Toronto, 1910, Monday Morning

[pocketpretzels]

The original plan had been to arrive in Toronto on Sunday evening, but that plan got derailed when Watts woke up Saturday morning with a body that wasn't his own. Because these things had a tendency to right themselves by the end of the weekend, they decided to wait it out and see how he woke up on Monday morning. Which was, thankfully, as his regular self. Thus after seeing Raphael settled back at Watts's apartment, they hopped a last-minute portal, checked into their hotel, and then headed to the nearby Scott's Diner for breakfast.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, keeping a vegan diet in 1910 Toronto meant certain meals- breakfast among them- were... somewhat limited. So it was that after a meal of hot cereal and coffee (with a side of sliced orange that Watts splurged on for both of them) they headed out of the diner to properly begin the day.

Watts	"I thought today we might take in a proper vaudeville show?" Watts suggested.
Steven	Unlike what usually happened when they went on trips, it was Steven who was constantly getting distracted by everything around them. He kept turning to look at each new thing they passed, often having to hold on to his hat so it didn't slip off in the process. "What? Oh, yes, that'd be brilliant. One you'd especially like. I want to see all the things you care for."
Watts	Speaking of things he cared for- Watts made a beeline for a cart set up not far from the diner. "Would you care for one?" he asked, gesturing at the pretzels for sale. Yes, they'd just finished breakfast. But pretzels. Worst case scenario, they could be tucked into a pocket (or onto a watch chain) to be eaten later.
Steven	Steven was delighted to see where they'd ended up. "We have to, don't we? Need to see your pretzels for myself, famous as they are. Well, see and eat them."
Watts	"Two, please," Watts said, paying the vendor and then handing one over to Steven. Forget saving it for later, he was going to eat his right now, thanks.
Steven	Steven was as well, because as far as he was concerned after months of hearing about them he was going to try one. Even if he did have a watch chain of his own now to keep one for later. "Oh! That is nice!" he said, around a mouthful of pretzel. To the vendor he added, "Well done. Cheers."
Watts	Watts gave a nod of thanks to the vendor and then turned his attention back to Steven with a pleased smile as they continued on their way. "The Yiddish theatre usually has a good mix of performers," Watts said. "And then I can show you around the market there too." The urge to hook his arm around Steven's was strong, so instead Watts just jammed his hands into his pockets.
Steven	"Yes!" Steven said, pointing at Llewellyn in his excitement. "That one. Let's do there. Shame we can't take photos, isn't it? Well I suppose we could but we'd need the right camera."
Watts	"We could get one," Watts said. "They're not nearly as sophisticated as the ones-" on our mobile telephones, he'd been about to say, but that was the sort of thing that would raise too many eyebrows if overheard, "- back in America," he finished instead. "The Argentums could hopefully give us a hand with developing the film once we return."
Steven	"Bit bulky too, aren't they?" Steven asked. He tried to remember what he'd seen of cameras in historic films, both fictional and documentaries. "Can't exactly fit in a pocket?"
Watts	"Compared to what you're used to, certainly," Watts said, making a box shape with his hands to indicate the rough dimensions of a Kodak Brownie camera. "But not too unwieldy. It would fit in there," he said, nodding to the leather satchel that had replaced Steven's usual one for the purposes of this trip.
Steven	Steven hugged the strap that rested against his shoulder. Leather goods weren't his usual preference, but in the name of not standing out or getting Llewellyn into trouble, concessions could be made. "Something to bear in mind I suppose. Or - oh! Could we buy postcards? There's postcards, right?"
Watts	"We could buy postca- " Watts started to say, and then cut off when a familiarly-dressed figure on a bicycle rode past them. "Huh," he remarked. "That must be Detective Murdoch. Morning, Detective!" he called out. No answer. "That's odd," he remarked to Steven with a slight frown. "He's not usually one for ignoring social niceties." Which of course was when the sound of a gunshot rang out from around the corner the cyclist had just turned.
Steven	Of course Steven's instinct was to put his arm out in a manner to protect Llewellyn, but once it was obvious that the gunfire wasn't near them, he asked, "Was that your friend?"
Watts	"It certainly looked like him," Watts said. He was touched by that protective instinct of Steven's however unnecessary it turned out to be. "Come on," he said, moving rapidly to follow the cyclist's path.
Steven	Steven jogged after. Are you okay? Marc, awoken by the gunshot, was keeping pace worriedly via the reflections in storefront windows. "Fine, fine," Steven told him. "Heard a shot, we're checking it out." Be careful, Marc said. Even though he wasn't taking over the body, Steven could tell he was ready to do so in an instant if need be.
Watts	"Detective?" Watts called out uncertainly, as he spotted the downed bicycle in the middle of the street- and sprawled a few feet from it, the downed cyclist. "You'd best stay back," Watts told Steven as he approached the unmoving figure, reaching out with one gloved hand to roll him over. "Oh," he said as he saw the man's face, feeling both relief and guilt at the relief that it wasn't Murdoch at the same time. "It's not him," he told Steven. He peeled off a glove to take the man's pulse. "Whoever he is, though, he's dead." He looked up at Steven. "Can you stay here a moment, make sure no one approaches? I should- I should call this in." Luckily there was a police call box just across the street.
Steven	Steven stood there, stunned. "He was alive only a moment ago..." Which he knew was probably a stupid thing to say, but he couldn't help himself. He nodded to show that he would keep an eye as Llewellyn asked. Meanwhile Marc watched worriedly from a nearby window.
Watts	"Good man," Watts said as he stood, clapping Steven on the shoulder as an excuse to offer a quick squeeze of comfort. "I'll be back quick as I can."
Steven	"We'll be here," Steven murmured, to let Llewellyn know he wasn't leaving him alone. He kept an eye out to guide people away from the body as needed.
Watts	That plural pronoun was indeed reassuring as Watts made the call to Station Four to report a body and request Detective Murdoch for the scene.
Detective Murdoch	"What have y- Watts?" Murdoch asked, making the sign of the cross as he approached the body a few minutes later. "What on Earth are you doing in Toronto?"
Watts	"Not relevant," Watts waved a hand. "The dead man, however, is. Well. You." Watts said. Behind them, a constable was setting up a camera not unlike the ones Watts and Steven had been discussing mere minutes ago to take photographs of the scene. "Or, at least. I thought so at first."
Detective Murdoch	"Same Homburg hat, coat, suit, bicycle..." Murdoch listed, noting how they were all identical to his own. Even the same height and general build. He could see why Watts might have initially mistaken this man for him without a good look at his face. "Do you have the victim's identification?" he asked Watts.
Watts	"He had none on him," Watts reported. Not unheard of, but that often meant the person in question was actively trying to avoid identification.
Detective Murdoch	"Curious," Murdoch said, kneeling to get a closer look at the maker's mark on the man's garments. "These aren't just reasonable facsimiles; this suit was made by the tailor I employ."
Watts	"Might someone have been after you, and killed this man by mistake?" Watts suggested.
Detective Murdoch	"I certainly hope not," Murdoch grimaced. "But it's possible." It was then that he noticed Steven, hanging back just out of the way as he was. "Who's that?"
Watts	"Steven Grant," Watts said. "He's, ah. A... friend of mine. From the island." With a particular stress on friend that Murdoch likely picked up on.
Detective Murdoch	"Right," Murdoch said, without missing a beat. "Well. He'll have to come in to the station to be interviewed. Both of you will. As witnesses."
Steven	Steven offered a weak wave by way of a greeting. "Good to meet you? If not under ideal circumstances?"
Watts	"Certainly not how I'd intended to introduce you to anyone," Watts grumbled. "Though I suppose I can't say I'm surprised," he added, slightly resigned. "Well. Let's go, then. Get this over with."

Watts	Watts had every right not to get involved in this. He and Steven were, after all, on holiday. But a man had been shot not even half a block from them, and neither one of them was really comfortable with just... leaving it be. So, Watts was trailing along after Murdoch and Brackenreid as they went to meet with Violet Hart, the city coroner.
Violet	Violet was just in the process of extracting the bullet from the man's chest as the three men walked in. Anticipating the question one of them was sure to ask, she volunteered: "7.65 millimetres," as she dropped it into the tray.
Brackenreid	"So, a rifle," Brackenreid realised.
Violet	"Indeed," Violet confirmed with a nod. "The bullet travelled in a downward trajectory, penetrating the man's chest and killing him instantly."
Watts	"Were you able to find any other distinguishing features?" Watts asked. "Scars, birthmarks?"
Violet	"Nothing," Violet reported. "I did take the liberty of contacting the tailor. It seems this gentleman came in with a list of exactly what he wanted, and paid in cash. Other than that, he knew nothing about him."
Murdoch	Murdoch took a deep breath. As troublesome as he found her at times, he had to admit Violet did good, thorough work. Contacting the tailor went above and beyond what was expected of a coroner, even. "Thank you," he said tightly. "Let us know if you find anything else of interest, Mrs. Hart," he added, before he turned to leave, Brackenreid and Watts following behind him.
Mystery Man	"Gentlemen," an unfamiliar man nodded in greeting as he passed the three of them on his way in to the morgue.
Watts	"Maurice," Watts could hear Violet greet the man as he and the others left, her voice full of an odd sort of tension. However he didn't really have time to dwell on it, not with everything else on his mind currently. Watts's gaze swept the Station House, and he made a beeline for Steven as soon as he spotted him on the bench near the desk sergeant. "My apologies for keeping you waiting," he told Steven. "If you'll come with me...?" he continued, tilting his head towards the door.
Steven	"It's all right," Steven assured him. He had checked the time while Llewellyn was gone, but that was mainly so he would have an excuse to look at his watch. Now that Llewellyn was back, Steven grabbed his bag and belatedly remembered to put his hat back on as they were leaving. "Is - is everything... well not okay, I suppose. But as it can be? That poor man, did he have family?"
Watts	"We're not certain," Watts admitted. "Without identification, that's going to be difficult to determine unless someone files a missing persons report matching his description."
Steven	"That's horrible," Steven said. "Is there anything we can do to help? Back there, you said he was dressed like your - your Murdoch?" Steven had nearly said "your friend" but stopped when he wasn't sure if that was considered the right way to put it when they were in Toronto as they were.
Watts	"Yes," Watts nodded. "The working theory is that Detective Murdoch was in fact the actual target," he shared. "I'm sorry," he added apologetically, "I didn't intend for this to become a busman's holiday, but I really would like another look at the crime scene. And perhaps- given that the crime involved the use of firearms- Marc might be able to offer some particular insights?"
Steven	"Don't think he'd mind," Steven said, glancing towards a reflection in a window. Marc had been present since the incident started. "He's been a bit worried." Ya think? Marc replied. You being around gunfire's always worked out so great for us before. "Yes, yes, all right," Steven told him. "No need to be such a hen about it." To Llewellyn, Steven said, "Is there somewhere better to - er - change or should we just do it on the way?"
Watts	"On the way all right?" Watts asked. "Unless you'd rather stop somewhere...?" the hotel was a bit of a detour, but it wasn’t as if there was much point in changing clothing when they switched out, since all Steven had packed had been the era-appropriate items he’d picked up specifically for this trip.
Steven	"If on the way is safe that's fine," Steven said. Luckily it wasn't as though the change was obvious when they did it. At least not as much as it had been in the old days.
Watts	"There's an alleyway about a block from the scene," Watts told Steven. "We could duck in there, just to be certain?"
Steven	"Perfect," Steven said. If nothing else, he trusted Llewellyn to know best on the matter.
Watts	"So much for taking in a vaudeville show," Watts said with a sigh. Somehow, he had the feeling this would not be solved in time for them to catch one tonight.

[ooc: NFI, NFB due to distance. Comments welcome. Bent, folded, spindled and mutilated from S15E23 of Murdoch Mysteries, Pay the Piper with the invaluable assistance of hasaknightjob.]