All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S15E10.WEBRip.x264-BAE

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Mr. Denison, how does it feel to
receive the Joseph Skratz award?

Absolutely wonderful. Thank you!

In many ways, Skratz and
I are one and the same.

Skratz was a pioneer, a
journalist with gumption,

dead set on taking down
the corruption in this city.

With my cartoons, I dare
to carry on his legacy.

That's why they call me the
most hated man in Toronto.

The ego of that man.

Comparing himself to Skratz.

Thank you for inviting me to this.

As I recall, you invited yourself.

Well, when you mentioned
it at volleyball,

I thought what a perfect opportunity

to pursue funding for
the women's clinic.

Relentless as always, Doctor.

I prefer pleasantly persuasive.

Who will be your first victim?

Councilman Rekker from
the Board of Control.

Rumour has it he's an easy sell.

Good. Wish me luck.

- Mr. Rekker? It's wonderful to meet you.
- Oh!

Charmed. Um, who may you be?

- Dr. Julia Ogden.
- Ah!

And you're here to ask me for money.

I'm here to ask you to change lives.

Cherry, did you really publish

that anti-viaduct drivel yesterday?

Don't start with me, Fox.

You know, for the life
of me, I can't understand

why you'd be against progress.

Because some things are
more important than money.

Since when?

You know, that sentimentality
is unbecoming, Cherry.

It has nothing to do with that.

I'm on the side of the people.

Trying on some new shoes, are we?

Miss Cherry, who's your friend?

Dr. Julia Ogden, this is Kole Fox.

Kole Fox, Dr. Julia Ogden.

- How do you do, ma'am?
- Charmed, I'm sure.

Fox and I worked together at
Skratz's first printing press.

- He was our mentor.
- He's a genius.

The world of journalism hasn't
been the same since he retired.

Is he here today?

He sailed for Kuala
Lumpur two years ago.

Fox, have you heard anything
from Skratz since he left?

The favourite pupil hasn't
even received so much

as a postcard from her beloved mentor?

I guess he didn't like
you as much as he put on.

What is going on with you two?

- What do you mean?
- He likes you.

Don't be daft, Julia.

Your wicked cartoons
have ruined my life!

You see what I mean.

You think this is a joke?

- My life is ruined!
- Correction, you've ruined yourself.

Your life would still be in order

- had you not been corrupt.
- How dare you!

Ladies and gentlemen,

may my tongue be ever
sharp and my pen ever swift.

Make sure to favour my right side,

it is more flattering.

Oh, goodness.

Mr. Denison?

Dear God!

Mr. Denison?

Mr. Denison? Hold on. Hold on!

- Please step aside.
- He's through here.

Miss Cherry.

It seems he was shot through the neck.

From this angle, the bullet would
have nicked his carotid artery.

And that would explain why
he bled to death so quickly.

Do you know of anyone who'd
have wanted to hurt him?

It would be easier to ask who didn't.

As Denison loved to say, he was
the most hated man in Toronto.

He had a political cartoon column
in the Toronto Sentinel Newspaper.

Quite scandalous.

Yes, I know of that one.

Has Toronto all a titter
on a regular basis.

No one has gone in, or out, since.

So, whoever killed him
is still in this room.

George?

Sir.

Bring them in.

- All of them, sir?
- All of them.

Sir.

So, it's true. You're the one in charge.

Who are you? How did you get in here?

Please, just a moment of your time.

I have but one question.

Ask the question and I'll
decide whether I answer. Miss...

Miss Cassiopeia Bright.

How did you get where you are?

- I'm not sure what you mean.
- You are like me,

but yet have achieved all of this.

All of what?

Your job. Your position.

Hard work.

Things are not so simple
for us. You know that.

- I'm not sure I can help you.
- I've worked hard all my life.

A university education, top marks.

I've opened two businesses,
both have closed.

And yet you have it all.

- There must be something else.
- What do you want from me?

Nothing, I just want to know
how you got what you have.

If you're suggesting that I
have done something nefarious.

I certainly am not.

But now that it's been mentioned...

I'd be pleased if you
would leave, Miss Bright.

My mistake.

I'm required to attend events like this

due to my position as
city councilor, so, uh,

I presented awards to
the winners. That's all.

Had you ever met Mr. Denison?

I'd heard of his cartoon, but
I'd never met him before today.

Were you ever the target
of one of his cartoons?

Of course not.

But a few of my colleagues
have been rightfully lambasted.

What were the effects of the cartoons?

They destroyed my construction company.

Denison was targeting me.

Look at this.

Now everybody believes I cut corners.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

I've lost all my government contracts

and I'm not being considered
for the new viaduct project

that's being talked about.

Perhaps you wanted Mr. Denison to feel

some of the pain that you were feeling?

I just wanted to thump
him up a bit, not kill him.

Anyway, I was dragged
to the back of the room

before I could even raise a fist.

At any rate the bad blood
between the two of you was clear.

An occasional dust up
between colleagues, at most.

We work for the same publication,
which his father owned.

- So, you had no reason to want him dead?
- Of course not.

Crying shame, this business.

You know, he may have
been a rich blowhard,

but I admired his work.

He was a clever chap
who never backed down.

- You respected him?
- I wouldn't say that.

I didn't know the man at all.

I was sent by my publisher
to cover the function

and that's the long and short of it.

You're both journalists.

He's a cartoonist.

Still... You two really have never met?

I've never laid eyes on
him before in my life.

So, Detective,

are you going to arrest me?

No, Julia, this is a formality.

I do have to follow procedure

- and ask you a few questions.
- Of course, I'd expect no less.

But should I not be in handcuffs?

Julia.

Do you recall which
direction the shot came from?

William, I would have
told you at the time.

Why were you at this event?

I went with Miss Cherry. I
couldn't pass up the opportunity

- to champion the women's clinic.
- Oh! And?

I was able to get Councilman
Rekker to agree to help.

- So, a success then?
- Yes.

Well, except for the murder.

Detective Watts, how do you do?

- Oh, Mr. Strange.
- Please, call me Milo.

Well, then, feel free
to call me Llewellyn.

A magnificent name.

Like a Celtic deity descended upon us.

Oh, I assure you I am
but a bumbling mortal.

I so enjoyed our last encounter.

We are overdue for an encore.

Yes, I'm sorry I haven't
gotten back to you.

- Things have been busy.
- No matter.

Have you heard about the Mahler concert?

- He's touring his...
- 7th Symphony.

Of course, Mahler's
compositions are so rich!

- Romantic.
- Unmatched!

I've been trying to get tickets
for weeks, but it's impossible.

Well, that settles it.

Would you like to accompany me?

Absolutely! I wouldn't miss it.

It's a date.

How's it going, Murdoch?

Not much headway, I'm afraid.

I've sent Henry to help
George find the gun and bullet.

- No sign of either?
- Gentlemen.

Bourbon?

Scotch.

Too peaty for me.

I'd take a Maker's
over that stuff any day.

I don't like the face on that one.

A little bit too sleeky for me.

He is quite easy on the eyes.

Julia, please. You're like
Cupid if Cupid was a mosquito.

Ladies!

Have you finished with
your witness statements?

- Here's mine.
- Very good.

Very good.

Oh! Ms. Cherry, you've
neglected to sign yours.

Oh, bother. Can I borrow a pen?

Oh!

- There you are.
- I'll see you this evening?

Yes.

Oh! Miss Cherry, you've taken...

Hm.

All right, remember, Higgins:

we've got to find the
gun and the bullet,

so look everywhere. They've
got to be in here somewhere.

Well, this is hopeless.
How are we supposed to find

- a tiny bullet in this room?
- Just start looking.

You know, Higgins, I
was wondering if, uh...

I think I might introduce
Effie to my family.

You don't have a family.

Ah, yes I do! Higgins, my aunts!

Aren't most of them on the lam?

Oh, perhaps two of them.

Or perhaps three of them.

I think there's a warrant out for Fern.

Again.

Higgins.

Have a look at this.

"R.S.D. third."

It belonged to the victim.

"Evening Cartoon" with
today's date on it.

It's empty.

This envelope must have
contained the next cartoon

- to be published in the paper.
- And somebody stole it?

Possibly Mr. Locke to prevent
the cartoonist's next attack.

Do you think he murdered
him to get to the cartoon?

- It's a strong possibility.
- Sirs.

There's a new cartoon in the newspaper.

The missing one?

Very likely.

But that's not Mr. Locke.
It's Councilman Rekker.

And is that who I think it is?

Councilman Rekker with
Mrs. Corinne Abbott.

The mayor's wife?

Bloody hell. The randy old dog.

Looks like you've got your
prime suspect, Murdoch.

Well, I'm here, Murdoch.
This better be important.

Councilman, did you know
that you were the target

of Denison's next cartoon?

Of course I didn't
know about this outrage!

I would have stopped
it dead in its tracks.

Strong motive for murder.

I swear, as God is my witness,

I had no idea Denison was
drawing these lies about me.

And as for you, Detective,
I hope you don't believe

- this disgusting smut.
- I have no opinion either way.

Well, I can assure you, my relationship

with Mrs. Abbott has been blown
entirely out of proportion.

Do I take this to mean that there
is a certain degree of truth?

I've had quite enough
of this. I am leaving.

- Sir?
- Either charge me or let me go.

- I'll be in touch.
- With a full apology, I trust.

And you can tell your wife

I've forgotten the
conversation we had earlier.

I spoke with the
publisher of the Sentinel.

He claims not to know
where the cartoon came from.

Denison usually walked them in himself,

but this one mysteriously showed up

without anyone seeing who left it.

The first copy of the cartoon was stolen

from Denison's satchel by the killer,

who then must have destroyed it.

Which means the publisher
received the second copy.

Question is: who left it?

What is it, Watts?

Well, Inspector, I find
myself in a predicament.

Go on. I'm all ears.

I have plans later that
I'm uncertain about.

What kind of plans?

The Mahler Symphony.

Marvelous! You should
go! Why wouldn't you?

Well, I'm supposed to
go with a... New friend.

Oh, no. I don't think I
want to hear about this.

I know. I understand.

Oh! Just hold your horses, Watts.

- You've started. You might as well finish.
- Right.

I've been invited to
the Mahler Symphony,

which I've been longing to attend.

However, if I go,

I fear I will give my
friend the wrong idea.

Are you no longer in good
standing with the butcher?

That is precisely the
predicament, Inspector.

We are. I am.

I don't want to seem dishonest.

Well, it it's not a
predicament if it's two friends

with a shared interest.

No funny business about that.

You're right.

I'm ruminating excessively.

Just two friends enjoying a show.

- Two friends.
- No need to worry.

Just don't be holding hands.

The exit wound from the
bullet is unusually small.

Smallest I've seen.

Have you determined the diameter?

Exactly six millimeters.

These wounds should be much larger.

I'll need my twine.

I think I know where this is going.

We know that the entry wound

was lower than the exit wound,

therefore the bullet travelled
on an upward trajectory.

Which means...

It would have gone roughly...

Here.

Ah.

And there it is.

- Well, I'll be!
- That's an odd colour.

Look at that.

Right, then.

Based on the trajectory that
we've established, Henry,

pull it tight. Hmm, no, lower.

We know that the shot came
from this side of the room.

It was held waist high,
as to conceal the weapon,

and aimed upward.

Sir, there is somebody
else in the photograph.

- Could it be this man?
- Let me see that.

Well, no, George. That person was
on the other side of the camera.

Wait.

That's Councilman Rekker.

So, the shooter was on
this side of the room, but

Rekker was on this side?

Correct, George.

Based on his location and the
fact that we can see his hands,

there's no way Rekker
could have taken the shot.

What are you doing?

Minding my business.

You're following me.

Only because I have another question.

I didn't take you for
the type to ask just one.

May I take you to lunch?

You can't afford me.

Well, then, you shall take me to lunch.

And why should I do that?

I want you to mentor me.

I want to become something,
someone important,

- someone like you.
- I'm sorry, Miss Bright. I can't help you.

It's hard enough for me as it is.

Yes. It is hard for us all.

I'm sorry to bother you.

Fine.

Get in.

A start, I suppose.

So, Miss Bright, tell me about yourself.

- Where do you come from?
- Halifax. Africville, to be exact.

And you?

Here and there. Everywhere.

What have you got, Murdoch?

It's a chromatogram, sir.

- It was invented by the late...
- Just tell me what you're doing.

I am separating

the plant pigments
present in this solution.

It has separated itself into green,

yellow and orange,

a trait indicative of ink.

Why are you testing for ink?

That is what was
coating this bullet, sir.

Burnt on.

Strange.

How would ink get onto a bullet?

Perhaps the killer dipped it
in ink as a symbolic gesture?

He who lives by the pen dies by the pen?

Something like that. It was also
filed into a very sharp point

for maximum penetration.

My guess is the weapon used
would have been also quite small.

Then perhaps not a gun at all.

- Here.
- Councilman Rekker!

Is now a good time to
finalize that funding?

Why should I help you?

Oh! Well,

because there are thousands
of underserved women

in this city who deserve care

and because you are a councilman

dedicated to making a
difference and because,

- well, you did say...
- Well, it doesn't matter now.

- I've been ousted!
- Ousted?

Fired from the Board of Control!

Oh! Ah, I'm so sorry, Councilman.

Ah, I don't know what to say.

Well, if you're still
in pursuit of funding,

you'll have to take it
up with Councilman Toplin,

my replacement.

And good luck getting one
red cent out of that tightwad.

George, you'll have to see this.

Rekker could not have successfully

made the shot from
where he was standing.

Still, I'm not convinced
he wasn't involved somehow.

So, Councilman Rekker's been fired

and replaced with Toplin.

Toplin didn't even want to
hear about the women's clinic,

so I guess I'm back to square one.

Of course he would be fired.

Well, you don't consort
with your boss's wife

and then just skip back into
work on a Monday morning.

He won't like that. Ah!

He looks fat and drunk.

Oh, they're coming.

What are you lot up to?

Sir, you may want to see this.

Or you may not.

Another cartoon.

How is this possible?

Hold on, that's us.

And he's making us look like fools.

Well, it seems our
cartoonist is still alive.

Why am I in it? I've
barely touched this case.

Guilt by association, I suppose.

I still don't understand
why the cartoonist

wanted to get rid of
Rekker in the first place.

I wonder if it has to
do with the upcoming vote

on the Bloor Street Bridge?

Well, go on, Higgins!

Well, it's to run from Rosedale
to the other side of the Don.

Ruthie's women's group
have been up in arms

over the possibility of losing
their riverside picnic spot.

In any case, a new cartoon
must mean one of three things:

either Denison isn't really dead,

or we have a copy-cat cartoonist,

or Denison was never the
real cartoonist at all.

This is one of Denison's cartoons

drawn while he was still alive.

Ah, I knew it!

Both of these drawings were
penned by the same hand.

- Sir, how can you tell?
- You see that?

It is a calling card hidden
in each of the drawings.

A symbol that brands the cartoons.

Ah! Wait a second!

He's got me holding a bottle of scotch.

Sir, are you not often
holding a bottle of scotch?

I know exactly who the
cartoonist is. It's Fox!

Well, how can you be sure, sir.

Many people know you drink scotch.

I know what I know, Murdoch.

No one makes fun of my station
house and gets away with it!

Ask for more, you got nothing to lose.

You think you're clever, don't you?

I do.

I know you're the cartoonist!

- Am I?
- You and Denison were pals,

worked at the same publication.

It would have been easy to
feed him the cartoons every day.

Lots of people work at
the Toronto Sentinel.

Then how do you explain
the scotch in the drawing!

- Accuracy?
- What's going on, Inspector?

Someone other than
Denison drew this cartoon.

Probably did the others, as well.

I hardly think Mr. Fox
is clever enough for that.

Llewelyn! Is that a silk ascot?

Oh, well, I thought I
would get dressed up,

but, clearly, I'm the
one who is underdressed.

Oh, don't mind me. You look great!

So, do you have the tickets?

- Nope.
- What?

- I thought you said...
- I have a different plan.

- What's the plan?
- I'm a regular at the theatre

and it just so happens that one
of my top lads works as a stagehand

and will leave the
side door open for us.

Should we be doing that?

It feels illegal.

Are you a police officer or something?

Have a little fun.

Is this something you do often?

I make things work.

Besides, where's the fun
in going in the front?

This way is much more of a challenge.

I do love a challenge.

Quickly now.

Coming to my home truly
crosses the line, Detective.

You refused to come into
the station house, sir.

For everyone to revel in my
humiliation? No, thank you.

You cannot impede a police...

Police investigation in this way.

Is everything all right, sir?

How dare you do this to me?

My wife saw the cartoon.

She's displeased.

Ah...

my sympathies to your wife.

He always thought you
were a worthless scoundrel

- below my standing!
- Sir, do you know

who might want you out of your position?

In that den of vipers? Who knows?

Could your ousting have something to do

with your vote on the
Bloor Street Viaduct?

I have no idea.

Well, sir, I looked
into your voting record,

and you were for the bridge
up until two months ago.

What made you flip your vote?

Councilmen switch their
votes all the time.

We are voting on behalf of
our constituents, after all.

You represent Riverdale.

Why would your constituents
not want easy access

to the rest of the city via a bridge?

It's almost as if you had
incentive to change your vote.

Are you accusing me of
something, Detective?

Well, something made
you change your mind.

- Was it a bribe?
- And what proof do you have of this?

It's easy enough to
find out, Councilman.

We would just pull
your financial records.

But I don't want to do this.

I have a killer to catch.

And to do so, I need your cooperation.

I may have taken a small
token of appreciation

for my vote against the bridge.

My replacement, Toplin, is
pro-bridge. It'll pass anyway.

Who bribed you?

I don't know.

The request came in
writing, anonymously.

The money was delivered and so I...

Acceded.

With Councilman Rekker out,

the referendum on the Bloor
Street Viaduct will pass.

Meaning what?

Well, sir, this could be
the motive for this murder.

Whoever killed the cartoonist does
not want this bridge to be built.

Why?

He doesn't want people from
the other side of the river

- coming into town?
- Possibly.

But more likely, perhaps,
is that the killer

has a vested interest
in protecting something

that building this
bridge would demolish.

Well, they'd have to tear down
these buildings to build the bridge.

Who owns them?

I've sent George to look into it.

Perhaps one of these buildings
is the key to this entire thing.

Come on!

You two, stop!

Who knew watching the symphony
from the wings would be so lovely?

Oh! Being that close to the orchestra.

It almost gives the
sound an ethereal quality.

I could practically
feel the music inside me.

Well, you were standing
right next to the bass drum.

I will no longer watch
a symphony any other way.

Too bad the stage manager caught us.

I couldn't believe my ears when you said

that we should run for it.

There is a fun side to
you after all, Detective.

Well, would have been a difficult task

to explain to the men
from the station house

when they showed up.

But it was worth it.

The symphony was magnificent.

Ah, pish!

We can't live on a
half-finished symphony.

It's blasphemy!

The philharmonic will
be back in New York

in a matter of weeks.

- Let us go catch the rest down there.
- Oh.

That's a lovely idea.

Until next time.

Toodaloo.

So what's all this, then?

Sirs, I think I've cracked it.

By all means, George, go right ahead.

Well, I went down to the land registry,

and I found out which buildings
would need to be torn down

should the Bloor Street
Viaduct go through.

There are four in total.

Do any of the owners oppose the project?

Funny you should ask, sir.

Three of them sold up quite quickly,

but the fourth has been a real stickler.

There is serious opposition
to tearing this building down.

I'm here.

Good for you.

What do you need from me?

Constable Crabtree asked me to come in.

Do I look like Constable Crabtree?

It houses a small, out of
commission printing press.

- Who owns it?
- You're not going to believe this, sir.

It's owned by Joseph Skratz.

The man after which Mr.
Denison's award was named?

One and the same, sir.

Now, this building
was slated to be bought

- and demolished months ago.
- Why wasn't it?

It was saved, sir, by a petition.

Who started this petition?

It was started by the very
person who used to work

for Joseph Skratz.

He's right there. I'll just go in.

Well, you can't just walk
into the inspector's office.

I'm sure George will be right out.

Say, you don't have any ink
or a pen to spare, do you?

I need to finish filling
out these sweepstakes.

- Sweepstakes?
- You can win a lot of money.

It's not 20 questions,
Crabtree. Get on with it!

Sirs... It's Louise Cherry.

Sirs! It's Louise Cherry.

This one doesn't work, either.

Guess you won't be a
millionaire after all.

What is happening with this thing?

Bloody hell.

Good Lord!

What was that? What happened?

Well, it appears we've
found our murder weapon.

The ink coating the bullet
that killed Mr. Denison

is a match for the ink
found in this pen gun.

That wasn't my pen. I've
never seen it before.

How did it come to be found
in your satchel, Miss Cherry?

Who knows where pens come from?

I need a pen, I see a pen, I take a pen.

You're telling me you just take pens?

I lose more than I take.

I take a pen from someone,
someone takes a pen from me.

Just now I gave Constable Higgins a pen.

I don't expect it back.

The universe will
provide me with a new pen

when I need one.

I can't believe my ears.

It's the natural order
of things, like umbrellas.

Umbrell... Oh!

Miss Cherry, how do you
explain this petition?

I created the petition to save my
dear mentor's first printing press.

I had my first job in that building.

Is that why you advocated against
the building of the bridge?

My journalistic position
and my personal opinion

are completely different things.

The city just decided to
rebuild the Queen Street bridge

and now they're going to
disrupt everyone's lives

to build another one on Bloor Street!

Well, between theft and murder,

things aren't looking very
good for you, Miss Cherry.

Why on earth would I give
Constable Higgins a pen

if I thought it were a gun?

Now, if you're not
prepared to arrest me,

I'd like to leave.

I'm a very busy woman.

There seems to be a
misunderstanding, Miss Cherry.

You were part of a very
small group of individuals

present when Mr. Denison was murdered.

And you were in possession
of the murder weapon.

You are very much under arrest.

You must love this, George.

Uh, hardly. Unlike yourself,
Miss Cherry, I don't take

pleasure in other people's discomfort.

And I certainly don't
take their umbrellas.

Come with me.

The pen is circumstantial at best.

The killer could have
slipped it into her bag.

Or she just happened to steal it.

In any case,

her connection to Skratz's house

seems hardly enough
to kill someone over.

Well, there's got to
be more to it, then.

Maybe the answer is the building.

I'll get my hat.

Right, George.

Look for anything that
ties to Miss Cherry.

Why the fuss over this place?
It's clearly been abandoned.

Oh, I don't know.

Look at this.

For a place that's been abandoned

it seems someone's been here recently.

Wonder if this is Skratz' old desk?

George? George?

These floorboards are out of order.

- How can you tell?
- Look at this ink stain.

It's as if someone pried the boards up

and placed them again out of order.

Oh, my God.

Well, it appears we now know
the import of this building.

Mr. Joseph Skratz.

Kuala Lumpur.

I suppose he never made it on
to that steamship after all.

This is the missing
piece, George: the motive.

This is why Miss Cherry would
kill to protect this place.

To protect her secret.

She killed them both.

Mr. Watts!

You seem in better spirits today.

Thank you for your advice, Inspector.

- I went and had a wonderful time.
- Glad to hear it.

On your way to the station?

I'll be along in a minute,
I have one last stop.

Ah! Sustenance. Good idea.

- One, please.
- See you there.

Yes.

Thank you.

Do you really think she
could have done this, Murdoch?

Killed two people?

It is somewhat out of character.

Out of character, sir?
The woman steals pens!

- George.
- And umbrellas!

What kind of a maniac takes
another person's umbrella

on a rainy day?

I'll tell you what kind,
the criminally inclined.

What are you laughing at, Higgins?

- Let me have a look.
- Sir, perhaps you'd rather not.

Give it to me.

Another bloody cartoon.

Oh, this isn't good.

Every single person we
suspect in this investigation

has been exposed.

Including Dr. Ogden and Louise Cherry.

We need to solve this, quickly.

The calling card reminds me of LC.

Louise Cherry!

She's the real cartoonist!

The killer was trying
to murder the cartoonist!

Miss Cherry was the target.
She can't be the killer!

But if she didn't kill Skratz,

it must have been
someone who knew him...

It was you, Mr. Fox!

Come back here!

Ha!

Come back, you!

I've got you!

When did you kill Mr. Skratz?

Two years ago.

Why?

He found out I plagiarized articles.

I would have been blackballed in
the industry and lost everything.

So, you killed him?

Skratz never cared about me, anyway.

He adored Louise, she was his favourite.

And when he threatened to end my career,

that was the last straw.

So, you buried him under the
floorboards and left him to rot?

What was I to do?

He was retiring to Malaysia, and
he'd already bought his tickets.

And with no next of
kin, when he disappeared,

there would be no one to ask questions.

I simply took control
of his finances to ensure

the building was not sold
and wrote the occasional

wanderlust article under Skratz'
name for a travel magazine.

Nobody was ever the wiser.

What about this cartoonist?

Everything was fine until
that bridge nonsense came up.

Demolishing the building
would have revealed the body.

Is that when you returned
to the Skratz building?

We found evidence that someone
had been there recently.

I tried to move the body,
but it was too decomposed,

impossible to move.

So, I bribed Rekker, and

everything was going to plan

until those ludicrous
cartoons blew it all up.

How did you come to find
out that the Rekker cartoon

was next on the docket?

That scum, Councilman Toplin,

came to me with the rumour first.

He wanted me to publish an
article to take down Rekker

so he could replace him
at the Board of Control.

Naturally, you refused.

I knew he'd take it elsewhere.
I just didn't know where.

That is until that idiot, Denison,

boasted about it to me.

So, you killed him for it.

Obviously.

I should've known Louise
Cherry was behind this.

She's been chasing me my whole life.

Well, it seems she's
finally caught you, Mr. Fox.

You're free to go, Miss Cherry.

We're taking it easy on
you this time but be warned:

we won't be tolerating any more thefts.

Whatever you say, Constable.

Sign this, you can be on your way.

Can I borrow a pen?

What?

You confiscated the rest
of my pens, remember?

Your mark will do.
Good day, Miss Cherry.

I just can't believe it.

Joseph Skratz is dead,

and Fox is the one who killed him.

I'm so sorry.

As much as we fought, I
thought I knew him, at least.

Indeed.

It seems he was hiding
quite the darkness.

I daresay it will be my last
venture into matchmaking.

It's not you.

I have terrible luck with men.

If he had've known you
were the cartoonist,

it would have been
your neck on the line.

Poor Mr. Denison.

He was always up for some fun.

How did the two of you meet?

We met at an event years ago.

He was so bored with high society

and disgusted with the
people in his social circle.

So, I came up with a
plan to take them down.

Before we knew it, we
had a huge following.

- So, he was just the face of it.
- Exactly.

I drew the cartoons and
he got to shake the city.

He loved it.

So, why pretend that
he's the cartoonist?

The cartoons were based on rumours.

If I published them in
any official capacity,

it could compromise my
journalistic integrity.

Still, it's a shame you
couldn't get any glory.

I'm not in it for the glory.

Miss Bright. Back again?

Am I to take you to lunch every day?

I should have known it'd be so easy.

What do you mean?

Did it all on your own, did you?

You don't know anything about me.

Oh, I know enough.

You told me hard work was all it took.

You failed to mention

marrying a rich, white man.

And what of it? I owe you nothing.

I had hoped for a chance.

But I guess it was nothing
but a fool's errand.

Good day, Miss Bright.

It makes me wonder

what other secrets you hold.

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -