All language subtitles for Queens.of.mystery.S01E05.Amzn-web-NTb.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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NARRATOR: A car can reflect
many things about its owner.

A sense of playfulness.

An extension
of one's personality.

A simple need
to transport oneself

as quickly and conveniently
as possible.

For Eleanor Stone,
mother of Matilda Stone,

registration LGH 202D

reflected a sense of freedom
and independence

that was so missing
from other areas of her life.

So it was unfortunate, then,

with Eleanor's
mysterious disappearance,

that LGH 202D came to reflect

the painful reminder
of a loved one lost.

Three, two, one...

Unable to part with their
sister's beloved chariot,

Beth, Cat, and Jane Stone
made the decision

to reunite LGH 202D with
Eleanor's daughter, Matilda...

...on her 17th birthday.

And so, despite reflecting
many things

about the Stone sisters
over the years...

...to Matilda Stone,

LGH 202D has always reflected
one thing.

Subtitles by explosiveskull

Nearing his 67th year,

renowned thespian
Sir Lawrence Shaw

was certain he was just
48 hours away

from a triumphant opening night
of a play

he had not only adapted,

but in which
he'd also modestly cast himself

in the leading role.

iDetective Inspector
Henry Lambert for Dr. Tyrell.

Can I ask what it's regarding?

We have received report
of an escaped inmate.

But watching
the latest dress rehearsal...

At the Macbeth Institute,
we prefer to call them patients.

...crime writer Jane Stone...

...had yet to be convinced.

What the hell was that?!

Almost gave me
a bleeding heart attack!

Must you overreact every time
something unexpected happens,

you stupid girl?

- House lights!
- Yeah.

URSULA: Okay, everybody,
take a tight five.

Uh, Fiona, can we take another
look at those electrics?

That's the third blowout
this week.

Yeah, no problem, boss.

It's not going well, is it?

BETH:
Technical gremlins.

All shows get them
before opening night.

You don't think it's because of
the Scottish play.

Oh, come on, Jane.

You of all people can't believe
all that "Don't say 'Macbeth, '

otherwise it will bring
bad luck" mumbo jumbo.

But we do seem to have had
more than our fair share.

Poor Kenneth.

He must be regretting
backing a show with Mac...

the Scottish play in the title.

It's Ken's theater.
He knows what he's doing.

Anyway, the council
are funding it, not him.

Maybe I shouldn't have sold
Sir Lawrence

the stage rights to my book.

I mean, look who is writing
an article all about it.

SIR LAWRENCE:
...remember her damn words.

Quentin Glover.

SIR LAWRENCE: How long
have you had to learn this?

He's never once written
a kind word about my books.

No, nor mine.

Look, everything's
going to be fine.

You've still got a couple
of days before you open.

Plenty of time to iron out
any more technical issues.

SIR LAWRENCE: You have
no dedication to the craft.

AMY: I'm sorry.
I'm trying my best.

SIR LAWRENCE: Trying and
succeeding, dear lady,

are two very different things.

And I'll be
in my dressing room.

- But we haven't finished...
- Amateurs, the lot of you!

Sir Lawrence is not the most
generous of actors, is he?

Right.

Blanche, take a break.

I'll play Lambert.

Ian, Amy, we'll take it
from the top of page 30.

Didn't you used to have a thing
about him when we were kids?

What was that poster you had?
Was it "Richard III"?

- "King Lear."
- That was it.

Hey, look, you're single,
he's single.

Why don't you ask him out
on a date?

Maybe you should mind
your own business.

Excuse me.

What's got her knickers
in a bunch?

It's coming up
to the third anniversary.

Of Robert's death.

Oh.

Archiving, Stone.

I need you to archive
our old files,

cross-referencing them
with the police database.

Don't just stand there, Foster.
Bring in the rest.

There's more?

Yes, Stone.

I don't mean to bore you,
but 90% of policing is admin.

What Inspector Thorne
wanted to say next was...

I was like you once.

Young, brave, fearless.

But this job,

holding back the darkness
so others can live in the light,

takes its toll.

Makes you...

...less than you thought
you were.

But what
he chose to say was...

I'm golfing
with the A.C. today,

so no disturbances
unless absolutely necessary.

- Do I make myself clear?
- Sir.

Thanks.

Ugh.

It's an interesting piece.
Quite...

Best limit yourself
to 200 milligrams a day.

Pardon?

Maximum daily intake
recommended caffeine

during your first trimester.

You're mistaken.
I'm not pregnant.

A midwife for 25 years

and widow of
the late Dr. Robert Doyle,

Beth Stone was rarely wrong

when it came
to matters of childbirth.

Trust me.
I know what I'm talking about.

Excuse me.

Sorry about
the whole date thing.

Oh, forget it.

I'm sorry I was short.

I'm just worried about
Jane's play.

Oh, don't tell me you believe

all this "curse of Macbeth"
nonsense as well?

Of course not. It's just
it seems so beset with problems.

It's this place.
It's been underfunded for years.

No wonder it's falling apart.

I've just had some great news.

We're moving theaters?

Kenneth Ridley says
advance sales

are much greater
than expected.

He said
it's to do with Sir Lawrence

persuading you-know-who
to come out of retirement.

Even after all these years,
people still want to see

Sir Lawrence and Dame Blanche
on stage together.

I saw their
"Antony and Cleopatra" in '86.

The chemistry was undeniable.

Was that after
their first or second divorce?

Oh! I've got to call my agent.
She will be delighted.

You do realize
Jane's gonna be crushed

if that little toad's article
isn't positive.

Quite honestly, my dear, they were
appalling. Did you see the show?

I'd love to know
what he's writing about.
Wouldn't you?

Well, he doesn't appear to have
his famous purple notebook
on him, so, um...

You keep him distracted.

I'll meet you in the pub
in 15 minutes.

DAME BLANCHE: Darling, as soon
as Larry sent me the script,

I knew I had to do the play.

CAT:
Quentin Glover.

How's my least-favorite
arts correspondent?

Aren't you going to
introduce me?

Blanche, this is Cat Stone.

Lovely to meet you.

It's great to meet you too.

She writes.

Cartoons, isn't it?

Graphic novels.

So...

What's the gossip?

Half a shandy please, Erica,
and a bourbon, straight.

Bit early for that.

Dutch courage
for when we tell Jane

about Quentin Glover's article.

No need.
His notes were positive.

Oh.

In which case, Kenneth Ridley
is wasting his money.

There's only two things
that come in brown envelopes.

Bills and bribes.

So Kenneth Ridley's
bribing Quentin Glover

to write a positive article
about the play?

What else can it be?

A sort of, uh,
dystopian steampunk.

Oh.

The man with him...

I recognize him from somewhere.

- Cheers.
- Thank you.

Ah!

What?

I just don't know
what to think anymore.

Ursula, Sir Lawrence
is asking for you.

I'm sorry, Zoe.

Zoe, please.
Zoe, come back.

I'm sorry.

He, um...
He said it was urgent.

When isn't it?

There are moments
in a person's life where,

however virtuous they may be,

a temptation presents itself
that is too great to resist.

And opening her mother's
missing persons file

was one such temptation.

Mm.

Hello, Mattie.

Do you remember
the name of the officer

in charge of Mum's case?

Yes.
Chief Inspector Bryant.

But he died years ago.
Why?

No reason.
I'll see you tonight.

Oh...

SIR LAWRENCE: ...surrounded
with idiots. I cannot...

URSULA:
I will kill you!

How dare you?!
She's 18 years old!

How could you do that
to her?

And this is how you repay!

You have no morals at all,
you disgusting old man!

I've given you
five years of my life!

What's going on?

- Shh!
- Shh!

Ursula and Sir Lawrence
are having a set-to.

Oh, what about?
No one can make it out.

But it sounds like she's finally
giving the old goat what for.

She's coming out.
She's coming out.

AMY: Go, go, go. Quick.
Aah!

Everything okay, Fiona?

Inspector.

We weren't expecting you back
so soon.

Any luck finding
our missing patient?

Oh, we found him, all right.

But he's dead.

And now you're supposed
to say, "Dead? How?"

And then I reply, "Old age,"
which would be fine,

except I've discovered
he was only 25.

It's one of my character's
biggest moments.

I'm sorry. I-I thought
you still had another line.

Honestly, you really are
the worst actor

I've ever had the misfortune
to share a stage with.

Yeah.

Well, if I'm so bad, why did you
cast me in the first place?

Because your uncle only agreed
to back my play

if I gave you the part.

However cruel,
Sir Lawrence's remark

about Amy's Uncle Kenneth,

owner of
the Corn Exchange Theatre,

had an uncomfortable
ring truth to it.

Was that really necessary?

If you're not happy here,
dear boy,

I wish you every success

in finding
gainful employment elsewhere.

Amy.
Amy, wait up.

Okay.
Everyone take a loose ten.

Was it something I said?

Why did you tell the kid
about Inspector Bryant?

FIONA: Excuse me.

Herbal tea?

Uh, Fiona darling,

could we talk about my lighting
for the fourth scene?

Mm, yep.
Okay.

Right...

Well?

I know.
I'm sorry.

She caught me off guard.

But Bryant's been dead
for years.

What harm can it do?

Although she had
never seen them herself,

Matilda was aware
of three pieces of evidence

connected to her mother's
mysterious disappearance...

a hastily scribbled haiku,

a Bulgarian cigarette,

and a solitary black feather.

Matilda hoped that by locating

and examining
the items personally,

they might offer up
some small clue

as to what happened
to her mother

on that sunny July afternoon
24 years ago.

For the second time that day,

Matilda would
find herself disappointed.

But only temporarily.

A solitary black feather.

What is this abomination?

Roy, is that you?

Gilda.

I'm afraid D.S. Roy
is a little indisposed.

You?

I'm sorry it had to
be like this, Inspector.

I was starting to like you.

Should there be
so much smoke?

After years of research

we've finally discovered a way...

...to reverse the aging proc...

I'm sorry!
It's all this smoke.

Fiona.
Cut the smoke.

Fiona? Oh!

Keep going!

Uh...

But first, to restore someone...

Oh, stupid girl,
get out of the way.

But to restore
someone's youth,

years must first be stolen
from another.

He's stealing Amy's lines.

Some call it a sixth sense.
Others, intuition.

But Beth Stone had
an uneasy feeling

that Sir Lawrence's performance
was to be his last.

The Macbeth Institute is a front
for an age-rendering facility.

A fountain of youth
for those with deep pockets

and shallow morals.

Now he's ad-libbing.

The opportunity to live
as a god.

Light without darkness.

Birth without conception.

Existence without fear.

Life without death.

Look out!

Aah!

TERRY: Matilda.

Your Aunt Jane's
on the phone.

There's been an accident.

Although murder
was never pleasant,

Matilda was at least able to
find comfort in the knowledge

that it brought her
into contact

with Wildemarsh's resident G.P.
and pathologist...

- THORNE: Sergeant?
- Dr. Daniel Lynch.

Sergeant.
Witnesses?

Sorry, um, just my aunts.

Your aunts have a habit
of being in the wrong place

at the wrong time.

Without wanting
to state the obvious,

death was most likely
the result of a heavy object

falling from a great height,

namely this sandbag.

Accidental?

I had a chance to examine
the sandbag

before Dan...
Dr. Lynch arrived.

- It's been cut.
- Yes, sir.

This wasn't an accident.
It was murder.

Murder?
But we open in two days.

You can have your stage back
when we're done with it.

I want no stone unturned,
Stone.

I want whatever
severed that rope found,

and witness interviews
conducted with everyone

who was in the vicinity at the
time of Sir Lawrence's death.

And, yes,
that does include your aunts.

But that is to be

absolutely their
last involvement with this case.

Sir.

I'll need somewhere private
to conduct the interviews.

No one leaves
until I've seen them.

Okay.

If you could state your name
and connection to the theater.

Dame Blanche Chastain.

I play Dr. Tyrell.

Yeah, Kenneth Ridley.

Theater owner
and the show's producer.

Quentin Glover.

Arts correspondent
for the Wildemarsh Watchman.

Amy Austen, leading lady.

Fiona Hutton, stage manager.

Ian Winterfield.

I play Detective Sergeant Roy,

and I'm... or at least I was...
Sir Lawrence's understudy.

And where were you
when Sir Lawrence was killed?

Where was I?
Resting in my dressing room.

Here, working in me office.

Answering a call of nature.

AMY: Onstage.

Not that anyone could see me
with all that smoke.

Uh, backstage.

Having a secret ciggie
out the back.

Were you alone?

Yes, quite alone.

No, no, just... just me.

Of course!
What are you insinuating?

Yes.
I always work alone.

What was your relationship
with the deceased?

DAME BLANCHE:
Our relationship?

I'd like to think
that he still loved me
in some small way.

Uh, purely business.

His name on the playbill
sold a lot of tickets.

We were friends
for more than 40 years,

and I never heard
a bad word said against him.

The man was a pig.
I hated him.

I didn't really know him.

I try and keep away
from the actors if I can.

- Odd sort.
- He was my mentor.

Taught me everything I know.

What does Sir Lawrence's death
mean to you?

In an odd way,
it's as if a part of me

died with him on that stage.

His death could
seriously affect ticket sales.

It's an incalculable loss
to the industry.

Hopefully I'll get to play
opposite someone nice now.

The show will still go on.

The theater's future
depends on it.

Sleepless nights
is what it means.

I'm now lumbered with opening
the play as iD.I. Lambert,

and I hardly know
any of my lines.

Did Sir Lawrence have
any enemies you can think of?

I couldn't help but overhear
someone shouting at him

through my dressing-room wall
earlier today.

I did hear a rumor
he had blazing row

with someone after lunch.

A little bird
did tell me that he

and a certain someone
crossed swords today.

I'm glad she stood up to him.

If you're asking me
for a name...

Yeah, I have a pretty good idea
who did it.

- Who?
- Who?

- Ursula Pittman.
- Ursula Pittman.

Ursula Pittman.

- Ursula Pittman.
- Ursula Pittman.

Ursula Pittman.

He's still looking for
whatever cut the rope.

I don't think
we should be doing this.

- Mattie wouldn't like it.
- We're only trying to help.

Mum?

Yes, I've got
my thermals on.

No, the ones
Aunt Edith bought me.

I don't have the ones
you knitted.

I told you, they itch.

Hang on, Mum.
I've got bad reception in here.

I'll go outside.

She's doing her
"What would I do

if I were the killer?" thing
again.

I know where it is.

You directed
all of his plays?

Sir Lawrence insisted on it.

I was the only one who would
put up with his tantrums.

Yet you and Sir Lawrence
were heard arguing earlier.

Care to tell me
what it was about?

Now he's gone, I suppose there's
no harm in showing you.

Follow me.

Sir Lawrence refused
to admit it,

but he was getting old.

And that caused a problem?

He couldn't see or hear
what was going on half the time.

He'd be out of place
or miss his cues,

and then he'd blame
whoever was nearest.

And your argument?

I told him it was time
he started wearing his glasses

and hearing aid onstage.

Matilda?

We found this backstage.

Oh.

Sir?

Stone, what's happened
with the knife?

- The knife?
- Yes, Stone.

- Yeah, I sent to forensics.
- Your aunts again.

- They found it by accident.
- Interfering as usual.

- Thorne.
- No, they know better than that.

- It's a crime scene.
- They weren't looking for it.

- I'm golfing today.
- You're playing golf?

- Again?
- Yes, Stone.

- Don't disturb me.
- Yes, sir, I understand.

Only if strictly necessary.

Sir.

Do you want a lift
to rehearsals?

Oh, yes, please.

Are you two joining us?

- No, I'm gonna be writing.
- Mm, yeah, me too.

You're aware I promised
Inspector Thorne

you wouldn't get involved
in this one?

And we won't.

Swear.

Okay. Bye.

Mm.

Didn't want to say anything
in front of Jane...

...but have you seen this?

It's Quentin Glover's review
of the play.

Ouch.

Oh.
What's happened now?

He said I have the
stage presence of a cricket bat.

- Who?
- Quentin bleeding Glover!

Oh, but that's just rude.

It was meant to be
a soft feature piece.

You know,
to drum up interest.

Now people
are asking for refunds.

- Oh.
- Amy okay?

He mentions you by name.

Oh, yeah?

"We can only be grateful
the part of D.S. Roy was mute,

as the quality of
Ian Winterfield's body language

was so poor,

one could only imagine
what he would do

to the English language."

The little weasel.

To hell with Quentin Glover.
Mm?

You're the leading man now, Ian.
You can save this show.

I know you can!
Huh?

Where are you?

He must have written that
before Sir Lawrence was killed.

But Glover's notes
were positive.

And he accepted a bribe off
Kenneth Ridley, little creep.

Maybe Glover was
double-crossing him.

I think we ought to take
a closer look at Quentin.

Glover's car
is still in the drive,

so he can't have left
for work yet.

And what's the plan
when he does?

Telling Matilda about the bribe
won't be enough.

She'll want proof

that Glover
was planning on writing

a positive article
about the play.

Mm.

Which means
getting hold of that

precious purple notebook
of his.

You mean steal it?

No. It's only stealing if we
don't intend to give it back.

Do we intend to give it back?

I haven't decided yet.

One thing that was decided

was that the world
would never again witness

the famed onstage chemistry
between Sir Lawrence Shaw

and his former wife
and longtime co-star,

Dame Blanche Chastain.

Come.

Dame Blanche?

Oh. Sergeant.

Oh, uh, come in.
Come, please.

Ah.

Oh, you must forgive me,
Sergeant.

It's poor darling Larry.

Oh!

I still can't believe
he's gone.

Your last divorce
to Sir Lawrence,

was it acrimonious?

I didn't kill him, if that's
what you're thinking.

Oh, we might have wished
each other dead at times,

but we never stopped
loving each other.

He wouldn't have offered me
this part otherwise.

This is your first stage role
in a while, isn't it?

In over a decade.

Good parts are hard to find.

If you'll excuse me, Sergeant,

what with everything
that's happened,

I'm terribly behind
with my correspondence.

I'm still getting fan mail
every day.

I owe it to my public
to reply.

Despite the different
handwriting,

Matilda noticed
that the letters

all bore
the same postal mark.

The decision whether or not to
point this out to Dame Blanche

was taken
out of Matilda's hands when...

Excuse me.

Aunt Beth.

BETH: Mattie,
we're at Quentin Glover's.

AMY: Aaah!

I think you need
to get down here.

What are you doing?!

See what happens when you make
a cricket bat angry?!

Aaah!

My car!

MATILDA: You'd better be gone
by the time I get there.

Oh.

Ecch.

QUENTIN: Yes.

Yes, I'll hold.

It's a free press,
and I will not be intimidated.

If we can go inside,
I can take a formal statement.

I do not have time
for this.

I'm late for an appointment
as it is.

Hello.

Y-Yes.

I need a recovery vehicle.
Immediately.

Meanwhile, Jane Stone
was pleased that,

during her great declutter
of 2011,

she decided not to throw away
the chemistry set

her parents bought her
for her seventh birthday.

Your uncle's on his way.

I'm sorry about the car.

I promise I'll pay
for the damage somehow.

Even so, Mr. Glover may still
want to press charges.

I don't know
what came over me.

I was just so angry.

You're thinking,

if I can get this angry
over a bit of bad press,

maybe I'm capable
of killing Sir Lawrence.

Are you?

Sir Lawrence was a pig.

But starring opposite him
in this play

was gonna put me on the map.

Why would I jeopardize that?

Excuse me.

Aunt Jane, you'd better not
be getting involved

in this case as well.

I found this in the bin
in the theater's canteen.

Fiona Hutton.
The stage manager?

I saw her flushing something
down the sink

the day
of Sir Lawrence's murder.

And then this morning
I spotted a tablet

on the floor
beside the sink.

Put these on.

Go on.

And stand well back.

The red flame proves that
that tablet contained lithium.

It's what they use in fireworks
to make them red.

It's a mood stabilizer,
isn't it?

Mm.

Terry?

So forensics
have found a set of prints

on the knife
they found at the theater,

of someone
on the police database.

Who?

TERRY:
Fiona Hutton.

She was arrested 20 years ago
for GBH.

Interview between
D.S. Matilda Stone and Fiona Hutton.

P.C. Terry Foster
is also present.

I used to have these manic bouts
as a teenager.

Drinking made it worse.

And the GBH charge?

On one occasion I hit someone.

It's what led me to being
diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

I stopped drinking immediately.

The doctors prescribed me
lithium as a mood stabilizer.

Since then it's kept
my condition under control.

So why stop taking
your lithium?

You need to tell me
the truth, Fiona.

I can't help you otherwise.

It all started
with your Aunt Beth.

Best limit yourself
to 200 milligrams a day.

Why?

Maximum daily intake
of caffeine recommended

during your first trimester.

First chance I had,
I bought a pregnancy test.

I told the father.

He wanted nothing to do with me
or the baby.

Said he didn't want
the publicity

of becoming a father
at his age.

And that I should
get rid of it.

Sir Lawrence.

For all his faults,
Larry could be quite charming

when he wanted to be.

I know I don't seem
the maternal type,

but I've always wanted
to have kids.

It just never happened.

Till now.

There's no way
I'd ever get rid of it.

And your bipolar medication
isn't compatible with pregnancy.

I flushed the lot,
just to be safe.

Then coming off my meds so
abruptly must have messed me up.

I blacked out.

I found myself
coming 'round backstage.

I heard all this commotion
going on.

I saw my utility knife...

and the cut rope...

and I panicked.

I hid the knife, hoping to
come back for it later...

except...

My aunts found it first.

I didn't cut the rope,
I swear.

- So why hide the knife?
- You don't understand.

I thought if I told the truth
about my illness,

about me blacking out,

that people would jump
to the conclusion that I did it.

I couldn't take that risk.

I couldn't face
having my baby in prison.

Before you blacked out, what's
the last thing you remember?

Um...

getting myself a herbal tea
from the canteen.

Why?

Righty ho.
Here's the receipt.

Okay.
There's the car keys.

Does he have his notebook
with him?

BETH:
Doesn't look like it.

- Taxi for the theater, sir?
- Yes.

Hurry up!

NARRATOR: Despite the heroine
of her Iris Freeman novels

picking locks
on a regular basis,

Beth Stone had never
actually picked one herself.

Where's Jane
when you need her?

Oh, hello.

Brace yourself.
It stinks of lavender.

MATILDA: I don't believe
she's the murderer, sir.

Fiona Hutton had the means,
motive, and the opportunity.

But the only evidence we have
are fingerprints on a knife

which she readily admits
she owns.

And her claiming to have
blacked out backstage.

I've asked Dr. Lynch to run
a toxicology test on her blood.

Occam's razor, Sergeant.

The simplest solution
tends to be the right one.

- Think on it.
- Sir.

Beth.

Not now.
I'm busy.

You're gonna want to
see this, kid.

You'd better have a good reason
for being in here.

We saw Quentin Glover
taking an envelope

of what looked like cash
from Kenneth Ridley

the day Sir Lawrence died.

But Glover's article
slated the play.

CAT: Exactly.

Which is why we
let ourselves in.

But that's
not why we called.

Look at this.

It's a shrine
to Dame Blanche.

He's clearly
obsessed with her.

Well, obsessed or not,

it won't stop Inspector Thorne
throwing the book at us

if he finds out we've been
in here without a warrant.

- We won't tell if you don't.
- And I found these.

Dozens of fan letters
to Dame Blanche

made out
in different handwriting.

Explains why all her fan mail
had the same postmark.

And it gets weirder.

Quentin Glover and Dame Blanche
were married?

I think I need a word
with Mr. Glover.

Unfortunately
for Quentin Glover,

someone else
also wanted a word.

And that word was "murder."

Hello?

Sure this is where
you want to meet?

Agh!

Help me!

You have [GROANING]

Line! Line.

"You have to set me free
before she comes back."

IAN:
Sorry, sorry.

You have to set me free
before she comes back!

Before she comes back!

Amy?

Amy!

Are you planning on making
an entrance anytime soon?

- I can't see her.
- Right.

You check the canteen.

I'll look
in her dressing room.

I'm looking for Quentin Glover.

The Wildemarsh Watchman's
waspish arts correspondent,

Quentin Glover...

Quentin?

...always believed the pen
was mightier than the sword.

But little
did he ever consider the former

being successfully used
as the latter.

Subtitles by explosiveskull