01x01 - The Maggies Redress

[bunniefuu]

Seems to me the title of World's Greatest Escape Artist is a bit oversold.

And you'd have 'deduced' that this was a trap.

No doubt it was 'Elementary, my dear Doyle'.

He never said that.

Luckily, I can hold my breath longer than anyone in the world.

Wonderful.

Except that the Thames is tidal.

We have an hour and a half before the water retreats.

I'm not saying I'll live, I'm saying I'm gonna outlive you.

Quite stirring, your pettiness in the face of adversity.

(DISTANT CRYING)

(KNOCKING)

Sister Fabian?

(JANGLING)

(CREAKING)

(GASPS)

(FLUTTERING)

(SCREAMS)

(CLICKING OF LOCKS)

If that's all, Sergeant Gudgett?

Our girls are quite prone to hysteria and the sooner we can put this behind us, the better.

Can't rush these things, Sister Mathilda.

Right then, Winnie. Is there anything else you'd like to add?

Now's the time.

Don't look at me, girl. If you have something to say, out with it.

I saw who did it.

And you're just now coming to the conclusion -

Who did you see, Winnie?

Lucy Allthorpe.

I'm sorry, Sergeant, the girl is obviously confused.

Why? Do you know this Lucy Allthorpe?

She was a resident here. Until she d*ed, six months ago.

(BUBBLING)

(ORCHESTRA PLAYS JAGGED SUSPENSEFUL TUNE)

(BUZZ OF EXCITEMENT)

One minute!

Two minutes!

Three minutes!

(AUDIENCE SHOUTS OUT)

Four minutes!

Let him out!

(WOMEN SCREAM)

(CHEERING)

Ladies and gentlemen, the Great Houdini!

Harry, I'm sorry about your ankle. The lock is still sticking.

You're beautiful, Florrie.

Which is the only reason I'm not f*ring you.

Where did this story come from?

You guys told the press there's a k*ller ghost out there?

The Great Houdini.

Good morning, Harry.

What's Doyle doing here? Please tell me he's doing research on one of his 'Shylock' Holmes books.

Wonderful to see you again. You Brits, the way you lie in the name of politeness is charming.

I can provide a wealth of knowledge about the supernatural and this case offers a rare opportunity to prove - Prove?

10,000 American dollars say that you can't prove anything.

I'll accept your bet. But for my end, I'll put up a first edition of my new book, The Great Boer w*r.

Sir, I can handle this case myself.

Without help from a writer and a magician.

I'm quite familiar with police protocols.

Yes, you regularly mock them and us in your stories.

Sorry, gentlemen, but Sergeant Gudgett is absolutely correct.

Aw, don't tell me you're still upset about our photo.

(CHAINS AND LOCKS CLANK)

If there's nothing else...

Then I guess I'll have to play the Nicky card.

You're going to call Sir Nicholas Hampstead, the head of Scotland Yard, because I won't facilitate a juvenile wager?

Why?

It can't just be the bet.

Why do you two care so much about this?

Every time you arrive at the scene of a bloody m*rder, the first thing you have to do is to find the ones left behind, the ones who have not been physically harmed but on whom all the pain will land.

Who've had their loved ones ripped away from them.

For ever. But what if that wasn't the truth?

Every religion for centuries has told us that death isn't the end.

And now, thanks to the many staggering advances in science, we may be able to actually prove it.

Nothing is as it was, just 10 years ago.

Maybe not even death.

What a complete and utter load of crap.

Death is scary. Death should be scary.

Con artists and fools shouldn't be allowed to use the word 'science' in defence of a dream.

I will allow both of you access, as long as you're assisted by one of my officers.

Sir, I'm not -

Sergeant, fetch me Constable Stratton.

Sir.

(DISPARATE VOICES)

(TYPING)

Merring wants to see ya.

Um... Could you find me a cup of coffee?

This is Constable Stratton.

Arthur Conan Doyle. A pleasure.

Pleased to meet you.

It's an honour, Mr Houdini.

You're really a cop?

One of the many wonders of the new century.

Constable, you'll be assisting these gentlemen with their concurrent investigation into the m*rder of Sister Fabian.

Me? Thank you, sir.

I won't disappoint.

I think I'm gonna like this century.

Constable.

By 'concurrent', I mean 'extraneous and unnecessary'.

So while they play detective, you'll play nurse maid, nothing more.

Understand?

Yes, Chief Inspector.

It's a Magdalene Laundry. They take in young women, some unwed mothers.

In return, the girls work in the laundry.

Good morning, Sister...

Grace. Good morning.

Sister Grace, I'm Constable Adelaide Stratton of Scotland Yard and Messrs Houdini and Doyle are special investigators assisting us.

Wait. You're a policeman?

Yes, ma'am.

(SQUEAKING)

(COUGHING)

Some of the girls started seeing Lucy just after she d*ed.

She's obviously a very restless soul.

Makes sense. Yes, a m*rder*r would take advantage of the ghost stories.

It's all right, girls, back to work.

(BABY CRIES)

Would it be too much to ask for an autograph? Not at all, Sister.

I'm sorry, I meant Dr Doyle.

The door was locked and there's no sign of force.

So how many keys were there and who had them?

Uh, two sets.

Winnie had one, and the other one...

So, that's both sets accounted for.

That leaves your theory... on the outside.

Yeah, there's no way a human could get through that door.

Without a paper clip.

Winnie said the ghost appeared here, crossed the room, and passed through this wall.

A very... solid wall.

People see things, especially young women who've taken a vow of celibacy.

Have you ever met one?

Yes, but I've never left one.

The simplest answer is, Winnie did it.

She had opportunity, and a ghost to pin it on.

Wouldn't even need paper clips.

She would, however, need a motive.

Again, simple, the dead nun was Winnie's boss.

Lotta people want to k*ll their boss. Am I right?

Whoa, the laundry business is taking in £50 a week. What a racket!

I'm Sister Mathilda, assuming the duties of the late Sister Fabian.

And this is Winnie, who will relate once more, what she thinks she saw.

It was Lucy, still wearing her grey smock.

What can you tell us about her?

We knew she was a vain girl, so happy to show off her flowing locks and her piano playing, and her useless ability to bend her fingers back into ungodly positions.

A skill she did not have, however, was the ability to rise from the dead.

(COUGHS)

Sorry, Sister, could I have a glass of water, please?

I could've sworn there was a glass sitting there. I'll be right back.

(CLEARING THROAT)

Why are you lying?

Mr Houdini!

I'm not. She's gone, you can drop this ridiculous story.

I swear on my life, I'm telling the truth.

I saw Lucy.

A k*ller needs a motive.

Why do you think Lucy wanted to m*rder Sister Fabian?

Because Sister Fabian m*rder*d her.

Lucy's music brought joy to this miserable place.

Her favourite song was When You Were Sweet Sixteen.

When she played it, it made us... happy.

All the girls loved her, which is exactly why Sister Fabian hated her.

And when they took her baby away -

Lucy had a child?

The sweetest little girl.

Without her, Lucy was a different person, angry, sad. No more piano.

And when she talked back, Sister Fabian took a razor and chopped off her beautiful red hair.

But that wasn't enough. Sister soaked her clothes and locked her out for the night. Lucy d*ed two days later.

And that's where they put her.

An unmarked grave, with all the nameless 'Maggies'.

Winnie, look at me.

You truly believe Lucy's ghost k*lled Sister Fabian?

Forgive me, but...

I pray to God she did.

Where do you keep the laundry money?

The £50 this place takes in.

You're suggesting this was a robbery?

I don't believe anything without evidence.

Sister Fabian kept everything in here.

Unfortunately, she had the only key and I have no idea where it is.

Now I'm suggesting this was a robbery.

(SIGHS)

Houdini was right, it was a robbery.

Sadly, yes.

I agree.

You hoped I was right?

You believe in the supernatural?

It's easy for you.

I mean, you're a brilliant writer, a brilliant doctor, and you're a man.

I worked 20-hour days for years until someone took a chance on me and made me a Constable, and now I've got a desk in the basement, only summoned upstairs to make tea. Until today.

What I hoped for was to be able to work just a little while longer, as an actual policeman.

There's still the mystery of the money.

Well, if you two aren't on the case, neither am I.

Well, maybe I'm not quite done yet.

(ORCHESTRAL MUSIC PLAYS)

I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the Magdalene Laundry m*rder.

Ah, yes, the murders.

Just one, actually. So far.

It's a brown man.

No, not brown of birth but brown of filth.

Oh, it's a man of soot.

A living man? A greedy man.

Do you know where I might be able to find him?

Whitechapel. Discussing his exploits with...

...a rabbit.

A rabbit?

I'm just telling you what I see. (LAUGHS)

But that's not why you came here, is it?

There's something else you wanted to talk to me about. Hm?

Yes.

I was wondering if you might be able to contact... my wife.

(SIGHS) My dearest Arthur...

I've missed you.

Touie?

Yes, dear, it's me, your loving Touie.

I've been watching you.

And I see what a wonderful job you're doing with the children.

But the new acquaintance you've made...

Oh, he is in the darkness.

He's in danger?

No.

You are. (GASPS)

(GASPS)

How am I in danger? Touie?

Go.

(PANTING)

(PIANO PLAYS)

(RAUCOUS CHATTER & LAUGHTER)

So we're looking for a 'man of soot' talking to a rabbit.

Hm.

Did the medium tell you anything else that would make you think she's credible?

She impressed me.

Look at this.

Darlin', give us a kiss, right?

He's definitely sooty enough.

And he's definitely flush.

I have an idea. If he has something to hide, I imagine he'll run.

And if he doesn't?

I imagine he'll b*at me rather badly.

Excuse me.

Do your friends know you stole this money?

Hey!

Urgh!

Ooh!

Well played, Constable.

Has he confessed?

It's only a matter of time.

Sergeant Gudgett is quite effective in his interrogation techniques.

And he was drinking? So human, right?

Yes. I've lost the battle. But I've won the w*r.

We were only able to catch our man with the help of a medium.

Then he isn't your man - garbage in, garbage out.

He had a small fortune in his pocket.

You think he'd got a pay rise? So he was carrying stolen money.

So are most of the men in Whitechapel.

And I've been doing a little investigating myself.

Game of whiff-whaff?

A hundred bucks?

You do know each country has its own currency?

Why rob a nunnery unless you know there's money there?

I figure it's an inside job, so I revisited the Sisters' record book.

Most of her entries are deadly boring, except for the ones that don't add up.

Someone was embezzling?

Someone the dead nun caught, someone who had access to the books and the lock-box.

So you're accusing Sister Mathilda, a cloistered nun, of embezzlement, cold-blooded m*rder and of lock-picking?

It may not be as farfetched as it sounds.

Mathilda's real name is Bernadette Downie.

When she was 19, she was caught for pickpocketing.

After she served her time, she joined the Sisters.

Hm!

So Winnie's account, the account of our only witness is to be completely ignored?

We call it 'ping pong'.

(SCOFFS) Silly name.

The account denigrated by Sister Mathilda, who according to you, is the one person who has every reason to point a finger at a ghost?

(WHOOSHING AND FLAPPING)

(ADELAIDE GASPS)

Look...

M-A-T-H...

Mathilda.

Corn syrup and food colouring, AKA stage blood.

How did you do that? All that matters is I did it.

Hey. Next time, pig's blood, Florrie.

Oh, all right Harry.

Much as I appreciate theatrics, this is a waste of time.

You are a master showman. Thanks. I get that a lot.

But Sister Mathilda isn't. Maybe that's a skill acquired in prison.

Why do you refuse to believe?

Do you really think so much of yourself you can't accept there's anything out there bigger than you?

Why can't you accept that this is all there is?

Who d*ed that you can't stop chasing the dead instead of enjoying the living?

Oh, come on Doc, do your worst.

Stop! Stop this!

As much as I hate to interrupt.

Merring thought you should know there's been another m*rder.

Sister Mathilda.

(DISTANT WEEPING)

The man Constable Stratton and I arrested, he's still incarcerated?

Then I suppose I was wrong about him.

I think it's also safe to say that I was wrong as well.

You seen enough?

Ready to trust the professionals to do their job now?

Yes. We made a mistake.

But our mistake didn't cost anyone their life.

If you'd had any police presence here, at all, this wouldn't now be the scene of a double m*rder.

(BREATHES OUT)

Look at this.

(SHE READS OUT)

Someone wants to make this a triple m*rder.

(COUGHING)

Any reason why Lucy would try to k*ll Sister Mathilda?

She was part of it. She stood by while Lucy was locked outside.

Watched her catch her death.

Lucy's a busy ghost. Anyone else she might k*ll?

As far as I'm concerned, there were three of them who m*rder*d her.

Sister Grace.

We met her. She showed us in the first time we came.

She seemed... nice.

She could've done something. But she...

She just let her die.

I'll make sure Gudgett puts a guard on Sister Grace.

Might want to put one on Winnie. she seems happy about the murders.

In fact, I'd check her room for the missing money.

That laundry's probably full of girls with a grudge.

I could go compile a list of girls who had to gave up their babies.

That'd give us a place to start.

Excellent idea.

But it could be a big job. We should divide it up. Hm.

50-50 sounds fair.

Hello, Sergeant. I just need a quick look at Sister Fabian's office.

I, for one, am glad the great Sherlock Holmes is dead.

A four-year-old knows more about crime-solving than that made-up pillock.

I appreciate a heartfelt critique. Now may I come in?

Yeah, of course.

(SQUEAKING)

(CREAKING)

(CREAKING)

(CHATTER)

You're never gonna believe what I found...

Oh. My God.

Um... No, no, no. Come on.

I'm hardly dressed... Is that...

Which one?

Yeats?

Churchill?

Tesla?

Yes, yes... and yes.

The king?

No. Yeats and Churchill will show up anywhere there's free booze.

But the king was busy tonight, so I hired an actor.

Right.

But don't tell my mother.

Your Majesty...

That necklace is her birthday present.

We never had much growing up. The best thing about my success is that I can give her the life she deserves.

She is beautiful.

But you wanted to show me something. Come on.

Mm-hm.

(DOOR OPENING)

Who are all these people? I don't recognise them.

Bloodsuckers.

The better I do my job, the more people believe in the supernatural.

That's what allows 'mediums' like these to prey on the grieving... take advantage of the vulnerable.

And I'm responsible. It's up to me to stop them.

Is that a blueprint?

Um, yes. The Sisters' residence was built on the site of a distillery and there are several secret passageways, but this one runs from Sister Fabian's office, right up to the courtyard where Lucy is buried.

You see? There's a direct path from Lucy's grave to Fabian's office, where the k*ller passed.

It makes no sense for a living k*ller to run for a sealed passageway. But Lucy? This was her escape route.

Choo! That's quite compelling.

I'm just confused about one thing.

If a ghost can pass through the wall, why does it need a passageway at all?

And on the subway, does it pay or does it just drift through the turnstile?

An eyewitness saw something go through that wall.

I thought you were a smart girl who thought for herself.

Now I see you're just a girl.

Quit your job and find a man to buy you pretty dresses.

This might be some kind of bet for you, but for me, this is my life.

You saw those girls in the laundry.

Do you know how many women live in fear of that?

This is not just a job for me, it's...

...a hope we can avoid not only those laundries, but something almost as bad, a life of pretty dresses and condescension.

Well said.

(TELEPHONE RINGS)

Still a stupid idea though.

Hello, it's Harry. We'll be right there.

A person's office is a reflection of their life, and the first time I looked around this room, I noted a distinct lack of personal touches.

Except for one incongruity, the single daisy in the vase.

There are two daisies.

There was only one after Sister Fabian was k*lled.

And the piece de resistance? Guess the name of Lucy's baby.

Petunia?

Lucy added a daisy each time she k*lled.

Is this why you dragged me out here? It's about money, Doc, money.

Which is why I really dragged you here.

You were right about embezzlement.

But you were wrong about robbery.

Sister Fabian was putting away a little something for herself.

All the missing money is in here. OK, so we're back to Winnie.

Or any of the other girls who knew Lucy and the name of her baby and liked to pick flowers.

It doesn't prove the existence of -

(RATTLING)

(SOFT MOANING)

(FLUTTERING)

(A BABY'S CRY)

(GASPS)

What was that, an encore?

That wasn't me.

That was Lucy.

It could've been a shadow, or a reflection.

Lucy or not, it was proof of the paranormal.

That's not what I saw.

I'm sure it wasn't.

The eyes only see what the mind lets them.

I was wrong about you. It's not that you think too much of yourself.

It's that you think too little.

You're afraid that if there's something more, you won't be worthy of it.

Why?

How are you supposed to stop a ghost?

You find out what it wants.

You were wrong about the 'man of soot'.

Sometimes the messages get confused.

But you were right about the second m*rder. Mm.

And I need to ask you about someone else.

Lucy Allthorpe, a young woman who d*ed six months ago.

I need to know what she wants.

Is she just after vengeance or is there something deeper?

It's not about the vengeance.

She's seeking peace.

It's about redress. Making things right.

There is no confusion there.

But there is confusion about your motivation, hm?

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

You came back for me, dearest Arthur.

Just promise you'll keep coming back.

Yes, of course.

Oh, it's wonderful to hear your voice again.

Since I d*ed, I've been so terribly lonely.

Since you d*ed?

Darling, I know it's difficult to hear but, but you...

My dear Touie.

Hello? Hello?

That Italian man who says he can send a message across the sea, how's he expect to do it without a wire?

Marconi. Most people think he can't.

What do you think?

I don't know, but I think it would be brilliant if he could.

Were you able to talk to mother?

I'll keep trying.

You'd better.

You're so like her.

I'll be back in time to say good night.

I had an epiphany.

You know who the m*rder*r is?

No, but I know how -- Then my epiphany trumps yours. Come on.

We should've taken my car, it can do 14 miles per hour.

My Oldsmobile does 15 but trust me, this'll be faster, we'll be there in less than six minutes.

You couldn't know that.

Hundred bucks says I do.

Sergeant, I need to speak to Sister Grace immediately.

All you need is to know she's safe and sound.

I think I know who the k*ller is.

You pop over to Baker Street? Sherlock Holmes?

Argh!

Damn!

That was necessary, time being of the essence and all that.

Ah, I was just coming to see you. Now, I noticed you had a limp.

Doyle!

She has Ehler-Danlos Syndrome, characterized by hyper-flexible joints and a slight limp.

And it's hereditary. One might expect that if Sister Grace were to have a child, they may be double-jointed, or even red-headed.

Lucy was your daughter.

And the killings, a mother's revenge.

Not revenge... a mother's love.

You were a Maggie, too.

How could you?

It destroyed me when they took my baby away.

But I had committed a mortal sin.

I tried to put it behind me.

I changed my name, and came here to start a new life.

But when my daughter showed up... with a child of her own...

I wanted to rush to her, to hold her.

But I was a nun, I could never admit to being a 'fallen woman'.

I asked God why He'd sent her to me.

But when they started to t*rture her I understood.

(WHIMPERS)

Watching her die was my penance for the sin I thought I could escape.

I had to let them take her.

(SOBS)

I had to sacrifice my only begotten child.

I had failed Lucy in life but when the girls started seeing her, I knew she was a tormented spirit and I vowed I couldn't fail her in death.

I had to take the lives of those responsible, not to avenge Lucy... but to give her peace.

You left that message on the window to take the suspicion off you, make us think that you were the third victim.

No, I don't think it's as simple as that.

Sister, please. Sister, this is pointless.

Really? You're gonna out-limp us?

There she is. Sister!

Sister!

Sister, wait!

Where are you going?

You can't do this! No, no!

Get back here! Sister!

Sister!

(SCRAPE)

I'd k*ll for a paper clip.

(LAUGHS)

I know, this is funny.

Picture tomorrow's headline: Houdini Can't Escape Watery Grave.

That is rich, that all the headlines will be about me, not you.

Are you wearing a fixed collar?

What are you doing? Yes!

Yes! You've got stays, collar stays!

We're not dying today.

Hurry.

The water's rising.

Dammit! Come on.

They're wet. Come on. Come on.

OK.

(GRUNTS WITH EFFORT)

Dammit! Give the other one.

Give me your other collar stay!

Doc?

DOC!

(SPLUTTERING)

I had it.

Sister Grace told me where you were.

Where is she?

I know she's the k*ller. I handcuffed her -- Where?

Sister Fabian's office.

She's the k*ller and the third victim.

Sister, please put that down.

This place has seen enough sorrow.

I have to die.

You're a Catholic, talk to her.

Sister, this is not what Lucy wants.

Of course it is.

I let her die.

That wasn't your fault.

Keep going.

Wherever Lucy is now, there is no anger, there is no hatred.

(SOBBING)

(GASPS)

I can feel her.

I can feel her love.

I can... I can feel her forgiveness.

Lucy... your mother is here.

If you can find it in your heart to forgive her...

...show yourself... now.

Behold... your daughter!

(FLUTTERING)

My baby.

Come on, Sister.

What the hell just happened?

Subsonic vibrations. You can't consciously hear or feel them but the waves stimulate the inner ear, causing a fight-or-flight response 'the chills'.

The waves can excite the fluid around the eyeball, causing irregularities in the peripheral vision.

The fleeing ghost.

How'd you know when it would happen?

The sound waves have a source, the subway station up the street.

London Bridge Station, built under a year ago, about when Lucy d*ed.

And ever since then, every 17 minutes, a train passes below and Lucy's ghost appears.

So I needed you to stall.

Luckily it was on time or we'd have another nun to mop up.

If all we saw was visual irregularity, then why did everyone who saw it...

Why did WE think it was Lucy?

The eyes only see what the mind lets them.

I have to admit, Harry, I'm damn impressed.

Thank you, Arthur.

Despite you being an insufferable ass the entire time.

Constable Stratton, how did you know Sister Grace was the k*ller?

Handwriting analysis.

I noticed a similarity between the writing on the window, and entries in the ledger made by a certain 'AC'.

Sister Grace's real name is Alice Carlaw.

Phew! Equally impressive. Oh, come on, equally?

How about if you include me saving your life?

Sweetie, I escape from liquid coffins four days a week, twice on Sundays.

I'm looking forward to your new book, my dining room table's lop-sided.

I'm moving you upstairs.

Mr Houdini seems to think you've done a good job.

Therefore, I assume you're having an affair and when I have proof, I'll not only fire you, I'll make sure no woman is ever hired again.

(FRAGMENTS OF CONVERSATION)

(SIGHS)

Doyle: Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.

(PIANO PLAYS)

(PIANO MUSIC CEASES)