All language subtitles for slasher.s05e02.1080p.web.h264-ggez_track3_[eng]

- Extra! Extra! Jack the Ripper
strikes the Devil's Elbow!

Extra! Extra! Jack the Ripper
strikes the Devil's Elbow!

Ripper hanged today!
[bell tolling]

[distant shouting]
[bell tolling]

[bell tolling]

Any last words?

- You are gathered here today
to witness a murder.

One not as gruesome
as the murder of Margaret Mehar

and yet nonetheless murder.

I may be guilty in the court
of public opinion,

but I did not kill Margaret.

And my Lord and Saviour knows
the truth.

And I am blessed this day.

I am blessed to return
to my maker.

- That noose is made
of your words.

- He killed her
and then mutilated her corpse.

- And if he did not?
Then this is indeed murder,
one you'll have to atone for.

[crowd cheering]

Make way. Make way.

[flies buzzing]
Hey!

You know it's headlines
like yours that makes violence
like this happen?

- If reporting the truth
creates vigilantes,

then maybe there's something
wrong with the status quo.

Maybe we need truth tellers
more than ever.

- So you've decided
this is the work

of your so-called Avenger
of the Poor, have you?

- The Widow.
She's called the Widow.

- Because you named her that.
- If you cared enough
about the people down here

to actually talk to them,
you'd know the full story.

- Well, why don't you save me
that step? What?

- You'd discover
it was Eddie Jacobs

who killed these two,
not the Widow.

- Basil Garvey's--
- Right-hand man.

Came down here
to knock a little sense
into these people.

Too much by the looks of it.

But you didn't hear that
from me. No.

I'll blame this one on the Widow
and give the good people
of this city

all the sensation
they could want.

- Pardon the intrusion.
- No intrusion, my dear.

- [distant whinnying]
- I was supposed to see
your show last night.

I was very much looking forward
to it.

- Ah, but you wanted something
a little more... personal,

up close.

No.

My husband passed away.

Oh, you poor dear. Oh...

You must be Regina Simcoe.

[Regina sniffling]
Ah.

I'm so sorry for your loss.
Please.

- [sniffling]
- Thank you.

It's his death
which brings me here.

I've heard that you can commune
with those who've passed
to the other side.

Oh...

It is a burden I've borne
since birth.

- I want to speak
to my dear Alistair...

to find out what happened
to him.

- Yes, yes.
- To find out who killed him.
- Oh, of course, we must.

I could hold a seance.

Here?

- Make an even stronger
connection to the other side.

I would, of course,
need time alone to...

spiritually cleanse the space.

You understand. But...

if I wasn't disturbed,

oh, I could set the table
for a revelatory seance.

Perhaps one evening this week.

Today.

Whatever the cost.
I must have answers.

For my poor Alistair.

Ah... of course, yes.

Well... I will require a group
of spiritual believers
to bear witness.

Your friends, acquaintances,

people who understand
your great need and grief.

I know just who to ask.

Thank you, Monsieur Rondeau.

- Oh.
- For helping a poor soul...

[sniffling]
...destroyed by grief.

- Three dollars...
from Beau Bouquet?

Viv, we have nothing left.

Oh. Hmm.

- I don't want to make you sell
one of your jewels
or your gowns.

- You wouldn't dare!
You still have that old thing.

- My citrine?
- I don't expect it would fetch
very much.

- It's the last gift
our mother gave me.
- Posh.

- Oh, don't give me posh.
[footsteps]

Good morning, dear.

Good morning.

I owe you a profound apology,
Viviana.

You were absolutely right
about everything
you accused me of.

- I behaved terribly.
- Hmm.

- I got swept up
in the excitement
of our being reunited.

And this... big,
exciting night out.

And the attention I got
as your sister.

It's all so new to me and...

I behaved shamefully.

I should've been demure
and ladylike.

Instead, I betrayed
both of your faith in me.

- I can see
that our session last night
has helped you learn contrition.

- Wholeheartedly, sister,
and I thank you for it.

- Think of me
as your spiritual North Star.

- I hope you will someday
forgive me my transgressions.

In good time perhaps.

- [gasping]
- My goodness.

What is it?

- Regina Simcoe, poor creature,
she has invited us to a seance
today...

with the very great,
very handsome Georges Rondeau.

- Oh, what fun!
I have many questions
for the spirits.

- As have I.
- But w-w-would that not be
risking our souls,

communing with the shadow realm?

- Oh, you have nothing
to worry about,

because you will be
accompanying us
to our dear friend's gathering.

Nor you, dear sister.

Pardon?

- The coal delivery arrives
today and someone must be here
to receive it.

It can't possibly be me.
The only thing I know about coal
is that it turns into diamonds.

- But--
- I-I could receive
these workmen.

- Oh, I'm certain
you would love to,
but no, no, no.

We cannot leave you alone
with any men.

Besides, you will be too busy
doing all the other chores
we've lined up for you.

- Certainly you didn't expect
to be expunged of all your guilt
quite so easily?

Foolish girl.
[laughter]

Clearly you get your brains
from your mother.

I know you killed those two.

Funny...

I heard the pretty one fell
and cracked her skull.

Tragic accident.
Nothing to lose your head over.

- Detective,
you've had a busy morning.

Word, please.

- You know who that is?
- Yeah, and so do
five other witnesses

who say they saw him
and multiple other men
walk into that alleyway

where Horatio Dixon
and Daisy Zywiecki
were murdered.

- And these witnesses,
were they all in the trade?

- Yes, sir,
but that doesn't discount
what they saw.

- Maybe they were playing.
I wouldn't put it past
one of the other pimps

to knock out the competition.

[Rijkers sighing]
Eddie.

I got a problem here.

I'm hearing
two very conflicting stories.

- One that makes sense
and one that don't.

My boss would never shit
where he eats, so...

why would he send me and my boys
all the way to the Elbow
to kill anyone?

Especially since
we're all the way in Hamilton.

Well...

until we gather
more evidence--

- Sir, what? You're just gonna
take him at his word?
- Till we gather more evidence,

you are free to go.

I hope you catch your guy.

Eddie!

Get it through Basil's
thick fuckin' skull:

He is not untouchable.

This war ends now.

We just stopped it.

- By relieving Horatio Dixon
of his head?
This is not the Middle Ages!

- We went down there
to scare people,

not kill anyone.

- The harlot.
- It was an accident, I swear.

And when we left,
Horatio's head
was still on his shoulders.

It wasn't us.

It was her.

Jesus.

Hmm.

- I can't help but wonder
about the relief and solace
you might find

if you came to my church
rather than your regular visits
to your favourite temple of sin.

- Back the fuck off, Padre,
or instead of some
grateful whore,

I'll take my aggression out
on you.

- Just hearkening you to God.
- Oh, fuck your God,

his promise of a heaven
when it's all over.

Where did that devotion
get your father,

other than at the end
of a swinging rope?

- You can blow and bluster
all you want,

but even you answer to God,
for all your sins,
past and present.

And if you will not repent,
the devil may send the Widow
for you.

Find goodness, find purity.

For the Widow will show you
no mercy.

- I'll have another edition
ready in half an hour.
- The hell you will.

Kill the fuckin' Widow story.

- We're on our third edition.
We're printing money!
- Kill it,

or find yourself another job.

- We haven't sold a day's paper
like this in--
- Twelve years. I know.

Kill it. Burn everything
yourselves already printed,

kill the story now and forever.

You made the Widow,
now I'm burying her.

- If we kill it,
the real story's gonna get out.

What story is that?

- Town philanthropist
Basil Garvey
directs his henchmen--

[gasping]

When are you gonna realize

that you don't exist
without my say-so?

[crying out]

[screaming]

You owe everything to me!
[gasping]

I am the truth around here!

[crying out]
[coughing]

I am life and I am death!

And you!
[crying out]

You are just a maggot
who does my bidding,
or have you forgotten?!

[gasping]

Every single word you print,

an ad for the fucking
church bazaar,

it all has to get approved
by me.

- Uh, I'll deal
with the pimp murder.

You're pulling me.

Sir, I'm not afraid
of Basil Garvey.

You should be.

This is a powder keg
of local politics
and power struggles.

It's best handled
by someone with experience.
And connections.

- Connections.
- I'm fuckin' protecting you,
Detective.

The world out there
is not just black and white.
- Sir, they're killers.

- That may be,
but if it is them,
they're the killers we know.

What worries me
is the killers we don't know.
Out there, circling,

striking when she wants.
That's what's scaring the city.

Well, did make a breakthrough.

Hallelujah.

- I found this
in Alistair Simcoe's desk
in his home office.

Margaret Mehar?

- But he's just a murder nut.
You know, lots of people are.

- No. I would've thought
that too, sir, but...

the note - "Friends of Margaret
are my target" -

it must be referencing
the same woman.

- I arrested the sick fuck
that killed her.

- Sir, what if you got
the wrong guy?

What if Alistair Simcoe
is somehow connected
to her murder?

Sir!

[scoffing]

- If you're here to try
to connect me to the attack,
you'll be out on your ass.

I cared about those people.

- I know. You and I both know
who ordered their murders.

Basil has you, me,
and this entire city
under his boot.

But it doesn't have to stay
that way.

- Oh, really?
You got an army full of goons
ready to do your bidding?

'Cause I sure as fuck don't.

- No, but you must have
some dirt.

And me...
I have a printing press.
[Crenshaw scoffing]

- I don't think you appreciate
who you're dealing with.

- That's why it would have
to be bad.

- Oh, it would be bad...
for both of us.

You stay anonymous.

- Anything I know about Basil
he knows I know.

And thank you very much,
but I don't wanna join
Horatio Dixon in the morgue.

I'm a smart man.

Answer will always be no.

Unlike Terrence...

I never say no.

Did you know him, Detective?

We crossed paths.

- Is there something amiss?
- Not amiss per se.

Uh, may I?

By all means.

No...

not amiss, but special.

- In what way?
- Daisy died by misadventure,
but this,

this is clearly
premeditated murder.

So the Widow...

...has struck again.

- Did you find any note
hidden in the body?

- Would I not have told you
if I had?
But you're free to look.

- I'm looking.
- And what do you see?

- Bruising here shows us
the first strike.

Cracking in the spine
confirms that.

Agreed. A knife blade.

Lacerations here and here,

they show us a clear path
of the cutting.

Right to left.

That's helpful.

How so?

Right to left.

Right to left.

The Widow's lefthanded.

Ah, welcome, my dear.

- Mm.
- Oh.

Don't you look ravishing.

I had hoped to see
your beautiful sister.

- She is devastated
that she cannot be here.
- Mm.

- You rogue, Monsieur Rondeau.
[laughter]

Georges, please.

There's the poor dear.

- Thank you so much for coming.
- I am here for you
in any way you need.

How are you holding up?

- I haven't been sleeping.
I'm desperate for answers.

- She's done the wise thing
and turned to the other side
for help.

[sighing]

I've done this many times
before. In fact,

a most learned shah once told me

he had never witnessed
a more direct contact
with the dead than mine.

If you will join Shanika and I
in clasping hands.

I must demand total obedience
if you are to remain safe.

If you're to stay on the side
of the living,

you must trust your care
entirely to me.

- I'm glad someone understands
that as long as Basil Garvey
is in charge,

we are beholden entirely to him.

- The days of Basil Garvey
and Alistair Simcoe are over.

What's that?

- Print these and prepare
to be shocked...

or turned on.

If you are a size queen,
you definitely
won't be disappointed.

- Do I look
like an anything "queen"?

Appearances can be deceiving.

But our dear Basil

is most definitely flagranting
his delicto

with a most domineering
dominatrix

in these photos.

And I assure you...

he will do anything
to keep these from getting out.

Thank you.

Uh...

You didn't think
this was a charitable donation
on my part, did you?

- Oh, I thought you were
invested in the greater good.
- I am.

But I'm even more interested
in a brand-new wig.

I'm thinking blond
sausage curls?

The spirit realm is nebulous.

A hazy line separates
our material world,

and in order to draw
a spirit over,

requires a lure, something...

valuable, something...

...unique.

- Oh.
[chuckling]

That was a gift from my maman.

- Perfect. And has she passed
to the other side?

- Tragically, yes.
- Ah.

Is there anything
you'd like to ask her?

- Yes. Yes!
Ask dear maman...

if she thinks
Basil Garvey and I...

will have a happy union.
[chuckling]

- A perfect yes-or-no question
to warm up the table.
[laughing]

If it tilts to the right,
it means yes; to the left, no.

Now, everyone...

focus.
[sighing]

And open your minds...

to the cosmos.

Oh...
mother of Viviana Botticelli,

we ask you to grace us
with your spiritual presence

to answer a question
about the most holy of emotions,

love.

Will thine own daughter
find love everlasting
with Basil Garvey,

her betrothed?

I beseech thee.
Come to us from the other side.

Will she find happiness,

O wise mother?

[creaking]

- [gasping]
- Oh, my.
[laughing]

That means yes, right?
She said yes?

- She said yes.
[Viviana exclaiming]

Happy day!
[laughing]

- Ahem. As overjoyed as I am
for my dear friend,

we are not here
to divine the future.

We're here to find answers
for the painful past.

Of course, my dear.

We forget ourselves.
[sighing]

Thank you, O generous mother.

You may return now
to the other side.

[rumbling]
[Viviana exclaiming]

[laughing]
Did you feel that?

That was mamansaying goodbye.

Goodbye.

Now, on to the job at hand.

These were worn
by your dear departed husband,
correct?

- For reading... yes.
- Ah...

to see...

And now I shall drop the veil,

so that we can see
what truly happened

to your loving husband.

Ladies...

what the great Georges Rondeau
is about to do
is far more serious,

and dangerous,
so absolute focus and quiet.

- Mm-hmm.

Spirit world...

I call forth Alistair Simcoe

to speak with us this night.

I call forth Alistair Simcoe

to give his loving wife,

Regina Simcoe,

peace with the answers
she seeks.

Please, Alistair,

tell us:

Do you know what vile person
murdered you?

[screaming]

- [exclamations]
- Oh, heavens!
Regina, are you alright?

- I'm fine. I'm fine.
I'm shaken, but I'm fine.

- [laughing]
- Ooh.

[Regina]: Oh!

[creaking and rattling]

- Enid, you're starting
to believe your own headlines.

"Tattle Tails
a Woman's Wails
A paper's lies for sooth

A living hell,
if you don't tell
your evil buried truth"

[dissonant music]

- I'd say
that got their attention.

It always does.

Though Miss Simcoe
may charge you for the table.

- We can't be held responsible
for the whims of the spirits.

And even if we did,
we'd still come out ahead.

Oh... very far ahead.

[chuckling]

Mesdames...

the spirits made contact

and they have something
important to say.

- Was it really my husband
you communed with?
[sighing]

- There is a ripple
in the ether,

a disturbance
in the "ectenic psychode".

Can any of you feel it?

The spirits are restless.

They get this way
when a great injustice
has violated the physical plane.

So I must wrestle
our spiritual advisor
into submission and allow him,

or her,

despite Shanika begging me
otherwise,

to inhabit me.

- [gasping]
- Are you talking... possession?

I'm talking... inwatso!

A secret calling I learned
from the Xesibe tribes
of South Africa.

- Is it dangerous?
- Thrice banned
on this continent.

But everything worth doing is...

dangerous, my dear.

- Oh, really, Georges,
is that wise?
- Yes, listen to her!

The last time you performed
the inwatso,

you were committed to an asylum
for the insane.

All of this is true,

but a murder was committed
and I pledged my dear hostess

that I would do
whatever it takes in my means
to find an answer.

So I must hazard it.

Now, please, good ladies,
I need your help.

We'll all sit in a circle,
join hands,

and with the help of inwatso,

I shall be your vessel
of the truth.

[exhaling and inhaling]

[breathing deeply]

Imimoya...

...wozani kimi.

Vula umnyango phakathi
kwemihlaba yethu.

Woza...

...ungisebenzise...

...njengesitsha sakho..

...futhi ungidle.

[rattling]

- [exclaiming]
- We must stop! We're in danger!

- Georges, what is happening?!
Stop this now! We beg you!

I am here...

- [gasping]
- Dear Lord, protect us.

[groaning]
[gasping]

[groaning]

He did not protect me.

Yeah.
Why should he protect you...

or anyone?

[Georges]: Who are you, spirit?

Do you have a name?

[raspy breathing]

I am Alistair Simcoe.

Or... I was.
[raspy breathing]

But I was murdered.
[groaning]

Murdered!

And my executioner
still walks free!

- [raspy breathing]
- Do you know who killed you?

[gasping]

She hides...

behind a widow's veil.

[raspy breathing]
Lurking.

Waiting until
she can strike again.
[gasping]

And again!

Twice the bell has tolled!

Six times more it will,

and only then
will Margaret be avenged!

[gasping]

[cracking]

[screaming]

[Viviana]: Unbelievable. Look.
Regina? She's moving.
Is it her? Is she with us?

Regina, dear?

She's coming back to us.

- But i-is it her?
Is it dear Regina?

- Speak, child.
Is it you, Regina Simcoe,

or does a spirit still reside
within you?

[Regina]: What?
Of course, it's me.

- [relieved sighs]
- Take it easy, slowly.

- Let me help you there.
[panting]

What happened?

You happened, my dear.

The spirit of your dear,
departed husband...

chose to manifest himself
through you.

- I channelled Alistair?
- You did.

I've never seen
such a clear manifestation.

Nor I.

- Have you had any psychic
episodes in your past?

I was born with a caul.

- As was I.
- What's a caul?

- Something which some people
do not wish to speak about
in polite company.

- And yet, a certain sign
of psychic prowess.

I have had...

I guess you could call them...

feelings... about things.

The night Alistair...

I begged him.

I begged him not to go.

But he said he had work to do
and he couldn't be swayed.

I'm an abomination.

No, my dear Regina.

You are what I've long been
looking for,

the rarest of finds.

A revelation.

"Tattle Tails,

a Woman's Wails

A paper's lies for sooth

A living hell,
if you don't tell
your evil buried truth."

What lies did you tell?

Who is the Widow referencing
when she writes,
"A woman's wails"?

- You're asking me to decipher
the ramblings of a madwoman.

- Yes.
It's exactly what I'm doing.

- Sorry, Detective, but I can't.
Haven't the first clue
what that letter means.

It's pretty simple.

You published lies
about someone,

and now the Widow wants you
to publish the truth.
Otherwise--

Otherwise... Exactly.

Do you honestly believe this is
the first threat I've received
for revealing the truth?

It's part of my job, Detective.

I'll deal with this threat
the same way I deal
with all the rest.

I'll thank the person
for reading...

and then I'll burn that letter.

No, you won't.

Hey, that's mine.

It was left for me.

- It's also evidence
in a murder investigation.

Two, in fact.

Two?

Alistair Simcoe, obviously.

I suspect Horatio Dixon,
as well.

- Nah, Horatio was killed
by the hands
of Basil Garvey's thugs.

Mm, not necessarily.

If he is the second
in a string of murders,

you need to take this threat
seriously.

If you know something, anything,
pertaining to the Widow,

now is the time to tell me,
for your own safety.

Enid, please, I know we've had
our differences, but these are
not just random murders.

They connect back to the murder
of Margaret Mehar.

That was 12 years ago.

- Lust for vengeance
doesn't expire.

Maybe it's you, Detective.

I'm sorry?

- You come in here,
you interpret the Widow's note,

you steer me toward a murder
I haven't thought of
in over a decade,

one that the police
failed to solve, but I did,
this paper did.

Perhaps you're the Widow...

jealous of my skill
and seeking vengeance
for your own failures.

Be careful, Enid.

Please.

Oh. Your sisters drink swill.

I'll send you a case
of my favourite single malt;
only the best for you.

- I don't imbibe.
- I do.

Too much.

I'm sure
you would cure me of that,
among so many other bad habits.

- Mr. Garvey, Venetia has gone
to meet Viviana
at Mrs. Simcoe's manse.

Perhaps if you were to head--

I know what I want.

[exhaling]
Always have.

Always do.

But what do you want, my dear?

To live here in this empty shell
of a house,

scrubbing your sisters' floors
while they enjoy themselves
among society?

Do you not deserve
so much more than that?

I can give you the world.

Anything you desire.
The life you so richly deserve.

And while I know
I love you already,

I understand
it might take you some time.

- You're betrothed to my sister.
- No.

No, uh, we're close, it's true.

She and Venetia are angling
for something I never promised.

Viviana has no engagement ring.

All I really owe her
is a little common courtesy.

So I'll wait
an appropriate amount of time

before you and I announce
our engagement.

No. This is...

[door opening]
[laughter]

- Verdi, why is this bucket
in the middle of the foyer
for us to stumble over?

- Because she's lazy, sister,
that's why.

Mr. Garvey.

To what do we owe
this pleasure?

At so late an hour?

I was just leaving.

Good night, ladies.

Good night, Verdi.

Harlot.

- He came here unannounced,
but I begged him to go!
Please, sister, believe me!

- Sister? Is this how sisters
treat each other?

By stabbing each other
in the back?

- No, please!
I'm not knowingly doing anything
to encourage... Ah!

- If it's subconscious,
I will whip it out of you!
- No, please! Let me go! Ah!

- We're just trying to help you,
sister!

[sobbing]
[screaming]

- Keep staring like that,
your eyes will pop out.
- Sir.

Are you seeing what I'm seeing?

- You're chewing your nails.
- The handwriting, sir.

Yeah, it's the same. Kid...

if this is as good as you got,
maybe I was wrong about you.

- Sir, whoever wrote these notes
used their left hand.
You can tell by the slant.

- Okay, pick up the pace.
Your flair for the dramatic
is killing me.

- Horatio, the pimp,
he was decapitated
by someone who was lefthanded.

The parchment? They're the same.
They're most likely cut
from the same source.

And then the ink looks to be
some form of iron tannate,

which is far more expensive
than the much more common
aniline dyes that most...

- Okay, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
enough of the grandstanding.
We need actual clues.

- These are clues, sir.
- You're going to arrest every
lefthanded citizen in the city?

And anyone who owns
this fancy ink? Go ahead.

Build a thousand jails
while you're at it.

- Sir, all of this is giving me
a profile on who our killer is.

Someone lefthanded, yes,
but also someone educated,

someone rich enough
to write in expensive ink.

- Well, go out onto the streets
and find him.
- Her.

Oh, you hear that, boys?

Detective Kenny here
has a big new lead.

Our Widow is a fancy lady
who likes to write poetry
with her left hand

when she's not using it
to chop people up
into stewing beef.

Case solved.

- Gold.
[banging]

[banging]

[footsteps]

[banging]

[creaking and slamming]
[gasping]

[creaking]

[banging]

[dissonant music]

Jesus Christ Almighty.

Wh...

what do you want?

Please just t-take it.
Take whatever you'd like.

You asked me to print the truth.

Well, this is the truth.

Basil Garvey is...

a miscreant,
a vile, controlling criminal,

a perverter of the truth!

That's the story we should tell!
I-it's the story that will work,
that will destroy him!

I'm the editor!
I know what should and shouldn't
go into my paper!

Not anyone else!
Not Basil, not you!

Just me!

[Garvey]: You're not the voice
of the people, idiot.

You're my voice.
You write what I tell you
to fucking write.

Then I quit!

One day you'll see
you signed a deal
with the devil.

- It should've been
that exciting in your bylines.

Asshole.

You.

You're a woman.
Under the threads, I mean.

Your point?

A female editor.

Now, that's forward thinking;

shows someone not stuck
in their ways.

Not me as a publisher,
not you as an editor.

Editor? Huh.

You want me to be an editor?

- You're not up for the job?
- No, sir, I'm...
very much up for the job.

Good. You better be.

'Cause I need someone
in that office

who's gonna make sure
the Echo Tribune reflects

the ethos of its publisher,

like how you went
after Andrew May
for the Ripper killing.

- It was your lead, sir.
I just followed the evidence.

- Yes.
And you didn't question it.

That story sold more papers
than we ever have.

And a guilty man
was brought to justice.

Right?

- Right.
- Good.

I look forward to working
with you...

Enid Jenkins. You get me.

And for someone in my position,
that's more valuable than gold.

- I didn't do anything!
I can't undo what's been done!

No!
[screaming]

I'm not a killer!

Ah! It was Basil!
He was behind it all!

But I couldn't print that!
He would never let me! Please!

All I did was make up a story
a long time ago

and take some photos!

[gasping]

I'm not a killer!

[screaming]

Subtitling: difuze