All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries s17e04 Bottom of the Barrel.eng

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

- I'd never!

Oh!

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

Thank you.

- Ah! Well, hello!

Welcome to Shuckers.
They call me Mother.

What can I do for you?

- Table for six, please.

- 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.

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!

- 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.

Go on, Higgins!

- 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.

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

a little bit more upbeat?

I love when you play for me.

- Oh, you're good.

Hey!

You gib-faced oaf!

You need to pay for my drink!

- Tucker, that's enough!
Sit down.

Pay the man for his beer.

- Oh, shucker girl!

Another round
for the oyster king!

More respectable,

you were saying, sir?

- Shut your trap, Higgins.

All right, boys!

It's gobblin' time!

Who will take the crown?

Ha-ha!

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!

- 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!

- Henry, see to it
that Constable Tucker

does not leave the premises.

- You want me to guard
the washroom, sir?

- Yes.

- Fine.

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.

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.

- 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.

- 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.

- 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?

- 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.

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.

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.

Ah! Toronto Constabulary!

Open up!

Police! Halt!

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

Oh, sir, look.

Blood.

- 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?

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?

I barely know their faces!

They all look the same to me.

And I wasn't up here.

Ask anybody.

- 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.

- 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 fianc�e?

- 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 fianc�e.

- 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?

- 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?

- 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.

- 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.

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.

- 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.

- Is someone here?

Hello?

- Hey, you!

What's wrong?

Isaiah!

- Violet!

Are you all right?

- Yes, just a bit shaken.

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

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.

My husband took his constables
to a bordello!?

- 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.

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.

- 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?

- Good afternoon,
Miss Mackeen.

- Is it?

- You're unwell?

- Just a touch
of the bottle ache.

- Comes with the territory.

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

Fix you right up.

Thank you, Mother.

- Mm-hmm.

- Oh!

- 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.

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.

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.

Now if you'll excuse me?

- 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.

- Let's see what we've got.

There you go!

I'll get you a pencil and paper.

- Dabney Firkser?
Toronto constabulary.

We'd like a word.

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.

- 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.

- 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.

Enough!

As I suspected.

- You suspected
that clay is mushy?

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.

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...

- 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.

Julia, you wanted to see me?

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

Take a seat.

- Oh.

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?

- 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.

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!

- 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!

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.

- 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.

- 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.

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