All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - S04E05 (EN)

Please.
Just give her this note.

I'm afraid I have instructions not to
accept any more messages from you.

Why? I don't understand.
You can't just...

I said I'm sorry.
Please excuse me.

Ah. Welcome back.

Ah. My good wife. You look splendid.

Merci.

As do you, Monique.
SHE GIGGLES

Merci, Roderick. I so wish
for you to join us tonight.

Unfortunately, I can't. But you
go ahead and enjoy the performance.

Enjoy.
Thank you.

I forgot my camera.

But we'll miss the curtain.
I'll be fast.

Fourth floor, please.

SHE SIGHS

LIFT BELL RINGS

Fourth floor, please.

Has Monique returned?

No, ma'am. Is everything all right?
SHE SIGHS

Monique Poirier.
Age 23.

Vanished shortly before 8pm
last night.

She's here from France,
visiting her sister Sophie.

Sophie's husband, Roderick Dalewood,
is the hotel owner.

The Dalewoods live in suite 409.

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.
Thank you for coming, Detective.

Can you explain the circumstances
leading up to the disappearance?

We were in the lobby,
leaving for the theatre.

Monique forgot her camera, so she
went up to the suite to get it.

She never came back.

I see. Do you have a photograph
of your sister?

No. I'm afraid not.
Detective.

I found this in the laneway
behind the hotel, sir.

SHE GASPS
That's Monique's purse.

Her compact, keys, fan.

Where is her comb? Her pearl comb?

And her camera.
It was not in the room.

Well, someone may have found the
purse and stolen any items of value.

George, check with pawnbrokers
and camera shops.

Perhaps someone will try
to sell the items. Sir.

That's her room key. Suite 409.

And this one?

This is to room 212.

DOOR OPENS

Sir, why would Monique have a key
to a room on the second floor
if she's staying on the fourth?

I don't know, George.

There doesn't seem to be anything
remarkable about this room. Perhaps.

But a key to this room was in the
possession of a woman now missing,
which makes it of great interest.

Mmm. If only the walls
could talk, sir(!)

Mmm.

George, please have
Monique's film developed.

It may give us some insight
into her disappearance. Sir.

Thank you.

Excuse me. Yes?
Who rented room 212 last night?

Uh...no-one, sir.

No-one? When was it last occupied?

Uh...

..May 25th.

That's almost two months ago.

Yes. Thank you.

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT
Uh, you wanted to see me, Detective?

Ah, yes. You operated
the elevator last night? Mmm.

By all accounts, you were the last
person to see Monique Poirier.

And that was around 8pm? Yes, sir,
right before the end of my shift.

I took her to the fourth floor
and then I waited for her,

and then she came back
about a minute later with a camera.

Um, then she asked to be let out
at the second floor.

Did she say why?

Oh, um, it's...it's not my place
to ask, sir.

Yes, of course.

Thank you.

Monique went to the second floor?

She knew I was waiting in the lobby.

She had a key to room 212
for some reason.

Mr Dalewood, why is room 212
rented out so infrequently?

It looks out onto a brick wall.
It's our least desirable room.

Hmm.

Sophie, perhaps the detective would
be interested in the note you found.

Oh, I'm sure it's nothing.
There was a man Monique met
on the train from Montreal.

Somehow he had the notion
that he should call on her.

But Monique made it clear
she wanted nothing to do with him.

And what was his name?

Hmm. I believe it was David...
Odd. ..Deletran.

Deletran? What kind of
bloody name is that? He another
garlic-eating Frenchie?

I suspect not, sir.

"De le train" is a grammatically
incorrect way of saying
"from the train" in French.

He was trying to be clever.

Oh, yes. I forgot.
You speak French, don't you?

Yes, sir. Educated by Jesuits
in New Brunswick. Right.

So, David was trying to be clever.
I can see why she sent him away.

In his note, he cryptically
lists his address as "number 23
on the street of willow trees".

There's a Willow Avenue
on the beach.

Yes, sir. I had it checked.

It's owned by an elderly couple.
No David.

What about this hotel room? 212?

Maybe our missing young lady went
there to "rendezvous avec David".

It's a possibility.

Is Inspector Brackenreid here?
Is he here?

Excuse me, Murdoch.

Sir, we developed the film
we found in Monique's purse.

Ah. Thank you.

Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.
A pleasure once again.

Isaac Lowe. Isaac.
Yes, of course. We met at...

The Policemen's Charity Ball.
HE CHUCKLES

Yes. I was slightly
in my cups that night.
You gave one hell of a speech.

Impromptu as it was,
you made a good impression
on some well appointed people.

Well, it's nice of you to say so.
What can I do for you today?

I have a proposition for you,
Inspector.

Follow me, Isaac.

It would seem Sophie was taking
Monique on a tour of the city.

Unfortunately, the camera
was never turned on Monique.

It would be helpful to have a photo
to distribute to other stations.

Ah. Here we are
at the hotel, sir. Mmm.

That's room 212, George.

And contrary to what we have been
told, it WAS occupied recently.

I followed a man up here, sir.
He went into 212 using a key.

And you have no idea who he is?
No, sir.

He's been skulking around the hotel
asking about Monique.

RUMMAGING INSIDE

Toronto Constabulary!

HE GROANS

Inspector Marcel Guillaume.

Securite Paris.

Now, get these petits singes
off from me!

Get this WHAT off me?

He just called you
a little monkey, George.

Not just him. You, too...monkey.

Let's do English, please.

Allow me the chance
to massacre YOUR language.

What are you doing here?

I'm commissioned
by Monsieur Pierre Poirier

to investigate the vanishing
of his daughter Monique.

But she only disappeared yesterday.
How could you possibly know...?

I was here for a conference on
international police cooperation.

And it's clear to me now
there is much work to do.

Hmm. This Monique has
an obsession with room 212.

What did you find there,
Monsieur Murdoch?

Nothing in room 212.

But this was apparently written
by a persistent admirer.

And we've determined that he does
not live at 23 Willow Avenue.

GUILLAUME CHUCKLES

I would think not, Monsieur Murdoch.

♪ Son p'tit fichu sur ses epaules

♪ Elle rentrait par
la rue des Saules... ♪

"She returned
along the street of willows."

What the bloody hell is he on about?

It's from a song -
Rue Saint-Vincent.

23 St Vincent!
George!

I met Monique on the train
from Montreal.

We talked most of the way.

Felt nice talking to her.
She's very pretty.

Mmm.

And you wanted to see her again,
so you gave her your address?

Yeah. I...told her where I lived
and she said, "Oh, just like
the song, Rue Saint-Vincent."

She sang it for me.

But you didn't hear from her.

So you went to find her at the
Queensborough Hotel, Mr Bishop.

How did you know
she was staying there?

She asked me to visit.

But then I get word
she wants nothing to do
with me. Made no sense.

Where do you work, David?

At the Kent glass factory.

Glass factory?

And you think a man like you would
interest a woman like Monique?

She is from a good family.

She confided in me.

What about?

She was worried about her sister.

Ever since she moved to Canada,

Sophie's letters to Monique
seemed detached.

She thought the marriage
wasn't working out.

And when was the last
you saw of her?

At Union Station.

I saw her meet with Sophie,
but...they seemed...cold.

They didn't even hug.

Oh. You have an electric car.
Very nice.

Yes. Thank you.

No. Thanks to Gaston Plante
and to Camille Faure.

Because without them,
you have no battery.

No battery, no electric car
and no photo to show.

MURDOCH CLEARS HIS THROAT

Uh...Mrs Dalewood, if I may, how
is it you came to meet Mr Dalewood?

Mmm. We met in Paris when
Roderick was there on business.

Mmm. It was the start
of a passionate affair.

We later exchanged letters,

and within months, I proposed.

By telegram!
How's that for modern romance?

I sailed for Canada two weeks later.

That was last December.

But...you are the only one
not smiling.

I was sad to board the ship.

Leaving behind my sister and father
to start a new life in Toronto.

How did your marriage
affect Monique? Not well.

But it is my fault. Being so far
away, I closed myself to her,
hoping it would hurt less.

May I see her letters to you?

Oh, forgive me.

I know those are private words
between sisters,

but it will help us
understand Monique

and where she might have gone.

"My dear Sophie,

"It has been so long
since you've written.

"And your last letter was so brief.

"I am worried that
something is wrong. Is it?

"Please tell me."

"Dear Sophie,
Only a telegram?

"Are you angry with me?

"Or are you unhappy with Roderick
and ashamed to tell me?"

A woman bears her heart

and you read her words
like a newspaper!

"I am coming to visit.

"Please don't try
to talk me out of it.

"I love you

"and I must see you."

Well, whatever her concerns were,
they seem to have been allayed.

By all accounts, their visit
brought them closer together.

She probably didn't just run away.

Well...

Yeah.

THUNDER RUMBLES

You're here quite late, sir.

Just weighing up
my options, Murdoch.

I've been asked to stand as
candidate for alderman in the next
elections. How about that?

Indeed!

My backers have deep pockets.

They're looking for someone to
uphold our shared values, etc, etc.

Mmm. And what's their agenda?

Agenda?

I assume they're looking
for a man of law and order
to clean up this city.

What else do they want, sir?

Well...what else could there be?

That's a very good question.

Uh, excuse me. I need to see
the detective. It's very important.

Excuse me.

Detective Murdoch.
I saw her. Monique.

In the East End. She was on the
corner of Queen Street and Broadview.

Are you quite certain it was her?

Her hair was blonde
and her clothes were different,
but I'm sure it was her.

Hmm.

The desk clerk saw the woman,
presumably Monique Poirier,
crossing at Queen and Broadview.

Do we have a photograph of Monique?
To show people in this area? No.

And it'd take weeks
for one to reach us from France.

Actually, sir, I may have an idea.

It's possible Monique's father
could wire us a photograph.

But a telegram is for words.

Yes, telegraphs transmit dots and
dashes, which represent letters.

But they could easily represent
any values we assign to them.

Values?

Yes. Let me demonstrate.

Any picture is simply a collection
of shapes and shadows,

the components of which can be
broken down to individual units.

All we have to do is assign
each unit a numeric value

according to where it falls
on a grey scale.

I see how the picture
can be converted to numbers.

But how do we convert numbers
to a picture?

We paint in each square or unit.

How many do we need?

80 squares across and down
should suffice.

But, sir, that would be
a total of... 6,400 squares.

Each square painted at a rate of
approximately 10 seconds a square,

that would amount to...
20 hours of painting.

George, perhaps Constable Higgins
should assist you on this.

An excellent idea, sir.

Inspector Thomas Brackenreid,
this is Edwin Drury.

Mr Drury heads the consortium
of individuals who will be
financing your campaign.

Pleased to meet you.

Isaac says you're
a man with personal appeal,
a man who can win elections.

What we need to know is
what kind of alderman you'll make.

A good one, I hope.
I keep abreast of the issues.

I'm familiar with the workings
of city government.

And as a man of law and order,
I'm prepared to do what's necessary
to clean up this city.

What's your view on the proposed
subway project? Subway?

I, uh...haven't given it
much thought.

But as a police inspector,
my focus has been ON the streets,
not BELOW them.

Your experience in law enforcement
is of great interest to us,

but this...
is the future of the city.

Boston just opened their subway.

Paris is building one.

A world-class city requires
a world-class subway.

Imagine an electrified railway
running underneath Queen Street,

whisking people from one end
of the city to the other

in a matter of minutes.

That would definitely put Toronto
on the map. I'm glad you agree.

Our consortium is keen on seeing
the subway proposal approved.

It'll come to a vote
after the elections.

The council is split on the issue.

We're hoping that your vote will
carry the day, as our consortium
owns much of the land involved.

Oh. It's time.

Du vin, monsieur?

No.

Sirs. We've received
word from Paris.

Ah.

"Nooz soms plain dee-apostrophe..."

George, please. Uh, yes.

So... "Nous sommes enthousiaste..."
Oui. "La Securite..." Parfait.

Oh, good. The father has agreed
to provide a photograph.

La Securite will conduct the coding
and transmission immediately.

Mmm. So, now we have time for lunch.

Sirs? A body's been found
at Union Station.

It's a young woman. Right.

But...but...
HE SIGHS

At first, we thought
it was a dead rat.

But then we noticed the stench
was coming from this trunk.

Oooh.

That smells like sulphuric acid.

Um...Inspector Guillaume,
Dr Ogden, our coroner.

Well, well.

I am very impressed.

That a woman can be a doctor?

That a doctor can be so beautiful.

SHE GIGGLES

Well...

Decay has begun, obviously.

I'd say she's been dead
for at least 48 hours.

Someone tried very hard
to conceal her identity.

She had beautiful hair, though.

According to her sister,
Monique has dark brown hair.

SOPHIE GASPS

The hair is like hers.

But the face...

Did they do this to her
when she was...? No.

She was dead before the acid
touched her hands and face.

Did Monique have any
identifying features on her body?
Any birthmarks? Yes.

She had one on the back of her neck.

That is why she always wore
her hair down - to cover it.

Like this?
SOPHIE GASPS

Oh, it is her!

Monique!

Who could have done this to you?

Do you remember the stinker we did
in that postal box?

Oh, do I ever!

That was the most boring night
of my life.

This is worse.

Really, Higgins?
I don't find this so bad.

I think this could be a recreational
activity. Think about it.

It allows anybody to be a painter.

You just need to know
which colour to put where.

This is in black and white.

Yes, but it doesn't have to be.
And it doesn't have to be squares.

You could have whichever colour
in whichever shape you like.

We could call it...
"paint by numerical value".

We could sell small kits.

Well, it couldn't sell worse
than your invention.

Oh, that's great, Higgins.
Very supportive. Encouraging.

BRACKENREID:
How is our long-haired,
cheese-eating pond-hopper?

He's fine, sir.

He has a certain...je ne sais quoi.

"Je ne sais quoi."

What does that mean?

Uh..."I don't know."

So, why did you just say it?

Uh...

Sir, how was your political meeting?

Oh, that. Well...

They want me to champion
their subway proposal.

A subway? Fascinating. Yes.

We've just commenced
building a metro in Paris,
and it's fantastic.

Well, of course, there is the cost
of a subway to consider.

Right. Well, nothing's free.

Subway construction is very dear.
Heads have rolled because of that.

Yes, I've heard similar stories
coming from Boston. Right.

So, what are you saying?
Stay clear of it?

No, sir. No, sir. Not at all.

It's simply an issue of,
who do you want to work for?

Are you representing the people
or...your backers?

Hmm.

OGDEN:
Death was by strangulation, possibly
garrotting with a piece of cloth.

Her stomach and small intestines
were empty. Hadn't eaten in days.

She also has urine burns
in her pelvic area.

Suggesting she was tied up
for a prolonged period of time?

Very cruel.

Gentlemen. How are you faring?

Sir, if the woman in the trunk has
already been identified as Monique,

do we really still need
the photograph? Yes, Henry.

We need to track her movements
after her disappearance.

Having a photograph could prove
to be quite useful.

Henry, could you...turn the...?

Sir.

I see two shapes.

Yes. Their father gave Securite
Paris a photograph he had taken
of both Monique and Sophie.

It was the most recent photograph
he had of Monique.

I see. Thank you, George.
Carry on. Sir.

Oh, also, Constable Worsley
telephoned. They traced the trunk.

A porter picked it up
early yesterday morning
from the Queensborough.

Thank you, George. Shall we? Mm-hm.

HE SIGHS

This coroner...

..you're in love with her, yes?

I beg your pardon?

Oh. Please, monsieur. It is obvious.

The way you sneak glances at her
when she's not looking.

The way SHE sneaks glances at you.

Uh, well...
she's engaged to another man.

Then it is a perfect situation.
How so?

Well, she can be your mistress.

My mistress?
HE SCOFFS

Monsieur Murdoch.

The marriage is about family.

You make babies with your wife.

But you make love to your mistress.

We received a telegram asking us to
bring the trunk down into the lobby.

What time was this? Uh, about 4am.

The trunk was taken from what room?
Uh...214.

Beside room 212.

Yes.

She was tied to this chair.

And gagged.

HE INHALES DEEPLY

The smell of ammonia. Urine.

Hmm.

The murder weapon, perhaps?

Sir? Yes?
Who booked room 214?

Oh.

Mr J. Hill. Paid by mail, postmarked
on the 22nd of this month.

But he never checked in.

22nd. He asked for room 214
specifically?

Yes. People sometimes do. It's
one of our less expensive rooms.

Mmm. And when was
the trunk delivered?

Uh...

..I have no record of that.

I see.

Thank you.

You have news, Dr Ogden? Yes.

Monique's murder reminded me
of a case I read about
six months ago in Montreal.

I had the coroner's report sent
on the overnight express.

A Jane Doe in her early twenties was
found stuffed into a steamer trunk.

She was also strangled with a cloth.

Just like Monique.

Excellent work, Doctor.

Uh...it's good to have you back.

SHE CHUCKLES
It's good to be wanted back.

And Darcy? He's well, I hope?

Yes. He got a position at the
Victoria Sick Children's Hospital.

Oh. Good.

Very good.

Thank you.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Oh, sorry. Sorry, I...
didn't get much sleep last night.

Did you get my message
about the unknown woman
discovered in Montreal?

Oh, yes. Jane Doe.

Yes.

But I'm confused. How can she be
unknown if you know her name?

Uh, no, Inspector.

Jane, or John, Doe
are names given...
DOOR OPENS

Will I see you tonight?

Well, it will depend
on my case, cherie.

But, uh...perhaps we'll have dinner.

You were saying?

That's your wife?

DOOR CLOSES
Oh, no. Her name is Cecelia.

I met her last night in the hotel.

So, you think Jane Doe and Monique
were murdered by the same man?

Yes. But, as I was saying,
"Jane" isn't...

Oh, I thought I heard
another man's voice.

Good morning, monsieur.
I am Angelique.

Uh... Merci.

DOOR CLOSES

You met her in the hotel
last night as well?

Oh, no! That is my wife.

I've seen it before.

Men who kill women like this.

They are usually pathetic men.

Infatuated with taking revenge
for what they cannot have.

And what would that be?
Oh, love, of course.

Life is a contest.
Women are the prize.

But some men,
they just try too hard.

Men like David Bishop. Yes.

Well, he has recently arrived
from Montreal.

Jane Doe IS from Montreal.

Perhaps HE rented out room 214.

He went to visit Monique

and she rejected him.

After she led him to believe
she had interest in him.

He must have been very disappointed.

So, David Bishop lured Monique
to room 214.

He's done this before.
He has his reasons.

Inspector...

..David Bishop works
in a glass factory, yes?

Yes.

To make glass,
you need sodium carbonate.

To make sodium carbonate,
you need sulphuric acid.

BISHOP: You went into my apartment?

What is all of this, Mr Bishop?

Art. I make hair jewellery.

HE SCOFFS
Who makes jewellery out of hair?!

I do. Isn't it obvious? No.

No, for me, it's just very strange.

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT
This one is dark brown.

Yes. It's Monique's.
She has beautiful hair.

I asked her for a lock.
It's what I do.

You do this with all your victims?

Make their hair into
little ornaments? Victims?

The women you've murdered.
Murdered?! Now, hold on.

Where did you get the hair
for these, Mr Bishop?

From women I've met
and from customers.

Customers?! Uh, people who want to
preserve the memory of a loved one
in a decorative yet tasteful manner.

I think they're beautiful.

Uh...yes.

Just like Monique. Hmm?

Monique was beautiful too, no?

What do you...
what do you mean, "was"?

Monique's dead?
You know very well she's dead.

You killed her.

Just like you killed
that woman in Montreal.

I did no such thing!

Was she beautiful, too?

Is that why you kill them?

Because their beauty taunts you
and you cannot have them?

Mr Bishop, where were you between
the 5th and the 16th of March?

Montreal, perhaps?

I was in...Moncton
visiting my family.

This telegram confirms that
David Bishop was in Moncton when
Jane Doe was murdered in Montreal.

Who else has access
to this sulphuric acid?

Sulphuric acid is found
in fertilisers, batteries...

Roderick Dalewood.

Yes. He owns an electric car.

Electric car.

No. No, no, no.

What motive would he have
for murdering his wife's sister?

Monique was angry
that Roderick was to marry Sophie.

No. That's not enough.

Sirs.

A pawnbroker just turned this in.

It was sold to him yesterday.

A pocket camera.

It's the same camera
used by Monique, no?

Yes.

There's film in it!

You develop your own photographs?
Impressive.

Well, well, well.

Sophie's husband enjoying the love
that dare not speak its name.

It's a crime here, yes? Yes.

And by taking this photograph,

Monique gave Roderick
ample motivation for murder.

Mon Dieu.

You claimed to have a torrid
sexual affair with this man.

Who clearly prefers men.

What exactly is the nature
of your marriage?

SHE SIGHS

It was an arrangement of...
mutual interest.

He didn't want sexual relations
and neither did I.

He placed an ad
and we exchanged letters.

So, the story of your "whirlwind
romance" was a fabrication?

It's what people wanted to hear.

Even Monique?

Especially Monique.

That's why this was so perfect.

Who would ever know?

Did you know that Roderick
was a...homosexual?

I am a French girl.

I know the ways of the world.

But it was never discussed.

But Monique knew?
Or suspected?

She took that photograph, no?

Not that I am aware of. Why?

We believe Monique learned
of Roderick's homosexuality
and set out to expose him.

So she rented room 214 under
a false name to spy on room 212.

And then, when the time was right,
she let herself into room 212

and took this photograph.

Do you think he killed her?

What do you think?

You are a homosexual, yes?

No. I, uh...

You hire pretty bellmen

who will lie with you for the price
of a bottle of champagne.

No. Please, monsieur.

It is always dangerous
to lie to the police.

But it is stupid

to lie about that
which is not at issue.

Not at issue?

Not at issue?!

This is not about
making love to men.

This is...about murder.

Oh! I didn't kill Monique!

Did she not let herself
into your room, Mr Dalewood,

and take these photographs?

Yes. But...
Then what happened?

She ran out.
Where did she go?

I...don't know.

You didn't follow her?

I-I tried.

But as soon as I got my clothes on,
she... Please, Mr Dalewood.
That's quite enough.

I believe you saw her go
into the room next door.

The bellboy told us
you sent him away.

Then I believe you let yourself
into room 214 with your master key.

No! That's not what happened!

We found Monique's purse in the
laneway directly below room 214.

Why would she throw her purse out
the window unless she knew you were
coming after her at that moment?

Do you know what I believe?

I believe Monique is alive.

Then who is the girl who was stuffed
into a trunk in room 214?!

I have no idea.

All I know is Monique has set out
to destroy my life.

And she's not finished yet.

It is him.

Who else could it be?

Who else has the motivation
and the means?

I agree. But there are
some inconsistencies.

If Monique threw the purse
out the window,

why did Roderick not
retrieve it immediately?

He would have needed
to bind and gag Monique first.

Yes.

But whoever stole the camera
from the purse did so
in a very short period of time.

Perhaps we have a witness.

We need to speak to that pawnbroker.

I've decided not to stand
for alderman.

At least, not this election.
Maybe next time.

There won't be a next time.
You know that.

Tell me, Thomas. How do you feel
your career has progressed so far?

I suppose I've done alright.

Thomas, a century from now, when
Toronto is a teeming metropolis,

a young woman will be
whisked effortlessly
beneath a crowded street

and she will give silent thanks
to the man who made that possible.

You.

Let that be your legacy.

You reported that a woman
sold this camera to you yesterday.

That's right.

Big, brown eyes.
Pretty. Blonde hair.

She lives in a rooming house
down on De Grassi Street.

You know where she lives?

I've watched her go in there
a few times.

She's the kind of girl
a man notices.

I was passing through the laneway
and saw the purse on the ground.

I thought it had been thrown out.

I'm not a thief.

Of course not.

Miss Wiggins...

..you live on De Grassi Street, yes?

You must do your shopping
at Queen and Broadview.

I do, yes. Why?

Vous etes tres jolie.

I'm sorry?

Miss Wiggins, let's take a little
walk to my jail cell, shall we?

It was found property!
I'm not a thief!

Monique!

I knew it! She has changed her hair,
but it is her.

I told you she was alive!

I've never seen this man before.

Who's Monique?

SOPHIE: Oh!

She looks so much like Monique.

It is astonishing, the resemblance.

But it is not her.

What are you saying?!
Of course it's her!

I would know my own sister, Roderick.

You are convinced
this woman is Monique?

No. I believe the real Monique
was murdered and her body was
stuffed in that steamer trunk.

Victoria Wiggins played
the role of Monique

just long enough for her
disappearance and murder to be
pinned on Sophie's husband.

You are saying
Sophie killed her own sister?

Impossible. You're wrong.

I read the letters.
The sisters, they loved each other.

There's something else
going on here.

Then whose body was in the trunk?

And why does her hair
match David Bishop's jewellery?

We do need that photograph
of Monique. Yes.

Gentlemen. How goes it?

It goes, sir. We're almost finished.

Yeah. Close enough.
Let's have a look.

I don't recognise either of them.

I do.

George, take a photograph
of this telefacsimile. Sir.

Inspector.

Here.

This is the woman we know as Sophie.

But I believe THIS is the real
Sophie - the woman smiling here.

Then who is the woman who has been
calling herself Sophie?

Where did you get this?

It was sent by
Sophie and Monique's father.

When?
Yesterday.

It is a telefacsimile.

A new technology
invented by Monsieur Murdoch.

Hmm.

This is Monique and this is Sophie.

HE CHUCKLES
And strangely,
it appears she's not you.

You met Sophie on the ship.

Didn't you? Here she is
to your right the day you sailed.

And during the course of the voyage,
the two of you became friends.

Very good friends.
The kind who tell secrets.

She told you about the arrangement
she had with her wealthy fiance.

A man whose bed
she would never have to share.

A very good arrangement indeed.

So you decided to take her place.

And once the ship docked
in Montreal, you killed her and
stuffed her body in a steamer trunk.

You can't prove any of that.

Oh, please, madame.

Or should I call you Jaqueline?
Jaqueline Chisholm?

Oh, yes.
You remember her, don't you?

She's wanted by French police for
a murder in Normandy ten months ago.

The French consulate here is
sending us her photo as we speak.

And I wonder
what she will look like!

If you're willing to confess,
we can help you avoid the noose.

But perhaps she would prefer
the guillotine. Oh - it's up to you.

It seemed so perfect.

A new identity. A new life.

But then her sister had to come
and ruin it all.

Oh, but that's when you turned
a problem into an opportunity.

Kill Monique and frame your husband
for her murder.

And then you'd have all of
his wealth once he was hanged.

That was a most devious plan.

You knew your husband dallied
with the bellmen in room 212.

And you would do anything
to protect his secret.

So you made it appear as if
Monique was caught spying on him

and was killed for it.

Fantastic.

That's where your accomplice,
Victoria Wiggins, came in.

You needed someone
to play the role of Monique.

While the real Monique was bound and
gagged in room 214 for three days.

I felt bad for her,
but...what can I say?

It wasn't MY sister.

What a remarkable notion, William.

You've outdone yourself.

You know, sir, I foresee a day
when telefacsimiles will be created
automatically by machine.

Huge "simile" machines
that will take just minutes.

GUILLAUME SIGHS
Dr Ogden.

If there is one image
I will take home to France,
it is of you looking at me.

SHE GASPS

SHE GIGGLES

Jaqueline Chisholm.
Also known as Sophie Dalewood.

Such a tragedy for the father. Yes.

To fear for a missing child, only
to discover both daughters killed.

Mmm.

Thank you, Inspector Guillaume.

The pleasure was mine.

Now I can attest
at the next conference

international police cooperation
is not only possible,

it's already a fact.

Just, uh...a little joie de vivre.
That's a good thing.

I'll try. Please. Do.

Mademoiselle.

Monsieur. Merci, senor Guillaume.

HE LAUGHS

Whatever was that about, William?

He believes I should try
to be more...French.

SHE LAUGHS
Well, shouldn't we all?

Gentlemen.

CANE CLATTERS

Sir?

Have you made a decision
regarding your run for alderman?

I've just come from a meeting
with the backers.

I've thought about this subway issue
six ways from Sunday.

And?

Well, it's not just the one
subway line, Murdoch.

They're talking about one up Yonge
Street too. Maybe even one up Bloor.
That's an ambitious undertaking.

Yes, I know.

And if it all goes wrong, there'll
be a mob howling at my door.

But any city without a subway
will get left behind.

So I'm going to do it.

I'm going to run for alderman.

In that case, let me be the first
to congratulate you, sir.

My best wishes for
a very successful campaign.

Thank you, Murdoch.

I'm in it now. Aren't I?

Yes, sir. It would appear you are.

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