "It's all in good fun, George." "Uh, sir, that's American sprint runner-up" "Marshall "Major" Taylor." "And..." "And that's "Able" Archie Milner, sir." "Be wary of him." "He's got lively elbows." "And, sir, that's American sprint champion "Jumpin"' Joe Fenton." "And there's world-renowned trainer Chippy Blackburn." "I wonder what magical potion he's concocted for them this time." "All tuned up?" "Good luck." "Wheelmen, take your positions!" "Right, then, sir." "Best of luck." "Hello." "Five... four... three... two... one!" "Go, sir!" "Go!" "Oh, excellent." "We're close enough to feel the whip of the wind as they pass, Bobby." "Detective Murdoch will win." "Right, Father?" "I suppose anything's possible." "Hello, Bobby, Inspector." "Dr. Grace." "Here to get a better look at the young bucks, are we?" "Well, they do cut a fine figure." "Murdoch!" "Murdoch!" "Murdoch!" "What happened to Jumpin' Joe Fenton?" "He's going to be run over!" "Bollocks." "Stop!" "Stop!" "Sir?" "Doctor." "Looks like I bet on the wrong rider." "Myocardial infarction seems our probable cause of death." "But the race was in early stages, hardly long enough to have strained his heart sufficiently." "Well, sir, you were quite winded." "Although you're a bit older, I suppose." "I-I don't mean you're..." "you're old per se, sir." "George, that beverage of yours you said would level the playing field." "Sir, i-it's a poorly kept secret t-that professional wheelmen will... will do anything..." "They'll eat or drink anything to make them go faster." "Cycler News did a fascinating exposé on it." "George, the bottle that Mr. Fenton's trainer gave him before the race." "A-Almost certainly some combination of caffeine and cocaine..." "and perhaps strychnine." "I would never give you strychnine, sir." "Strychnine can have nasty side effects." "A strong dose could have triggered a heart attack." "I'll check Mr. Fenton's stomach for such stimulants." "Thank you, Dr. Grace." "George, may I see that bottle of yours?" "Sir, the bottle I..." "Well, I didn't want it to go to waste, you see, so..." "And I must say, I feel something, sir." "I feel energy." "I-I feel as if I could fly." "Right." "That's enough." "The sponsor said he'll reschedule the race." "You'll both get a crack at the prize money at a later date." "I was set to win this race." "Nonsense." "I would have overtaken you had this softy not stepped in." "Softy, am I?" "Listen to me, sunshine." "It's fortunate for you that I don't want my son witnessing two deaths in one day." "Joe Fenton was a cheater." " He got what he had coming." " Go on." "It's not the first time one of Chippy Blackburn's wheelmen have died on the course." "This makes three." "I'm glad I left his charge when I did." "Mr. Blackburn." "Everybody calls me Chippy." "Detective Murdoch, Inspector Brackenreid," "Toronto Constabulary." "Ah." "The fella with the gears." "We believe that Mr. Fenton died of a heart attack, possibly due to over stimulation." "What was in that small bottle you gave him just before the race?" "Well, a trainer never reveals his secrets... especially not to the competition." "Despite my attire, Mr. Blackburn, I assure you" "I am here on behalf of the police, not the competition." "Cocaine?" "Strychnine?" "My potion is nothing more than a mixture of fruit and herbs." "Room temperature." "Never give the stomach something cold before a race." "Potion?" "Well, some people say it has magical qualities." "Who am I to argue?" "Why did you rush off after you found out that Mr. Fenton had died?" "I went back to the club to telegraph the man's family." "I thought it would be better coming from me than from some copper." "This is the third such telegram you've had to send, is it not?" "Third?" "I..." "I'm at a loss, I'm afraid." "You've had two other deaths on your watch." "What about them?" "They got a little too comfortable with their own success." "The rigors of the circuit caught up with them eventually." "What exactly did they die of?" "Not adhering to my training regimen." "Hardly an accepted cause of death." "Heart attacks." "I'd very much like to see the bottle that Mr. Fenton drank from before the race, please." "Joe was like a son to me." "I saved him from a life in the mills." "No one's accusing you of anything, Mr. Blackburn." "Not yet..." "Chippy." "You wioll remember..." "I do better with my best rider than without." "He's bloody well got something to do with it, Murdoch." "I don't know what Chippy puts in his potions." "I just throw them back and pedal." "Have you ever found these potions make you feel overly talkative or excitable, even?" "It's a race." "There's no talking." "Don't you care to know what you've been drinking?" "Not as long as we're winning." "But now you've finished behind Mr. Fenton the last several races." "Well, I guess that won't be happening anymore." "Mr. Milner." "Fenton and I shared a gentleman's rivalry, but I'm sorry to lose him." "And Chippy pays us the same win or lose anyhow." "Chippy says it's time for calisthenics." "We don't do calisthenics on race days." "Well, it wasn't a complete race, he says." "Excuse me." "You're in Chippy's charge as well?" "Yes." "Warren Padgett." "And why were you not racing?" "I suffered a head injury a ways back." "The dizziness lingered, kept me off the bicycle." "Now I'm up to snuff and ready whenever Chippy needs me." "Was there anything unusual as to how you sustained this injury?" "No." "Did it occur during a race?" "No." "Archie, Chippy's waiting." "Tell them what happened, Padge." "It's not of consequence." "I'm afraid it may be." "Padge was rubbernecking at a girl, until he wheeled head on with a horse." "My head struck the horse in the mouth." "Equines have very strong teeth." "Have you ever collapsed after drinking one of Mr. Blackburn's potions?" "No, but that's only because" "I refused to take Chippy's potions." "Why did you refuse?" "Because he wouldn't tell me what was in it." "I'm not dying for a race." "Bought myself out of that contract, and I'm still paying it off." "So you owe Mr. Blackburn money, then?" "Chippy finds us when we're young and desperate." "First signature I ever made was on that contract." "So then, Mr. Taylor, you can't personally attest to the contents of Mr. Blackburn's potions?" "Not directly." "But it's said to give quite a jolt." "Obviously too much for Jumpin' Joe." "I'm puzzled." "The arteries appear to be fine." "Did it endure the water test?" "Positively." "Whatever killed this man, it wasn't his heart." "But isn't it always the last thing you find that offers the answer?" "Quite true." "Why do you suppose that is?" "Likely the same reason that toast always lands buttered side down." "I do appreciate your second opinion, Dr. Ogden." "It comforts me to know that the morgue is in such good hands." "Would you care to assist with the remainder of the postmortem?" "I would, but I must meet with a real estate broker about the sale of Darcy's house." "Mm." "Julia." "William." "Dr. Grace." "I was just on my way to meet with the broker." "Remember not to take the first offer." "I read in The Gazette that we're currently enjoying a seller's market." "Dr. Grace, Detective." "Dr. Ogden." "Dr. Grace, have we a cause of death?" "I'm afraid not." "Nor could I find any evidence of stimulants in the stomach." "Mm." "But it is always the last thing you find that offers the answer." "Maybe the lad just up and died, and that's that." "We have no cause of death and no suggestion of wrongdoing." "I would be inclined to agree with you, sir." "But I tested the bottle that Mr. Blackburn gave us, and it's clean." "Too clean." "It didn't even register of the traces of fruits and herbs that Mr. Blackburn claimed." "Well, is it possible, sir, that he swapped the bottles out before handing one over?" "I considered that as well, but Dr. Grace found no stimulants in Mr. Fenton." "So why swap the bottles if there was nothing in them to begin with?" "Sirs, I wonder if that young lady who gave Mr. Fenton a kiss before the race might be of help." "I am..." "was Joe Fenton's sweetheart." "Terribly sorry." "I travel with the circuit promoting women's cycling for the Selby Sporting Goods Company." "You must be quite knowledgeable." "Miss Barnes, have you anything that could aid our inquiry into Mr. Fenton's death?" "Yes, in fact." "Before a race last month in Boston," "Joe's front wheel bolt was loosened." "He could have been seriously injured had I not noticed." "You believe it was intentional?" "I tuned up his bike the day before." "Someone must have tampered with it in the interim." "And you believe that someone had it in for Mr. Fenton?" "Someone from the circuit." "And who might that be?" "All I know is that Joe was winning every race, and success breeds jealousy." "Safe neighborhood indeed." "You don't even lock your door." "I can ask for $3,000 for this house." "I expect you'll tidy up before viewing appointments." "I tidied last I was here and locked the door." "How do you mean?" "I believe someone's broken in." "We'd better leave." "Who's there?" "Leslie Garland?" "I'm sorry there isn't more to offer, but since your brother's passing, I haven't..." "No." "This is fine." "Well, what brings you from Buffalo?" "I can't say, really." "Just wanted to get to know a new town, I suppose." "And what are your plans for Toronto?" "Oh." "There's a diving horse at Hanlan's Point." "That must be quite a sight." "It surely is." "And beyond that?" "Maybe take some classes at the university or find a job." "You intend to stay, then?" "Actually, I was thinking of living here for a while." "In this house?" "Hello, Detective." "Dr. Grace." "What have you?" "It's Mr. Fenton's right arm." "Puncture mark." "It was initially masked by the bruising from the fall." "What do you make of it?" "Mr. Fenton was injected with something." "What, I'm not exactly sure, but I'll run tests." "Excellent." "Whatever it is, it's likely what killed Mr. Fenton." "Mmm-hmm." "Dr. Grace, have we an explanation for the injection mark?" "I believe so." "I retested and found evidence of methylmorphine." "It's an opiate, commonly known as codeine." "And this killed him?" "No." "It was only enough to slow him." "But certainly not enough to cause death." "So we're no closer to an answer, then?" "I'm afraid not." "But I am determined to find one." "I've telephoned Dr. Ogden and asked her to assist with the brain sectioning." "Oh." "Very good." "I've never sectioned a human brain before." "I'm quite enthused." "Somebody was out to slow Fenton rather than speed him up?" "It would appear so." "Miss Barnes indicated that someone on the circuit was out to get Mr. Fenton." "George, you interviewed Major Taylor." "What of him?" "Constable Crabtree!" "Uh, sir." "Sleep on your own bloody time." "I apologize, sirs." "I lost a full night's sleep to that blasted caffeine drink." "George, couldn't Major Taylor have given Fenton the codeine?" "Sure." "I suppose he could have." "Always losing to Mr. Fenton must have got him eventually," "I suppose." "There's talk someone tampered with Fenton's wheels back in Boston." "I check mine every day." "An opiate called codeine was found in Mr. Fenton's system." "Do you know of it?" "All kinds of drugs on the circuit." "Never heard of codeine." "Why would he make himself lethargic before a race?" "How did you know it would make him lethargic if you'd never heard of it?" "He said it was an opiate." "I don't use drugs, but I know what they do." "I don't believe he took it knowingly." "Someone may have injected him to prevent him from winning." "I hold myself in strict observance of true sportsmanship, sir." "Well, yes, but if all your peers are looking for advantages, how else will you keep up?" "By observing my dozen don'ts." "Your dozen don'ts?" "Don't get a swelled head, don't be a bluffer, don't keep late hours, don't be running around with people you don't know..." "Mr. Taylor, has Mr. Blackburn ever attempted to inject you with anything?" "No needles with Chippy." "Just the, uh..." "little brown bottle." "Are you aware of any of Mr. Blackburn's other athletes becoming lethargic during a race?" "Come to think of it, um, he lost one of his best athletes that way." "Slowed by Mr. Blackburn's potions?" "No." "Chippy put the blame on him." "Said he didn't take care of his stomach." "But that boy could have slept standing up that night." "Where might we find this wheelman?" "Left the circuit about a year ago." "Probably had enough of Chippy." "George, who did the bookmakers have as the favorite to win the race?" "Joe Fenton, sir... our victim." "I actually bet a full dollar on him." "I was rooting for you, though, sir." "Perhaps Mr. Blackburn builds his athletes up to appear unbeatable, then gives them codeine to prevent them from winning." "While betting on the field." "Sir, my research revealed a history of all Chippy Blackburn's top riders winning several races in a row, just to suddenly lose one." "Yes, but we're ignoring one critical fact, George." "Mr. Fenton was leading the race when he collapsed." "It is puzzling, sir." "If the codeine had been injected, it would have taken hold immediately." "Had it been consumed, it would have been at least 30 minutes before it took hold." "Our race was barely 20 minutes in." "The codeine had to have come from Chippy Blackburn's potion." "Why else would he swap the bottles?" "Possibly." "Find out what you can from the bookmakers." "I'll have another talk with Mr. Blackburn." "Sir." "Careful not to drag the scalp back too quickly." "It may stretch and be difficult to replace without deformity." "It's coming off quite cleanly." "What came of your appointment with the real estate broker?" "A most unusual thing happened." "We arrived to find someone living there." "I'll hold the head steady while you cut through the outer table." "Living in Darcy's house?" "A derelict?" "No." "Darcy's younger brother, Leslie." "I thought the Garlands lived in Buffalo." "They do." "Very good, Dr. Grace." "You're almost through." "What's he doing here?" "I'm not sure even he knows." "Darcy's death likely had a profound effect." "He seems to be questioning how best to spend his time." "Mm." "Where will he stay?" "In Darcy's house." "How could I say no?" "I feel a certain obligation to the young man and his family." "Of course." "What does Detective Murdoch feel about it all?" "I trust he'll understand." "Would you like to do the honors, Dr. Ogden?" "The honors are yours, Dr. Grace." "Now let's get that brain out and have it harden in Muller's fluid." "It'll make for a most satisfying dissection." "I've lost my appetite for kidney and eggs, having eaten it day after day." "Eat, Archie." "You want that stomach in first class working order, don't you?" "Ah." "Mr. Blackburn." "Detective Murdoch." "I've got to give you a clever nickname." "I give names to all my riders." "Right here we got "Able" Archie Milner, and over here, Warren "Paper Legs" Padgett." "Chippy said my legs were pale as paper first time he saw me in riding shorts." "It followed me." "Maybe something to do with that, uh, special gear-gadget bicycle of yours, huh?" "Mr. Blackburn, I'd like to speak with you in private." "Detective Gadget!" "No." "That's not quite it." "Mr. Blackburn, if you please." "I don't hold anything back from my boys." "I am trying to spare you a conversation you would rather not have in their presence." "Settle your stomachs and then get started on the skipping rope." "The human brain is a curious puzzle." "Let's say first to find something gets treated to lunch." "If we find something." "Don't be discouraged, Emily." "Discipline rewards patience." "Julia, I believe you owe me lunch." "It's an aneurysm." "Keen eye, Dr. Grace." "A miliary aneurysm indeed." "But what has that got to do with the injection mark?" "Perhaps whatever he was injected with caused the aneurysm." "Then I will keep looking." "Thank you, Dr. Ogden." "I quite enjoyed it." "Oh, and I'll book us a window table at one of Toronto's finest restaurants." "Codeine?" "That's the last thing I'd give my boys before a race." "Why would I do such a thing?" "To prevent them from winning." "After all, you did bet against Mr. Fenton." "Yes." "Ooh." "That Major Taylor certainly draws a long bow." "I can't imagine what other tall tales he's dreaming up." "Please don't touch that." "The bookmakers have already confirmed it." "A good chunk of change on Archie Milner and Major Taylor." "You have no scruples whatsoever, do you, Chippy?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "The bookmakers may deem this grounds to launch their own investigation, Mr. Blackburn." "Well, losing the odd race keeps my boys honest." "Why shouldn't I make a little on the side?" "I've got expenses..." "hotels, food..." "Funeral costs." "I gave Fenton but a dash of codeine." "At worst, he would have slept well that night." "Now, if you don't mind, my boys await my guidance at the club." "I'm glad those were a passing fancy, sir." "Dreadful-looking things." "Process of evolution, George." "Today's bicycle wouldn't be what it is were it not for the ordinary." "Sir, nowadays they call them penny-farthings." "If you can imagine... a-a penny and farthing next to each other." "Oh." "What's curious, George, is how a practical invention has become a sport in which competitors will go to great lengths to outdo one another." "Like yourself and the gears, sir." "That's different, George." "I-I'm challenging myself." "I wish you'd told me that before I wagered 50 cents on you, sir." "If we walk just along this laneway," " you'll see where I work." " Julia?" "William." "We were on our way to see Dr. Grace." "Yes." "She's making great progress." "Detective William Murdoch." "Of course." "Detective William Murdoch." "Constable George Crabtree." "This is Leslie Garland, Darcy's brother." " Pleased to meet you." " And you." "Very sorry about your brother." "I only hope that you can find solace in the knowledge that we've apprehended the man responsible." "Thank you." "I appreciate all you did." "That man can't hang soon enough." "Uh, Mr. Garland, what's the occasion for your visit?" "It's more than a visit." "I'm going to be living at my brother's house." "The broker suggested that I postpone the sale of the house until the market steadies." "I-In the meantime, Leslie will water the gardens and such." "Oh." "Welcome to Toronto, Mr. Garland." "I hope to see you soon, Detective." "Gentlemen, we have a cause of death... brain aneurysm leading to cerebral hemorrhage." "A natural death after all?" "Not necessarily." "We still have no explanation for the injection mark." "Perhaps we do." "The aneurysm prompted me to investigate further." "I discovered thrombosis in both of his legs, the result of blood agglutination." "Blood agglutination." "Any idea of the cause?" "Yes." "I believe an injection of blood killed Mr. Fenton." "Blood transfusion?" "That's a bloody dangerous business, Murdoch." "Very good, sir." "And for no conceivable reason." "He was otherwise healthy." "Well, I think it's time to say hello to Mr. Chips again." "I agree." "I believe Mr. Blackburn knows more about the injection mark than he let on." " Shall we, George?" " Sir." "Mr. Blackburn, open up." "Sir." "Looks like his safe has been emptied." "I don't think it's a safe, George." "It's a makeshift icebox." "Sir." "Dried blood." "Mr. Blackburn not only knew of Mr. Fenton's injection, but he had a hand in it." "Sir, that's Warren Padgett." "Come on." "Come on." "Get a move on." "Mr. Blackburn." "We'd like to have a look inside those chests." "Well, this is just equipment" "I'm sending on to the next stop on the circuit, Montreal." "The show must go on." "We'll have a look just the same." "You see?" "And the other one, George." "It was your blood injections that killed Joe Fenton." "I draw blood from my riders well before the race." "Then I train them hard with less blood and therefore reduced oxygen flow." "Then, before the race, I inject their own blood back in." "Then they experience an increase in endurance." "Interesting theory." "It's more than a theory." "It was working." "Until now." "Yeah." "Perhaps." "I-I don't know what went wrong with Fenton." "I injected Milner at the same time, and he's fit as a fiddle." "How many times have you done this?" "Several." "You know, as regrettable as I find it," "I refuse to take any responsibility for Fenton's death." "I have a signed agreement with my riders that I can use whatever training methods I see fit." "Who else knows of this method?" "Just me and my boys." "I wouldn't want the competition using it." "Oh, I doubt you'd find many eager to adopt." "You'd be surprised." "One day, someone's gonna perfect it and then they'll get all the credit." "Sir, isn't that Joe Fenton's sweetheart?" "Yes, George." "Hardly seems to be in deep mourning." "Indeed." "Oh, Mr. Milner." "You and Miss Barnes appear quite close, yet you didn't tell her of Mr. Blackburn's new method?" "Miss Barnes is a wheelman, too." "We have a professional camaraderie." "Nothing more." "Did you witness Mr. Blackburn injecting Mr. Fenton" " before the race?" " Yes." "I was right beside him, having just been injected myself." "Was anyone else present?" "Only me, Fenton, and Chippy." "And how did you feel as the race progressed?" "Well, you saw me." "I would have won if that copper didn't stop it." "And you've felt fine since?" "I'm ready to race tomorrow." "Are you?" "I won't be participating in tomorrow's race." "There's no shame in that." "An amateur can't be expected to compete against professionals." "I'm preoccupied trying to resolve the death of your teammate, sir." "I don't quite know myself what Leslie's plans are for Toronto." "I suppose he's going to take things as they come." "And his parents approve of this?" "He is 22, William." "And I didn't seek you out to talk about Leslie Garland." "Right." "Terribly sorry." "What is it, Julia?" "Dr. Grace has kept me abreast of the case." "I understand that the trainer injected both riders with their own blood." "Yes." "One died immediately, and the other is poised to win a race tomorrow." "Any thoughts?" "Well, we do know someone who's very knowledgeable in hematology." "Lucas Harwick." "He was trying to perfect blood transfusions to treat hemophilia." "He may be able to enlighten us." "If he's willing." "A peer of mine, Dr. Karl Landsteiner, recently published these findings." "Landsteiner discovered there are three different human blood types." "He named them A, B, and C." "Even for an Austrian, that's hardly imaginative." "If blood types are mixed, it causes agglutination and likely death." "Sometimes, not always." "It's more complicated than that." "Landsteiner's being hailed as a genius." "If not for being locked up in prison," "I would have arrived at the same discovery even sooner." "Dr. Harwick," "I'm sure Dr. Landsteiner did so without breaking the law." "Laws can sometimes be an impediment to progress." "How would Dr. Grace go about testing our victim's blood to identify its type?" "What you're setting out to do is advanced work." "I'm as capable as any other doctor, male or female." "Only if you share your findings." "As you can see, I don't have the luxury of carrying out case studies." "Those are my writings." "An improvement on Landsteiner's method, I daresay." "Good evening, Dr. Grace." "Doctor." "Dr. Harwick was right." "This is very complicated." "I've prepared this chart to help explain everything." "I've determined Joe Fenton had type A blood." "If he had been injected with type A or C, he would have been fine." "Only type B could have killed him." "So Joe Fenton was injected with someone else's type B blood." "That's right, Detective." "Very good work, Doctor." "We now have a murder weapon." "We just need to find out who it belonged to." "If we can determine which of those who had access to Mr. Fenton's blood reserve is type B, we should have our man." "Warren Padgett, Chippy Blackburn, and Archie Milner all had access." "Lisette Barnes and Major Taylor had motive enough to warrant being tested." "Well, let's round up the lot of them, find out who's got the bad kind of blood." "Sir, type B blood isn't necessarily bad." " It's just incompatible..." " The bugger's dead, isn't he?" "Type B sounds pretty bloody awful to me." "Only take the bare minimum!" "Archie's got a race to win later." "I wouldn't bet on it, Chippy." "I'll take as much as I need and not a drop less." "I brought it from the club." "You know what these can do to your stomach?" "!" "Sir, if one of them was guilty, you'd think they'd show some concern." "Miss Barnes has yet to arrive." "Sir, regarding Leslie Garland..." "I made some inquiries." "Yes?" "He was expelled from Cornell University with minor charges pending." "Nothing serious." "Just some campus fisticuffs." "We found her, sir." "What's this about?" "It's part of our investigation." "Are you saying I'm a suspect?" "Miss Barnes, a small sample of your blood could aid us in resolving Mr. Fenton's death." "Fine." "Chippy Blackburn is type C." "Major Taylor is type A." "Warren Padgett, type C." "Lisette Barnes is also type A." "It can't be her either." "But Archie Milner is type B." "The only one of the group." "Between wanting to beat Fenton and a dalliance with his sweetheart," "Milner had opportunity and motive." "And the murder weapon coursing through his veins." "I don't know anything about blood and needles." "Chippy does all that." "You were the only one that could have done it." "The blood is a match, and you had motive." "Motive?" "Fenton was a close friend." "As close as you and Lisette Barnes?" "Lisette and I are in love, I admit." "But we were planning to tell Fenton as much." "How bloody noble of you." "And I suppose you were happy with losing to him every race." "Of course I want to win." "But to kill him over it?" "The Boston Daily Chronicle from last month lists you as an entrant in a race there." "That's right." "Someone from the circuit loosened Mr. Fenton's front wheel bolt prior to the race in an attempt to injure." "My bicycle was sabotaged in Boston, too." "Someone punctured my tire." "Can anyone corroborate that?" "Yes." "The Boston Daily Chronicle of the following day." "You'll see that I was forced out of the race." "Be that as it may, as I said before, you're the only one that could have done it." "You murdered Fenton with your blood." "I don't know what you're saying!" "How do you murder someone with blood?" "Chippy injected us both." "You switched your blood canister with his before the injection." "I did no such thing." "Sir." "Mr. Milner, you may go." "Murdoch, he was about to give." "It's impossible, sir." "If Mr. Milner had switched the blood canisters, he would have suffered the same fate." "Mr. Milner is type B blood." "His body cannot accept Mr. Fenton's type A blood." "A switch would have meant two bodies." "So where does that leave us?" "There must be something we aren't seeing, sir." "A missing element." "What if Milner drew a blood canister of his own, without Chippy, and swapped that in for Fenton's?" "I considered that, sir." "Drawing a second blood canister of blood would have left him too depleted for the race." "Defeats the very purpose." "Well, they're all off to the next stop on the circuit after the race." "Inspector?" "Sir, Dr. Grace would like to see you." "She's continued her work since Mr. Milner was let go." "Sir, Dr. Grace has discovered that there are proper..." "George, shouldn't you allow me?" "Sorry." "I took it upon myself to do further testing." "And I came upon a fourth, yet-undiscovered blood type that not even Dr. Landsteiner was aware of." "It contains properties of both A and B blood." "I'm calling it type A-B." "Very impressive, Dr. Grace." "Though I might suggest you find a simpler name for it, like type D blood." "A, B, C, D..." "Does have a nice ring to it, Dr. Grace." "Just a suggestion." "Does it have bearing on our case?" "Yes." "If you are of type D blood, you can receive type A, B, C, and D." "It accepts them all." "I retested everyone's blood and found that Archie Milner is of type D, not type B." "Which means Archie Milner could have switched his blood canister with Joe Fenton and been perfectly fine." "Yes, but he could not possibly have known that." "So Archie Milner's blood did kill Joe Fenton, but I don't believe Archie Milner did this." "It had to be Chippy." "Mr. Blackburn could have switched the canisters." "But then Milner and Fenton are his two top riders." "Why destroy your source of income?" "Who would want to eliminate both men?" "I discovered thrombosis in both of his legs, the result of blood agglutination." "Only type B could have killed him." "Who's got the bad kind of blood?" "So Joe Fenton was injected with someone else's type B blood." "Warren Padgett, Chippy Blackburn, and Archie Milner all had access." "If blood types are mixed, it causes agglutination and likely death." "Who would want to eliminate both men?" "Mr. Padgett!" "Police!" "Out of my way!" "Padgett!" "Stop!" "Police!" "You... are under arrest." "And here I thought cycling to be good for one's health." "Padgett assumed he'd get back into racing, but Chippy continued to favor Fenton and Milner." "Eliminating them was the only chance, he thought." "He felt his career slipping away." "I wonder if Mr. Milner appreciates how fortunate he was to be unharmed by the switch." "Detective Murdoch!" "I have a couple of openings." "How would you and your gadget bicycle like to join me on the circuit?" "I'm quite content here." "I can promise you riches and notoriety beyond what the constabulary has to offer." "No, thank you." "However I do hope you'll reconsider your training methods." "A perfect stomach." "That is the key." "Julia, it would seem Leslie Garland left behind somewhat of a reputation." "How so?" "An altercation at Cornell University resulted in expulsion." "You checked up on him, William?" "Well, if the young man's to be in your care, it's best we know whom we are dealing with." "William, I believe you're jealous." "I am not jealous." "He's a little bit young for me, don't you think?" "I don't believe your beauty could be lost on anyone of any age, Julia." "Fine answer, William." "But he's definitely too young for you." "Ripped By mstoll"