Dead Still

You look beautiful, Mary.

Hmm.

Mr. Blennerhasset,

what a wonderful job you've done.

Oh, Mary.

- Ah, let's-- - My darling Mary.

Let's not touch Mary.

- I've never seen her so alive, Mr. Blennerhasset.

Mary.

- No, young lady, I'll think you'll find

her hair was perfect.

Let's get the photograph, shall we?

And then you can touch her all you want.

- No cheap trinkets on my Mary.

- You can get rid of this bloody thing.

I'll not have it buried with my daughter.

I think you'll find

I had her posed in quite a dignified position.

Ready, Mr. Blennerhasset.

- Give me a few minutes, I need to liven her up a bit.

Oh, my Mary.

- Young man, could you put those boxes down, please,

I've got my own system.

- Mr. Blennerhasset, when can we see the photograph?

Well, Mrs. Carew,

you haven't decided which case you want.

You could have plush-lined or you could have velvet or--

- Will we have it for the funeral?

It would be such a comfort for everyone to see it.

- Well, Mr. Carew, I'll have it for you before that.

Now could--

Stop, you're carrying that upside down.

Carruthers, could you come and help, please.

You know how to pack it.

- Not really, but God knows, I swear.

I think velvet might be nice.

- If only Mary were alive herself to see the photograph.

- Well, unfortunately, she isn't.

Look, I have it, I have it!

Ah!

- Oh, that sounded like a nasty one, Mr. Blennerhasset.

It sounded like a break.

- It might be just a fracture if you're lucky.

I'm fine.

Carruthers, could you help me to my carriage, please?

Stand, stand, stand.

Has much changed?

No, Miss Vickers,

but been smoking a lot more.

Good for you, Carruthers.

Me too.

- You don't have to do that.

- Then go to bed. - I will not go to bed.

You can't tell me what to do.

I think your mother might have just sent you here

so she could spy on me.

Oh, no, I volunteered.

Practically caused a scene.

I need to be away from them.

All of them.

Don't do that.

- Uncle, I want to be an actress.

Oh.

- And they will mock me for it at home,

just like they mocked you.

Yes,

I remember the mocking.

I was thinking...

Now that I'm living in town,

that I could get some experience

with a bit of theater company,

and, ideally,

never go back home to our family.

Very well, Nancy.

You can stay.

Nah, something's not right.

- Nothing right about doing that to yourself.

That's a queer one.

Slash both your wrists with a razor, take turns,

then sit real upright, get comfortable,

and let yourself bleed out,

calm as a lake.

Oh yeah,

it's a queer one.

- Roper, didn't I just say it was a queer one?

- Regan, do you need to be breathing down my neck like that?

- Well, I wouldn't have to if your sketches were any better,

but they're shite, so get used to me.

- I don't think there's much point sketching this.

- Two identical suicides in one week,

and they both look very, uh...

Lifelike?

Yeah, now you're talking.

Did you ever get one of those memorial photographs done?

- Those odd photos you get when someone's dead?

Yeah, one of those.

So you know the way the dead person looks alive.

- There's a fellow in town, specializes in that racket.

Mm, Blennerhasset.

I know his work.

It's hard to tell which is actually the dead person.

Mm, it's grim enough.

Look, McGloyn had IRB connections,

he was up to his neck in debt.

Nah.

It's never the most obvious thing.

It's maybe not done in Cork,

but up here, the obvious thing is usually the thing.

Roper, you're a young buck.

Do you ever wanna sniff out the big catch

and walk your way up the ladder to Dublin Castle?

- I just want to do the job at hand, alright?

There's no point making work for yourself needlessly.

Right.

You go through his bins outside there.

Take your time,

you don't want to miss anything.

What? What do you mean?

You said it yourself, boy.

It's a queer one.

It's not a delay to stop and sharpen your sight,

as my father used to say.

- Well, this won't do, for starters.

You're sure you packed the plate?

- I am personally offended by that question.

You know how meticulous I am about my work.

How do I know

you haven't become careless in your old age?

- You were looking for me, so.

- When these cases were left unattended--

Careless.

- Did anyone interfere with this one?

We didn't see a sinner, no.

- Well, now you're going to have to take me down

to the Carew household right away.

No.

It's near midnight, Uncle, and they're bereaved.

Well, don't I know it.

Would do me fit to kill myself,

listening to their maudlin chatter.

- Well, don't kill yourself until you take me there.

First thing tomorrow morning.

- Nice to see you two are still rays of sunshine.

Come on, come on.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

- Brock Blennerhasset, the memorial photographer himself.

Do I know you?

No.

I know you.

You did a lovely portrait of my cousin, Paddy Creen.

Creen...

Oh yes, killed by a bull.

- There wasn't a corner of that field

that poor Paddy wasn't kicked that day.

- If I remember rightly, he cleaned up quite well.

Mm.

- Now, is the master of the house in?

No, they're at the funeral.

Oh, yes, of course.

Detective Frederick Regan,

Dublin Metropolitan Police,

G Division.

My middle name is James,

in case you were wondering.

Yes, yes, I was, yeah.

Um, could I possibly come in?

I, um, misplaced a lens cap here yesterday, I think.

- I'll sweat off my sack, Mr. Blennerhasset, but, uh,

a small piece of equipment may be a needle in a haystack.

We've had a spot of breaking and entering.

I can't stand these opportunistic bastards,

knowing a poor family is bereaved and taking advantage.

Hmm, indeed.

If I had the means,

it'd be a mighty help to document crime scenes like this.

Like, you know, the means of the photography, I mean.

- Well, why don't you save up and buy yourself a camera.

- I've been trying to persuade the--

Would you be a dear

and have a look under that table for me?

No, it doesn't seem to be there.

- I keep telling them, I keep telling them,

having a photographic department in The Yard is the future.

But will they listen to me?

Will they fuck?

- If any of your offices do happen

to find a small item of this size,

could you please tell them to treat it with the utmost care,

maybe use gloved hands,

and then get them contact me as soon as possible.

No problem, Mr. Blennerhasset.

Thank you so much.

- Erm, you didn't happen to see anything peculiar

when you were here yesterday?

No, I don't believe I did.

But then again, I found that family so overbearing

that I hardly noticed anything else.

- They'd put ire on your hole, wouldn't they?

Yes, they would.

They would put ire on your hole.