All language subtitles for Dirk.Gently.S01E03.Episode.3.1080p.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-BACON

Gently!

This is the police!

Welcome to Paneljacks
answering service.

Please choose
from the following options.

Gently!

Could you repeat?

This is your final warning.

Option... two.

If you do not open this door,
we will force an entry.

I'm sorry.
I don't understand.

Could you repeat?

Option... two.

Thank you. Putting you through
to option three.

Go!

Go! Go! Go!
Upstairs!

Landing clear, sir.

Welcome to
Paneljacks Answering Service.

Oh, it's just a small matter

he might be able
to help us with.

Do you think he might be out
with a client?

It's... It's unlikely.

We haven't had any for months.

Somebody broke our phones.

You'll get your messages
when I get paid.

Sorry about that.

Staff issues.

That's perfectly fine.

She works for Gently.
She deserves a medal.

Thank you!

So...

no current clients.

You wouldn't happen to have
a list of former clients

by any chance?

Yep.

We've, um...

I very much doubt he's out
with any of these, though.

Owes most of them money.

Even so, probably get them
checked out.

You know, cross the T's,
dot the I's.

Can I just ask, um, what have
they got to do with this?

- What's he done?
- Just tell him that, uh,

two of his clients
have been murdered

and so far
he's the only connection.

So yes, we'd really like to talk
to him...

for his own protection,
naturally.

Goodbye, my dear.

Goodbye.

MacDuff, I think
I'm being framed for murder.

He's still out there, Dirk.

You need to talk to him, Dirk.

MacDuff.
Wash your mouth out.

Are we nearly at death's door?

We haven't got any more ideas
in our heads?

Notice of eviction?
That's a new one, isn't it?

Yes, it is.

You'll have to create
a whole new pile,

right next to the final demands.

- What are you looking for?
- My passport.

I have the strangest feeling
the solution to this case

is to be found on the beach
of other country,

preferably one
with no extradition treaty.

What?
You're just gonna go?

It seems a sensible course
of action.

What about the business?

MacDuff, I have taught you
all I know about avoiding bills.

It's time for my little bird
to fly the nest.

Fine. You know what?
You go.

I'm just a mug who thought
you might actually need me.

Oh, MacDuff.

What the hell is she doing here?

Mr. Gently?

Uh, yes.
Uh, please.

Uh, this is my assistant
MacDuff.

- Partner.
- Assistant partner.

I, uh...

Please.

I tried ringing first,

but it went into
this sort of queuing system.

Yes.
We're very busy.

So busy we barely have time
to tidy up.

Wow.
You must be incredibly busy.

Yes, uh, indeed we are,
Ms., uh...

Melinda.
Melinda Fulstone.

Melinda Fulstone.

Sorry.
Your face really rings a bell.

Have we met?

Uh... no.

I'm sure I would remember
such a memorable event.

Sorry.
Could you, uh...

I'm told I have
one of those faces.

Uh...

No.
Can't place it.

There he is!

Uh, MacDuff.

Uh, Ms. Fulstone,
I'm very eager to hear

what brought you to
our humble office this morning.

I'm unusual in that my mind
works much better

when in motion...

um, blood pumping to the brain,
as it were.

Perhaps you'd care to join us

for a brisk stroll
across our roof.

What the hell?
Why not?

Great.
Gilks.

Why am I not surprised
you've got an escape route?

I find it prudent
to plan for every eventuality.

If you could, uh...

Open the door and point them
to the pinboard?

It will be my pleasure.

Gently!

Somebody stalking you?

What ever leads you
to this worrying conclusion?

Little things,
but it all adds up.

Mail going missing.

I've got this motion-sensing
light thing.

Somebody broke it.

Oh, I saw this man watching me
with some binoculars.

Maybe I should have started
with that.

You get a good look at his face?

No. It's was dark, and he
ran off when I chased him.

But... whoo!... To be honest,
I did run quite slowly.

I didn't really want to catch
him that much.

Well, that's lucky.
For the stalker.

The police say they won't do
anything without more proof.

I said, "What? My dead body?"
But they just laughed.

- I said, "I'm not joking."
- The police!

Oh, they can be so heartless,
those bastards.

Now, my brain's working
quite well.

But in order to give your case
the attention it deserves,

what do you say we try and get
the blood really pumping

on this next stretch?

- I'm game.
- Good.

There they are!

That... That was great!

All meetings should be
like that.

We do it all the time.

I've been cooped up at home
for weeks, you see.

I had a bit
of a car-crash thing.

Oh.
I'm sorry to hear it.

I've been trying to follow
that idea

of doing one thing every day
that scares you.

Well, then you'll be pleased
to hear

that we normally round it off

with a little
high-speed driving...

just to clear the pipes.

Come on, you beautiful bitch.

Not you.

Ha ha!

You must live a very
exciting life, Mr. Gently.

It may seem that way, but it can
be quite solitary sometimes.

Oh.

I was recently divorced myself.

I'm sorry to hear it.

Oh, don't be.

When Roger ran off
with the pool cleaner,

it was painful at first,

but in time I came to see it
as a blessing in disguise.

I was finally free to live
the life I had denied myself.

And I will live it.

That is inspirational.

I mean, of course
there's always the worry

that something about me
put him off women for life.

Ms. Fulstone, the idea

that you could ever put a man
off intercourse with females

is, frankly, ludicrous.

That's very sweet of you to say.

Mainly because sexual preference
is now commonly held to be

a genetic predisposition.

Chances are he was never
truly attracted to you

in the first place.

Or he could be bisexual.

Well, you've certainly given me
a lot to think about.

Ms. Fuls...

Ms. Fulstone, I'm almost ashamed
to mention this.

But regarding your case,

there is the delicate issue...
of our fee.

Oh, don't worry about that.
It's Roger's money, not mine.

And the more of it he loses,
the better.

Taxi!

Ms. Fulstone,
I am supremely confident

that we will be able to fit you
into our very busy schedule.

Hampstead.

Well, that was
quite a performance.

When are you planning on solving
this one...

before or after you flee
the country?

Ah. The murders.
Yes.

Well, not to worry, MacDuff.

I'm sure this case will be
but a moment's work.

- So you're staying?
- I didn't say that.

But, uh, I have confidence
I can solve this case

before my flight.

Oh, really?

You're an expert in catching
stalkers now, are you?

As a collective noun,
not especially.

But this particular stalker,
I believe we might have

more luck with,
as it's actually me.

It's what?
What do you mean, it's you?

I mean that for the last month

I have been secretly observing
Ms. Fulstone

as part of a scientific
experiment.

You're the stalker?

I prefer the term
"covert experimenter."

One night I'm sure she saw
my face,

but, uh, luckily she doesn't
seem to have recognized me.

I can only assume
she obtained my card

from the window
of her local newsagent's,

where I left it during
a much-needed refreshment break

in my surveillance.

Of course. I'm sure.
Thirsty work, stalking.

"Graphology... handwriting
as an indicator of personality."

You stalked her
to see if her character matched

her handwriting?

And indeed it did.

Her behavior, her interests...
all a perfect match.

Ha ha!

I mean, most people would go
to a wine bar to meet a woman.

Or a-a nightclub.

- I'm not most people.
- Oh, I know that.

I found your list...

"handwriting traits
for the perfect woman."

I do have a very specific set
of needs.

Yeah. I know. I see that.
Gullibility.

Bad with finances.

To be honest, it sounds
more like the perfect mark

for you to fleece.

I will confess that
when I formulated this project,

I was a little more mercenary.

But now I've met Ms. Fulstone
in the flesh...

You fancy her.

She does have certain physical
and facial characteristics

that evolution has deemed to be

more alluring
to prospective mates, yes.

Maybe don't say it
exactly like that on a date.

Hurry up, MacDuff.

How did you even find her,
anyway?

- Her handwriting, I mean.
- An old client owed me a favor.

He lent me a pile
of handwritten claim forms

from his car insurance company.

His ladies-only
insurance company.

Clever. And very, very creepy.

Come, MacDuff.

Once I'm safe
on some beach in Puerto Rico,

you can tell Ms. Fulstone
without a word of a lie

that her stalker has left
the country.

Okay.
Passport.

Passport.
Passport.

Wow. Police really tore
this place apart, didn't they?

I'm afraid not, MacDuff.

That minor disagreement with my
cleaner has escalated somewhat.

Uh, look in the, uh...

Do you know how smoother
your life would run

if you just paid people
occasionally?

Oh, MacDuff, the situation
has gone way beyond mere money.

I haven't paid her for a year.

Most people would have quit
by now.

But not Elena.
Oh, no!

She's Eastern European.
Hardy.

Probably distantly related
to the Borgias.

She continues to come here
for two hours every day,

stubbornly avoiding
doing anything

resembling actual cleaning.

In retaliation,

I have, of course,
become messier and messier.

It's like a surreal horror movie
for OCD sufferers,

with Elena as the vampiric witch
of the piece.

But she's got a heart of gold,
really.

Salt of the earth.
Lovely woman.

Oh, hello.

Recently things have taken
a much darker turn.

Every day, she places that rug
in that exact position.

It is a warning, MacDuff.

Plainly, yeah.

It's terrifying.

Pick it up.

Oh, that is dark.

She sawed a hole in your floor?

No.
No. The hole was there already.

It was a memento of a previous
dispute with the plumber,

if you remember.

Sensing a theme here, Dirk?

Uh, I'm sure it was around here
somewhere.

Detective Inspector Gilks!

And you found my passport.

I'm so glad you've decided to
forgo legal representation.

It makes things so much simpler.

On the contrary.
I am representing myself.

As I said.
Simple.

So, two dead people.

You recognize them?

I have been advised
by my legal counsel

to neither confirm
nor deny anything.

But you're your own le...

Look, um, there's no need
to confirm.

We know they were your clients.

Now, apparently, uh, they died
of a heart attack,

aged 27 and 48.

It happens, but not very often.

The coroner got suspicious.
Dug a little deeper.

Found a very rare toxin
in the bloodstream.

They were murdered.

And you think that I...
uh, my client murdered them?

No.
Of course not.

What possible motive could...
What?

- We don't think you did it.
- But you broke down my door.

We thought you were in danger,
possibly already dead.

- You chased me across a roof.
- We were trying to protect you.

Listen, Gently.
You are many things.

Many, many annoying
and incompetent things.

But you're not a killer...
at least not intentionally.

I'm sure
your blithering ineptitude

will kill someone one day,

but, you know,
not with this level of skill.

This is the work
of a professional.

My client informs me

that he could have killed them
if he'd wanted to.

Would you kindly advise
your client

to stop incriminating himself?

My client resents
the slanderous implication

that he's so incompetent

that he couldn't commit
a couple of simple murders.

God.

You don't make it easy
to help you, do you?

Okay.
Fine. Fine.

Look, um, I'm sure
that you are perfectly capable

of killing anyone you like.

There. How's that?
Now can we just move on?

My client concurs.

Think.

Think about it, Gently.

Huh?
What this does sounds like, eh?

Poison.
The spotless crime scene.

Ghost hit.

My client wishes me to pass on
his scathing laughter and scorn.

Fine.

Somebody did it.

Somebody is killing
your old clients.

Now, it may end here.
It may not.

Now, we're guarding all of those
that we can find.

But I strongly recommend
that you, uh,

well, you accept police
protection for the time being.

- For your own safety.
- But you can't force me.

Well, no. But if you don't
accept it, you're a fool.

Mind you, that's never
stopped you before.

Then I think I'll be on my way.

Look, is there anyone
you can think of...

anyone with a big enough grudge
to want to do this?

The biggest thorn in my side
is in this room.

So unless there's something
you'd like to confess...

You're right, Gently.

Your biggest problem
is in this room.

But it isn't me.

Yeah.

No.

A ghost is a kind of exclusive
hit man,

traditionally only used
by mob bosses.

The idea is you simply supply
the name of the target.

You never meet the killer.
They never meet you.

Money disappears
from your bank account,

and the target winds up dead,

supposedly from natural causes
in a spotless crime scene.

Only no one's ever been able
to prove they exist,

mainly because
it's total rubbish.

Are you okay?

What? No. Fine.
I'm absolutely fine.

Someone's wiping out
my old clients,

possibly saving me till last.

But it's just another case
to solve, isn't it?

Okay. Okay.

Why don't you stop for a breath

and let's go find somewhere
and sit down?

What? No.
No, no. I'm taking the case.

Which means I'm suddenly
my own client

and therefore much more
of a target.

Well, I don't think the killer
would know...

unless he's telepathic.

Maybe he is.

I'm guessing hired muscle.

Probably an east London gang.

You pay cleaner.

Or they're from my cleaner.

This is about the cleaner?

Thank God.

I thought they were gonna
kill us.

Oh. Well, she's certainly
raising her game.

Bravo.

No. Uh, i-it's fine.
It's fine.

He's gonna pay her. So...
Aren't you?

You can tell
my so-called cleaner that...

In one day.
You pay.

Otherwise...

Uh, security number 239.

No.
Okay.

Yeah.
Thank you.

I have paid my cleaner.

I've paid your cleaner.

Mere semantics, MacDuff.

You know, I always wondered
what it would take

to get you to actually pay
for something.

I guess I now know...

broken finger
and death threats from mobsters.

They sound like
my kind of people.

Thank you, Janice.

Is this a different notice
of eviction from the first one?

Oh. Yeah.
Just a clerical error.

Nothing to worry about.

Ow.

Ah. Oh.

What are you doing now?

I'm trying to find
a new cleaner.

You've seen my place.
It's a tip.

People are dying.

Maybe we should sort out
that little problem first.

When a man loses sight
of his carpet,

then he's no longer a man.

Besides, I'm sure you'll find
that all these little problems

will prove to be interconnected

in ways that you can't
possibly imagine.

No. No.

Sorry.

I'm not gonna let you get away
with that.

I'm not gonna let you get away

with pulling
your same old tricks

of doing whatever the hell
you want

and just hoping all the dots
connect together at the end.

They usually do.

That is not the point, Dirk!

There's too much at stake.

You faffing around now
could get people killed.

How dare you!

I do not faff!

Besides, what ever happened
to "Don't leave me, Dirk."

I might get lonely"?

I never said that...

exactly.

And even if I did,

it was before I found out
about Dirk the stalker

and got mugged by gangsters!

Can we please, just for once,
act like regular detectives?

And if you need to justify that
to yourself,

just look at me now, here
in this moment, getting angry

as just another little part
of the whole web

of interconnected
cause and effect.

That actually makes sense.

Really?

Really.

Okay.

All right.
So... what have we got?

Who do you think
could be doing this?

You framed anyone for murder
recently?

Well, the only murderer
I've framed...

is in prison...

Wait. What? Sorry.
You've actually done that?

At least he was
until two months ago.

Robbie Glover.

Ten years ago,
he was the prime suspect

in one of my first cases.

It was a penny-ante case
of office-supply theft

in an insurance firm.

Plenty of suspects.
No evidence.

Which was odd, because there
were cameras everywhere.

But the Post-it notes
kept disappearing.

Then I realized that the answer
was staring me in the face.

Who watches the watchmen?

The sweaty, twitchy watchmen.

I was convinced
that I had my man.

So much so
that I saw the lack of evidence

as no obstacle at all.

It was an early prototype of my
"fundamental interconnectedness

"of all things" theory.

The "whoever you frame will
turn out to be guilty" theory?

Yeah, pretty much. But it turned
out he was utterly innocent.

No one had stolen anything.

Someone had put the decimal
point in the wrong place.

So they thought they should have
had 20,000 Post-it notes

rather than 20.

You said you framed him
for murder.

Oh. Well, the decimal-point
thing was only discovered later.

By then the police had searched
his flat.

They discovered
his brother's body

buried in the chest freezer.

Ah.

So technically I framed him
for a Post-it note theft,

which led to the discovery
of a murder.

But it wasn't a distinction

he seemed to care much about
at the time.

Dirk?

I vividly remember
his threats towards me

from the dock... very colorful.

Very specific
about certain body parts

being inserted
inside other body parts.

Dirk, I can't see him.

Oh. No.

- He's over there.
- Oh, yeah.

Come on, then.

What did he buy?

- Huh?
- What did he buy?

- Syringes.
- Really? Really?

You could inject poison
with syringes.

Wow.
Your mind is like a machine.

Or he could just be diabetic.

- Oh, and he bought bleach.
- Bleach. The enemy of DNA.

The killer's best friend.

Or he could just have
moldy shower curtains.

Aha!

Okay. I will admit, taken out of
context, it doesn't look good.

On the contrary, MacDuff.
It looks very good.

I think we've found our man.

I can't think of many uses
for those items

that don't involve a dead body
and a shallow grave.

Would you like a closer look?

I've seen you.

Hello.

We're fine.

We're just, um... dogging.

Don't you need a car
to go dogging?

Yes.
S-Saving up for one.

In the meantime,
we just use the bush.

What about Mr. Gently there?
Is he dogging, too?

Mr. Glover!
How nice to see you.

Dirk Gently.

You seem very interested
in the contents of my boot.

No.
No, no.

I'm sure you've got perfectly
reasonable explanations

for all of those...
totally innocent items.

Leaping to conclusions again.

'Cause we all know where that
led to last time, don't we?

Would you like to see
what they're all for?

- Not really.
- I insist.

We call ourselves
From Jail to Jesus.

We're all ex-cons.

But now... we're all saved.

Praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord!

We were given this hall on the
condition that we fixed it up.

So we are.

Good.

Well, that's very commendable.

Um, thank you so much
for showing us around.

So, what would you say was
your favorite book of the Bible?

Oh, God.

Sounds like a test, Mr. Gently.

Oh?
Would it be a problem if it was?

You have faith?
Do you?

Do you believe in anything?

Yeah.
Yeah, I believe in things.

Yeah.

I believe in the laws
of physics... most of the time.

I believe that everyone
and everything is interconnected

in a way that isn't always
immediately apparent.

And I also believe

that one day we will all...
be brought to account.

A reckoning...

that I've been trying to avoid
my whole life.

Because I know...

I'll be found wanting...

when I finally meet...

the Inland Revenue.

I pity you.

No spiritual dimension
to your life.

You're barely half a man.

Really?

Well... at least
I didn't murder anybody.

Has God forgiven you for that?
What are you gonna do?

Did... Could... Would you...
Are you gonna do it again

and then ask Him
to forgive you again?

- That would be handy.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Is that what you're gonna do?

You seem to be fishing,
Mr. Gently.

Are you saying...

there's nothing to catch
in this river?

I'm saying your waders
have got a hole in them.

Well, I'm...

I'm very adept
with a puncture repair kit.

- What?
- To... To repair...

Here! Listen to me!
Listen. Listen. Listen.

I've tried very, very hard...

Jesus at my side,
to forgive you for what you did,

and it saddens me to tell you
I've failed!

Because I still hate you.

I hate you!

And even though it would mean
my soul,

if someone were to give me
a button to push

that'd end you...

I would gladly push it.

Get off me.

Have a good night.

Right.
We have to tell the police.

- Tell them what?
- That he's the killer.

You think he's the killer?
He feels like a killer.

Agreed.
Let's look in his car.

Right. No.

Maybe...
Maybe don't break into the car

of a probable mass murderer,
Dirk.

Relax.
I don't think this is our man.

- What? Why?
- Look.

This is not the car of a man

who leaves a spotless
crime scene.

And check out the loop
on his J's

Well, why didn't you say?

Loops on his J's.
Of course he's innocent.

My recent experiments
in this field has proven...

Dirk, call the police, okay?
We should not be doing this.

There is nothing
to tell the police.

- This evidence...
- This is not evidence!

This is nonsense!

I mean, why don't we be
totally certain

and take him on as a client, see
if he ends up killing himself,

- while we're being all logical?
- We might have to.

We haven't got
any other clients.

Yes, we do. We've got the woman
from this morning.

The one that you're stalking.

With a client killer
on the loose.

But he's in the church hall.

But what if it's not him?

- Option two. Option two!
- What are you doing?

I'm calling the office to get
Janice to give us the address.

I've been stalking her
for a month.

- I know the way there.
- Doesn't matter.

I got put through
to a Chinese anyway.

Ah.

I was wondering
how long it would take you

to remember your latest client.

Ah.

H-How... How d...
How did you know about her?

I'm a detective, Gently.

You should try it.

Is that you, Mr. Gently?

Do come in.

Uh, Ms. Fulstone was just
telling me about her stalker.

It seems quite, well, probable

that there's a connection with
the killing of your clients.

Oh, I strongly doubt that.

Really?
I'd love to know why.

Sorry. That's mine.

I'm such a scatterbrain.
Always losing my purse.

Is that right?
That must be quite costly.

Oh, it's only money.

There are far more important
things in life, I always say.

Gently, uh, I believe you were
about to enlighten us...

Speaking of which,
I seem to find myself

temporarily short of funds.

I wonder if you couldn't
possibly lend me £10.

£20 is fine.

Keep it.
It's a gift.

Gently, I believe you were
about to enlighten us.

Why isn't this stalker connected
with the killings?

Uh, well, it's fairly
straightforward, really.

Um, if you look at the case from
all angles, and I do mean all...

Ms. Fulstone only became our
client because of the stalker.

Yeah.
What he said.

So, um, if I might be so bold...

Do you have any plans
for this coming Friday?

- I-I'd love to...
- Good.

All the same, regarding
this stalker, you know, um,

I'm a firm believer in the
fundamental interconnectedness

of all things.

Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Gently?

Yes.
I've heard it said.

Or as I like to put it,
there's no smoke without fire.

So he was, uh,
in the garden, you say?

Yes. Yeah.

Why are we still here?

Because we're looking for
the mystery stalker.

You're the stalker.

I know.

Yes, likely. It's been
messed with, hasn't it?

Melinda is in danger,

and he's wasting his time
with this nonsense.

If only we had a real suspect
we could tell him about. Hmm?

Dirk?

Yeah. I think somebody
has picked this lock.

Really?

You actually came... the stalker
actually came inside the house.

It's more than likely, yes.

Oh.
How horrible.

We can't possibly guess
at his motives.

They might be quite innocent.

Is there anything missing
from this room...

actually, from this house?

Um, just a minute.

I keep my receipts
in a folder here.

Oh!
They're gone.

Well, I'll call a team out.

We'll dust for prints
immediately.

Well, I'm sure the stalker
was wearing gloves.

He'd have been pretty stupid
not to, wouldn't he?

Gently, what are you doing?

Just checking for evidence.

Just stop it!
Step away from the sideboard!

I was just being thorough.

Contaminating my crime scene!

And you are wasting time!

The real killer is out there
somewhere,

possibly planning to kill
Ms. Fulstone as we speak,

and you're piddling around
with this stalker nonsense!

It's not nonsense. The killer
was in this very room.

No, he wasn't, because they are
two different people.

How could you possibly
know that?!

Because I am the stalker!

Now we've got that settled,

I hope we can put
this stalker nonsense behind us

and concentrate on catching
the real killer!

And I sincerely hope

this won't cast a cloud
over our date on Friday.

MacDuff?

Where the hell have you been?

I've been going out of my mind
in here.

Here.
I made a list of things I need.

I have written
"toilet tissue" twice

because it is very important.

The stuff they have in here
is like tracing paper.

You gonna ask me how I am?

Whatever has happened to you
can't possibly compare

to the seven hells
I've been subjected to.

Two hours of Gilks prodding
and probing and accusing...

"Did you... Did you do
the stalking together?"

"Have you ever stalked
anyone else?"

And then I found out that
another client's been murdered.

Yeah.
Mr. Forrester.

Weren't the police
protecting him?

Well, apparently a policeman
sleeping in a car outside

isn't as much of a deterrent
as we'd hoped.

Is Melinda okay?

She's fine.

They've moved all the other
clients to a safe house,

Including her.

So that's what...
three people dead now?

You should know I told him
about Robbie.

They're bringing him in.

And you know what?

I really hope for your sake
he isn't the killer.

Because if he is and you've kept
his name from the police,

then this last one's on you,
Dirk.

And it's on me too,
for listening to your crap.

Well, you're free to go.

Is this a trick?

I wish it was.
No. No.

Ms. Fulstone has agreed to drop
all charges.

I don't know what
your Mr. MacDuff said to her,

but he must have been
very persuasive.

Now, most people,

they don't get a second chance
like this, Gently.

So I implore you...

Please mess it up.

I shall endeavor
to disappoint you.

Tosser!

I understand I have you to thank
for talking to Melinda.

What exactly did you tell her?

The truth.

Uh...

Yeah, I know.

And she believed me.

In a way, I think she was
weirdly flattered.

Well, thank you anyway.

Your new cleaner,
if you want her.

Ah.
Excellent.

- When can she start?
- I don't know.

Seems very keen,
but her English isn't very good.

When I came in, Janice was
trying to translate on the Net.

Doesn't sound like Janice.

I was trying to find the
Polish for "skinflint tosser."

You go here?
Da?

Yeah?
You clean?

You clean?

You clean?
Da?

"Yes" is tak in Polish.

Okay?

And then you...

Hospital corners.

Yes? Tak?

Hospital corners.
Tak?

Thank you.

Adiós.

Pretty convincing performance

considering you've never cleaned
anything in your life.

I find it useful
to know your enemy.

I think you should know,
MacDuff, that I've decided

to overlook your behavior
in the police station.

My behavior?

It's all right, MacDuff.
We'll say no more about it.

No, no, no, no, no.
I think we will.

I'm not gonna just sit here and
let you...

Dirk Gently.

Hmm.

Thank you.

That was a friendly cleaner
down at the police station

who I've bribed
to keep me posted.

- Bribed?
- Promised to bribe.

They're going to release Robbie
in half an hour

due to lack of evidence.

- What?
- I said he's not the killer.

I've been saying it all along.

Now the police agree with me.

They've searched his house
from top to bottom.

Really?

Yeah.

Have they searched this?

What's this?

That is a receipt for
a storage unit that he rents.

It was in the papers
that you stole from his car.

- You remember?
- Oh, let it go, MacDuff.

He's not the killer.

Because of an untidy car
and a loop on his J

Yeah, and there
would've been a time

when that would've been
enough for you.

Well, maybe I've grown up
a little bit, Dirk.

Maybe I see through you.

I'm getting a little tired
of covering for you,

paying bills for you,
getting arrested... for you.

Well... I can assure you it's all
very much appreciated.

It's not, though, is it?

Really, it's not.

Words like "appreciated,"
"thank you"...

They're just little tricks
for you.

You just wheel them out
whenever you need to,

but you don't really mean them.

Not really.

It's just grease
to keep things moving along.

And you know what?

When it was just me
getting dumped on, that's...

I can handle that.

But someone is killing
our clients, Dirk.

People are dying.

And there you are.

You're just...

You're just doing the same
little dance you've always done.

You know what?

I don't want to watch it
anymore.

I'm sorry you feel that way.

It was quite a speech.

I don't suppose it would hurt
to have a little look around.

Well, if you don't, I will.

I thought you'd had enough.

Of this?
Absolutely.

- But I'm gonna see this through.
- Right.

Well, I can...
can search the unit.

- You can keep an eye on Robbie.
- Okay.

But, Dirk, when this is over...

I'm done.

Chooga-chooga-chooga,
chooga-chooga-chooga,

chooga, chooga,
chooga-chooga-chooga.

Hm.

Chooga-chooga-chooga,
chooga-chooga-chooga...

Is he moving?

No.

But I think I know why he needed
those syringes, though.

Handing them out
to drug addicts.

It's a clean-syringe-program
thing.

- Any luck your end?
- No. Oh!

Oh, no. Wait.
There's a massive sign here.

It says, "Told you so, MacDuff."

Oh, that's... that's funny.

There's a sign right here
that says you're walking home.

Oh, don't be a baby.

H... MacDuff?

Chooga-chooga...

Tell me you're on your way.

I stopped to fill up,
but I'm... I'm nearly there.

- You were right.
- What?

What have you found?

Where's Robbie?

I don't know.
I stopped following him.

You said it was a-a dead end.

Dirk, what are you...
W-What's happening?

I am not going back to jail.

I am not going back.

I'm never going back to jail.

Are you okay?

Dirk?

Come on.

Come on.

Having a bit of a clear-out?

No.

Uh, this is a feng shui approach
I'm trialing...

clear office, clear mind.

Clear bank account?

Clients, they can be
so skittish, can't they?

Just avoiding you
because of a few pesky murders.

You seem a little shorthanded
today.

Where is Mr. MacDuff?

Uh, he's taking
some, uh, personal days.

He'll be back.

Oh.
Oh, I see.

So, uh, you'll be glad to hear
that Robert Glover

has been officially charged
with the murders.

The, uh, poison found
in his syringes

matched that used
in the killings.

Oh, and, um, he had a notebook

detailing everything
he'd like to do to you

if he ever got you alone.

But then, um,
we've all got one of those.

Gilks?

If, uh, if I'd told you
about Robbie earlier,

would it have helped?

Do you mean would more people
have lived?

Probably, yes.

Goodbye, Gently.

Goodbye, Gilks.

Hello, Dirk.

You okay?

I started writing you a note,
but that's the coward's way out.

It's Roger.

He came 'round last night.

Uh, Frederico has thrown him out
for looking at other women.

So obviously that changes things
a little.

I know you'll think I'm weak,

but I've decided to give him
another chance.

He's says that he might...

That's not your handwriting.

What do you mean?
Yes, it is.

Did you hear what I said
about Roger?

Yeah, yeah.
Roger's straight again.

But that is not
the handwriting you used

on your car insurance form.

How did you see
my car insurance form?

Part of my stalking,

for which I believe
I've already been forgiven.

I broke my wrist in the crash.

It's only just now
really back to normal.

So Marta has been doing
all my paperwork.

Did MacDuff not explain
about my handwriting experiment?

Oh, that.

I'm afraid I didn't listen
to all of it.

Roger was always the brain box
of the two of us.

I'm not really a big fan
of ideas.

I've been watching
the wrong woman.

Um, I'm sorry.
I don't understand.

Tell me. Your cleaner...
Does she have a trusting nature?

Not at all.

She phoned the police the last
time the gasman came 'round.

And is she bad with money?

Lord, no.

She saves up every penny
to send back home.

So much for handwriting.

Melinda, thank you
for being so honest.

It's a terrible blow,
but what can you do?

C'est la vie.

I wish you all the luck
in the world with Roger.

I'll see myself out.

MacDuff.
What are you doing here?

You called me.

I did?

I did!

You said it was a matter of life
or death.

Quite possibly.
Yes.

You said you were going
on a dream quest

and you'd overdosed on LSD.

Those are both very good ideas.

But I've had some new ones
since then.

I take it the new cleaner's
working out.

Ah. Oh, yes. Incredibly keen.
Wonderful woman.

Working her way through
the flat.

Building up courage
to tackle the bedroom.

I thought this case was closed.

Well, from a strictly Newtonian
view of the universe, yes.

But from a quantum perspective,
possibly not.

Wow.

You really are desperate
for work, aren't you?

Trying to unsolve a case.

There is something
in my subconscious

that will not let
this case rest,

an etheric stone
in the shoe of my ego,

a repressed hangnail
on the finger of my...

Okay.

Well, I wish you all the best
of luck with that, Dirk.

- I'll see you around.
- What? No. You can't leave.

I need you, MacDuff.

You need me?

No.

That is to say,

y-you are the grit around which
the pearl of truth often forms.

Your plain-speaking
Everyman perspective

is a useful counterpoint...

No, no, no, no, no.
Don't... Don't ruin it.

And you're a very...
a very good sounding board

for my more outlandish theories.

You mean you think better
when you're showing off.

See?
There you go.

Cutting straight to the heart
of the matter.

Okay.

Okay.
I will stay.

But just so we're clear...

This doesn't mean
I'm coming back.

I'll just grant you this favor.

- A one-time deal.
- Fair enough.

So, what have we got so far?

I don't believe
that Robbie is the killer.

Wow. You just won't let that go,
will you?

The events that led us
to uncover his guilt

felt a little too direct.

My methods
usually necessitate...

no, demand...
more circuitous routes,

involving the sudden convergence
of seemingly disparate threads.

So you think Robbie
isn't the killer

because we easily found evidence
to suggest he is the killer.

Exactly.

What about the small matter
of him trying to strangle you?

Yes, I admit that in the heat
of the moment,

he did try
and brutally murder me.

But what if he attacked me

not because I'd found
his wall of evidence,

but because he'd
never seen it before

and he assumed I'd planted it?

I know.
I know.

Even if someone else did plant
evidence, framed Robbie, why?

What's... What's the point?

Uh...

Ah!

Well, uh, it would get
the clients out of hiding.

Melinda, for one.

Uh, talking of which,
you, um, you expecting company?

Huh?

Oh.
Uh, no.

Uh, Melinda changed the venue
to hers,

where she politely informed me

that she's got back
with her newly straight husband.

Oh.
Um, uh, hello?

Um, we, uh, won't...

be needing the...

What's the Polish
for "pot roast"?

Uh...
Oh, it doesn't matter!

For what it's worth,
I'm sorry, Dirk.

Oh, don't be.

The handwriting I thought was
hers was actually her cleaner's.

So you should have been stalking
her cleaner.

She's your perfect woman.

No.
No, not at all.

Her traits didn't match
her handwriting.

The whole thing
is obviously bunk.

Well, yeah.
It would be, wouldn't it?

On her wages.
Right, Dirk?

All the pieces are here!
I'm sure of it.

I just don't know
what they mean.

At least not consciously.

I'm sure my subconscious
has already worked it out

and has got his feet up,
having a cup of tea.

- What?
- Nothing.

Just you babbling nonsense.
Me popping your ego.

I've missed this.

Not enough to come back,
but, you know.

Well, I'll glad my nonsense
has entertained you.

Oh.

Thank you.

I don't know.

I just feel it's all staring me
in the face.

If only I could see it.

Oops.
How clumsy of me.

There I go again.

Butterfingers.

What are you doing?

You made a mess.

I hate the mess.

Ooh!

If you wanted a pay rise,
you just had to ask.

Dirk Gently.

I-It was on my answer phone!

Rosa Valchenko, hired assassin.

Code name... "The Cleaner."

Your cleaner's code name
was The Cleaner?

I know.
These cold-blooded killers.

No imagination.

Look.
Wanted by the FBI and Interpol.

And check out the reward.

Well, that's nice.

That is Hawaiian-beach nice.

Or I could rent the office
again, pay off the debts.

Yeah?

Well, it's your money.

No, it's...

our money.

- You okay?
- Fair is fair.

I...I wouldn't have cracked this
without you.

Thanks.

So, don't you want to know
how it all happened,

who the evil genius was
behind it all?

Yeah. Go on, then.
Blow my mind.

Who?

Janice.

Janice?
Secretary Janice?

No.

I mean, I know she's got
mixed feelings for you, but...

In revenge for me not paying
her wages,

Janice diverted
all the office calls

to a very cheap
messaging system.

So cheap, in fact,

that many of the calls
mistakenly ended up

in other people's in-boxes...

taxi firms,
Chinese restaurants,

and our very exclusive assassin.

Now, her number
was only supposed to be known

by mob bosses, who would ring up
with the names of targets.

But then clients of mine
started leaving their names

and addresses...

Neil Tendall.
46 Winton Street.

235 Upper Macmillan, E3.

Nigel McClusky, number 4,
The Stables.

Mr. Fredericks,
9 Balmore Crescent, Barking.

little realizing
that they were signing

their own death warrants.

After a while, when nothing
showed up in her account,

she realized the error
and sent those heavies around

to try and get the money off me.

You pay cleaner.

But even when she knew
the whole thing was a mistake,

she wouldn't stop the killing.

Her guarantee is that any name
left on that number

would be killed.

So she framed Robbie by tipping
us off about his storage unit,

where she planted
all the bogus evidence.

With Robbie behind bars,

the police withdrew protection
for our remaining clients.

So ultimately, this whole thing
was caused by your cheapness.

I think the universe is trying
to tell you something, Gently.

Well, you could argue that his
cheapness saved us this evening.

If he'd paid his plumber,

there would never have been
a hole in the floor.

We wouldn't be alive.

You two deserve each other.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

He's as ass.

I'm sorry things didn't work out
with you and, um, Melinda.

Ah. Plenty more clients
in the sea, MacDuff.

Speaking of which.

What's that?

It came this morning.

A series of bizarre frauds
have been committed

by a man with extreme body odor.

I expect him of using
pheromonal influence.

- Pheromonal what what?
- Oh, come on, MacDuff.

Surely you'll tell me you know
about the power of pheromones.

It's why most of the CEOs
of Fortune 500 companies

don't wash.

- You're making this up.
- No. Listen.

It's scientific fact.

An unwashed armpit can make
all the difference,

anywhere from
a back-alley knife fight

to a high-powered board meeting.

It just gives you
that little extra edge.

Well, that would certainly
explain your personal hygiene.

Uh, this isn't odor, MacDuff.
This is armor.

Certainly strong.
I'll give you that.