Original subtitles

Is there anything better than a weekend getaway?

Pint in the Spitfire and that date you made me cancel?

Sir, I really wish you'd tell us what training

we'll be undertaking.

Is this some kind of top secret training facility?

Lowsley: Yes and no.

But mostly no.

Reminds me of a Girl Guide camp I went to...

We all got dysentery.

Here comes the cavalry!

[ Trumpets ]

Splendid to see you, Hector.

Len. [ Both laughing ]

Welcome, friends. I'm Len Shepherd, retired Chief Constable,

active camaraderie guru.

It's my job to turn you from this, into this.

You'll tackle several challenges,

earning points for excellent teamwork.

Each point gives you a one second advantage

over your opponents in the assault course finale.

- Wait, it's a competition? - Even better.

We are in the running for Police Team of the Year,

and this will decide the winner!

I've always wanted to go to those posh Police Awards!

I hesitate to ask, but who are we up against?

[ "This Road Is Too Long" by The Prisoners plays ]

? Why is it taking so long when I'm not getting anywhere ?

Stowington Police, reporting for duty.

Name's Jack Stagg.

Sure you've heard all the stories: all true.

Let's get this over with, Len.

You know I don't wait for anyone.

- Winthrop. - Lowsley.

That Team of the Year award is mine.

Think again, Winthrop. Stowington's going down!

[ Knuckles crack ]

Hi, I'm Peggy.

Detective Sergeant Thorne.

Er, civilian names please, Heather.

We're all off duty.

Everyone comfy?

Then let us begin our story of a small village

and a big investigation. [Winthrop yawns]

The dastardly crook, Billy McCoy,

is terrorising the community.

Two officers join forces to take him down,

but before they can work together,

they must first get to know each other.

So let's follow their lead. For one point,

can you work out who among us

is professionally trained in ballet?

Don't look at me- CC Winthrop says I've got two left feet!

Sam: Well, it's certainly not one of us,

so I can only assume...

Are lazy assumptions the foundation of all your policing?

Will the real ballerina reveal themselves?

The actual term is ballerino.

[ Jack scoffs ]

No, it's- it's a challenging discipline.

Sorry, but this game is highly inappropriate.

Oh, sit down.

Sir, he's sharing out private business.

Fine. You can go and make the tea instead.

There's a good girl.

[ Deep sigh ]

So, our two officers forge their friendship,

together they swoop to raid Billy McCoy's safe house.

just one problem- it's awfully dark inside!

Guide your partner around the booby traps

to gather Billy's loot.

[ Whistle blows ]

Steady, sir, steady. Left a bit, left a bit...

Go, go Gillespie!

Straight on straight on...

- Come to me, come to me. - Well done, Button!

Oh, you're doing great, sir.

- Faster, Heather! - Will you shush!

I'm trying to concentrate!

And you tell me you're cut out for leadership?

Ooh, hard luck, mate!

- Oh! - What are you playing at?!

- Skulduggery?! - Three, four...

Len: Oh! Bravo, Heather! Two points to Stowington.

One to Great Slaughter for a fine display of trust.

[ Whistle blows ]

Okay, sir, there's a cone two feet ahead.

- What's that in parsnips? - Parsnips?

I measure distance in root vegetables.

- Left, Beagle. - My left or yours, sir?

- Where are you going boy?! - I don't know!

Oh no! Man down!

Winthrop: He's fine.

Walking disaster, aren't you Beagle?

Yeah. Sorry. My fault.

Nonsense. As I always say, we rise and fall as a team.

Funny. I always say

a chain is only as strong as its weakest link.

You of all people should know that.

We'll pause there, with the scores even.

Dry yourself off, Beagle.

Our story's about to get interesting.

Good news, the raid was a success!

Having recovered Billy's loot,

the two officers retire to one of their homes

to toast their triumph with a bottle of wine or two.

Or five. Am I right?

Actually Jack, they won't make it past the second.

At 2A.M., somebody fires through the window,

injuring one of the officers and tragically killing the other.

Lowsley: Ooh! Plot twist!

Your task- examine the scene of the crime.

But your ranks have been reversed-

Peggy and Beagle are in charge.

To assist with forensics, it's my pleasure

to introduce esteemed local expert, Sis-

- Oh, yes, that's me! Ta-da!

Oh, sorry, did I miss my cue? Backstage butterflies.

Oh, dear. Poor chaps.

Right, so, Sarge- Oh. I mean, Felix.

Felix: Yes, boss?

Let's see. Maybe you could search for footprints?

And Sam could record the items, and...

Oh, there's no camera.

I'm happy to create sketches of the scene, ma'am.

Wonderful delegating, Great Slaughter!

What's the meaning of this?!

Sorry Constable, if, er, if you can't handle the demotion,

then maybe you should go and make the tea.

Someone's enjoying herself.

Well, without a real-life victim,

I must admit- nothing beats a good murder!

Okay, have you read the surviving officer's statement?

Not yet. Have you found something?

Well, I'm merely an observer. I couldn't possibly say.

Jack: A-Ha!

Impressive, right?

Heather: Compromising the scene?

- Extremely. - Heather's right.

I must dock Stowington a point...

and then award you two!

Jack's just found the spinning top.

Calling card of Billy McCoy.

Enough!

You're an embarrassment!

Jack: I've just bagged us a point.

What are you two whispering about?

Oh, er- this bullet hole.

Sister Boniface says it contradicts

the eyewitness account.

Well, erm, actually, physics says it.

If you observe the angle of-

I knew it! The nun's one of them!

This competition's rigged!

Don't be absurd!

You're even worse at this than you were as Chief Constable.

Fetch our room keys, the day is over.

Bet you're wondering why you got stuck with me.

Er, we- we could talk, or-

play a game?

I don't know what mind games you're playing, Peggy.

But I'm going to that awards ceremony

and impressing the bigwigs.

And nobody is getting in my way.

[ Trumpeting ]

Sir, are you in there?

Sam: Morning. Everything alright?

It's CC Winthrop, sir. He's not answering.

Well, some of us enjoy a lie-in.

In Stowington, we don't squander the best hours of the day.

[ Knocking ]

[ Clears throat ]

Sam: Are you in there, Chief Constable?

Ah, Len. Can we get the spare key, please?

Erm, I'm afraid the only copy fell victim to rust.

Stand back then.

They don't call me The Wrecking Ball for nothing.

[ Door bangs open ]

[ Camera snapping ]

Sam: What have you got for us, Sister?

Cause of death- a rather nasty blow to the back of the head.

Consistent with- [ Camera snaps ]

an equally nasty bedpost.

So he fell and hit his head. Drunk, perhaps?

As a skunk. Sister Reg's expression.

Bloodshot eyes indicate inebriation;

blood tests should confirm.

Sam: And the key was on the chest of drawers when I came in.

The groundskeeper confirmed that's the only one.

[ Lock clicks ]

Lock hasn't been tampered with.

Winthrop must have locked the hut from inside.

Is there any other way in?

The window was securely bolted.

No trapdoors or loose panels.

Sam: Well. I can't say that I warmed to the chap,

but it certainly is a tragic accident.

Perhaps we should reserve our certainties.

Billy McCoy's calling card.

As left beside his victims' bodies.

Like Len's fictional story.

It must have dropped when he fell.

Well- let's see, shall we?

Blood loss would have been gradual,

pooling gently around the spinning top...

Observation- blood spatter around the pool-

and on the spinning top itself.

Deduction- the blood had settled before it was impacted.

Meaning Winthrop was already dead

and someone else dropped the spinning top?

Well, people seldom fall backwards unaided.

More likely, somebody pushed him,

left the spinning top and fled,

contriving a locked room to cover their tracks.

Stowington's Chief Constable was-

- Lowsley: Murdered?! - I'm sorry, sir.

Local rivalry aside,

I'm sure CC Winthrop meant a great deal to you.

Don't be ridiculous. It's the politics I'm worried about.

I'd better go and inform Winthrop's

Deputy Chief Constable.

Well, in the meantime,

we'll handle this like any other murder.

You will not!

Until you have overwhelming evidence,

Winthrop's death is an accident,

officially speaking.

But how are we supposed to investigate?

Unofficially.

That lot will be far more cooperative,

if they don't suspect they're suspects.

Jack: I'm not answering to you. We're the same rank.

Relax. No one's answering to anyone.

We're just trying to establish how this accident happened.

How can we help, Sam?

We found this in CC Winthrop's hut.

And you think he was killed by a fictitious villain?

Actually no, no we think that he might have slipped on it.

Did anyone hear a crash?

Obviously not, I'd have been there in five seconds flat!

Was your boss a big drinker?

Seems like he was on the vodka last night.

Insubordinate to his final breath!

I gather you two had history?

Len: Ancient history.

Winthrop knew about my no alcohol policy

- he insisted on hut inspections to enforce it.

Really? Well he didn't inspect our huts.

Because nobody grassed you up.

I would never!

Look, I think everyone's still in a bit of shock

Why don't we wrap this up elsewhere?

[ Grunts ]

Write it down then.

Vodka was mine. Who cares?

Well, I'm sure your boss did.

Winthrop wasn't bothered about rules.

He was waiting for an excuse.

Careful, sir! That cologne's imported from Djibouti.

Oh dear, Jackie Boy.

Look- We can share it.

And you were so close to that promotion.

[ Winthrop laughs ]

Let's have it, then.

"Bet you're glad he's dead?"

I'd be relieved, too. He sounds like a nightmare.

Couldn't handle a superstar climbing the ranks behind him.

That's the old guard for you.

So your gaffer's the same then?

What Lowsley? I can't stand the sod.

Guess the grass isn't always greener.

Least you've got that Button girl.

She's a bit of alright, eh?

- Careful. - Relax, mate.

I'll let you keep her. [ Clicks tongue ]

Thanks.

Right. We ducking out for a pint then?

It's 10 A.M., Jack, how thirsty are you?

[ Scoffs ] You saying I've got a problem?

What?

So I like a drink to unwind.

It's not easy being everyone's hero.

So. We had to relocate Sister Boniface, to avoid suspicion.

Yes alas, before vanishing into thin air,

the killer cleaned up expertly.

Leaving no trace but the spinning top.

Which Jack and Winthrop clashed over yesterday.

Maybe Jack killed him and then left it there out of spite.

But why would he make it look like an accident,

only to leave a clue?

Good question. Okay, what else have we got?

I found a letter in a bin outside the hut.

Well, at least I think it's a letter.

Secret investigation and a jigsaw puzzle.

Must be my birthday!

Len: Knock-knock.

Hope I'm- not interrupting.

Oh, no. [ Laughs ] We were just team bonding.

So, er, we're all agreed? The contest will resume.

One of our opponents just died.

I mean, Stowington are a persuasive bunch,

and they really want that award.

[ Sam sighs ]

[ Boniface clears throat ]

Well, I'm sure it won't be that bad.

Following the shooting, the police swoop on Billy McCoy.

But unwilling to come quietly,

he takes a hostage-

kindly played by Felix.

I didn't exactly know what I was volunteering for-

To arrest Billy and free his hostage,

you must find a way past his vicious hounds.

This one's mine.

Makes no odds who I take down.

Len: Ah, steady, Heather.

One simple touch sends them back to the start.

Ready?

Right. You go left, I'll go right?

Alright. Just don't do anything to antagonise our suspects.

[ Whistle blows ]

I said stay out my way!

Wonderful!

That's a point to Great Slaughter.

Let's see how Stowington fare.

Chin up, Sammy-boy. No shame in being runners-up.

Len: Ready!

No, wait, wait, wait!

Something's wrong.

Hey, it's just a game.

[ Panting ] I'm alright-

just- need a break.

Right, everyone, take five.

[ Beagle panting ]

It's not so easy playing the victim, is it?

Should be used to it.

Just thought things might be different now.

Without CC Winthrop?

That wound looks fresh.

When we arrived yesterday, he was in a worse mood than ever.

Chop-chop, Beagle. We'd like to unpack sometime today.

Let me carry mine, sir. I can't watch.

I'm happy to do it! It'd be quicker in two trips.

Where's the entertainment in that?

Beagle: Almost tore my hand to shreds, but I didn't crack.

I never cracked.

Please-

Allow me.

So do you know why he singles you out for mistreatment?

I'm sure all recruits get picked on.

This is bullying.

And he runs the risk of losing a very promising officer.

Policing's in my blood, I'd never quit.

No matter how miserable I am.

If I could give you some advice, as a friend?

What's this, first aid or another trick?

It's alright, Felix was just-

Pretending to be your best mate, to throw you off your game?

Yeah. Just had that shtick from his partner.

That wasn't my intention at all.

Do you know what, I didn't fall for it.

Can't trust anyone but yourself.

Is it possible Winthrop locked himself in

after he was attacked?

No. He died instantly.

Plus that doesn't explain what

the spinning top was doing there.

So we don't know how it was done, but we have two motives-

Winthrop was blocking Jack's promotion,

and he was equally bullying his new recruit.

It's a beagle.

Oh right, right!

But why would you kill your boss with six other officers around?

You wouldn't.

This was probably an argument that escalated.

Sam: Until one of them snapped.

Am I the only one who feels sorry for Stowington?

They all seem so lonely.

Well, little wonder,

when their Chief Constable had them spying on each other.

It's a report. Addressed to the victim.

"Gained access to their baggage. Beagle packs light.

Unexplained rag may be infantile comforter..."

Aww, he's got a blankie!

"Concealed alcohol in Jack's suitcase.

Probable rule violation."

Sam: So Heather was the grass?

I sneaked a peak at her pocketbook;

the Fs are unmistakable.

Did she write anything else?

Oh, only some cursory observations...

[ Clears throat ] ...about the three of you.

Well, don't leave us hanging!

Er, well, erm-

It appeared to Sergeant Thorne that, erm-

"Peggy is a doormat, Felix has no discernible talents..."

Ouch.

And, erm, "Sam's staggering lack of intelligence

is mitigated only by his boyish good looks."

That is outrageous!

- Oh, spare us. - What? I'm as insulted as you two.

Anyway, the important bit is

why Winthrop felt the need to spy on his own team.

Button, we need to have a word with your room-mate.

Do we have to, sir?

It's true. That ogre made me do his bidding.

Shameful waste of my talents.

Sam: There must've been a reason.

I assume that was the reason.

They try and break our spirits; we dig our heels in

and work twice as hard as the lot of them.

Are you talking about men?

Clearly I've misjudged your sparkling intellect.

I'm sorry that your boss treated you badly,

but Inspector Gillespie respects everyone.

If he did, he'd drop the pretence

and admit this is a murder investigation.

Very well. But you're capable of standing up to anyone.

Winthrop had something on you.

If there was a secret, why on earth would I tell you?

If this was a murder investigation, you wouldn't have a choice.

I know the law.

This line of enquiry's a dead end.

Sorry, Heather. The inspector-

Sam doesn't want to invade your privacy.

Do you?

No, I just- need to know

if it's pertinent to CC Winthrop's death.

Fine.

Winthrop had information that could destroy the only thing

that matters.

My career.

But it's not relevant, you have my word.

Sam.

Now, stand aside.

I have a competition to win.

Do you reckon she'll tell her colleagues

they're all murder suspects?

Len: Oh, I'm sensing some tension.

This does happen sometimes in team building.

On the bright side, Billy McCoy was successfully detained.

Alas, his girlfriend gave him an alibi

for the night of the shooting.

Further evidence must be gathered.

Twenty items, scattered around the grounds,

each worth a point.

Let's split up. We'll find them faster.

That's not in the spirit of unity!

I've been thinking.

Remember how uncomfortable Heather was

when Len started sharing our secret talents?

Oh, yes. Ballet!

Please continue.

Well, there's only one way Len had that information.

He's got our personnel files.

Of course!

Anything the suspects are hiding must be in their files.

Where's a lock pick when you need one?

[ Door clicks open ]

Ah! Bravo, Sister!

Sorry for adding to your list of sins.

Well, I'm sure the Lord won't begrudge me one weekend of fun.

In the pursuit of justice, of course.

Okay, I've found our files.

And here are the Stowington ones.

Empty.

Looks like someone beat us to it.

It's just full of dusty old case files.

I'm sorry, sir. We're trying to investigate discreetly,

but the thing is, the suspects are all trained detectives.

Well, at least tell me we're on course for Team of the Year?

I believe that's every last item.

Unprecedented!

I only wish you'd worked together.

Winning's what matters, right?

We get the points?

Your head start in tomorrow's assault course

appears insurmountable.

Ah. There's always next year, Sammy.

I- Sorry.

Sit, Peggy please.

I feel I should say thank you

for calling off your inspector earlier.

Oh. You're welcome.

The observations I made about you were unfounded.

If you wish to rebuke me, you have fifteen seconds.

Don't be daft.

I forgive you.

My dad always says,

only take criticism from those who know you.

You're one of the most impressive officers

I've ever met, let alone female ones.

But- well, we don't actually know each other, do we?

Before I joined the force,

I made a brief foray into the racy modelling industry.

And now I live with that regret.

A detective and a model?

You're like a superhero!

Of course, I understand why you wanted to keep it to yourself.

I thought I'd burnt all the photographs, but...

nothing got past Winthrop.

I come from a family of policemen.

I know how their vulgar boys' club operates.

We do what we can to survive.

They're not all like Winthrop.

Even your colleagues might surprise you,

if you give them a chance.

I see enormous potential in you, Peggy Button.

But be careful.

Your trusting nature may be your downfall.

Oh!

It was right in front of us!

The living room, the two officers, the calling card.

Did you steal a file from Len's office?

Well in my defence, you did commission me for a burglary.

Sorry, I'm not following.

Len's story isn't so fictional, after all! [ Chuckles ]

Remarkable. An inch-perfect reconstruction.

So ten years ago, you were Stowington's Chief Constable,

when two of your officers were shot.

And this happened in Sergeant Harrison's home.

Where he sadly, died.

Harrison was a good man.

But his partner survived-

Inspector Winthrop.

The spinning top left at the scene.

That wasn't the calling card of Billy McCoy, a figment of your imagination,

but of the very real Jimmy McGraph.

Yeah, well, his-

His alibi was paper thin.

But so was our evidence.

Just the patchy testimony of that drunkard.

All this team building twaddle just to mess with me?

I hoped it might jog your memory of that night.

- Don't you want justice? - Of course I do.

But you screwed up the investigation.

Because of your unreliable narrative!

- Sister Boniface said- - She's a nun, Len!

Be honest. Did you take a bribe?

Move on with your life.

You're not a copper any more.

I'll always be a copper.

I didn't retire.

Winthrop had me pushed out, for failing to protect my team.

The case went unsolved.

So you spent the next ten years raking over every detail,

challenging scores of detectives to find a breakthrough,

under the guise of a team building course.

But why invite Winthrop now, after all these years?

Jimmy McGraph's on his deathbed.

This was my last chance to nail him,

so I brought in the best of the best.

And the man you always blamed. The man that took your job.

I was the failure, he was the hero-

wounded trying to save his dying partner.

Our paths were on different trajectories.

Trajectories...

[ Whimsical music ]

Am I in Heaven or Hell?

One can only speculate.

But your present injury is barely a graze.

Your partner wasn't so fortunate.

I tried to save him.

Threw myself in front of the gun.

Your blood spatter tells a different story.

I've been drinking.

Might be a bit fuzzy on the details.

Like the gunman in the window?

No, that bit's true.

Curious how his bullet changed course in mid-air,

entering the wall at an angle defying all physics.

Well, maybe it ricocheted.

Or maybe the shooter had extraordinarily long arms.

How else can one explain your gunshot residue burn,

from a gun fired at point blank range?

You don't know what you're talking about.

You weren't there!

No.

And neither was the gunman.

[ Gunshot echoes ]

Oh, bullet holes!

Sister?

I'm sorry, Len.

The evidence against your suspect was weak,

because he was innocent.

Winthrop planted the spinning top and shot himself

to cover up the truth-

that he killed his own partner.

No. No, he wouldn't have...

Felix: So Len had no idea?

Apparently not. But he already blamed Winthrop for costing him his career.

- So he had a motive. - So did Heather.

Winthrop was blackmailing her. Her secret's not important,

but if you must know, she'll understand.

Well, any motives remain academic,

until we determine how the killer escaped a locked hut.

Could they have duplicated the key?

Not without planning.

And this wasn't premeditated.

Perhaps the killer stayed in here the whole night?

No, all the suspects were present when I opened the door.

What if they pumped a toxic gas through the air vent,

so Winthrop passed out,

then a special contraption fired the spinning top?

Yes, well, erm... there's certainly something

to be said for thinking outside the box.

Ah! There you are!

Good morning, sir.

I believe we are on the cusp of a breakthrough.

What? This is no time for a murder investigation.

The assault course is about to begin!

Go! Go! And go!

Bit of a head-scratcher, this one, isn't it?

[ Chuckles ] Even I can't figure out how a key passed through a solid wall.

- Sorry, a key? - Mm.

Well, clearly the killer locked the door on the way out,

and then came up with this fiendish plan to return the key

to the top of the chest of drawers.

But that's the obvious part.

Yes. Obvious...

[ Lowsley laughs ]

Len: Well, here we are.

The final showdown.

First team to cross the finish line wins.

First full team.

I'll carry these two, if I have to.

Len: Places, please.

I've been thinking.

When the dust settles,

there may be a place for you in Stowington.

Are you serious?

Those buffoons in Great Slaughter are holding you back.

What do you think?

I'm flattered, Heather. Thank you, but-

if I have to choose between my career and my friends?

I'll choose the buffoons.

Understood.

This will have no bearing on the humiliation

you're about to endure.

I'd wish you good luck,

but you've got more chance of catching your phantom murderer. [ Laughs ]

[ Whistle blows ]

[ Metal clinks ]

- One, two, three- - Together: Great Slaughter!

[ Whistle blows ]

[ Gasps ] Oh!

CC Winthrop's death feels like a contradiction.

An unplanned attack made to look like an accident,

but yet leaving the spinning top feels-

Premeditated. Which clearly indicates murder.

Come on! Up you get, up you get!

Pull yourself together, Beagle!

The spinning top was no coincidence.

This must be about Winthrop killing his partner.

But only Len was around ten years ago,

and he never knew the truth.

Ah! [ Grunts ]

Oh, my hand's killing me. Help!

You know I don't like physical contact.

Ugh!

Stringo!

Get off me! I can manage.

Oh there's nothing more manly than stubborn pride.

- What did you say?! - Felix: Stop fighting, we're all on the same team.

Come on Great Slaughter! Get stuck in!

What's she doing back here?

No!

Sister, so I don't think Len did this.

But who'd leave a spinning top?

Well, it was only a tool. To engineer the locked room.

The perpetrator had to abandon the top itself,

but they absconded with the string.

After using it to transport the key back through the grille

and onto the bedside table.

That's, er, kind of brilliant.

I mean, I myself couldn't pull the string swiftly enough

to release the top. Not without injury anyway.

Whoa-oh!

Oh! Oh, sir- are you alright?

Yeah, I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Just a bit of rope burn.

Wait-

Oh! He must've heard us!

Don't come any closer!

Wait, wait!

Look- you said policing was in your blood.

Is that why you stole the personnel files,

are you related to Sergeant Harrison?

The child's spinning top

that Winthrop found at two in the morning-

it was yours.

Was Sergeant Harrison your father?

That living room was so familiar...

It didn't click 'til hours later,

but the spinning top...

I used to have one just like it!

Sam: And then you saw the way Winthrop reacted

when Boniface poked holes in the evidence.

- Sam: Is that when you confronted him? - Beagle: He was drunk.

Said he hadn't touched a drop in ten years.

Not since the night he shot my dad.

- His son? - There was no one else there.

Tell me the truth!

We were joking around.

I didn't know my was pistol was loaded.

- He was my best friend. - You're a monster.

Breathe a word of this and I swear I'll kill you too!

[ Head slams ]

[ Sniffles ]

Felix: You didn't mean for him to die.

I should've called for help.

I should've, but-

instead, I did the same cowardly thing he did back then.

Boniface: So you cleaned up the evidence and staged the scene.

Yet the spinning top betrayed you.

I only ever wanted to help people.

But all I do is make things worse.

No! That's not true!

We need you, Beagle.

Jack: She's right, mate. Len: Listen!

Rupert- whenever Winthrop squandered his talent,

chasing personal glory,

your father forgave him.

He was a true team player.

And I've let him down. I've ruined my career.

I disgraced the uniform! Dad would be ashamed of me.

Actually, actually I think he'd be proud of you.

Oh, yes! Yes, agreed.

If he forgave Winthrop's flaws,

he could forgive your mistakes, too.

If he could what a fine officer you've become-

one that believes in doing the right thing.

Sam: PC Beagle-

I need you to come down and make things right.

- How can I? - Sam: By working with me.

You know it is my duty to uphold the law.

You know this, because you took the same oath as me.

Show me that it still means something to you.

[ Quietly cries ]

I just wanted to let you know,

everything you told us stays confidential.

Thank you, Peggy.

Though I'm not sure keeping secrets has helped my cause.

Bravo, dream team!

You've finally put my mind at rest.

If only I'd instilled my old gang with your esprit de corps!

So what are you going to do next, old chap?

Now the case is solved,

I shall have to find something else to live for.

Boniface: I believe you've already found it.

You make a splendid camaraderie guru!

Agreed. You're a natural, Len.

Really?

You don't think I'm an embarrassing old cheese-ball?

- No, you're a natural, Len. - No.

Hear, hear!

Oh! On that note,

as neither team finished the assault course,

I'm afraid I'm going to have to crown Stowington

the champions on points.

Well, they may need a couple of minutes.

Right. Ready to go home?

Oh, fine, fine.

Sir, you're not still moping about

the Team of the Year thing, are you?

Losing an award I can accept,

but losing it to Stowington?!

I'll never be able to show my face in the clubhouse again.

Well, we did solve an impossible murder

and rectify an historic injustice.

Yes, well I suppose two out of three isn't too disastrous.

Oh! And we discovered a ballerino in our ranks.

Honestly, Felix.

Did you lie about being a ballerino

just to liven up the old CV?

[ Scoffs ]

Bravo!

Did you wear a tutu, Sarge?

Those tights must be terribly restrictive.

And this is why I don't share my hobbies.

I'm all for it.

I just want you to introduce me to

some of your ballerina friends.

Felix: You are all philistines!

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