- Mavis?
Mavis!
Yes, Miss Cherry?
- Go to St. Lawrence Market
and get me a peameal bacon sandwich.
I need a pick-me-up.
- You work so hard, Miss Cherry.
- Yes, I do. Now, sandwich!
- Are you Miss Louise Cherry? - In the flesh.
- Mrs. Abby Smith. I read your paper.
I need your help.
- Anything for my readers. Come in.
- My husband, Matthew, works as a meat cutter
at the abattoir of Wexler Davies Company.
- An excellent business. - I just sent my assistant out
to get me one of their peameal sandwiches.
Yesterday, Matthew went to work.
Then later that day,
the company sent me his body in a box.
Said he just dropped dead.
- I’m sorry to hear that.
Did you call the company?
- They gave me their condolences
and insisted it was natural causes.
But I’m convinced that place killed him.
- Really?
- Could you please find out what happened?
- You want me to look into this?
- I told the policemen at Station House Three,
but they didn’t think there was a case.
My husband was the picture of health
before he started there.
- I’m sorry. - What would you have me do?
- Go after the police? - I want you to find out
how my husband died.
I read all your articles. You’re a great investigator.
- Of course I am. - Then prove it.
- Well, has his body been buried?
No. He’s still at home for the wake.
Good.
Can I have it?
- I came as soon as I got the call.
- What have you, Watts? - The bank teller said
he arrived this morning to find this.
- And the vault? - It cracked,
but remained shut and intact.
All that was taken was some loose cash.
Well, then, it’s fortunate no one was hurt.
- Mm.
Any thought as to what kind of explosives were used?
Difficult to say, but, given the localized
obliteration, I would say a very high-velocity explosive.
- Well, they didn’t get away with much.
- Which means they may try again,
and next time, innocent bystanders
may not be so fortunate.
- Two local merchants said they heard the explosion
shortly before seven this morning.
But they didn’t see much other than smoke.
- Seven a.m. Most of them would have been closed at the time.
- Which is why thankfully no one was hurt.
- And also why we have very few witnesses.
- Mm.
- Mr. Boudreau. - Detective.
I haven’t seen you since the trivia competition.
- Yes. The competition in which you tried to trick me.
- I believe I succeeded in tricking you.
- What exactly are you doing here, Mr. Boudreau?
- I work in the neighbourhood.
- Oh. You don’t say.
- I got a job in a warehouse not too long ago.
- And what were you doing this morning?
- You think I had something to do with that?
- Well, you do have a criminal record
of multiple robberies and, significantly,
some of those robberies were at banks.
- That was the past. I’m an honest man now.
- Who just happens to be wandering around
near the site of an attempted bank break-in.
- Because I work at Grundy’s Warehouse
down the street.
Good luck with your investigation.
- He was a meat cutter? - Yes.
- Hm. Seems he and I are birds of a feather. Hm.
- Very funny, Miss Hart. Anything of note?
- Well, his organ tissues are unusually pale.
Seems he died from low blood volume.
- Do tell me more.
- He was severely dehydrated,
which can cause hypovolemic shock.
- Dehydration? - Mm.
- You’re sure? - I’m certain.
He had a cracked tongue and crusted nasal passages
and his upper respiratory tract
was irritated from the water loss.
- That’s very strange, isn’t it?
The man was only in his 20s.
He shouldn’t have died.
Is there anything that could have caused
the dehydration?
- Well, I suppose breathing in caustic chemicals
could dehydrate mucous membranes.
- So he was forced to toil
for months around toxic substances.
- Well, that’s very possible, but I, uh--
It’s also possible that his place of work
could have caused his death.
- I did no-- - Yes.
And I’m going to find out.
Our constables already spoke to the warehouse workers.
No one there saw anything.
- I want to ask them about François Boudreau.
- You suspect him? - It can’t be a coincidence
that a former robber just happened to be
nearby a bank bombing.
Hello.
- Can I help you? - Ah, Detective Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary. Detective Watts.
You must be Mr. Grundy?
I already spoke to your policemen.
- Yes. Uh, I-I’d like to confirm
if a François Boudreau works here.
- Why do you ask?
- Well, we have reason to believe
he may have been involved in the attack
on the bank up the street.
- And I suppose you think
it’s because he’s done time in jail?
- You’re aware?
- Bunch of my guys have served time.
But they all turned a page.
- Uh, can you confirm that Mr. Boudreau
was working inside the warehouse,
uh, shortly before 7 a.m. this morning?
- I can, indeed.
Take a look at this. "F. Boudreau."
Clocked in today, 5 a.m.
Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.
- Interesting. - What’s that?
- Mr. Boudreau was scheduled for a break shortly before 7.
- The time of the bombing. - Well--
- So Boudreau did have a pocket of free time.
- Well-- - He could have left
the premises. Right. Find out his current address.
- It’s looking good. Nice thickness.
Nice and neat.
Welcome to the plant. Miss Reed, was it?
- Yes, I’m Miss Hilda Reed.
- Frank Bale. I’m your foreman. - Nice to meet you.
- It’s good to have you here. You see,
I prefer hiring women for this role.
- Why’s that? - Ladies have nimble fingers;
better suited to sausage stuffing.
- Mmm. - Follow me.
Over here, we have chopping.
In the corner there, with all the paper,
that’s the packaging.
And back there, that is where we do the killing.
- Seems like a tight ship.
- We process half a million hogs every year,
including 300,000 world-class sausages
that you are about to help prepare.
Which brings me to one small warning.
- What’s that? - By the end of your shift,
your fingers are gonna feel like pretzels from tying sausages.
- Mm. - But don’t worry.
You’ll get used to it.
That’s just the meat grinder, Miss Reed.
The machinery resets itself twice a day, 11 a.m. and 7 p.m.
Mr. Davies!
It’s the big man himself.
- Hey, Frank. - And who do we have here?
- This is Miss Hilda Reed. It’s her first shift.
- Hm. Our female employees are some of our company’s
greatest assets. Welcome.
Uh, Frank’s a good man.
You listen to him, you’ll be right as rain.
- Chuck! - Can I have you a moment?
This is Miss Hilda Reed, first day on the line.
- Chuck Marson. - Pleased to-- Oh!
I’m sorry. I didn’t-- - You’re fine.
- Chuck has done just about every job here.
Now, would you mind showing Miss Reed the ropes?
- Leave her with me. Shall we start?
- Mm. - This will be your machine.
This is the fresh minced meat.
Pack it into the cylinder,
not too tightly, or it’ll jam.
Go on.
Hm. Uh, my fingers won’t get caught, will they?
- This wasn’t from, uh, stuffing sausages.
- No.
- Now crank it slow and steady.
Twist it into six-inch links.
Once you get to the end, tie it off. Ta da.
- You like your job here, don’t you?
- You’re damn right. I’m feeding the city,
the country, all of Britain.
How many people get to say that?
- Fair. So, what did happen to your finger?
Oh. I lost it in a meat grinder a few years ago.
Don’t worry, it didn’t get into any of the sausages.
Least I don’t think so.
- How horrible. - I’ve gotten used to it.
- So the work here is dangerous?
- It was my fault.
A-an accident. Every job comes with risks.
- I heard a worker died here.
Someone named Matthew Smith.
It’s just something I heard the workers chatting about
while I was in line for my interview.
- His death was unfortunate.
But the man was impatient.
He should have paced himself.
- What do you mean? - He thought he’d receive
a raise if he worked faster.
Everyone noticed when he started skipping breaks.
I say he drove himself into the ground.
- Is it possible he died from inhaling airborne chemicals?
- Corrosives and irritants are not allowed in the abattoir.
We use hot water and scrapers to clean tools and surfaces.
- I did wonder why the air didn’t smell as toxic
as I thought it would. - Now you know.
Now, hop to it, Miss Reed.
These sausages are not going to stuff themselves.
- Oh.
- If Mr. Boudreau is involved,
there could be explosives in his home.
- And why do you think he’s involved?
- Past history.
A leopard doesn’t change his spots.
- John Locke would disagree.
A man is born with a mind like a tabula rasa.
Human nature isn’t fixed. It’s malleable.
- Well, you’ll have to pardon me if I disagree
with the Empiricists. His apartment should be right...
- What are you doing here?
- Mr. Boudreau, we’re here to search your home.
- What? You have no right.
- We know you were on a break
when the Bank of Toronto was bombed.
- And you think in that scant 15 minutes,
I had enough time to set up and detonate a bomb?
Voyons.
- Then where were you?
- I was in the public lavatory relieving myself.
You can check with the attendant if you like.
And, I have to tell you, if you enter my home,
it’s an unlawful entry.
- So you have something to hide then?
I’m merely exercising my rights under the law.
Now, please, get out of here.
Your actions continue to arouse my suspicions.
Given your nature, that hardly surprises me.
- All right, gentlemen, let’s make sure those
workstations are spotless!
Miss Reed. Hm.
Not bad for your first day.
But I’m going to expect double the number
of sausages by next week.
- Excuse me.
- Who’re you?
- I’m... Miss Hilda Reed.
I just started working here today. And you are?
- Why are you down here?
- Funny, I could ask you the same thing.
I simply got lost.
- I’m Arthur. - That’s Barry and Curtis.
- Is this... soap?
Why exactly are you hiding down here
cutting up bars of soap?
- Can you keep a secret?
- I’ve been known to.
- We’re making soap using lard from the abattoir.
We sell it to apothecaries in the city.
Think of it as a supplemental side job.
- More like stealing. - We work all day
on the killing floor, yet it’s barely enough
to put food on the table. I’ve got a wife and five kids.
- Please don’t tell anyone.
- I won’t, on one condition.
- And that is?
- Tell me what you know about the death of Matthew Smith.
- Matthew Smith?
I heard he died here just yesterday. Surely you remember.
- ’Course I do. He fell dead near the end of his shift,
right on the floor. - What happened?
I’m an employee here now. I’m curious.
- I’m not a doctor. - I don’t know what happened.
- I do.
He was trying to bite off more than he could chew.
Barely stopped to rest. Worked himself to death.
- Meat cutting isn’t easy.
Many men can’t handle it. Remember Jimmy?
- Oh, yeah. - Who’s Jimmy?
- Jimmy Ganting.
He used to work here not too long ago.
- Go on. - One day, the place got
too much for him. He just stopped showing up.
He didn’t even clean out his locker.
Had new work boots and everything in there.
- And you have no idea what happened to him.
- I assumed he called it quits.
Too bad. He was a bright young fellow.
- Where can I find this Jimmy?
Mr. Ganting? Are you home?
Mr. Ganting?
Ugh...
- What did you do to him?
Who are you?
- Put the knife down. - Answer the question.
- Calm down. I’m here to help.
My name is Louise Cherry. I’m a journalist
at The Sentinel. I wanted to speak with Mr. Ganting.
- About what?
- Some of his co-workers at the meat plant said
that he stopped coming to work.
I wanted to know why.
Maybe you know, Miss...?
- Emily Wicker.
I haven’t seen Jimmy in two weeks.
I’m scared sick.
- You and he were sweethearts?
- Yes.
I was walking by and I saw the window open.
I was hoping he’d be home.
What do you want with him?
- Why did he stop working at Wexler Davies?
- Jimmy’s a vegetarian. We both are.
- Vegetarian?
Why would a vegetarian work at a slaughterhouse?
Essays on Vegetarianism?
- Ah, Dr. Kingsford said, "Those who eat flesh
are responsible for the horrors of the slaughterhouse."
This inspired Jimmy.
We believe that a wish not to harm animals
naturally results when we recognize
your relationship with them.
- Good for you. That still doesn’t answer my question.
Why would a vegetarian work at a place like that?
- He took the job to document that cruelty
that went on there. He said that if the public
could see it for themselves, it could change some minds.
And you really haven’t seen him for the past two weeks?
No. I have no idea what’s happened to him.
You said you were a journalist? - I am.
- Jimmy took these photos at the plant.
I haven’t had the nerve to develop them, but...
- Could I have them?
- Only if you promise not to publish them
until I know what’s happened to Jimmy.
- You have my word.
Watts. I just spoke with a former associate
of Mr. Boudreau’s, a Mr. Russell Volk.
The two of them were both involved in that bank robbery
- a decade ago. - You think Volk is behind this?
- I don’t know. But he did say
that he saw Mr. Boudreau splurging at a bar last night.
Apparently, he ordered rounds of drinks for everyone
and made Mr. Volk wonder how he could afford such a thing.
You think it was the cash stolen from the Bank of Toronto?
- Detective Murdoch.
Chief Constable Brackenreid.
Mr. Boudreau?
Yes, I did speak with him.
He’s a suspect in the attempted bank robbery at--
Yes, sir, but I--
- Anything of note?
- Apparently Boudreau has filed a complaint at City Hall.
Claims that I am harassing him
and the Chief Constable wants me to back off.
- So are you going to?
- Dehydration? - Yes, Mrs. Smith.
It appears that your husband declined to take breaks
while doing strenuous work.
The overwork killed him.
- The fool.
If it’s any comfort, he was trying to get a raise.
He was thinking of his family.
- I’d rather he become a thief and live than die among pigs.
- Miss Cherry. I have the photos you had developed and printed.
You smell like sausage.
Just give me the pictures, Mavis.
- It’s a nice smell.
This isn’t easy to look at.
That’s exactly what Jimmy Ganting would’ve liked to hear.
- Who is that?
- Frank Bale. - The foreman at the plant.
- He looks angry.
- Wager he found out about Jimmy’s project.
Well, I suppose this is the answer to my question
as to what you are going to do.
Boudreau remains our most viable suspect.
But if you don’t care to be involved...
Interesting. That certainly looks like trespassing to me.
- We may as well go down together.
Mr. Boudreau. What is your business here?
- Nothing that concerns you.
- You’re under arrest for trespassing.
- Isn’t this exciting. - Oh? What’s that?
- Watching you play with fire.
- Mr. Marson.
- It’s Chuck. What do you want?
- Why the rubber bands?
- Oh. It gives me a better grip.
After a couple hours of this, you work up a sweat.
- Resourceful indeed.
You’ve worked with Frank for a while now, right?
- I have. Why do you ask?
Just wondering how well you know him.
- Frank’s a decent fella.
One of the best foremen I’ve seen.
- So he never had any conflicts with any workers?
- He’s a foreman. - Of course there’s going to be
beef from time to time. But he’s a good man.
- Did he get along with Jimmy Ganting?
- You know Jimmy Ganting?
- I heard workers talk about him.
Apparently, he just walked off the job.
Left all his possessions behind.
Why would someone do that?
- I don’t know a man’s mind. I reckon few do.
All I know is he quit just after a few months.
Didn’t find the job interesting enough, I suppose.
- Why are you asking about Frank?
- Since you let me in on your secret,
I’ll let you in on mine.
My name is Louise Cherry. I’m actually a journalist.
- Then why are you here stuffing sausages?
- I’m writing a story about what it’s like to work
in the biggest meat plant in all of the British Empire.
But they don’t know that yet.
- You’re undercover? Why?
Sometimes people shut up when a journalist is around.
- I don’t blame them.
I should get back to my work, Miss Cherry.
- One question? - One.
Were Frank Bale and Jimmy at odds?
- At odds? Yeah, I’d say.
They spent most of their time shouting at each other.
- About what? - You name it.
Best get back to work.
Come to Ryan’s tonight. I’ll tell you all about it.
- Need some help? - Uh--
- Oh, here. Let me show you.
- You were within walking distance
of the Bank of Toronto,
and you were on break at the time of the explosion.
- I already told you I couldn’t
possibly have robbed a bank. I was in the--
- I know what you told me.
I also know that you spent a great deal of money
on frivolities in the hours immediately after the robbery.
- I think it’s telling that you call
treating my friends "frivolities."
- Excuse me? - And your thinking.
It’s much more limited than I gave you credit for.
- Care to explain that? - I’m a safecracker.
An artist. If I wanted to rob the bank,
I wouldn’t need to blow it up.
But you do have the expertise to do so.
- Oh, mon dieu, I think I heard a compliment.
- What were you doing on private property when we arrested you?
- I saw you following me,
so I tricked you into thinking that I was up to no good.
And you fell right into my trap.
Now I can tell your boss that you failed to cease and desist.
What’s the closest bank to the station?
- The Dominion.
- It sounds like someone’s making another withdrawal.
Does this mean I’m free to go?
- Same. Just one. - Frank, may I speak with you?
- Must be jammed.
- I thought I told you butchers
to watch what you threw in there.
- Look at the yellowing.
I-It must have been in there for weeks.
- That is Jimmy Ganting. You did this!
- What are you talking about?
- You knew Jimmy was taking photographs of the place.
Did you throw him into the grinder?
- That’s ridiculous.
- I have a photograph of you attacking him.
- Where did you get that? You are fired!
Give me that!
- What is going on here?
- Your foreman pushed a worker into the grinder.
Did you know about that?
Who the devil are you talking about?
- My name is Miss Louise Cherry.
I am the editor-in-chief of The Sentinel.
Your workers are dying, Mr. Davies,
and this time it’s murder being covered up.
- Give me that.
You get out of my plant. Now.
And if you print a word of these scurrilous lies,
I will destroy you.
- Watts?
- Looks like the robber was able to blow the vault
wide open this time.
- Was anyone inside? - No, no.
The bank was closed for lunch hour.
I... spoke too soon.
I just talked to a bank clerk who returned from lunch.
She says nothing seems to have been taken from the vault.
- Interesting.
The body was found having faced the blast.
Perhaps the dead man is the culprit.
- The explosives detonated earlier than he intended.
- It’s possible.
Hopefully Miss Hart can help identify the body.
Mr. Boudreau. This is a crime scene.
- I’m a free man, Detective. Hm.
- Just because you were released doesn’t mean you’re innocent.
- What does that mean? - You could have accomplices.
- And you could very well be delusional.
I had nothing to do with this.
- All right, then leave.
You know,
I have extensive knowledge when it comes to explosives.
You know what kind it is yet?
I guess not, because if you did,
you would have taken that opportunity
to flaunt your knowledge.
- Do you know what kind it is?
Mm. I can tell that it’s homemade.
Mm. You know what?
Take me to the body and I’ll help you with the case.
Absolutely not.
If you know something, tell us now.
- Remnants of the explosives may be embedded in the body.
I took a look, I could give you some answers.
- What’s in it for you?
- A chance to prove that I am innocent.
And, also, maybe the satisfaction of seeing
the look on the detective’s face
when he realizes that I’m smarter than he is.
- I highly doubt that.
So it wasn’t the working conditions
that killed Matthew Smith after all.
- No. But I discovered someone who really was murdered.
Jeez, Louise, another dead man?
- I believe a foreman pushed a worker named Jimmy Ganting
into a meat grinder
and Wexler Davies is trying to cover it up.
- What makes you think so?
Well, he banned me from the factory when I told him.
- Well, perhaps he just thought it was a ridiculous notion.
- Anyhoo, now that I have time to write,
I’m going to expose these people for murder.
- Louise, I thought you were just trying to sell papers.
Are you really trying to take down this company?
Why not? I can kill two birds with one stone.
- Well, be careful.
It’s a powerful company you’re setting yourself up against.
- Well, I must publish this.
My readers would be very interested to know
that their sausages could contain bits of Jimmy Ganting.
- You don’t have any evidence!
They could sue you for libel.
- I’ll get evidence.
The explosives were nitroglycerin.
- Based on the oily shrapnel, I’d bet money on it.
There could be residues of nitrates on the shrapnel
if that’s the case.
- We could test it in a solution of diphenylamine.
Everything I learned about homemade explosives,
I learned in jail.
I highly doubt they had such books.
- Thank you for remembering that I’m excellently well-read,
but no. This knowledge came from other inmates.
- Detective. - It isn’t a perfect test,
but based on this and everything else I see,
I’d say Mr. Boudreau is right. - Ah! What do you say to that?
- You knew it was nitroglycerin
because you were in on it with someone.
- Voyons. You’re impossible.
It’s no wonder that the explosives detonated early.
Nitroglycerin is extremely volatile.
- Violet. - Louise.
- You smell like a butcher shop.
- Thank you, Detective. Miss Hart,
can you please verify that this bone belongs to a man?
Miss Cherry, what is going on here?
- While undercover, I gathered evidence
that a worker was killed at the Wexler Davies Company
meat plant. They’re covering up the murder.
- You mean that’s...? - Yes, that’s him,
Jimmy Ganting, a vegetarian activist
who secretly photographed the slaughterhouse.
He went missing and he turned up inside the meat grinder.
Miss Cherry, do you have any proof?
- That’s the proof.
- The shapes of these osteons are far too irregular.
This is definitely not human.
- You’re sure? - I am. Now if you’ll excuse us.
- That’s Arthur.
- You know this man?
- He’s a meat cutter at Wexler Davies.
- Another meat cutter?
- How is a meat plant worker involved in bombing banks?
- What do you know about him?
He struggled to make
ends meet. So much so that he and two other workers
sold soap made out of stolen factory lard.
- Wha-- - Soap?
- Yes.
- Nitroglycerin is made by using glycerin.
- It’s a by-product of saponification.
Soap-making.
So these workers could be responsible
for making the explosives used in the bank bombings.
- Maybe Jimmy was killed because he found out
they were making explosives.
- Miss Cherry, take me to where they were making this soap.
- Yes and perhaps you should find some soap and some water
yourself, Miss Cherry.
- Right.
This is where I saw them.
- Chemistry equipment.
- Is that...?
- Nitroglycerin.
Why would someone leave this extremely sensitive substance
unsealed, uncovered, and unattended?
This could detonate with the slightest shake!
- Um, what time is it?
- It’s, uh...
ten to seven. Why?
Every day at seven,
the factory floor shakes for a minute
as the meat grinder resets.
The workers meant for this to explode?
The-the tremors would likely trigger the nitroglycerin
and obliterate all evidence of their soap-making enterprise.
- You’re saying this whole room could explode in ten minutes?
- The entire factory, Miss Cherry.
We need to get out of here.
- The door’s locked.
- It’s a closet lock. It’s very common
for storage rooms. Can’t be opened from the inside.
- Don’t tell me we’re trapped.
- All right.
But we are.
- What do we do?
- Ethanol.
Twenty litres.
That’s, uh, 32 kilograms by weight.
Each one of these bottles of ethanol is 175 millilitres.
That is 138 grams.
- Is this really the right time to be calculating--?
E-Ethanol can, uh, can desensitize nitroglycerin,
making it less hazardous.
But we need to dissolve at least ten percent of it by weight,
so that is... se... seventeen...
23 bottles of ethanol,
and I need to pour every one of them into this.
- What if you kill us? - Miss Cherry,
unless you have a better plan,
I suggest you take out one of those hairpins
and start trying to pick the lock, hm?
Twelve... thirteen...
We have less than five minutes!
Oh, no, my hairpin!
Miss Cherry! What is it?
- It’s a body.
- We don’t have time for that now!
- I got it! The door’s open.
- ...ty-three.
Let’s go.
Wait!
Seven-oh-one.
The nitroglycerin must be successfully desensitized.
That dead man was Jimmy Ganting.
- Are you sure?
- I’ve seen his photograph.
His lady friend confirmed it.
So, the bomb makers did kill him after all.
- We need to find them.
I think I know where they are tonight. Come on.
Hi, pals.
- Oh, it’s you.
- Where’s Arthur?
- He’s... not feeling well.
Are you sure you didn’t just leave him at the bank?
The two of you are under arrest for attempted robbery,
destruction of property and--
- The murder of Jimmy Ganting.
- What? - Murder?
- Jimmy Ganting’s body was found
in a crate of curing salts in the basement.
- We didn’t put him there. - Why would we kill Jimmy?
To silence him after he found out
about your bomb-making operation.
- We’re telling you, we’re not murderers.
- We just wanted to make some money.
We never meant to hurt anyone.
- Until one of your own died from a bomb that you made.
- Making explosives was never part of our initial plan.
You made and sold soap from stolen factory supplies.
But then you got greedy and went after the banks.
- No. We did make soap.
We actually thought we might have a shot at setting up
a proper business.
But we got rejected for a loan at every bank in the city.
- And that angered you.
- Of course. We feed the city,
but we can’t get a leg up. Damn right it angered us.
So you decided to get back at them.
- Wouldn’t you? - But when Arthur died,
you changed course.
And set up the explosion in order to cover up
all evidence of your scheme.
- And that’s all we did.
Then what about Jimmy Ganting’s body?
We didn’t know it was there. On my word!
- Be sure you fill this with sawdust
before you move it an inch.
- Mm-hmm.
- Detective,
I can assure you nothing untoward is going on here.
There are questions that remain unanswered.
But be grateful your factory is still standing.
- I suppose I owe you an apology.
You saved my plant.
- For now.
- Stop!
- What is it?
Are those rubber bands?
- They are.
- I know whose knife that is.
- Jimmy would talk about animal cruelty.
I thought, "Who the hell is this idiot
and what is he doing here?"
Then I saw him with a camera.
- You were worried he might harm the company.
I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t hear any of it.
We argued. I saw my knife and...
You know I’ve killed plenty of hogs before.
Killing a man was... different.
But it had to be done.
- Why put him in the basement?
- I was going to move him later.
Never knew those men were making soap down there.
- So you never got the chance?
- Those idiots.
Whatever happened to honest, hard work?
- I just read Miss Cherry’s article.
So, they really did make soap out of factory lard.
- Resourceful. - Don’t go looking
for any ideas, Mr. Boudreau.
- I have no interest in lard, or explosives.
But they really made a silk purse
out of a sow’s ear. I like that.
- Hm.
And we wouldn’t have figured it out
without your help.
- I... wish to apologize.
I acted rashly on my assumption that you were involved in this.
- So you’ll leave me alone? - Parfait.
- On the contrary, Mr. Boudreau.
What if in the future I require
your knowledge of miscellaneous deplorable topics?
- Well, I guess I’d never turn down the opportunity
to make you admit that I know something you don’t.
- So you do believe leopards can change their spots.
Even if they have faded somewhat... no.
- "Driven by meagre salaries,
workers turn to illicit activities,
such as stashing fresh lard from the hogs they slaughtered
with their own bare hands.
They churn out explosives inside a clandestine dungeon
of the very factory they’re stealing from."
Well, I’m glad you at least stuck to the facts
and left out the part about a worker
getting pushed into the meat grinder.
- The truth was enough.
- You know, Louise, for a moment I actually thought you cared
about these workers, but this article
paints them as absolutely fiendish.
Really? I thought I wrote them as brilliant.
- Oh, good Lord!
You got these photographs from vegetarians?
- Nice, aren’t they?
Miss Cherry, I want to thank you
for publishing Jimmy’s work.
- Unveiling the truth is what I was born to do, my dear.
- Perhaps he died for something.
People ought to know the cost
of what they put in their bodies.
- Mm. Oh!
Miss Cherry!
- What? I made these myself.
Mm...
Mm!
Subtitling: difuze