Murdoch Mysteries

Buffalo Bill's Western Extravaganza

has rolled into town, and all your favorites are here.

Meet the world's greatest sharpshooter, Annie Oakley!

Hank "Lightning" Wilcox and Jaws McRawlins --

the daring duo that tamed the wild frontier!

Yah!

The most dangerous gun in the West --

bounty hunter John Warton!

And, of course, the legendary Buffalo Bill himself!

Welcome!

Hang on to your hats, folks.

You're in for a rootin'-tootin' good time!

- Oh. - Bollocks!

- Probably the wind. - Yes.

Bloody rope's probably too short. That's what it is.

Perhaps Detective Murdoch would have better luck.

These games are all as bent as a nine-bob note anyway.

I have a good mind to charge the fellow who's running it

and arrest him for making money under false pretenses.

Pardon me, sir.

Huh.

Well, they need to have the occasional winner, sir.

To make the game seem legitimate.

Yes, yes.

Oh. Perhaps you should have this.

No. Murdoch, why don't you wear it?

Oh, I think it would look much better on you.

I'd need about four large scotches inside me

before that came anywhere near my head, me old mucker.

Shame. Hat like that cries out to be worn.

Five minutes to showtime.

Ladies and gentlemen!

Now, the Wild, Wild West was one dusty world.

And it was just crawling

with every kind of scoundrel and outlaw that there was.

But the worst man,

the most feared man in the Wild, Wild West

was one Chester McGee.

That's right.

'Cause he was a stone-cold killer!

Now, one day this killer, like every killer, met his match

in the persons of Lightning Wilcox

and his partner, Jaws McRawlins!

Let's hear it for these boys.

Chester McGee, he was causing a lot of problems.

So that sheriff over there in Carson City,

he called out for help.

And that's when he called on us!

So Lightning and his partner, Jaws,

they just follered that Chester McGee

to the ends of the earth.

And then they finally found him.

Could have shot him right there, too.

Would that have been a fair fight?

- No. - No.

So Hank "Lightning" Wilcox took out a six-shooter,

placed it on that dusty floor,

kicked it across to ol' Chester McGee.

Then he turned his back on him.

Then as Chester goes down for that six-shooter,

Lightning spun around and shot him right between the eyes!

So, ladies and gentlemen, for you today,

the most terrifying stunt

ever performed in front of a live and paying audience,

by Hank "Lightning" Wilcox

and his partner, Jaws McRawlins, here in the flesh.

Take it away, boys!

Three bullets.

One to scare him.

One to calm his nerves.

And one he's gonna catch in his teeth.

You ready, Jaws?

Just let me have one last puff.

Now are you ready?

Nothing to worry about.

They've performed this stunt a thousand times.

Oh, my goodness.

What was that, Murdoch, about "nothing to worry about"?

Excuse us.

Jaws.

Well, it ain't like I ain't never seen a man die before,

but this here was just so...

Unexpected?

Unexpected?

Getting hit by lightning -- That's unexpected.

No, this was...

I don't understand.

We traveled the world with this show.

Them boys done this act at least a thousand times.

Never so much as a hitch.

Were there any problems between Mr. Wilcox and Mr. McRawlins?

Problems?

What are you saying?

This might have been intentional?

More than likely it was an accident.

But we have to make sure. Understand?

No, you understand this.

Them boys was like brothers.

They may have had their differences now and again,

but who doesn't?

No, this is nothing but what it looks like.

Now, I'm sorry, fellas.

If there's nothing further, I've got a show to do tomorrow,

and I got a lot of changes to make.

- That will be fine. Thank you. - Thank you.

The show must go on.

Murdoch, this is the greatest show on earth.

There'd be uproar if it didn't.

I suppose.

Dr. Ogden, have you found anything yet?

Cursory details.

The bullet knocked the lateral incisor out cleanly,

but it didn't pass through the skull.

The tooth slowed the bullet's velocity significantly

to prevent it from exiting.

No doubt.

I won't be able to retrieve it until I perform the postmortem.

Oh.

Have you found something?

Ah.

Wasn't so hard to retrieve after all.

No.

No visible striations.

Near-perfect condition.

This bullet hasn't been fired.

No, it hasn't.

So, where is the bullet that killed him?

Buried in the back of his throat

or perhaps lodged in his spinal column.

And how did an unfired bullet end up in his gob?

It's a sleight of hand. Isn't that right, Mr. Wilcox?

Mr. McRawlins no doubt

had the bullet under his tongue the whole time.

Yeah, he did.

I'd never fire a bullet at his head.

That'd be foolish.

Yes, it would.

So, where did the bullet go?

Well, after I'd fired the first two shots,

put the audience on edge,

then Jaws would take a final draw off his cigarette,

like the last act of a dead man.

But he was really just filling his lungs up with smoke.

I'd fire the third bullet wide into the hay.

Jaws would belch up the smoke,

making like it come from the impact of the bullet.

At the same time, he'd spit the bullet

up between his teeth like he caught it.

Leastways, that's what was supposed to happen.

I see.

And how would you describe your relationship with Mr. McRawlins?

Relationship?

How you two interacted.

I-I know what you mean.

I just never heard it put that way.

Least not by a man.

And to answer your question, we got along fine.

Did you?

That's a hell of a thing to accuse a fella of.

Please answer the question, Mr. Wilcox.

I didn't shoot Jaws.

Well, someone did.

Yeah, someone did.

And whoever they are, I'll find 'em.

And when I'm done,

their boots will be pointing up toward their maker.

Mark my words.

- Good day, Mrs. Brackenreid. - Good day, Detective.

Sir, you have a moment to discuss the case?

Yes, yes. But let's talk in your office.

Sir, the suspect Mr. Wilcox raises an interesting point.

Someone else could have fired the shot.

What would you expect him to say -- "I fired it"?

Nevertheless, a theory we should entertain.

I'll tell you what I think.

I think it's the smartest or stupidest plan ever conceived

to get away with murder.

Just think -- You shoot the victim in front of a crowd

and claim innocence.

At worst, it's considered an accident.

Sir, why is your scotch in my desk?

The missus has joined that bloody temperance lot.

- She knows all my hiding places. - I see.

"Lips that touch alcohol shall not touch mine," she says.

And she's been keeping her word, I promise you.

Most unfortunate.

Very.

But I promised her I'd quit, and, by God, I'll give it a go.

That's very commendable, sir.

However, I'm not sure I'm entirely committed.

So, how shall we proceed?

Well, I believe the simplest way to determine if Mr. Wilcox

is, in fact, telling the truth is to search the hay bales

and if we do find three slugs, we know he did miss his target.

If we find two, we know where to find the other one, don't we?

Any luck finding those slugs, George?

Oh, sir. Just the one so far.

It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack, literally.

We thought about burning the hay away, sir.

But thought the fire would ruin