Original subtitles

(theme music)

(muffled chatter)

(indistinct chatter) (slurping)

- Don't try slinking out of here without settling your tab.

(scoffs)

- I'd never!

Oh!

Come on, Diana, let a man imbibe in peace.

(chuckling)

Thank you.

- Ah! Well, hello!

Welcome to Shuckers. They call me Mother.

What can I do for you?

- Table for six, please.

(whistling)

- Table for six!

What's the occasion?

- We're celebrating this young man's

last few days of bachelorhood.

- Ho, ho! Ladies!

I want you to take good care of these handsome fellows.

A couple pitchers to start off?

- Sounds lovely. - All right.

- Thank you.

(sighing)

Why the sour face, Higgins? Sit down.

- I still think we should have gone to the burlesque.

- This place is more respectable.

We can drink beer, eat some oysters

and none of us will get in trouble

with our indoors.

- How you fellas doing?

- Well, we could use a refill.

- All right. Right up!

(clears throat)

- Uh, a garden, couple goats and a chicken.

What would you prefer: goats or chickens?

- All right, who's up for an arm wrestle?

Two dollars says I can beat any man here.

- Well, I'll take that bet.

(chuckling) (cheering)

(laughing)

(sighing)

(groans) - Go on, Higgins!

(grunts) (laughing)

- Who's next?

- What are you laughing at?

- Not much.

- Oi, I know you.

- You should. You arrested me.

- Then why aren't you behind bars?

- It didn't stick.

(laughing)

- Oh, Maddie, why don't you play something

a little bit more upbeat?

(soft piano playing)

(grunts)

I love when you play for me.

- Oh, you're good.

(grunts) - Hey!

You gib-faced oaf!

You need to pay for my drink! (grunts)

(grunts)

- Tucker, that's enough! Sit down.

(clears throat)

Pay the man for his beer.

- Oh, shucker girl!

Another round for the oyster king!

(laughing)

(clears troat) - More respectable,

you were saying, sir?

- Shut your trap, Higgins.

(bell ringing) - All right, boys!

It's gobblin' time!

Who will take the crown?

Ha-ha!

(indistinct chatter)

Three, two, one... and time.

Gentlemen, drop your oysters.

Take a break, grab a beer, while we set up for round two.

More over here!

More here!

(thudding)

(screaming)

- Crikey.

- Should have gone to the burlesque.

- Poor chap was alive and well an hour ago.

- Where's Mrs. Hart?

- There was no answer at her home.

We'll get her postmortem tomorrow.

- Well, it looks pretty cut and dried to me.

Someone slashed his throat and chucked him in a barrel.

- Hmm.

And then hammered the lid back on in haste.

Was there anyone suspicious here this evening?

- Well, yes, sir.

There was man with a... an elaborate moustache.

- What made him suspicious?

- He mocked me, sir.

And then disappeared for the rest of the evening.

- Mocking you is hardly a crime, Higgins.

More like an amusing pastime.

Look, if we're talking suspects, I hate to say it,

but the dead fella bloodied Constable Tucker's nose

earlier in the evening. - That's right.

And then Tucker was missing from the bar

for a time afterwards.

- Constable Tucker! - Yes, sir.

- A word, please.

Oh.

You look ill.

- Yes, I'm sorry.

I had too much to drink.

- I can see that.

Is it true that you fought with the victim earlier tonight?

- Again, I... I've behaved very badly this evening.

- Hmm.

And did this bad behaviour include murder?

- Oh, of course not! I'm an officer of the law.

I'd-I'd-I'd never do that.

- You disappeared for part of the evening.

Where did you go?

- Oh.

That. I, uh...

I blacked out in the water closet.

I... The drinks and the-the...

...oysters.

Would you excuse me!

(gasping)

- Henry, see to it that Constable Tucker

does not leave the premises.

- You want me to guard the washroom, sir?

- Yes.

- Fine.

(clicks tongue) - Poor Mick.

He was one of our best customers.

I can't believe somebody did him dirty.

- Miss Malone, is it? - Detective. Yes.

- Were you well acquainted with the victim?

- As acquainted as you get serving a man booze.

I mean, Mick Peterson was a bachelor.

He lived alone.

He had big dreams, but not the means

to make 'em come true.

- Hmm.

And were you present the entire evening?

- Hovering like a hawk.

It takes a firm hand to guide this motley crew.

- What about the hour leading up to the discovery of his body?

- Oh! The music was hopping by then.

(laughing)

I was having a laugh on the dance floor.

- Uh. And your staff?

- Oh, ask 'em yourself.

- There is one known criminal in the bar.

Oi, Madeline Tomkins!

- Uh, no. Maddie's gone home for the night.

- Then we'll need her address.

(sighing)

- This is it.

The girls took the barrel from here.

- Thank you.

- No blood.

No signs of a struggle.

- It's possible the murder occurred somewhere else.

- And the murderer rolled the barrel

back into cold storage

with the body inside. - Precisely.

But everyone present tonight claims to have an alibi.

- Keeping the timeline straight is a challenge.

The whole night is a bit of a blur, if I'm honest.

- Hmm.

- Where is Hart?

- We haven't been able to reach her.

Sir, might I suggest you go home and get some rest.

I can finish up here and we will get

Miss Hart's postmortem tomorrow.

- Thank you, mucker.

(indistinct chatter)

- I apologize for my absence last night.

- Social engagement?

- As they say, all work and no play.

- Hmm.

- This appears to be the fatal wound.

His carotid artery was nicked.

He would have bled out quite quickly.

Was there a lot of blood at the scene?

- Not a bloody drop.

- At least none visible to the naked eye.

I'll return to Shuckers and conduct a more thorough search.

- How about the murder weapon?

- Um, some sort of short, pointed instrument.

- Like an oyster shucker.

- You suspect one of the shucker girls.

- You bet I do.

And I know exactly which one.

(indistinct chatter)

- Ah, I see you've put my generous charitable donations

to good use. - Yes, thank you.

We are so grateful to all of our donors.

How can I help you today, Mrs. Pinch?

- Doctor Ogden, I am at my wits' end.

Wits' end, I tell you!

My medicine has vanished from the chemists' shelves.

- Oh! Which medicine? - Halls Coca Wine,

the keystone of perfect health.

- Ah, yes, I've seen the advertisements.

- Then you know of its restorative powers,

and it cures neuralgia, sleeplessness, anemia,

and it leaves absolutely no after-effects.

- Well, actually, Mrs. Pinch,

Halls Coca Wine contains cocaine,

which is rather addictive and harmful.

- It is a miracle tonic that keeps my spirits high

while I attend to my many charitable commitments.

Oh, plus, it's done wonders for my little Jenny's shyness.

- Oh, I don't recommend you give cocaine to your child.

- Oh, but she was such a mopey little thing without it!

Coca Wine has transformed her into the liveliest

little six-year-old you've ever seen.

- Yes, well, it's no longer on the shelves

because the new Opium and Drug Act prohibits

cocaine for non-medical use.

- Which is why I've come to see you.

You can provide me with a prescription.

- I cannot. Not in good conscience.

There are far healthier ways to increase your vitality.

- Oh, my goodness.

This looks very expensive.

- Uh, well, yes.

It's a blood pressure monitor

and it's rather expensive. - Oh.

- Mrs. Pinch, I really don't think cocaine is the answer--

- I need my Coca Wine! - Mrs. Pinch!

- I need it.

- Mrs. Pinch, you need healthy food

and exercise, but you do not need cocaine.

- If you're not going to help me,

then why did I donate all that money

to this stupid clinic of yours?

- Ooh! - Sorry.

- What was that about?

(scoffs)

- I suppose you know why I've brought you in.

- I do and I'm shocked.

Aren't you a married man?

- Don't get cheeky with me.

I know a career criminal when I see one.

Constance Weatherly was murdered to save you

from an arranged marriage.

- Not by me, she wasn't.

- By your criminal acquaintances.

- I have loyal friends. Is that a crime?

- No, but stabbing a man in the neck

with an oyster shucker is.

- Poor Mick.

Don't know why anyone would deal him such a fate,

but wasn't me.

I wasn't even there when that happened.

- So you claim. - And to God.

Finished my shift at the piano and went home.

- Have you any witnesses to that?

- No. But I wasn't at the bar.

Ask anyone. - I will.

- All right, then.

- Well, what's this supposed to prove then?

- This device uses ultraviolet light

in order to detect evidence

that may not be visible to the naked eye.

(chuckling) (gasping)

(woman): Huh!

- Mm, look at those pretty colours.

- These "pretty colours" are traces of where blood has been.

- This was a group stabbing?

- No, you git.

Shucking's risky business.

Show him your scars.

- Mm-hmm.

- Mm-hmm. It's no mystery

why those knives are bloody.

- Right.

I would like to have another look

at your cold storage room, please.

(sighing) Here as well.

Wait. Come back. - What is it?

- Hmm.

Appears to be a buildup of residue from dirty palm prints.

- That's a strange place to be gripping the wall, sir.

- Indeed.

Perhaps that's because it's not just a wall.

(knocking)

Ah! Toronto Constabulary!

Open up! (knocking)

(footsteps receding)

(grunts)

Police! Halt!

- Sir, it's him! The moustache man!

Oh, sir, look.

Blood.

(panting)

- Your name, sir? - Harry Hayes.

- And what is your role here?

- Protecting the girls.

- Prote... From what?

The customers?

- If necessary, yeah.

- Was it necessary last night? - No. No, no, no.

Um, last night was easy as pie.

- Not for Mick Peterson.

- Yeah.

Poor Mick.

Well, I guess that was his blood on the stairs?

Anyways, a bloody staircase is bad for business,

so when I noticed it today, I figured I'd mop it up.

- Did you happen to hear any voices or commotion

coming from here?

- No, that door's pretty thick.

- And you didn't see the bloody stairs last night?

- Nah. No, uh, we use the front staircase.

Customers use the ba... ack.

- What exactly is upstairs?

(clears throat) - My office is the red door

at the end of the corridor.

- And these other rooms?

- They appear to be sleeping quarters, sir.

- Right.

That's it.

I mean, sleeping quarters.

For when the girls get... sleepy.

All right! It's a bordello.

- Henry, search the rooms.

You didn't mention a bordello last night.

- Yeah, because my girls aren't hurting anybody!

This place keeps them off the streets.

- Ms. Malone, I assure you I am only interested

in finding Mr. Peterson's killer.

- So, you're not arresting me for running a bawdy house?

- Not if you cooperate.

- Well, what do you want to know?

- The names of the clients that were upstairs here last night.

- Names? (scoffs)

I barely know their faces!

They all look the same to me.

And I wasn't up here.

Ask anybody.

(indistinct chatter)

- Miss Mackeen?

Did you see Mother Malone at the bordello last night?

- What bordello?

- There is no need for deception.

I have a fairly good idea of what's going on here.

Now, did you see her?

- I quit working upstairs a while ago.

I'm strictly behind the bar now.

(clears throat)

- Ladies!

I am aware that there is a bordello operating

on the second floor here.

Now, I am willing to overlook this illicit activity

if you provide me with the names of the clients

you had upstairs with you last night.

The killer must have tilted the barrel against the stairs,

and then rolled Peterson's body down into it.

- And there's a bordello on the second floor.

- Yes, but none of the women

will divulge the identities of their clients.

- Doesn't matter.

I know who the killer is.

Thank you, Higgins.

- I barely got settled in my cell

and you're already dragging me back here.

He's smitten.

- You never told me about the bordello.

- You want to schedule a romp?

- You lied to me.

You weren't at home the night of the murder.

You were upstairs. - You got me.

I'm a working girl. Surprise, surprise.

But I'm not a murderer.

- I don't believe you. - Fair enough.

Maybe you'll believe him.

- Constable Tucker? - Yeah.

Who do you think I went upstairs with?

- Oh...

- Higgins, take this one back to the cells

'til I sort this out.

Tucker, in here now!

- I gotta go. The boss needs me.

- All right, sweetie.

- Sharpish!

- Is that your fiancée?

- Yes, sir.

- We just spoke to Madeline Tomkins.

- Is there something you'd like to--

- I'm sorry I lied!

I wasn't blacked out in the loo.

I-I was with her.

Th-that woman, I...

Please don't tell my fiancée.

- You should be more concerned

with the prospect of going to prison.

- Prison?

For what? - Murder.

You fought with Peterson that night.

- Yeah, he bloodied my nose,

but I probably deserved it.

I didn't kill him.

- You had no further dealings with Mr. Peterson?

- No.

Except I passed him later in the corridor.

- What corridor?

- Upstairs.

- Was he with a woman? - No.

No, alone.

Heading towards the red door at the end of the hall

when I was heading back downstairs.

I didn't kill him, Detective Murdoch.

Sir, you gotta believe me.

- No, I don't "gotta believe" anything, Constable Tucker!

You've already lied to me,

therefore, I will be holding you in our cells

until we find out who killed Mr. Peterson.

- It makes me want to weep.

- Makes me want to wring Eleanor Pinch's neck.

- What's wrong? (scoffs)

- Mrs. Pinch gave a slanderous account

of her alleged mistreatment here at the clinic.

- "'Dr. Ogden was dismissive of my condition

and refused to treat me,'

said the tearful Mrs. Pinch."

- Ugh. - "So I sought help

from Dr. Jasper Katz at Toronto General,

who provided me with the medication

I so desperately required."

That's ridiculous!

She doesn't desperately require cocaine!

- This part boils my blood.

"The beleaguered charity organizer further describes

profound regret for donating money

to the new Women's Clinic, which she regards

as a 'haven for quacks'."

- What are you going to do, Dr. Ogden?

(sighing)

- Well, I guess I'm going to keep my chin up

and continue to serve the medical needs

of the women of Ontario.

What else can I do?

- Well, if it were up to me,

I'd march down to that gaudy mansion of hers

and smack Mrs. Eleanor Pinch

right across her smug little face.

(chuckling)

- Well, that's not a course of action

that I would recommend, Margaret.

However tempting. - Hmm.

- Madeline Tomkins and Constable Tucker

have corroborated each other's alibis.

- Right.

So, they were upstairs "at it".

You know, Murdoch?

"At it", bone to bone, flesh on flesh.

Indulging in the bit of the old--

- I believe I understand what you're grinding at.

(clears throat) (chuckling)

My point is that Constable Tucker saw Peterson

on the second floor.

- Why was Peterson upstairs?

- That is unknown,

but Tucker did see him near Mother's office.

So, I'm bringing her in for questioning tomorrow.

- Good.

(indistinct chatter)

- I very much enjoyed our dinner last evening.

- Well, and I very much enjoyed our dessert.

Perhaps after we visit the Starbright,

we can adjourn to my house.

- For more dessert?

- Oh, my sweet tooth is ravenous.

Ooh. - Are you cold?

Here, take my jacket.

- I left a shawl at work.

It's just around the corner.

Wait outside. I'll only be a second.

- Okay.

(sighing)

(clattering)

- Is someone here?

(footsteps receding)

Hello?

(indistinct chatter)

- Hey, you!

What's wrong?

(sighing) - Isaiah!

- Violet!

Are you all right?

- Yes, just a bit shaken.

- Who was that? - I don't know.

(gasps)

(sighing)

As you can see,

the intruder sliced into Mr. Peterson's torso.

- For what purpose?

- Let's find out.

- Ew.

And this is where I take my leave.

Good evening, Violet.

- Until next time, Isaiah.

- Was desecrating the corpse a form of retaliation?

Was the killer making a statement?

Or was this an ill-conceived attempt at concealing

some particular form of poison.

- This can't be.

- What is it?

- This man is a human oyster.

- Your husband is a police detective?

- Toronto's finest.

- And you are?

- Uh, Millicent Drysdale, sir.

- Miss Drysdale is observing me

as a part of her medical education.

- Oh!

Well, then you must know that Dr. Ogden

is truly Toronto's finest.

- Why would you X-ray a bunch of pearls?

- Well, there's something odd about these.

Pearls typically are irregular in shape and vary in sizes.

These are all perfectly spherical and identical in size.

- Where are they from? - From the murdered man,

who was found at the bordello where Constable Tucker's

bachelor party was being held.

- Bordello?

But...

Thomas organized that party.

- I believe so.

- Huh. (chuckling)

My husband took his constables to a bordello!?

(scoffs)

(laughing)

(sighing)

- Where did you obtain these pearls?

- From the stomach of a murder victim.

- Good heavens. Oh, my...

- Are these pearls valuable? - That depends.

Natural pearls are rare and extremely valuable.

Cultured pearls were invented by the Japanese

and are slightly less so.

I find this whole matter quite distasteful.

- Yes, it was a gruesome discovery.

- I was referring to pearl cultivation.

Can you imagine the unwashed throats

of the hoi polloi draped in cheap, cultured pearls?

It makes me want to vomit.

(coughs)

These are cultured.

- Who supplies cultured pearls here in Toronto?

There is only one man I know of

who is trying to sell these locally.

I booted him from my shop.

- What's his name? - I didn't ask.

He was a tall, beer-bloated ruffian

who reeked of fish.

- Any idea where he's from?

- He said Prince Edward Island.

(indistinct chatter)

- Uh, excuse me.

Hey! Wh-what were you doing

outside the morgue last night, huh?

- Let me go!

Help! This man's trying to kidnap me!

Help!

Police!

- Mr. Buchanan, what's going on here?

(sighing)

(groans)

- Good afternoon, Miss Mackeen.

- Is it?

- You're unwell?

(sighing)

- Just a touch of the bottle ache.

- Comes with the territory.

Here you go, darlin'! Hair of the dog.

Fix you right up.

(chuckling) - Thank you, Mother.

- Mm-hmm.

- Oh!

(scoffs)

(chuckling)

- That child cannot handle her liquor.

What can I do for you, Detective?

- Who supplies your oysters?

- Ah. A Mr. Dabney Firkser supplies us.

Why? - Does he also deal in pearls?

- Does this look like a jewelry store to you?

- Our coroner found 20 cultured pearls

in Mr. Peterson's stomach.

- He swallowed pearls? Why?

I mean, Mick wasn't the sharpest pin in the cushion,

but surely, he-he...

- I believe he stole them and was hiding them.

From you.

(chuckling) - Really?

Where'd you cook up that giant pot of twaddle?

- Mr. Peterson was seen near your office

the night of his murder. - Hmm.

Well, Mick was always hurting for money.

Could've been trying to steal from me.

But if I had a hoard of pearls stashed away,

would I still be slinging cheap whisky

for a bunch of drooling drunks?

- What about this Mr. Firkser?

Did Mr. Peterson know him?

- Uh, you know, come to think of it,

I think he did.

- And was this Mr. Firkser here

the night of Mr. Peterson's murder?

- I didn't see him. I mean, could've been.

It was pretty busy that night.

- Hmm.

Where might I find him?

- Sir, Buster Farley is waiting for you in the interview room.

- Just give me one minute.

(laughing)

Margaret! To what do I owe the pleasure?

- You took your constables to a bordello?!

- I took them to an oyster bar.

- So, you're telling me Detective Murdoch lied to me?

Because I distinctly remember him saying "bordello"!

- Well, you see, Margaret, it was both.

And I didn't know about the bordello part.

- How could you not know? You are the police inspector.

- I just didn't!

And even if it is part bordello,

I didn't partake in anything but oysters and whisky.

- Oh, I find that very difficult to believe.

- The world is full of things

that you find difficult to believe

and I can't relieve you of that burden right now

because I have to go interrogate an eight-year-old.

(groans) Now if you'll excuse me?

(gasps)

(groans)

(sighing)

- An eight-year-old?

Wha...?

- Oh, I didn't do nothing wrong.

I wasn't near no morgue.

- You better not lie to me, son.

- Or what?

- You'll hang.

- You wouldn't.

- My hangman has got this tiny wee noose

that would fit perfectly around your neck

and he's just itching to test it.

- I was paid a pack of bellboys to stand there and be a lookout.

- A lookout?

But you were just approaching the morgue

when you were spotted.

- Had to bum a light.

- Oh, I see.

I'll tell you what:

I'll let you go if you can describe who hired you.

- I can even draw you a picture.

- Perfect.

- For a quarter.

(laughing)

- Let's see what we've got.

There you go!

I'll get you a pencil and paper.

(knocking on door)

- Dabney Firkser? Toronto constabulary.

We'd like a word.

(knocking on door)

Mr. Firkser!

This is your final warning!

And that's when I found Firkser at the flophouse.

From the looks of it, he'd been dead several days.

- So, we may be talking double murder.

Have you lost your mind,

telling my wife about the bordello?

- Can we finish discussing the Peterson murder case first?

- I've already solved the bloody Peterson murder.

Margaret is furious.

What were you thinking?

- I'd assumed you'd told her about the bordello.

And how did you solve the murder case?

- Have you met my wife?

Why the hell would I tell her about the bordello?

I solved the murder based on an eyewitness description.

- I found her, Inspector!

- I didn't kill Mick Peterson.

- But you admit that you desecrated his corpse.

- Yeah.

Sorry about that.

- So, you knew about the pearls.

(sighing)

- I caught Mick upstairs counting 'em.

He said he was gonna cash the pearls in to buy a house.

Then I said, "You got so many,

why aren't you giving me some of those?"

Which is when he gulped the whole lot down!

- Where did he get them? - He wouldn't say.

But after he was dead, I thought to myself,

"Bleedin' 'ell! Mick don't need 'em anymore.

Maybe I could buy myself a house."

- So, you tried to rob the corpse.

- Not my proudest moment.

- What about Dabney Firkser?

Did you kill him?

- Who?

- The man who supplied the oysters to Mother Malone.

- How could I kill someone I never met?

- "An anonymous source tells The Telegraph

that Mrs. Eleanor Pinch was not, in fact,

ill when she demanded cocaine from Dr. Julia Ogden,

unless one would call the depraved appetite

of a drug addict an illness."

Well, actually, I would call it that.

- So this at least casts doubt.

- Well, I don't care about that, William.

Patient confidentiality, on the other hand, is sacred!

Someone at the Women's Clinic has violated

all professional standards by leaking this.

- And do you know who that someone is?

- Unfortunately, yes.

I believe I do.

- Mr. Firkser was strangled.

- Have you established a time of death?

- I can't say precisely, but he was dead

at least four days before you found him.

- Well before Mr. Peterson's death.

- You think the same man killed both Peterson and Firkser, sir?

- It's possible.

Miss Hart, has your postmortem revealed any clues

as to our murderer's identity?

- Well, as the bruises indicate,

the killer was quite strong and strangled Mr. Firkser

with his bare hands.

And these distinctive indentations reveal

he was wearing several rings.

- So, our killer had strong hands and wore rings.

- I know someone who fits that description.

But she's all woman.

- You want me to do what?

- Wrap your hands around the clay and squeeze.

Like this.

(sighing)

- How's that?

- Let's try again.

And this time, stop when I say so.

- Hmm.

Arts and crafts day, is it?

- Just do it.

(sighing)

Enough!

As I suspected.

- You suspected that clay is mushy?

(chuckling)

Crackerjack work, pally.

- You killed Dabney Firkser.

The marks left on his neck match the indentations

caused by the rings on your fingers.

You strangled him to death.

- I hate a braggart, don't you?

- I find hate counterproductive.

- Well, la-de-dah, Saint Murdoch.

(chuckling) Anyhow, loudmouth Dabney

kept blabbing on about his precious pearls

and how much money he was going to make off of 'em,

and as I was saying, I hate a braggart.

But I love money.

So I stole them.

He caught me doing it and he attacked me.

- He attacked you? - Yeah.

So I strangled him to death in self-defence.

- We'll let the courts decide the validity of those claims.

So, you killed Firkser.

You then discovered that Peterson had stolen

the pearls from you.

So, again... (scoffs)

- Whoa, there.

I did not kill Mick.

He was annoying as hell, but a true kind soul.

Can't believe he stole from me.

I didn't think he had it in him.

- When we examined his dead body,

he literally had the pearls in him.

- Well, that could have been

why he was following me around all night,

trying to figure out where I'd hid them.

Lately, he'd been going on and on about, you know,

saving money to start a family.

And I'd say to him, "If that's the case,

why are you spending like a drunken sailor

at my oyster bar then?"

- And the last patient we'll see on our rounds today

is Mrs. Takahara.

- Who is... recovering from a Caesarian section.

- Yes. And I was thinking

that you could perform the examination.

- Oh, could I? - Mm-hmm.

(knocking on door) - Julia, you wanted to see me?

- Yes. Please come in and close the door behind you.

Take a seat.

- Oh. (sighing)

What's this?

- I think you know.

And I appreciate what you were trying to do

by giving that interview. - Interview?

- However, it was a violation of patient confidentiality.

Unfortunately, Margaret, I'm going to have to dismiss you

from your position here.

- But I didn't give any interview.

- I know you did it with the best of intentions,

but I just can't sanction that kind of behaviour.

- I did no such thing.

I am appalled that you would accuse me.

- If it wasn't you, then who, Margaret?

(sighing)

(door closing)

(sighing)

- So Mother Malone killed Firkser.

What about Peterson?

- She claims she didn't.

She says she didn't even know he had the pearls.

- Well, then, it's gotta be Madeline Tomkins.

- I'm not so sure about that.

- He said he was gonna cash the pearls in to buy a house.

- Lately, he'd been going on and on about, you know,

saving money to start a family.

- I quit working upstairs a while ago.

I'm strictly behind the bar now.

(chuckling)

(sniffing) Oh!

- So, who killed Peterson?

Madeline Tomkins or Mother Malone?

- Maybe neither one of them.

- Detective Murdoch.

What can I do for you?

- Miss Mackeen.

How far along are you in your pregnancy?

- Pregnancy? What are you on about?

- I think you know precisely what I am "on about".

This is an interesting device.

- It's a bung starter.

Used to open the whisky barrels.

- Also used to hammer shut oyster barrels

containing dead bodies?

- No, I don't know what you're...

- Why would you kill the father of your child?

- Mick Peterson?

Some father he'd have been.

Drunk and penniless.

Spouting phony declarations of undying love.

Then I see him following Mother around like a...

like a drooling pervert.

Canoodling with Maddie right under my nose.

- That made you angry.

- Furious.

So, I, uh...

I followed him upstairs to have a word.

He was all apologies.

"Oh, Diana...

I'm gonna marry you and buy us a house."

The liar.

I couldn't take the empty promises no more.

I lost my temper, and then I swung at him with my shucker,

but I didn't mean to kill him!

(crying)

- Not all of his promises were empty.

He could have bought you a house with the pearls he had.

- Pearls?

What pearls?

- That's excellent news. Thank you.

- I've brought you the inmate, sir.

- Thank you, Higgins.

- The inmate who's been locked up in a jail cell for days now.

- That's generally where the inmates are kept, Higgins.

- Locked up like an animal.

Eating jail food.

- Higgins, that's enough. Dismissed.

- Oh, can't I watch?

- Get out and shut the door!

(sighing) And put the kettle on!

- Yes, sir. - Have a seat, Constable Tucker.

I guess you know what I'm about to do?

- Please don't fire me, sir!

- Don't humiliate yourself.

- Please. I need this job.

- A constable needs to conduct himself

with dignity and integrity.

- I was drunk. I'm sorry.

Please, I'd never even been with a woman before that night.

I don't even know that I did it right.

- Jeez.

- Please.

I'll become a better man. I promise.

Please give me a second chance.

- It's not me you need to be begging to.

- What's she doing here?

- Waiting for an explanation as to why you were in our cells.

- What am I supposed to tell her?

- That's up to you.

(sighing)

- Thomas?

- Margaret.

- Oh. What's the occasion?

- I need to tell you the honest truth about that bachelor party.

I didn't know about the bordello when I took the lads there.

I was naive.

I'm sorry that I upset you.

- No, Thomas, I'm sorry for accusing you.

I know what it's like to be blamed

for something you didn't do.

I quit my job today.

- Why? What happened?

- Uh, sorry for the interruption.

Tom, may I have a word with your wife?

- Of course.

Ladies.

- I'm so sorry, Margaret.

I jumped to the wrong conclusion.

We won't be working with Millicent any longer.

- Ah. (chuckling)

- William.

- Hello, Julia.

- Is Susannah asleep?

- Down for the night. - Ah.

What's all this?

- You've been working very hard running the clinic.

Tonight, you should relax and enjoy some oysters.

- What a nice surprise. Are they raw?

- They are.

I've heard that oysters have aphrodisiac properties.

- Uh, I don't think that is scientifically proven.

- I don't either.

But we should at least test out the theory.

(chuckling)

(♪♪)