Original subtitles

[horse snorting]

[man shouting]

[man grunting]

[man shouting]

[banging]

- Good evening, sir. Looking for a little fun?

- Always. - No one will bother us if you'd care to join me.

We can do anything you want.

- Get your fucking hands off of her.

I told you you're not welcome here, Jack, so piss the fuck off!

- If this is a matter of payment...

- It's a matter of you being a sick fucking pervert.

- You should know that that walking stick is worth more

than your putrid, rat-infested, pathetic life.

A man does have a right to protect himself.

A woman does, too.

Except my girls can't against sick, rich bastards like you.

Stay away from my girls and boys.

Or I'll carve you.

[rattling]

[distant shouting]

[eerie music]

[Jack whistling]

[whistling continues]

[whistling]

[whistling]

[whistling]

[whistling]

[whistling]

- Not safe is this part of town for a...

young widow at this hour.

What are you hiding?

Might need to take a little peek...

...at that pretty face.

Although I don't know if it's gonna stay pretty...

...much longer.

Oh! Ah! [groaning]

Just let me go. I will disembowel you alive.

[exclaiming]

Wait. What are you... No. Oh, what are you doing? No, no, just... just stop.

That's it. Just... just stop. No, no, no.

Let me go. No! Let me go! Let me go.

Stop! No, no, stop! Stop! Leave me alone!

Set me free at once!

What are you doing?!

[panting]

[clanging]

[exhaling]

[grunting] [eerie soundscape]

[screaming]

[screaming]

[screaming and sobbing]

[screaming]

[bell tolling]

You know, it's not easy,

waiting here with this thing dripping blood and God knows what else beside you.

This thing has a name.

It's Alistair Simcoe.

- You told me he was called Jack.

- Society man wandering around this side of town, he'd go by an alias.

- Well, he wasn't fooling anyone with the Jack bullshit,

getting off on pretending to be Jack the Ripper.

Unless he was.

You remember that woman all chopped up years back not too far from here?

- Ah, no, they caught the sick fuck who trapped her...

Hung him up by the neck until it stretched out, right, Detective? Gah!

- I just don't understand. How does someone do that to another living being?

- Looks like her killer was using a double-bladed weapon.

Yeah, here and here.

Got the telltale pinching of the skin where two blades would meet.

Large pair of shears, I were to guess.

- Yeah, I think that was a moral question, Detective.

- And how did you happen across him?

I was with a fella.

He was going down the alley there,

and a lady in black raced past, all bloody and breathy.

- A woman? - Saw her with my own eyes. I did.

And I...

found him.

The alleyway is very dark.

How could you have possibly seen what she was wearing?

They was widow's weeds.

Widow?

Perfect name for a killer.

- But why did you call Mr. Simcoe Jack the Ripper?

- He'd get a hard-on carving up some of my working girls. Carved up their faces.

You ask me, he had this coming.

The fuck's lucky it wasn't me.

- I don't know if I'd call that lucky. - Outta' the way.

[huffing]

Glad I skipped breakfast.

- Wh-what was he doing down there? - Tsk. My selfless sister,

Venetia, has often ventured to the dark corners of the city

to administer to the needs of the downtrodden,

but only during daylight hours, of course.

Your dear, departed Alistair was a...

...a saint among men, to be down there at night.

Did he often venture to the Devil's Elbow?

Hmm? [doorbell ringing]

Ah... Oh.

You have a guest. I must be off.

Our half-sister arrives from Boston this very day. Remember, Regina,

Venetia and I are only three houses down if you need us.

- Mrs. Simcoe, I'm Detective Kenneth Rijkers with the Toronto Police.

- I'm afraid my neighbour, Viviana Botticelli, has already beaten you to it.

[sighing]

I'm so sorry for your loss.

- If my husband was down there...

...he was down there to help someone.

Someone in desperate need of it.

- Did your husband have any enemies?

Anyone that would have reason to murder him?

- He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. - That may very well be true--

It is the truth, sir.

My... my husband could not possibly...

have become the target for some kind of...

premeditated murder; he is...

He was an upstanding member of society, sir.

- Mrs. Simcoe... we want to catch who did this.

And that means asking some uncomfortable questions.

I promise we will catch them.

"The Widow is Here"?

"Is the Widow stalking the rich,

or have the poor of Toronto finally had enough?" Ah, bullshit.

Alistair loved mucking around in the gutter, the poor, stupid bastard.

Enid Jenkins keeps trying to fan the flames.

That Cockney bitch will need a reminder:

I own the Echo Tribune, not her.

- Would you like me to pay her a visit, Mr. Garvey?

- I'd like you to rip her fucking throat out.

Get your ass down to the Devil's Elbow, Queen's Chamber,

any dark corner where people sell their bodies.

Somebody killed Alistair, so...

...somebody will have to be dealt with.

[door opening] [barking]

- I got a licence. I own this property.

I pay you fuckers and that shit-stain Basil Garvey enough as it is already.

- If you're here to try-- - Mr. Crenshaw, that's not why I'm here.

There was a murder last night.

- There's a murder every night. - Yes.

But this was a john murdered down in the Devil's Elbow.

So?

- So he was a member of the upper classes.

Alistair Simcoe?

You knew him?

- Everyone knew that sick sadist.

Alistair did that to you?

It was his idea of a tip.

For my services.

- Was he charged? - A gentleman like that?

I banned that piece of shit from the Queen's Chamber for life.

We had nothing to do with his death.

- No? Because that looks like pretty good motivation for revenge.

- We were all here last night, Detective.

Got a bar full of patrons to verify it.

You do, huh?

Men who'll go on record about spending an evening in an establishment like this?

Hey.

I protect my girls and boys.

Queen's Chamber is a safe place for them and my clients,

and because of that, that demonic prick was reduced to hunting street walkers.

You want to know who might've wanted revenge against Alistair Simcoe?

Any of the cheap pimps and lost souls out there.

When you find out who it was...

tell me.

I'll buy them a fucking drink.

[neighing]

Whoa, whoa.

[horse snorting]

[whinnying and snorting]

[clucking] Yah!

Hello?

Hello?

Verdi!

[chuckling]

- [giggling] - Ah.

- My word. - Look how pretty you are. Prettier than your picture even.

- It is incredible to finally meet you

after the passing of our dear father.

Sisters united in grief.

- Let's get you inside, you poor dear.

You must be exhausted.

- Travelling all the way from Boston.

It is so good that you're here. [Verdi giggling]

- I hope Toronto isn't too provincial for someone as worldly as you.

Verdi, my dear?

Pardon. Uh... worldly, no.

Exhausted, however.

- Ah. - But you're here now.

The Botticelli sisters.

Finally together.

[laughing]

[background chatter]

[man clearing throat]

Hmm.

- Today, I will be performing a radical nephrectomy

for a patient who suffers from kidney disease.

Now, to get to the kidney, I must cut through muscle.

[gasping]

Oh.

Remove some perirenal fat.

Our patient enjoys his food and his drink.

- [laughter] - Ahem.

- Next, I must remove the ureter.

The tube that transfers urine to the bladder.

- She means piss. [laughter]

[laughter]

And once I've snipped...

...the last of the blood vessels...

[exclamations]

...I can remove the kidney.

[background chatter]

[woman gasping] [background chatter] - Wait.

Is that my...

- Looks like somebody dropped by for a visit.

- Is that my-- - Shhh... - My...

My... [background chatter]

[woman gasping] [laughter]

- [background chatter] - Nighty-night. [laughter]

No fingerprints or trace. He was alive at the start of the attack,

which began at his groin and continued up along his spinal column.

Most likely bled to death,

but not before suffering extensive damage to his internal organs.

- The knots that were around his wrists...

seem to be of a kind common in Japan... called the hayanawa.

How on Earth do you know that?

- I'm curious about detective work everywhere.

So our victim suspended,

incapacitated, like a butterfly on a mounting board.

Yes. Why?

- The victim's arms restricted, the killer could get to work with the shears.

- And what I find interesting about this is the attack. It's overkill.

- Not if you want to display the body on a horse post.

- Makes the murder-- - Personal.

The killer is strong.

Or very angry.

The anger could supply the strength.

- This isn't just a random murder.

The killer's sending a message.

- Bullshit. - Please, sir, hear me out.

The violence visited upon Alistair Simcoe,

it's... it's not random.

This is years of hate.

H-his body was put on a horse post--

- Because the killer wants to know if a horse post could fit in a man's ass.

Now we all know. He's a pervy, sick fuck, just like the rest of his kind.

Her kind.

Witnesses say they saw a woman.

- A woman? Tying a man to a wall,

giving him an ass extension up to the back of his neck? Come on.

Son, you've been newly promoted to detective,

so you're missing a little of the obvious. One:

You got a man with a history of slicing the faces of guys and gals he fucks.

Two: You got a lot of angry pimps and whores.

Add some booze and a dark, desolate street

and Mr. Fancy Pants winds up with a cave for an ass.

- Sir, I suppose I just don't see it that way. - Mm-hmm.

That's 'cause you're new, fresh. You think you gotta reinvent the wheel...

...when the wheel just keeps rolling through the same shit year after year after year.

- You wouldn't want us walking on the carpets, let along fuckin' in your beds.

- I'm inviting you. Please, come on.

What we do doesn't have to be a gutter trade.

- You want to know the biggest thing keeping me away from there?

- Pay me 10%. It's nothing. - See, you, I can handle.

It's Basil fuckin' Garvey.

We work at the Queen's. I'm putting money in his pockets, yeah?

- He owns the entire district. Can't buy a meal down here without giving him money.

- Leave. - Ah! Get your hands off of me!

- Hey! - Get off my street and maybe I will!

- Your street? What are you going on about, your street?

My boss sent me down.

- He doesn't own the fuckin' pavement!

- No. But he owns the walls you and your sluts fuck against.

- Hey, hey, hey, hey! Calm down! Calm down.

You can't force people off a public street.

Oh, really, Terrence?

You want to go back to Mr. Garvey and tell him that's what you think?

- That's what I'm talking about. Come to the Queen's Chamber-- - You can fuck off.

Yeah?

And you can fuck off.

And so can Basil Garvey.

'Cause we're no longer gonna be taking crap from you rich bastards.

You hear me? Us street rats are rising up!

So why don't you run off to your bastard,

and you tell him that if he keeps this up,

I'm gonna have my fist so far up his fuckin' ass

that he'll be licking his own shit pipe when I'm done with him.

[thug chuckling]

- You're gonna be sorry you said that.

Yeah... we'll see.

[thug snorting]

- It's for Daisy. [man]: Go on, get off of here!

[distant shouting]

- [sniffling] - Hmm. Maybe you aren't ready for the Queen's Chamber.

That was a mistake.

[background chatter]

[crickets chirping]

- Your bedroom, it's-- - My Shangri-La.

Isn't it... otherworldly?

Yes, truly.

Tell us, sister ours,

do you have a dress befitting a night full of magic?

- I have the one I arrived in. A-and another one very much like it.

Oh, that will not do.

No, it will not do at all. No, no.

Hmm. [gasping]

This, however... [Venetia gasping]

...will make you positively...

incandescent.

Oh, yes! Yes.

[laughing] You'll be the belle of the ball.

We're going to a ball?

Even better.

- Mm. [giggling]

- His bullheadedness is putting his boys and girls in grave danger.

- It's not our problem. - I've worked those streets for years.

- And then you built this pleasure dome.

And when Horatio winds up spread-eagled with a hot poker up his ass,

his boys and girls will flock to us

and we'll get them at a bargain.

Win-win.

Please.

You don't build a business like this without thinking like that.

You're not a saint and neither am I.

That's the nature of our bond.

You didn't perform last night.

Oh.

So...

so where were you, then?

Every lady has her secret.

- Georges Rondeau is an evil occultist!

He is a Satanist who cohorts with the dead!

God sees it and God will punish all who condone it!

And he smote the men of Bethshemesh,

because they had looked into the ark of the Lord,

over 50,000 men, simply for looking at what was not theirs to admire!

And you would risk this for entertainment?

We believe you will entertain demons in hell...

[woman]: Yes. [man shouting]

- I'm sure our friend over there has strayed from the path of righteousness

at least once in his life.

Every man has. Trust me.

- Would you think ill of me if I told you even I have had impure thoughts?

- Viviana, my dear, I've encountered them before, remember?

And I hope to again.

- You can have every last thought of mine, good sir. - Oh.

- All you have to do is get down on one knee... and ask me to marry you.

I'll be back momentarily.

- Where's our sister? - Talking to an eligible bachelor.

His father's in the pork trade, which, of course, is déclassé,

but he's richer than sin, a perfect match.

- And you'll make it clear that we require compensation for any love connection?

- Ah, can't happen soon enough. Selling Papa's Chippendale desk was a bolt through my heart--

- Shh-shh-shh. Here she comes.

- My sisters, what a glorious evening.

I'm so lucky. I can't imagine a better way to be introduced to society.

- Of course. And perhaps you might find your Prince Charming.

- Perhaps you already have. [chuckling] Mr. Garvey,

may I introduce you to Verdi Botticelli,

our youngest sister, newly transplanted from Boston?

- Verdi, this is Basil Garvey, the most prominent man in--

- No, no, no, no. I'm but your humble servant.

And so very pleased to meet you.

- And I you, Mr. Garvey, I'm sure.

My sisters speak so very highly of you.

- Oh, I don't know how they've managed to keep you such a secret.

You Botticellis really are...

a trove of treasures.

Would you permit me to escort you both...

into the theatre?

[chuckling]

- I can't believe we're actually seeing this...

[overlapping chatter]

[indistinct chatter]

...I can only hope

[gasping]

[soft music]

[shushing]

[audience cheering]

- Greetings, worthy supplicants to the darkest of arts.

Welcome, timid hearts and frightened souls.

If you doubted coming here, it's too late.

If you feared what I might do to you,

it is already done.

You are under my power

and ready to receive that which you so secretly crave.

Welcome...

to the...

underworld.

[audience gasping] [applause]

[gasping] [applause]

You're perfectly safe, Verdi.

[exclamations] [delighted laughter]

- [laughter] - Oh!

[audience gasping]

- We don't know what might happen here tonight.

The forces I work with are... peculiar... and deadly.

[sinister music]

[audience murmuring]

No one is immune to the danger in this world,

as I'm sure the rich men in this city are now only too aware.

[man chuckling] Ah, well.

While they all nurse their tender backsides...

...let us begin with a ceremonial bloodletting,

as I take my dear assistant, Shanika...

...and saw her in half!

Dark agents...

abide by the rules of life and decency.

I've never used this saw before.

[groaning]

[panting] The last one broke on my previous assistant's bone.

- Jeez! [screaming] [audience exclaiming]

[screaming]

So I made sure this one was very...

[grunting] ...very...

[screaming] ...sharp!

I cannot bear to witness this!

- [Shanika sobbing] - It's just a magic trick, my dear.

That's the thing about magic.

It comes... at a great cost.

Shanika.

My dear.

My beauty.

Oh, what have I done?

Gone.

And all my fault.

- Oh. - Ah...

[gasping]

Thankfully...

I possess the power of Osiris.

I shall restore her...

...at great cost.

[groaning]

[groaning]

[reciting incantation]

[incantation continues]

[incantation continues]

...to life!

[audience exclaiming]

[exclaiming]

[audience cheering]

[applause] [wild cheering]

Magique, mes amis.

Magique...

...pour vous.

[sinister music]

Needles.

You have a fetish, Detective?

I don't think so.

- I'd hate to have to tell Superintendent Kashtinsky that I suspected that.

- I was certain there had to be some sort of clue on the body. - You don't trust my work?

Uh... no.

No, that's not it. I....

I can have a hard time letting go of things.

I obsess.

Our friend had a lot of vices.

- Not unusual in those who frequent sex workers.

Right there.

You feel that?

What do you suppose that is?

[grunting softly]

[exhaling]

Oh.

Quite unique, Detective.

You realize that?

[panting softly]

[groaning]

- The boa-constrictor knot...

is a secret of the Egyptian royal family.

[groaning]

There are only three people who have managed to escape it... ever.

[groaning]

[strained]: Two of them...

eventually died... from its mysteries. [panting]

- Sir. - One... - Shhh.

...muscular consort...

- Shhh. - ...of the queen...

of the Ptolemaic Kingdom itself...

[whispering]

...Cleopatra is said

to have witnessed his beautiful head...

[panting] ...constricted until it popped right off

and landed in her lap. [groaning]

- If it gets too scary, just close those beautiful eyes of yours.

So if I die...

[groaning] ...its dark secret

dies with me

and my severed head.

- Sir, we found this in Alistair Simcoe's body.

- I don't need to see everything shoved up his ass. - Just read it.

- "Alistair was first, one of many.

The other gents will bleed from wounds aplenty.

Friends of Margaret...

...are my target."

- I can head to the Simcoe residence first thing in the morning.

You'll go there now.

- Sir, it's late. Mrs. Simcoe's in mourning.

- That maniac is out there, free as a bird.

I don't want them taunting us and lining up their next kill.

On the double, then, sir.

Report back whatever you find.

- Any update on Alistair's murder?

We don't know just yet.

But one thing is clear.

Things are very dangerous for people like us.

- People like us? What do you mean?

- People who were there that night...

[distant barking] ...12 years ago.

- Why could this not wait until morning? - My apologies, Mrs. Simcoe,

but I wouldn't have come if it wasn't important.

We found new evidence on your husband's body.

On his body?

- It begins, "Alistair was but--" - I prefer to read it myself.

- Well, there's... there's bloodstains on it, Mrs. Simcoe. You...

- I can make neither heads nor tails of it.

Who's Margaret?

- Well, I was hoping you could tell me.

- I've never ventured inside my husband's office before.

[creaking] It's like I can feel him.

[door closing] Like Alistair is in here with us.

Right beside me.

I've been told I have the gift.

[dissonant music]

Well, this is a revelation.

[gasping]

- Mrs. Simcoe-- - If you continue to presume yourself

to be of stronger mettle than me, I will ask you to leave.

[rattling]

- I don't have a key. - You won't need one.

- What a truly wondrous evening! However did you learn all those tricks?

And all those lovely people wearing such finery!

I've never experienced such an enchanting evening in my entire life!

- [exclaiming] - Enchanting?! I think you mean bewitching!

Like how you tried to bewitch Basil Garvey and steal him from me!

- I did nothing of the sort. - We opened our doors and our arms to you.

Our hearts! And this is how you repay us? How you repay me?!

For replacing your flea-bitten clothes with one of my gowns?!

Basil's the man I love. He is promised to me!

And he will see through you, because his love for me is pure!

His love for me is pure.

- I swear to you, sister, I have no designs on Mr. Garvey. - I see through you, you viper!

You cast off my dress like a serpent sloughs off its skin!

[Verdi exclaiming] Go!

[exclaiming]

And let me not see you anymore this night!

- I... I swear to you, Venetia, our sister has misconstrued things.

I would never try to steal her true love.

Wouldn't you?

No, that's not who I am.

And who are you, Verdi? Truly.

Our father's illegitimate daughter, the spawn of a whore.

Your blood is tainted with hers, which is why on his deathbed, our dear father sent you to us.

So that Viviana and I might forge a virtuous woman out of you.

So that you might become worthy enough to be betrothed to a man of your station.

Drape yourself over me.

What?

Disease requires medicine.

I have the cure.

That's a good girl.

There's hope for you yet.

[crying out]

Oh, no.

We're only getting started.

[exclaiming]

[background chatter]

[distant barking]

- Hey, how's about I plant Toronto's biggest oak

in that sweet ass of yours in exchange for a bank note or two?

What? Too girthy for ya?

- [laughter] - Is it really as large as you say it is?

♪ Daisy Daisy

♪ Give me your answer do [laughter]

♪ I'm half crazy [Daisy screaming]

♪ Over my love of you ♪

[Daisy laughing]

[distant barking]

[distant shouting]

Unless you're here to have a good time,

and pay for it...

I suggest you and your friends... fuck off.

Rats.

Fuckin' bastards.

[roaring]

- Well, at least I know Alistair left everything to me in his will.

- [Rijkers sighing] - My apologies, Mrs. Simcoe.

It seems I've kept you up for no reason.

- No. No, you had a very good reason.

Unfortunately, Alistair is being of no help from beyond the grave.

[sighing]

Hmm.

They're the same size.

- What are the same size? - The cab drawers.

They're the same size...

...and yet

this file doesn't fit.

A false bottom.

[sinister music]

[intense music]

- Margaret Mehar. [dramatic music]

[woman screaming]

I need to take this.

- Of course. But what does this all mean?

- I'll tell you as soon as I know.

[roaring] [grunting]

[grunting]

[groaning] [crying out]

- We gave all you scum a warning, but you wouldn't listen!

[grunting] [groaning]

[Daisy roaring] [man crying out]

Let go! Fucking bastard!

[screaming] [groaning] [crying out]

[screaming] [grunting] [crying out]

[whistling] [grunting]

Daisy!

You murderous bastards!

[moaning]

Oh, Daisy.

Hey.

Daisy.

[soft music] [slow drumming]

He killed her.

That rich bastard Basil Garvey killed her.

He killed my Daisy.

[sobbing]

You're here to cleanse this godforsaken city, huh?

So forget about the small-time fucks like Alistair Simcoe and kill Garvey.

[sniffling] He's the source of all evil.

Kill him.

Oh... Daisy...

You're too good for this world.

Oh...

[grunting]

Subtitling: difuze