Original subtitles

Ready?

I'll take care of it as soon as we get back.

Thank you, William.

Are you sure about this?

We could always cancel.

No, the Psychiatry Conference was planned a year ago.

Some time away from home may do us both good.

Besides, I'm rather excited about engaging in debate

on the Keeley methods for rehabilitating inebriates.

I'm rather excited to hear you speak about it.

Dr. Julia Ogden.

Thank you.

His throat's been slit.

No sign of residual blood, though.

That's curious.

He was found in a bathtub at the House of Industry.

That explains it, then.

Thought you two were taking some time off.

We've decided to take a later train.

I'm afraid circumstances intervened.

So who's this unlucky bloke?

A resident of the House of Industry, it would appear.

A pauper, then.

Yes, but trim beard, sound teeth.

Look at his hands.

Soft, well-manicured.

Hardly destitute, then.

Anybody can fall down on their luck, Murdoch.

Here's something. Look at this.

01-0342...

19 FP.

What does it mean?

I'm no detective, but I think it might be a clue.

This is where we found him.

Rather gruesome sight.

Not a lot of privacy.

Someone must have seen something.

We found him after the men had retired for the night.

You're welcome to ask around, but I should warn you,

the men here have little trust in the police.

Who was he?

His name was Jefferson Brick.

According to the register, he arrived two weeks ago.

Where was he from?

I have no idea.

He did his work, received his meal and bed,

just like all the men here.

Did anyone here have it in for Mr. Brick?

I wouldn't know.

The men here keep their own counsel.

Like convicts.

Our residents are not criminals, Inspector.

They're destitute and friendless

and have learned to trust no one but themselves.

For all we know, they could be Christ among us,

come to test us.

'Course.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

There was a man found dead in the baths last night.

A man by the name of Brick. Did either of you know him?

No.

Well, I'm told that you both slept near his bunk.

You must have talked to him on some occasion.

I had no reason to.

Nor me.

Something else we can help you with?

They won't talk to you.

And you will?

I didn't say that.

How about a name?

John Dempsey.

Did you know the dead man, Mr. Dempsey?

I slept in the next bunk.

What can you tell me about him?

He snored.

Snored.

William, it's almost 3:00. We'll need to get...

You don't want to go?

Julia, a man's been murdered.

I-I don't feel right turning my back on the investigation.

I understand.

I'll go on my own.

Are you sure it's wise to be alone right now?

I'll be fine.

Taking some time apart might be good for us.

I'll see you to the train station.

No.

I'll manage.

Goodbye, William.

Take care.

I'll tell you, Higgins,

that House of Industry is a sad place.

Could you imagine toiling all day just for food and a bed?

Well, at least they're not starving.

Well, even slaves don't starve, Henry.

What's your point?

Oh, if you have to ask, I can't possibly explain.

Well, this ought to cheer you up.

"City facing growing rat problem."

Below that.

Banana split.

They split a banana lengthwise.

With ice cream, topped with pineapples and nuts.

And then they drizzle the whole thing

in a thick chocolate sauce.

My God, Henry, this could be the best concoction ever conceived.

They're selling them down at the Beaches

until their banana supply runs out.

Really?

Crabtree, in my office.

All right, then. What have you found out?

Sir, unfortunately, very little.

None of the men there wanted to speak to us,

even the friendly ones.

Not easy for a man down on his luck to trust anyone,

much less a copper.

Ah, Murdoch, I thought you was off with the missus.

Sir, I've decided to stay on.

Well, then take some time off.

Go home, invent something. It'll make you feel better.

If it's all the same, sir,

I believe work will help to focus my mind.

I know that getting back to it

has always helped me in times of trouble, sir.

So, what do we know about the dead man?

Unfortunately, not very much, sir.

I've been through city records.

I can find no mention of a Jefferson Brick.

Perhaps he's from out of town.

Or simply using a false name.

Jefferson Brick.

- Why does that somehow seem... - Familiar.

I felt the same way, sir, but I've been through city records.

Jefferson Brick simply doesn't...

- "Martin Chuzzlewit"! - Right!

Chuzzlewit? Who the hell's that?

It's a Charles Dickens novel, Sir.

Of course it is. Never heard of it.

Well, sir, it's not one of his better-known novels

but very good, very underrated.

Then why are we discussing bloody Dickens?

Sir, Jefferson Brick is a minor character in that novel,

a war correspondent, if I remember correctly.

So we know the man was trying to hide his identity.

But why an obscure character from an obscure novel?

Perhaps he was reading the book at the time.

Either way, all we really know

is that we don't know his real name.

Seems we're at a dead end, sirs.

Not necessarily, Crabtree.

We know that he wasn't used to hard labor

and we know that he didn't want anyone to know who he was.

Sounds to me like he was hiding out.

You could be right, sir. The question is, why?

And did whatever he was hiding from find him?

Hurry up, Higgins, or they'll be sold out before we get there.

We're taking the motorcar, George.

Yes, but we'll only be as fast as the wagon we're stuck behind.

Good day, Miss James.

Is that your car out back?

- It is, indeed. - Really?

Is that so hard to believe, Miss James?

Yes.

Well, I suppose you won't be wanting a ride in it, then.

Well, that depends on where you're taking me.

As a matter of fact, we've just found out about

a new ice cream concoction

that's a big hit out in the Beaches.

We're driving out to give it a try.

It's called a banana split.

Bananas. How exotic.

It's a combination of ice cream.

And cut-lengthwise bananas.

Topped with things such as pineapples and nuts.

And then they drizzle the entire thing

in a thick chocolate sauce.

My mouth is watering already. What are we waiting for?

Now, we have to remember to get one for Jackson.

He was very keen on the idea of the banana split.

Well, by the time we get it back, it'll be a banana soup.

The key ingredient is ice cream.

Would they even let you take the dish with you?

That's a good point, Miss James.

Oh, my God, Higgins, you've hit somebody!

It wasn't me!

Oh, no. Oh.

You've killed him! You've killed him!

He's not dead. He's just had the wind knocked out of him.

Are you all right, son?

- Are you hurting somewhere? - No, he's not all right!

Get your hands off my boy!

This wasn't our fault, you know.

He wasn't looking where he was going.

What's your name, son?

Ewan Gallagher.

Oh, Lord, my poor boy.

Can you walk, son?

- Oh, Lord! I need a doctor. - Ma'am, ma'am, I'm a trained...

You people keep away from him. You've done enough harm already.

- Higgins, give me your money. - Why?

Just give me whatever money you have.

We should give her something for a doctor.

My banana split money.

Ma'am, please accept this and our apologies.

You could probably make a bob or two if you sold this thing.

Kept the man nice and quiet.

I promised that I would send his things along, sir.

I have to tell you something, Murdoch.

You're a damn good man.

Not many people would have given up that child.

He already has a father. What choice did we have?

Some people would have made a choice.

Inspector?

Sorry to intrude, but my name is Edmund Sheppard

of Saturday Night magazine.

Whatever it is you're selling, we're not buying.

No, no, I'm not soliciting.

I'm here to report a missing person.

One of my writers has disappeared.

That's him. Cal Graveman.

What a damnable shame.

How did he come to be in the House of Industry?

He was on assignment.

To write about the poorhouse?

To report on conditions,

treatment of the men, that kind of thing.

Why not simply go in as a reporter under his own name?

You can't write it if you haven't lived it.

How did you know that something had gone wrong?

Cal never missed a deadline.

He was supposed to be back this morning, story in hand.

But you didn't hear from him.

No.

Well, he was in communication, in a sense, up until last night.

How do you mean?

Cal didn't like to carry notes when he was undercover,

lest they be found.

So he was sending himself telegrams,

reminders of details meant just for himself

in his own sort of code.

I'm afraid it doesn't mean a thing to me, gentlemen.

You have no idea how the code works?

I know some.

It's just Cal's own shorthand, abbreviations,

dropping vowels and the like, nothing systematic.

Well, I'm afraid without a system,

he would be the only one who could decipher it.

This here's the last telegram he sent, from Tuesday evening.

It's got things in it that Cal would use regularly.

"W-t-n-s 2-b-b-6-1-5-p."

Can't help you on that one.

But this bit here... "x-2-F-P?"

Well, "x-2" is what he'd use for "connection to."

Then he's got a question mark after, so he's wondering...

If something is connected to FP.

And we've got an "FP" in the code on his hand, as well.

I'm sorry to ask the obvious question, Mr. Sheppard,

but have you any idea what "FP" could mean?

Not a damn clue.

Are you sure you want to do this?

Mr. Graveman was investigating something.

I want to put myself in the same place and see what he saw.

What he saw may have got him killed.

I'll endeavor to not meet the same fate, sir.

Next.

- Your name? - Henry Weldon.

- Have you been here before? - Never.

Your occupation?

Lumberjack.

Are you willing to work?

Oh, yes, sir. I want to earn my keep.

I've just fallen on hard ti...

No explanation of your circumstances is required,

but you will need to be deloused.

Oh, I haven't got lice.

That's what they all say.

The fumigating room is up the stairs.

Remove all your clothes and place them in the box provided.

Next!

Your name?

These your boots?

Yours if you want them.

Belonged to a dead man.

That's his bed you're getting into.

What happened to him?

Why do you care?

Wouldn't you?

They found him in the bath with his throat slit.

Where were you when that happened?

I was sleeping. I'm a heavy sleeper.

Who was he?

Called himself Jeff Brick, but that wasn't his real name.

How do you know that?

Because he was a greenhorn pretending he wasn't.

Like you.

I never said I wasn't new to this.

So what is your story?

I fell on hard times.

Everyone here fell on hard times.

You married?

I was.

- Where's your wife? - She left me.

Kids?

I had a son.

He died?

He has a different father now.

That's tough.

I'm sorry.

So why would someone want this Jeff Brick dead?

I don't know.

I'm guessing it was someone who didn't like all his questions.

Put 'em down.

They belonged to a dead man.

They belong to him now.

Next time you pull a knife on me, you better use it.

I thought you were a heavy sleeper.

[ Scoffs I I wasn't sleeping.

Thank you.

So, what kind of work am I in for?

Anything the city needs.

Breaking rocks for gravel, mainly.

What about the sawmill?

Who told you about the sawmill?

There was sawdust in the laces of those boots.

A man called Riley has a sawmill in the Don Valley.

He comes to us for extra labor when he needs it.

I thought we worked for the city.

What do you care? He pays... 50 cents a day.

That's cheap labor for Mr. Riley.

Who cares? We get free room and board.

Attention, fellas.

Mr. Riley needs six strong men today.

That's seven. I said six.

I was a lumberjack.

- Any mill work? - I was a sawyer, too.

You'll do. Get in the wagon out front.

What about me?

Next time. All right, that's it.

You'd best mind your place in the queue.

Brick didn't. Look what happened to him.

My face has been itching me all day.

How often do you sharpen your razor, Henry?

On the first Sunday of every month.

You sharpen your razor once a month?

Dear God, man, that would be like shaving with a spoon.

I don't...

Henry, look.

- Look, it's that boy. - Wouldn't want his luck.

Struck by a motorcar twice inside of two days.

Oh, Higgins, he hasn't been... We've been had.

They're queerplungers!

Conniving little bastard. I'll kill him!

- Hey! - Hey!

Let's go!

Hey!

We've been made fools of, George.

It's time for us to turn the tables.

Well, that's rest time. 10 minutes.

You worked up a sweat yet?

How do they get away with this, using us for private labor?

Everybody gets paid. Everybody's happy.

Till someone complains.

Not something I'd advise you to do.

Who's that?

It's Mrs. Riley.

Looks like your work is done here today.

What do you mean?

She likes the handsome ones.

And the new men, like Brick.

For what?

Odd jobs.

You, uh, ever done any handyman work?

As a matter of fact, I have extensive...

Get in the carriage.

Sir, this just came in from Station House Five.

Apparently somebody reported seeing a body being buried

in the Don Valley just north of Pottery Road.

Why aren't they following it up?

They say it's our jurisdiction.

Lazy sods.

Talk to the man who made the report.

Sir, the report was anonymous.

Telephoned in from the Gerrard Street exchange.

Well, we're not digging up the entire Don bloody Valley.

Find out if anybody's been reported missing.

Sir.

You men work so hard.

My husband can be very demanding.

We appreciate the work, ma'am.

I appreciate the work that you men do for me.

My husband's never up for it.

Over there.

The doors just don't close properly.

Oh. Well, the bottom hinge is loose.

I just need a screwdriver.

I'll fetch one when we're done.

Mrs. Riley.

Please, call me Candace.

Now, now, don't.

No one says no to me.

Not if they know what's good for them.

Candace? Where are you?

- Oh, not again. - Again?

Hurry, get in there.

- Go, go, go, go! - But I...

What are you doing?

What does it look like?

01-0342...

19 FP.

What are you looking for?

Where is it? It's in the study.

What? No, it's okay. Just stay here and come to bed.

I found it.

Looks like we're gonna be busy tonight

for a while.

Whoo! Mr. Riley.

FP. What does it mean?

I have no idea, but it clearly meant something to Mr. Graveman.

Speaking of which, look at this.

Courtesy of Station House Five.

A body seen buried north of Pottery Road.

That's close to the Riley sawmill.

Look at the date and time the report was made.

7:52 p.m.

The night that Mr. Graveman was killed.

Now look at the telegram that Graveman sent himself.

7:54 p.m.

The telegram and the telephone call came from the same place.

Mr. Graveman called Station House Number Five.

"W-T-N-S."

Witness to body being buried at 6:15 p.m.

N...

North of Pottery Road Bridge.

Police Station Five notified.

Helps when you know what it's saying before you translate.

And then, of course, "Connection to FP."

This is why he was murdered, sir.

He saw who buried the body.

What does "Chall" mean?

C. Hall?

I imagine there's more than one C. Hall in the city, Murdoch.

I'll get Crabtree to check them out.

If we can figure out who FP is, sir, we can solve this murder.

- I should be getting back. - Be careful.

Graveman had knowledge that cost him his life.

Now so do you.

Whoa, hey, hey, hey!

What are you doing?

There's a copper in there.

So?

Are you in trouble with them?

Let's just say I've had bad luck with them in the past.

What the...

You two hiding from anyone?

If we are, it's none of your business.

You should have seen him Tuesday afternoon.

Copper showed up, he bolted.

Didn't even come back for his pay.

Same copper inside?

No.

Different one.

I know this guy. Constable Frank Peakes.

Comes by regular-like.

He's gone.

Sir, I'll tell him straightaway.

Inspector.

That was the detective.

He wants you to meet him at Riley's sawmill.

Right.

Also, sir, I did some looking into it.

There are eight people in Toronto

with the last name Hall and the first initial C.

But then I was also thinking "C Hall" could mean City Hall.

City Hall. Never thought of that.

But why use the full name Hall and not City?

I don't know.

- Sir. - What do you know?

Sir, we just had a visit from a Constable Frank Peakes

of Station House Number Five.

FP, sir.

Ah, and you think...

It occurs to me that using workhouse men

for personal advantage

may not have escaped the attention of the police.

And you think that Frank Peakes

is taking money to look the other way?

It's possible.

Even if he is,

what's the connection to the Graveman murder?

I don't know, and I don't think Mr. Graveman knew, either.

He wrote "connection to FP" with a question mark,

implying that he was merely speculating.

And we're only assuming that FP is, in fact, Frank Peakes.

That's true.

I'll have a word with him, get his measure.

Thank you, sir.

And also, please have George look into John Dempsey.

Any outstanding warrants.

He seems unduly wary of the police.

There he is. Ewan Gallagher.

You've killed him. You've killed him!

Are you all right, son?

He needs a doctor!

How will I ever afford a doctor?

My poor boy!

Thank you.

- Now! Now, now, now, now, now! - Hey!

- Hey, stop! - Stop!

Unhand me!

Settle down.

I know you.

Yes, I've got you now, you little guttersnipe.

Be still.

Please, sir, let go. I'm hurt.

Yeah, that won't work on me this time, Ewan.

No, sir, I'm terribly hurt.

I must see a doctor straightaway.

You know, if you keep these shenanigans up,

you really will hurt yourself. You'll injure yourself badly.

I know you're right, because that's what's happened.

Really?

Well, make no wonder, doing something so foolish.

All right, let's get you off to a hospital.

You're the nicest policeman I've ever met.

I'm not being nice.

I'm a good judge of character.

Hey, get back here!

You won't get very far! We've got your mother!

She's not my mother!

What? Aah!

Come on.

Inspector.

Constable Frank Peakes.

I was told you wanted to speak with me.

Come in.

I've heard that you dropped by Riley's sawmill

- up by Pottery Road today. - That's right.

And you were there a couple of weeks ago, as well.

What of it?

Did you notice that Riley's been using House of Industry men

at the mill?

Why would I?

Using city workers for personal gain is illegal.

I'm sure that Riley would pay to keep that quiet.

Are you implying that I'm on the take, sir?

You seem to be going there pretty often.

I was there two weeks ago to check on code violations.

I went there today to look for my beat partner.

He's been missing for three days now.

And you thought you might find him at a sawmill?

Well, it was on his beat.

And three nights ago, we received an anonymous report

of a body being buried in the vicinity.

What's the name of your partner?

Robert Hall.

Constable Hall.

Crabtree.

- Sir. - Where have you been?

Sir, the boy got away,

but Higgins is putting the mother in the cells now.

What are you talking about, "the boy"?

The boy from when Higgins and I were queerplunged

on our way to get our banana splits!

- Queer... - Sir, queerplunged.

Tricked, conned, scammed.

Sir, queerplunged.

You're probably wondering about John Dempsey, sir.

I am.

Station Five issued an arrest warrant for him three weeks ago.

What for?

For beating up one of their coppers.

Did you speak to Constable Peakes?

Bugger Peakes.

He was at the sawmill looking for his partner, Constable Hall.

C. Hall.

Apparently the mill's on his beat.

He's been missing since Tuesday.

You should have seen him Tuesday afternoon.

Copper showed up, he bolted.

Didn't even come back for his pay.

Dempsey wasn't seen around the mill

after Constable Hall's visit.

Do you want to deal with him now?

No, no. In the morning.

You're a copper.

A bloody copper.

Don't move.

John Dempsey, you're under arrest

for the murder of Cal Graveman.

Who?

Jefferson Brick.

I never killed Brick.

Why would I kill Brick?

Because he witnessed you burying the body of Constable Hall.

What?

He saw you, Mr. Dempsey.

He gave a full account to Station House Number Five.

Brick was no witness.

I was the witness.

You?

I called the police.

I told them I saw a body being buried.

Then why did you attack me?

And why did you run this afternoon?

I thought you were here to kill me.

Why would I kill you?

That copper who came by today?

He was the one I saw burying that body.

That's far enough.

I'm telling you. I swear, I'm the witness.

You saw a policeman burying a body?

I didn't know he was a copper until he came by earlier today.

Hey, you!

Get out.

You leave the premises, or I'm calling the police.

I am the police.

I'm Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary.

I'm acting under orders of Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.

Now, I need you to telephone Mr. Brackenreid

at Station House Number Four

and have him meet me at the Riley sawmill.

And you, get up.

- Why? - You're coming with me.

You're going to show me where that body is buried.

I thought you said it was in a shallow grave.

It was.

Are you sure this is the right spot?

Yeah. No, I'm sure.

Look, I'm telling you the truth. You have to believe me.

I believe you.

Peakes must have come back and moved the body.

He had to have.

He knew he'd been witnessed burying the body.

So he knew that if it had been found,

it would be examined for evidence.

Right.

Question is, where did he move it to?

There.

Traces of blood.

They sawed up his body?

Why not just move the body somewhere else?

Because once we had discovered

that the victim was a police constable,

we would have dug up the entire valley looking for the body.

But a body is still a body whether or not it's in pieces.

That depends how small the pieces are.

Where's the wood chipper?

In the basement.

Let's have a look.

You'll get your chance to see the chipper, Detective.

Just not the way you intended.

Constable Peakes.

So, you're the fellow who reported a body being buried.

All this time we thought it was Brick.

Is that why you killed him?

I didn't kill nobody.

I killed Brick.

Wardell just pointed him out.

You should have minded your own business, Dempsey.

What about Constable Hall?

He stuck his nose in where it didn't belong.

Much like the two of you.

Well, thank you, gentlemen, for your confession.

You're both under arrest.

In case you haven't noticed, Detective Murdoch,

we're the ones holding the axes.

Dempsey!

Look out!

Everybody stop!

No! Aah!

Bloody hell.

Is that Frank Peakes?

It was.

Who's he?

Sir, this is John Dempsey.

He's with us.

And that is Mr. Wardell, Constable Peakes' accomplice.

Well, Mr. Wardell.

Consider yourself lucky you're only under arrest.

You saved my life, Mr. Dempsey.

I'm sorry that I ever doubted your character.

Thank you very much, Mr. Weldon.

Detective.

Though I gather you did assault a police constable

some weeks back.

Well, that copper was roughing up a shopkeeper

for no good reason.

I stepped in.

- You hit him? - Only after he hit me.

Where will you go next?

Maybe up north.

Got a cousin up by Lake Simcoe.

Maybe I'll head back to the House of Industry.

Maybe I'll get invited inside by Mrs. Riley.

If you are looking for permanent employment,

I could see to it that you get accepted into training.

As?

As a police constable.

You have great instincts.

And you were willing to put yourself at risk

to report that murder.

I don't know that I belong here.

Well, at any rate, I thank you for your aid.

And if you are ever in need of a favor, my door is always open.

Constable Francis Peakes.

Such a shame.

I always thought he showed such promise.

According to Riley's files,

Peakes had been taking money for years.

I imagine you'll be paying Station House Five a visit.

I already have.

I can assure you his colleagues know nothing of his actions.

Except the one he killed.

Constable Robert Hall.

Young man, only on the force a year.

Their inspector believes Hall learned of Peakes' corruption

and was going to turn him in.

So only Peakes was involved?

The constables at Station Five are good men.

I groomed many of them myself.

You've heard the same one about apples, surely.

I wouldn't put too much stock in a tired old adage like that.

How much stock would you put in the adage,

"A fish rots from the head"?

What are you implying?

I'm not implying anything, Chief Constable.

I'm telling you straight out, if there is rot, it stinks.

And I've got a damn good nose for it.

Perhaps you're a little overworked, Tom.

Good day, gentlemen.

Sir, that was dangerously close to insubordination.

Station House Five was his station, Murdoch.

Are you telling me he didn't know anything about this?

I'm sure your suspicions are accurate.

The question is, what are you going to do about it?

I don't know.

But I'm going to do something.

I can't believe you let him go.

I thought the boy to be truly hurt, Henry.

All he does is pretend to be hurt, George.

- It's his profession. - Well, he's awfully convincing.

I think it's to Constable Crabtree's credit

that he gave the boy the benefit of doubt.

Well, if we gave every criminal the benefit of the doubt,

we'd never arrest anyone.

I'm not disagreeing with you there, Henry.

The boy is a menace.

He should be locked up. I'm still limping here.

At least you caught the woman.

That's a good point, Miss James.

Oh, would you look at that?

We're about to enjoy our first banana split.

All is good, Henry.

What? Oh, for Pete's sake.

If we'd only got here earlier.

Maybe if you hadn't been limping.

Oh, my God, it's him! It's that little scallywag!

You, come back here!

Get back here!

Get...

Henry! What are you doing?

Go! Go! Go! Run! Run! Let's go!

Come on!

Julia.

When did you get home?

Minutes ago.

The conference was such a whirlwind.

How did you get on with your case?

Oh, it turned into quite an adventure, actually.

I'm quite exhausted. I'm so glad to be home.

It's still here.

I-I'm so sorry. I completely forgot.

I'll take it out first thing in the morning, I promise.

Should we go and see his father?

Yes. Yes, we should.

But maybe not yet.

If that's all right?

Of course.

I'll check the mail.