Original subtitles

- Happy Valentine's Day, ma'am. Delivery for--

- Give it here. In future,

no need to knock as though you're waking the dead.

It's a knocker, not a battering ram.

- Oh! Isn't Basil a darling!

[Viviana laughing] - Heavens, sister, it isn't even 10 of the clock.

- Oh! Violet creams. Someone loosen my stays.

[laughing] Mm!

- "Wilt thou be mine?

A token of my passion for thee, most beautiful and beloved--"

- Mm! Mm. Mm-hmm?

- "--Verdi."

- We are selling her... immediately!

- I suppose I should go.

- Oh... you take everything you want...

...everything you need and just run off.

I see how you play. [Georges chuckling]

- You've done too much for me already.

- Let me do more.

- Molto grazie.

But I'm hoping I don't need another alibi today.

[sighing] Or another rescue from police torture.

Maybe tomorrow.

Ah, I really need to go.

- Please stay. [Georges chuckling]

- I don't want to impose.

- I'll feel better if you stay.

For me.

[distant moaning]

[distant groaning]

[dramatic music]

- Miss!

Happy Saint Valentine's.

- What is this?

- Well, it's an apple, of course.

[chuckling] A Valentine's apple. [bell tolling]

- Next time, miss, bring somethin' useful.

A man with a job.

- It can be difficult to seem grateful when one wants for so much mo--

- But she's right. Wh-what real use is an apple?

I want to help these people, Andrew. Really help.

Not simply paper over the problem with a new pattern.

- And you shall.

Your determination is unmatched.

[woman screaming]

[man and woman shouting]

[shouting continues]

[exclamations] [woman shouting]

- Ladies, look away. [hysterical background chatter]

[screaming]

- Rigor mortis is firmly established.

There's already a slight loosening of the shoulder joints.

- Which means he's been dead for a little while.

- Twelve hours, give or take.

- I'm seeing lots of abrasions.

- Premortem... along with bruising, broken bones.

- Do you think he was beaten?

Tortured?

- No. Dragged.

There's a lot of grit in the abrasions, which are also linear.

So by horse or behind a wagon, perhaps.

- The Widow's not getting any gentler.

- Nor is she slowing down any.

- We should move the body back to the operating theatre.

- Found this in his toga.

Happy Valentine's to me.

- "One shot the arrow,

Another strung the bow,

A third cut the marrow and a fourth told her no.

But the one who lured the sparrow, The one who set the bait...

He will die in pieces and suffer all my hate."

I need you to help the doctor transport away the body.

Mullman, you need to search the area for any horses or carts

that could've been used to do this.

Look for blood, tissue, ropes, chains, any evidence of dragging.

Are my witnesses still here?

[Regina]: Thank you. [horse neighing]

- My apologies.

I need to ask if there's anything else you'd like to add to your statement.

- Nothing that I can think of at the moment, no.

- We'll call on you if there's anything else we need.

- Well, Regina, I have an appointment

to counsel a parishioner, but I could walk you as far as--

- I wonder, actually, Mrs. Simcoe,

if I could have a moment.

- Of course.

- Good afternoon, Mr. Garvey. I... wasn't expecting you.

- Well, it's Saint Valentine's.

- Yes. And...

yesterday was the thirteenth and...

tomorrow will be the fifteenth.

[chuckling] - I'm eager to hear how very much you enjoyed my gift.

- I-I'm sorry? - The chocolates.

[sighing]

I shall wring that delivery boy's neck myself

and have another box delivered straight away.

- That's... not necessary.

- You, beautiful girl,

should have the stars and the moon.

Least I can do is secure another large box of...

really quite expensive sweeties.

- I cannot and will never be your valentine.

- Well... that is where we disagree.

- I could never betray Viviana.

- Every girl has her weakness.

I've learned yours is not chocolate. So...

flowers perhaps? Fashionable gowns?

- Mr. Garvey, this cannot happen. None of this can--

- Would you like a horse?

Verdi.

Think of yourself... for once.

Of your own desires and...

womanly needs.

- I have not and will never betray my sisters.

It is unconscionable of you to ask that of me.

Now leave.

Go.

- Where did you get this? - I tore it from the Widow herself.

- Black silk.

Somewhat degraded and worn, but quite good quality.

- It-it seemed like something unique.

- You're right. It's chirimen silk.

- What's that? - It's Japanese...

I think. Rather rare.

I have an idea of just who we can ask about its origin.

- Ah, Mrs. Simcoe! I have a new chiffon. Just arrived from New York.

- Mr. Chow, this is Detective Rijkers.

- But I also just received organdy.

Reseda green, perfect for your eyes. A, uh, new suit, perhaps.

- We've actually come with a very specific question.

Can you tell me what this is, please?

- Hmm.

It smells of mold.

Poorly kept, but...

Oh, but it is silk. Mm... chirimen.

- Do you sell this fabric? - Hang on.

Hmm.

Hmm.

Everything you need. Eighty-three cents per yard.

- Well, firstly, that is robbery most hideous. And...

...secondly, this isn't the same quality.

And you, sir, know it.

- Fine. I don't carry chirimen.

There's no demand for it in this boondock town.

But I have ordered a chirimen kimono, straight from Kyoto.

- Who? Who did you order this for?

- That harlot, Salomé. - From The Queen's Chamber?

- He wasn't always from The Chamber.

He might think himself a fancy lady now,

but he used to work the street right around here.

[sighing]

- A peacock doesn't catch a mate by wearing drab things, Margaret.

[hooves clopping]

[whinnying]

- Peahens are plain and brown, Salomé.

It's only the male peacocks who feel the need to show off.

- Well, that explains it, then. - Mm-hmm. [laughter]

- Ah... How do you do it?

Afford all these handsome things?

- Beg, borrow... steal. Hmm.

Mr. Chow at the haberdashery lets me do a small favour

for a luxury or two.

- I... [laughter]

Someday I'll have fine things, too.

I'll find a way.

- One half dollar...

...for a knee-trembler up the alley.

- Oh, sir...

couldn't we perhaps find somewhere a little more private?

- No. It's this or nothing.

I'm expected at dinner.

- This little peahen is shy about what goes up her alley and where.

But my alley's open at all hours...

...and for all comers.

- Okay.

[sighing]

[grunting]

[glass breaking] [grunting]

[crying out]

[Salomé]: Ah... [groaning]

[exclamations]

Well... who says romance is dead?

[laughing]

- Fuck me!

- I just did. [chuckling]

Coins for the pretty little match girl, please?

[Alistair laughing]

- I don't pay boys.

- Pardon me? - Pardon you.

Women hate it. That's why you gotta pay for pussy.

But you deviants? Oh, you love this shit. You should pay me.

- It's my job. It's how I eat. - Well...

if you want... you can always eat my cock again.

- Fucking pay me my money right now.

[gasping]

- I have to warn people not to buy your cream.

It's sour. [Salomé screaming]

[screaming]

- Hmm?

Wouldn't you like to eat your supper off those fresh, perky bosoms?

And then you could eat breakfast off that pert little derrière.

Hell, I would, and I don't even like playing with girls.

[Salomé chuckling]

- Price?

- Don't be crass, Mr. MacDonald.

That little angel's love is beyond price.

- These the ones she wore? - Mm-hmm.

- Mm...

[sniffing] - Uh...

Oh.

- Mm...

How much?

- I'm always open to offers.

[knocking]

Everyone out.

Photographs. Come, come, come.

We'll pick this up later.

I will always dance on that lap of yours, Mr. MacDonald.

Hello, King.

- What's this little gathering, then?

- Just a little post-show adulation.

The stage-door Johnnies simply love Salomé.

- I know you wouldn't cut me out of any profits here.

Not under my own roof.

- My darling, no.

You're not jealous, are you?

Are you?

[chuckling]

- That copper's here to see you. - Oh... poo.

- Do you own any Japanese silks?

- You know, Detective, you don't have to come up with excuses to fondle my dainties.

Sometimes people just show up and tell me their urges,

and I satisfy them.

Amazing, no?

- I'll need to take this one for examination. - Oh.

I didn't have you figured for a Mikado fetish.

But Salomé will happily be all three little maids from school -

for the right price.

- Tell me, where were you last night? - Where I always am.

Wiggling my teacakes for the gentlemen.

- Not all night.

- It feels like it sometimes, trust me. [hubbub]

[people shouting]

By the by, I expect to get that kimono back

in the same pristine condition in which I am loaning it to you.

- This isn't a loan.

This is evidence in a murder case,

which you seem to be rather nonchalant about. I could arrest you right now.

- Mm, Detective,

handcuffs can be enjoyable.

But first, you might want to check on your fellas out there.

[people shouting] [creaking] - Ow!

[boy screaming] - You filthy little beggar!

- I didn't do nothing! - I asked you a question!

- Hey! - Ow!

- Hey! Mullman! - Yeah, you do!

- Mullman, get off him! - Hey, get off! - Mullman, that's an order!

- He knows something! Him and all these other gutter beggars 'round here!

- Where's your evidence? - Fuck evidence!

I don't need evidence! They're all laughing at us, and you know why?

'Cause Kashtinsky was murdered and disrespected,

and you're doing sweet fuck all about it!

- You need to go back to--

Back to the station now. Go.

We'll discuss this privately. Go.

- I would like to speak to whichever esteemed idiot

is now running our very own Shitland Yard!

- Mr. Garvey. - It is fucking chaos out there!

Not to put too fine a point on it, your men are running hog wild!

Smashing windows in my businesses, roughing up my delivery boys.

- The situation is now in hand. - Is it?!

If my business is disturbed for five more minutes,

I will have your empty, unqualified head on a goddamned platter.

- It's been handled, sir.

- I've got my eyes on you.

Whole city does.

You haven't even managed to figure out who killed Alistair Simcoe.

Can't be that hard. Throw a brick,

and even you would hit someone he screwed!

[exclaiming softly]

- Ah...

- Who did this to you?

- Even if I knew his name...

...he's a "gentleman,"

so he'd get off scot-free. [wincing]

- I'm so sorry, sweetie.

- But I promise you...

...if I get a chance at him in an alley...

...he's a eunuch.

A dead eunuch...

with no nose.

- You can cut off his nose to spite his cock. [guffawing]

- Oh. Ouch. - I'm sorry.

Apply this salve tonight. I'll be back to check on the wound tomorrow evening.

- I don't know where I'll be tomorrow,

but I can't work like this, I can't pay for my room.

- He'll be staying here.

Thank you, Doctor.

- Right, then.

I'll see you then. - Thank you.

I'm... staying here tomorrow?

That's a surprise.

- What am I supposed to do, throw you out on the street? [door closing]

You came here asking for my help and protection so...

...I'm giving you both.

- What's your pleasure?

- For you to be warm and safe tonight.

- B-but I have to pay somehow.

Salomé doesn't accept charity.

- Salomé needs to recover.

We'll figure something out later.

You sing?

- Like a... budgie.

I mean, I... aspire to canary levels,

but I've never had the luxury of practice time.

- Huh. My female impersonator got deported back to Cyprus.

Shall we try you out tomorrow... around the piano?

- If it pleases the king.

- Good night, Salomé.

- Ah. - The prices are lower than we expected.

- I planned on Sunday roast prices.

These offers put Verdi in the category of eel pie.

- Perhaps if we widen our nets, find...

more gentlemen with deeper pockets.

- Or we sell her, get our price,

take her back, get her virginity restitched,

sell her again. [Salomé laughing]

- Somehow I find you both fiendish and an inspiration.

- Mm-hmm. - Mm...

This wouldn't happen if we were in Paris.

People here are too afraid of being exposed to buy a girl.

- What if, instead of widening our net, we narrowed it?

- So you do want to go to Paris? Or you could send me on your behalf.

The French people are disgusting... in the best way.

Deals made over Champagne are always larger.

- No.

I think we might secure our lucre...

much, much closer to home.

You know, Mr. Garvey, I hold you in the highest esteem.

As a hard-working gentleman, I believe that you should have everything your heart desires.

- Mm-hmm. - That includes marriage to my sister Viviana,

who you have essentially promised--

- I have done no such thing. - Ah, please.

Allow me the courtesy of a fellow businessman,

for I am indeed here... with a proposition.

I've also noticed that there are other luxuries that you desire.

A man of your calibre...

should be able to purchase himself...

a little treat...

before he's forever wed.

- This is despicable.

I'm disgusted you think I would even entertain such a proposition.

- Oh, I only have dear little Verdi's best intentions at heart.

I hope my deep concern for her hasn't led me to overstep.

We do so want... what's best for her.

- Does this foot-washing folderol mean you're Jesus and I'm Judas?

- Huh.

I think it means that you're Jesus... and I'm Mary Magdalene.

- Oh! No wonder we're having so much sex.

But truthfully...

I'm more of a... fallen-angel sort.

- There's nothing fallen about you.

You're a good and worthy man.

And it is good and worthy to let me take care of you.

- I think Venetia Botticelli is selling her younger sister.

Into sex slavery.

- What? Why do you think that?

- Venetia was here... this afternoon.

- What the hell was she...?

Salomé.

- He was taking bids.

- You. You are not participating in the sale of that young lady!

- Oh... you heard.

- How ever d'you think I wouldn't?!

- Sorry for being a sneak, Daddy. I'll cut you in.

- What you're doing is disgusting!

And I forbid it to go further!

- You sell women every day. - I sell women who want to be sold!

- Do you ask "your women" how they feel?

Plenty of times, we don't want to do it, trust me.

Plenty of pigs we don't want to fuck just to fatten your wallet!

- Oh, oh, I lived that life.

And I pay them well. They chose this!

- But none of us has as much choice as that useless, little rich bitch.

- I made sure you did well here!

- Let's not lie to each other about who was the profiteer.

How'd you find out about this anyway?

- That's not what we're discussing.

- That's why you're so outraged.

Because your little Georgie found out about it.

And you want to pretend you're better than you are with your fake outrage!

- Don't be jealous. It's fucking boring.

- You think I'm jealous?

- I think you're a pretentious little twat

who fancies himself way too highly!

- And you're a faithless pimp who thinks he's better than he is.

Now get the fuck out of my room!

- No. No, no, no, no.

You get the fuck out of my house!

- You can't kick me out! - I can and I have!

You wanna go pretend to be a big pimp?

[scoffing] See how you do without me.

You know what?

I won't miss this for a fucking second!

You think I wanna fuck you? I wouldn't fucking touch you!

Get the fuck out!

You disgusting faggot!

[exclaiming]

[gasping and panting]

Salomé?

[gasping] - Oh, Jesus.

No.

Oh, no! [exclaiming]

[groaning] [Salomé sobbing]

[soft music]

[lively music] [laughter]

Welcome to the Garden of Eros!

That's Shady Sadie.

Her real name is Mildred.

- And she just... with men... for money?

[snorting] - Not just men. Anybody.

[laughing] Sadie! Come show my friend a good time.

- Shhh-shhh! No, no, no. - She likes it!

[laughter]

- Who's your friend? - Terrence Crenshaw,

Aphrodite has alighted.

- Divine hair done by the exquisite artiste beside you.

- She insisted we have a celebratory refreshment, and somehow--

- I insisted we come here.

- Signorina Viviana Botticelli of the Venetian--

- I know who the Botticellis are...

So pleased to meet you.

- C'est un plaisir.

- Have I made you angry? - No.

Someday, though, I see you will outgrow me.

Then what will I do?

- That will never happen, Terry.

Never, ever, ever.

[Terrence chuckling]

[hard knocking]

[man]: The gin's backstage. You're on in 10.

- Right. Fine.

[sobbing]

And now...

for the final veil.

What's she hiding... beneath the veil?

It's your prize.

And now...

for mine.

[audience screaming]

[screaming]

- The body was discovered separately

in the trash bins behind the bar.

The bartender brought them both here.

- Well, the stabbing happened first.

We couldn't call the neck wound clean, per se,

but there's less bleeding 'cause he was already dead.

- What does the method of decapitation tell us?

- Relatively strong killer. A sharp knife.

- What about the killer's handedness? - Right-handed.

Both with the initial stabbing and the sawing motion used in the decapitation.

- Maybe the killer's using the wrong hand to...

try to break the pattern, but why?

Terrence wasn't even in the photo. I mean,

all the patterns are falling away.

Listen to this. "Off with his head;

This bitch is dead.

Watch who you betray, or the Widow again will slay."

- The Widow's literary skills seem to have slipped significantly.

- Head is misspelled: h-a-e-d.

Dead is misspelled similarly.

[soft music playing]

[door opening] [gasping]

[door closing]

- My valentine has arrived! [laughing]

How naughty of you to make me wait. What have you brought?

- Good evening, Viviana. - Shall I sit on your knee while I open it?

- It's for Venetia. Sorry.

- Oh... thank you for returning my things.

I hadn't realized I'd left them behind this afternoon.

What a ninny.

- You two met this afternoon?

- There's plenty there. Get her ready.

- Is this...?

Excuse me.

- Oh, Verdi, dear!

Gather your things.

- You are my guest.

But you are also much more.

[thunder rumbling]

Let's celebrate that. Hmm?

Take off your cape.

You should be comfortable in your new home.

You taste sweet.

Like mango.

Like a fresh...

...ripe mango.

- You bought me.

Like I was a cow or a carpet... or a loaf of bread.

- No.

I saved you... from far worse.

Your sisters are depraved.

God knows where they might've sent you.

Now...

It's time for my thank-you gift...

...Valentine Verdi.

You will love me.

- I cannot promise that. - You will.

May take time. I can be patient.

My patience is not without limits,

but I do have some.

- Then, while I have the mercy of your grace...

...could I ask you one thing?

- I will not deny you.

- I don't have much in this world, Mr. Gar-- - Basil. Please.

And we can change how much you have. We will.

- The thing I cherish most,

the thing I have perhaps earned most for myself...

...is my virtue. [Basil chuckling]

- You're adorable.

- And that is why you care for me, is it not?

Because I'm good?

- That is among the reasons.

- Please, Mr...

...Basil.

Please let me know you a little better first.

Please let me care for you if you are so convinced that I will.

- Sweet girl, get up off the floor.

- Just a little bit of time to adjust to the idea is all I need.

It would mean the world to me.

It would be the first step in making me love you.

- I'll have Gladys make up the spare room.

For now.

- Oh, I thank you so very much.

Thank you. [thunder]

- Ah...

Leaving so soon, Georgie?

- How can you not?

- This is my home.

[sniffling]

Or the closest I've had.

Ever. [sniffling]

[sighing]

- To Terrence Crenshaw.

A kind-hearted rogue,

a dashing gent...

...everything one could want in a man.

- Salomé.

Do you believe in ghosts or...

demons of vengeance?

[guffawing]

- Jesus Christ... - Because...

who in this human realm could've done that to our beloved Terrence?

Do you want company?

- No.

- Understood.

Well, uh... then I suppose I shall--

- Would you just fucking leave already?!

Dissipate.

- Good night.

[soft, dramatic music]

[Salomé]: The issue was, she only had one hip. - Oh.

- The other was a glass bowl surrounded in talcum.

I have no idea how she got around,

but the thing was, she was very happy,

and one has to wonder if such an ailment can actually improve the character.

You know? You never know.

But we made her a drink and we named it after her. [laughter]

The American ambassador comes to see me every time he's in town,

and I probably shouldn't be saying this, but...

the prime minister has also been known to, uh, stop in to pull a pint?

[laughter]

- Refreshments? - Another gin sling, girl.

And let me assure you, old Wilfie really enjoys a dance.

[Salomé laughing] - Get it yourself.

- Do the sisters Botticelli know that this is how, uh,

the help speaks to their betters?

- This is how I speak to the whore whose john slashed his cheek for sport.

- Fetch the drink, girl. - You are no better than me, sir.

- And don't forget the ice this time. - In fact,

I may be better than you.

I do honest work now.

I don't take it up the wall for a dime like you.

[Margaret gasping] [faint laughter]

- Fetch...

my... drink.

Oh, God.

No.

Please, no.

I'm here to make sure your stay is a memorable one.

I owe you, after our...

unfortunate...

interaction at the Botticelli party the other night.

- You said I would be treated as a guest?

- Like my guest... bitch.

And you will get exactly...

the hospitality you have earned yourself.

- Mr. Garvey, if I have offended you, I didn't--

- You threatened me.

[laughing] - You're looking to me for help?

- We were sisters in earlier days.

- You said you were better than me.

You certainly won't be after this.

Come in. The party's just begun.

- Is this private enough for you?

Pretty girl.

- Terrence?

[gasping softly]

Oh.

- Hey, where is everybody?

The place is empty.

- Boss turns up murdered, puts a little... damper on the night.

- Have you seen Salomé? - Do I look like a nanny?

- I need to see his room. - I look like an innkeeper?

Do whatever. I couldn't give a toss.

- Ah...

Ah...

Thank you.

[sawing]

It tickles. [laughing]

So strange.

What are you do...?

And where were you...

My h-hand?

Oh...

[laughing]

[screaming]

Subtitling: difuze