All language subtitles for sister.boniface.mysteries.s01e10.bdrip.x264-carved[eztv.re]

[light melodic music]

[TV Announcer] Arriving
at Slaughter Abbey

in the Cotswolds,
their home from home

for the next few days,
a bevvy of beauties

from all four corners
of the kingdom,

united for the Miss
United Britain contest.

Every gorgeous girl
has their sights set

on being named the
nation's supreme poppet.

First off were this
year's front runners,

Miss Walton-on-Thames,
Diane Green.

Miss Belfast, Clodagh Kilpatrick

is current holder of
the Miss Swimsuit title.

Miss Cardiff, Sally Ann Jones,

oh, she looks happy to be here,

but not as happy as
those photographers.

Last but not least,
Miss Glasgow, Moira McDonald.

This is only her second
contest, begging the question,

where has she been hiding?

There to greet them
was Lesley Canon,

nicknamed the Beauty King
all in the line of duty,

but what man doesn't
envy his job?

The lineup of the lovelies,
a dozen pretty hopefuls,

but no hint of
competitive spirit here.

It looks like they're already
becoming firm friends.

I said to him, you can
ask me as many times as-

[light orchestral music]

Do you think she ran it up
at home on a sewing machine?

[contestants laughing]

[Ruth] And what are you
looking for in a contestant?

Well, single, childless,
five six to five nine,

waist, 22 to 24
inches, hips, 35 to 36,

36 to 37 inch bust, perfectly
shaped legs, no flabby thighs,

good skin, teeth and
hair, chest out, Glasgow,

flaunt what Mother
Nature gave you.

I'd ask Mother Nature
for my money back.

[contestants laughing]

I suppose some
rivalry is inevitable?

Well, put a dozen
goddesses together,

throw in a golden apple,
what do you think?

Quite.

May I have a few photographs

and perhaps a few words
from the three favourites?

Yeah, be my guest.

[cheerful melodic music]

[camera clicking]

So aside from your
ambition to um, ah,

"Further the cause of
international friendship,"

why do you think you'll win?

Take two guesses.

Right.

As an airline stewardess, I've
already travel led the world

and I'm comfortable mixing
with the right sort.

Hm.

- [camera clicking]
- It's not just looks.

Don't write this down, mind,
but I've met ironing boards

with more personality
than some of these.

And how would you
answer the charge,

that it's demeaning to women?

The winner will act as
ambassadress for the nation,

most go on to be
actresses or models,

what's degrading about that?

They're jealous.

I'll tell you what's demeaning,

being tied to a kitchen sink
with a brood of ankle biters,

3000 pounds buys a woman
a lot of independence.

I can't disagree with that.

[camera clicking]

Lovely.

That's it, alright,
room for everybody.

[cheerful melodic music]

[camera clicking]

- [women laughing]
- Come on, girls,

you're on in 48 hours,
you're like spuds in a sack.

Come on, fall in,
numerical order.

Let's get the music
on please, darling.

Where's Belfast,
anyone seen Belfast?

Go and see where she's
got to, will you?

He said numerical order, but
you can't even count to 10?

Alright, come on, girls,
this is a beauty contest,

- shoulders back, hips forward.
- [cheerful melodic music]

- [women screaming]
- [ominous melodic music]

[soft orchestral music]

♪ Ah ah ah ah ♪

♪ Ah ah ♪

♪ Ah ah ♪

*SISTER BONIFACE MYSTERIES*
Season 01 Episode 10

Episode Title: "Crimes and Miss Demeanours"
Aired on: March 08, 2022.

[camera clicking]

Her wristwatch stopped
at 9:05 p.m. last night,

so we can assume that's
when she hit the water,

if not time of death.

Right, did no one
notice she was missing?

The contestants
had a rest morning,

so no one noticed, until
just before we found her,

she must've fallen in,
apparently she couldn't swim,

which is ironic considering
she's, or was Miss Swimsuit.

Yes, thank you, Mr. Canon,
we can take it from here.

[Sister Boniface]
No indication of a sexual motive.

Her clothes are undisturbed
and no sign of fight or flight.

[light orchestral music]

What have you got there?

Hairs caught in the strap,
female I deduce by the length

and black, so they don't
belong to the victim.

Pulled out with force
judging by traces of blood

- on the roots.
- So is the cause

of death drowning?

Moot at this juncture, can
you help me turn her, Sam?

Sam.

[light orchestral music]

[Felix tutting]

Hm.

[light orchestral music]

Oh.

Look at that.

Cause of death is a strike
to the medulla oblongata,

one blow will kill
you instantly,

it would require some
knowledge of anatomy,

either that or the
killer struck lucky.

- So this is murder?
- Oh, I'm afraid so, yes.

[camera clicking]

Could you have a stab
at the murder weapon?

Oh, yes, [laughs] very good,

only that it's about
half an inch in diameter,

it made a penetrating
injury between the occipital

and C1 causing radial splits.

However, it has left,

an oily residue.

Right, well, we should, um...

Cordon the scene, draught
in uniform to do a search,

make a list of everyone in the
house and collate statements.

Exactly.

Do you mind if I
leave you to it,

while I go and break the news?

I mean, it's a tough job,
but someone has to do it.

Um, yes, you might
want to, um...

- Oh, hm.
- [light orchestral music]

[footsteps tapping]

Sir, CC Lowsely needs
to see you urgently.

I, I...

- Fine.
- [door thudding]

We have a political hot potato.

The Miss World competition
is in three months

and the host nation
can't be seen to have

a random beauty queen
killer on the loose.

There's no evidence
of that yet, sir.

There are no reports
of any intruders,

although we are yet to
speak to the security guard.

Hm, well, that may be,
but la grande from age

have ordered a press embargo

and the Met are
sending an officer

to oversee our investigation.

- Scotland Yard?
- What the hell?

[laughs] Yes, I thought
you'd be pleased.

So, you know the plan?

Roll out the red carpet,
welcome him with open arms,

full cooperation and
I expect nothing less

than maximum effort.

[Both] Sir.

And last but not least,

make bloody sure he doesn't
solve the case first, capiche?

- [light orchestral music]
- Sir.

[soft orchestral music]

[door thudding]

[church bell chiming]

I will try and
extract the materials

from the wound residue,

it may shed some light
on the murder weapon.

The victim was seen
leaving the dinner at 8:35,

it leaves us a murder
window of 13 minutes.

Eight without alibis,
one of the chaperones,

Lesley Canon and
six contestants.

[Felix clearing throat]

Oh, keep your shirt on,
I'm embargoed, remember?

I thought you might
appreciate some background.

Perfect timing, what do you
know about the dead girl?

Brassiere model from Coleraine.

- Hm.
- Oh, steady, tiger.

One or three favourites along
with Miss Walton-on-Thames

and Miss Cardiff, so if
you're looking for a motive,

well, their chances of winning
have just increased by a third.

Is a beauty title really
worth killing over?

I'd say so, 3000
pounds, a sports car

- and entry into Miss World.
- Hm.

You know the words, a
passport to fame and fortune.

Well, Miss Walton-on-Thames
has black hair

and there are...

Two more with black hair
that don't have alibis.

Right, so tomorrow
we take hair samples

and show this plod
from Scotland Yard,

that we don't need him.

DCI Clifford Winner, he's the
youngest officer in the Met

to make DCI, his arrest
record is legendary.

- [soft orchestral music]
- [Sam sighing]

- Query intruder.
- [chalk tapping]

Rustle up some teas,
will you, darling?

Don't forget the biscuits.

Thank you, WPC Button.

[Clifford] Did you
get a statement

- from the security guard?
- No, not yet,

he was off sick yesterday,
but we'll get one today.

Morning, DI Sam Gillespie.

[Clifford] DCI Clifford Winner.

Mrs. Clam missed
you at breakfast.

Egg, if I'm not mistaken?

Hm.

I came in early to
write up the reports.

In my book, early's on
time, on time is late

and late is unacceptable.

So, should we get on?

Option one, an intruder, option
two, it was an inside job.

We'll be taking hair samples

to try and match those
found on the body.

This was a brutal attack,

this is more than just
tantrums and tiaras.

What we need is a murder weapon.

I'm examining residues
from the wounds

to see if that sheds
light, oh, Sister Boniface,

police scientific advisor and you,
I deduce are DCI Winner?

I was at the Post Office
and you forgot your lunch,

Mrs. Clam would
have brought them,

but she has a first day
cover of native songbirds

and is expecting a veritable
stampede of twitchers.

Couldn't you have given
them to the poor and needy?

It seemed uncharitable
to add to their burden.

- [Felix clearing throat]
- [bag rustling]

Well, thank you, Sister.

I'll let you know when and
if I require your services.

Yes, right.

Toodle-oo.

Well, I heard rumours
about the place,

but this takes the Garibaldi.

[teacups clattering]

And then there's option three,

which I'm amazed has escaped
you, this security guard,

who conveniently went AWOL
the day after the murder.

He's a local man,
he's not a suspect.

Let me be the judge of that.

I'll leave you to
play hairdresser,

- while I go and talk to him.
- Would you like me

- to come with you, sir?
- Good lad.

We may need WPC Button
to come with us.

What do we want her for?

[Tom speaking incoherently]

He patrolled the
ground once an hour

- and didn't see anyone.
- [dog barking]

[Tom shouting incoherently]

Dog.

Did you see Miss Belfast, Tom?

No.
[Tom speaking incoherently]

What did he say?

Well, he may be a Tom,
but he's no peeper,

he'd seen enough and
got on with his rounds.

Take a statement,
preferably in English.

Local dialect, sir, you get
used to it or so I'm told.

Oh, you clearly don't
hail from these parts?

I'm on secondment from
the Bermuda Police.

My placement was supposed
to be at Scotland Yard.

Then how the hell did you end up

in this Godforsaken backwater?

I put it down to a series
of unfortunate events.

Hm.

Actually, sir, um,

I still hope to
get there one day.

Impress me and maybe you will.

Right, let's see
what the Beauty King

has to say for himself.

[scissors snipping]

[soft orchestral music]

I sincerely hope
I'm not a suspect?

Purely for purposes
of elimination.

Did you know Clodagh well?

We'd been competing
together for years.

She was a consummate
professional, [sighs]

never a hair out of place.

I wonder.

[Diane] Leonardo of
Mayfair does mine,

if it's ruined, there'll
be merry hell to pay.

Watch out, greenhorn.

They don't think
I should be here.

I was runner up in Miss Glasgow

and she got herself up the
duff, so here am I by default.

Why the sudden urge to
enter a beauty contest?

I reckoned I had more chance
of winning than the Pools.

My dad lost his job

and we've eight mouths
to feed on my wages.

One of the girls at the
factory entered Miss Glasgow

and I thought if
she can, why not me?

Why not indeed,
I'll say a prayer for you.

Thanks, Sister, but I think
I probably need a miracle.

[soft orchestral music]

Right, that's all of them.

Should we get them
back to the lab?

Yes, but first a detour
via the victim's room.

But you've already searched it.

[soft orchestral music]

So were you dropped
on the head as a baby?

You think I'd be stupid
enough to have an affair

with one of my contestants?

I imagine you get
plenty of offers.

I'm ringmaster training these
girls for a performance,

a bunch of highly strung
performers, I might add,

so I threaten, I cajole
and I advise them.

One step beyond the
platonic, I'd be finished.

Then how do you explain
what the security guard saw?

Why don't you ask
the lady in question?

[Moira knocking on door]

- [Lesley sighing]
- [soft orchestral music]

- [door clicking open]
- Come back in the morning.

[Moira] Please, Mr. Canon,
three minutes.

You've got two.

[soft orchestral music]

[drawers thudding]

Why would a girl
as neat as a pin

leave her drawers in disarray?

What, do you think
someone got here first?

The question is did they find
what they were looking for?

Hello.

It got blown to the back,
so partially burned,

a card judging by the thickness.

Why burn it rather than
throw it in the bin?

Well, what's written
inside may tell us more.

- [bag rustling]
- Burnt to a crisp.

Oh, you'd be amazed at
the restorative powers

- of a chloral hydrate bath.
- Hm.

Do you know who did it?

Everyone's saying some
nutter got into the grounds.

We can't speculate on
that at the moment.

Were you friends?

No one could call us
that after Miss Swimsuit,

she tripped me on the catwalk,

flat on my face in
front of the judges,

claimed it was an accident,

but everyone knew
what she was like.

What was she like?

Well, let's just
say she wouldn't win

a Miss Popularity contest,
not that I'd wish her dead, mind.

Thank you for your frankness.

You're welcome.

You need anything
else, just let me know.

[light orchestral music]

Has anyone said, you look
just like Sean Connery?

What?

[birds chirping]

[soft orchestral music]

So what happened last night?

Just tell them the truth.

I needed to talk to Mr. Canon.

[Lesley] Ah, leave
the door open.

- I'm as pretty as them.
- Yeah.

I can smile and walk
in a straight line.

So what do you
have to do to win?

[soft tense music]

Come here, turn around.

[soft orchestral music]

Here.

It's your hair, dated, makes
you look like Doris Day.

[soft orchestral music]

Whereas this year's judges
want Brigitte Bar dot.

Go on, get lost, close
the door, will you?

[birds chirping]

And then what?

Then I went back to my room.

So if there's nothing else,

we've a beauty
contest to put on.

Come on.

[soft orchestral music]

You believe a word of that?

- [chalk clattering]
- [Clifford sighing]

Hairstyling advice, I've never
heard it called that before.

[Sam] What, you
think they're lying?

I think they had plenty of time

to concoct a story between them

and an affair would topple
the Beauty King's empire.

- [phone ringing]
- What about Miss Cardiff?

Doesn't have an alibi.

Certainly no love lost
between her and the victim.

I think I found something, sir.

Sister Boniface thinks
that the killer blow

may have indicated a
knowledge of anatomy.

Lesley Canon's
background checks,

he served in the Royal Army
Medical Corps during the war.

Did he now?

Yes.

Do some digging into the
Beauty King's army record.

Nice work, sir.

Help me crack this and that
secondment's in the bag.

Something you haven't told me?

Ah, no, it's not
what it looks like.

He only offered to put in
a good word, that's all.

Don't tell me we're not
good enough for you.

Of course not, but
I did come here

to learn from the cutting
edge of modern policing

and I feel there's
more for me to learn.

I'd better get onto
those army records.

I am not being left on my own
to the mercies of Mrs. Clam.

If DCI Winner solves this case,

Felix will be on the first
train back to London.

How long will this take?

Longer with you
ranting at my shoulder.

Cutting edge of modern policing,

I'll give him cutting edge.

What's cutting edge about
ruddy rules and regulations?

We have a match.

Your hairs were found entangled
in the victim's watch,

can you explain
how they got there?

I imagine because
she attacked me

on the, well, on
the day she died.

You know the rules.

[soft tense music]

Any more silly beggars and
you'll be disqualified,

you got that?

The same goes for
the rest of you.

Mr. Canon!

It was you that told.

Are you that scared
that I'm going to win?

Scared of you?

I'm not the one who
needs upholstering.

- I haven't finished with you.
- [cloth tearing]

- Now you've done it!
- [both shrieking]

Pack it in!

Not the face, hey,
I said not the face!

What are you playing at?

[Diane breathing heavily]

All that over bone swimwear?

It reduces the waist and
accentuates the bust.

Everyone bends the
rules a little,

but she was a sneaky Betty,

always going through our things
looking for rule breakers.

I wasn't the only
one by any means.

Can I go now?

- I've got a rehearsal.
- Hm.

[cheerful melodic music]

Miss Grimsby's vital
statistics are 38, 25, 36.

About time, garland's
going up next.

Miss Grimsby also has
a set of her own teeth,

although you wouldn't know it.

Better, number
five, Miss Glasgow.

Bit more of a head
toss on the walk,

try it on the stairs
as you come up.

[cheerful melodic music]

Lovely stuff, see, that
makes all the difference,

starting to look
like a winner now.

[timer dinging]

[tray clattering]

[door thudding]

It seems Miss Belfast was a snoop.

Maybe she found something and
decided to turn blackmailer.

Your timing couldn't
be more fortuitous.

- Oh?
- Our mysteriously

burnt card perhaps.

The chloral hydrate treatment
clarified the letters,

but no, they're too
faint to make out.

If it's either ink or pencil,

infrared photography
may be more efficacious,

that's the bad news.

The good news is I think
I've identified the murder weapon.

Ah-ha!

Oh, yes, Ruth, thank
you for coming.

I'm intrigued to know
the reason for my summons.

That makes two of us.

Well, Miss Penny's
presence is pertinent

for prop purposes, the wound
residue is a mixture of wax,

naphtha, turpentine, dye,
lanolin and gum Arabic,

- shoe polish.
- Ah.

Black shoe polish,
to be precise.

- May I?
- Wha-

[Sister Boniface] Just one
will suffice, yes, thank you.

Right.

Well, I'll have you know
those are Claude Chang

and cost 40 guineas.

My entire wardrobe
cost less than that.

Yes, that had been noted.

Courtesy of Mr. Button,
pig skin being remarkably similar

in composition to
human skin, observe.

Oh, hell's bells.

- Sister, no!
- [heel thudding]

Behold, the murder weapon
has been under our noses

all this time or rather
on someone's foot.

Oh, um,
I'll just dab that for you.

As good as new, almost.

Death by stiletto, you angel,

which means that Scotland Yard

have been on the wrong
foot with Lesley Canon.

Yes, [laughs] very good, yes,
without a leg to stand on.

[Sister Boniface
and Sam laughing]

Though it does rather point
to a female perpetrator.

Hm, the question is

where did they dispose
of the murder weapon?

Oh no, no self-respecting
female would willingly

dispose of a pair of
designer stilettos, nope.

[light orchestral music]

I'd wager she's
still wearing them.

Ah, we need to look
at all the shoes

of all the girls without alibis.

[melodic orchestral music]

[Tom speaking incoherently]

[dog whining]

Initial indications suggest

it may have been used to
wipe the murder weapon,

which apropos has been
identified as a black stiletto.

A shoe, are you sure?

99.8%.

Good work, Sister.

That's a first,
albeit a bit late

now I've nabbed our culprit.

This was found yards
from the crime scene.

- Who searched the area?
- Me, sir,

it wasn't there or
I'd have seen it.

Captain of the Ladies
Junior Darts Team

without the aid of
ocular assistance.

WPC Button is very
reliable, sir.

Which raises the possibility,

that it could have been planted.

I prefer the possibility
that you're making excuses

for your officer's cock up.

You realise how much
time you've wasted,

because of your incompetence?

If it was down to me,
this would be a disciplinary matter.

I'll get these back
to the lab for tests.

And that, gentlemen,

is why they shouldn't let
women join the police.

See if Miss Glasgow's got
a pair of black stilettos

- and bag it as evidence.
- And also all the shoes

of all the contestants
without alibis.

Did I say that?

Until we've heard what
the suspect has to say,

I don't want you wasting
any more of my time

and that's an order.

[soft orchestral music]

Silly girl, actually starting
to believe she could win it.

[car door clicking open]

It's not "Sunday Night
at the Palladium," girls,

come on, let's get back inside.

Come on, inside, shoo, let's go.

[melodic orchestral music]

You were given a direct order.

From CC Lowsley,

"Don't let Scotland Yard
solve the case first."

Perhaps that has
clouded your judgement.

Peggy would never miss
that sash, you know that

and talking of clouded
judgement, how-

[Felix sighing]

How about your vested interest

in helping Scotland
Yard solve this case?

Can't you see, he's a man who's
all mouth and no trousers?

He is a man I would emulate.

Ah, and there was I thinking
we made a good team.

- I didn't mean.
- [Sam sighing]

We do, apart from your blatant
disregard of the rule book.

I don't give a flying
fig about the rule.

No, but I do.

Are you gonna grass me up?

Of course not.

Right, well, I'll take these

and we'll see what Sister
Boniface has to say.

[melodic orchestral music]

[Felix sighing heavily]

I'm afraid traces of shoe
polish and brain tissue

leave no doubt the sash was used

to wipe the murder weapon clean.

It's all a little convenient.

I'll eat my hat, if
it wasn't planted.

That would be more digestible
than Mrs. Clam's cooking.

Hm.

Right, let's see if these
shoes have a tale to tell.

- Lights, please.
- Yeah.

[light clicking off]

- [device buzzing]
- [light orchestral music]

[light clicking on]

Well, luckily for
your digestive tract,

no signs of blood
on Miss Glasgow's,

or any of them for that matter,

these girls maintain their
footwear with military precision,

spit and polish,
unfortunately for us.

Well, that's that then.

Well, the polish may
have created a barrier,

I'll scrape it off and see
if it reveals anything.

I'd better get this back.

I can already imagine the
look on his smug face.

- [Sam sighing]
- [soft orchestral music]

Aye, that's mine, but I lost it,

after rehearsal on Wednesday.

One of the others
pinched it probably.

Are they in the habit of that?

They are with me.

When did you meet Lesley Canon?

At Miss Glasgow.

Your first competition,

when you came runner up,
pretty impressive.

Are you sure you didn't
get a little leg up

from the contest organiser?

Or should that be a leg over?

He's older than my grandad?

You wouldn't be the first
to shut her eyes

and think of England
or in this case, Miss United Britain.

In your dreams.

Did Miss Belfast found out

and threaten to spill the beans?

That would've been the
end of your competition.

I'd like to see you prove it.

[door clicking open]

There's no results
from the shoes as yet,

but Sister Boniface
has confirmed,

that this was used to
clean the murder weapon.

Looks like we just did.

I'll leave you to
charge her at least,

while I deliver the good
news to the Commissioner.

[door thudding]

I didn't do it.

Off the record,
I believe you.

They can't put me in the jail,
I-I've a family to feed.

I won't let it come to that,
you have my word.

The powers that be
are jumping for joy

at such a timely result.

She hasn't confessed.

She will,

copper's nose,

I can smell guilt
and she reeked of it.

I get it, no one likes someone
else stealing their thunder,

but the Met's motto is
we lead, others follow.

Talking of which,
are you set up for that transfer?

Yes, that is to say,
thank you, thank you, sir.

Congratulations, it's
what you always wanted.

I'm on the VIP table
tonight, join me

and I'll give you the
low down on my firm.

You can't go, Sarge,

there'll be no one to
organise the systems.

I couldn't stay forever, Peggy.

Look, I'll write and
you can come visit.

You always wanted to
see the Crown Jewels,

we can go sightseeing together.

My dad went to London once,

didn't see a single
smile all day.

[phone ringing]

[Sam] Yeah, Gillespie.

- I'll be right there.
- [receiver clattering]

- Where are you going?
- Just security for tonight.

[melodic orchestral music]

Automatic disqualification
and the end of her career

as a beauty queen.

You have answered
my prayers, Sister

or at least half a prayer.

It won't be enough for Winner,
we need some hard evidence.

Now there's nothing
under the polish,

but fact, if this is
the murder weapon,

then Locard's
principle will prevail

and there will be an exchange.

[metal clattering]

- Lights.
- Yeah.

[light clicking off]

- [light orchestral music]
- [device buzzing]

- Infuriating.
- [light clicking on]

I never called it a
principle, you know,

or used the word, exchange.

Well, it seems to have caught
on and as a catchphrase,

you'll have to admit, it does
have a certain ring to it.

What has?

Monsieur Trace is
shy and microscopic

and though he likes
to conceal himself,

eventually he must emerge
blinking into the light.

Try beneath the leather.

Roger that.

Roger what?

So, you have read my tract?

You could say
it's my second "Bible."

Are you talking
to yourself again?

I was not sure about
my volume five.

Do you think I started
to repeat myself?

Well, you did go on a bit,
but personally I enjoyed it.

Lights.

[light clicking off]

- [light orchestral music]
- [device buzzing]

- Bingo!
- [light clicking on]

Got her.

And we are live from the
grounds of Slaughter Abbey,

where in one hour,
11 eye-riveting glamorettes

will vie to become
Miss United Britain.

And with the enviable task
of selecting the winners,

this year's judges,
actor Rex Cooper!

[audience applauding]

Racing driver, Harry Gumble

and comedian, Terry Pepper.

Terry's got something
to laugh about.

But before the eye-popping
bevvy of beauties,

we have live music from
the Bello Brothers.

[audience applauding]

[lively band music]

[background people chattering]

Could I have a word, please?

[lively band music]

It's mine, but one of the
others must've taken it.

There were plenty didn't
like her apart from me.

You were in the exercise room
between eight and nine p.m.

The route back took you
passed the swimming pool.

You're saying I killed
her over a stupid contest.

That's the game,
you win some, you lose some,

there's always a next time.

Not for you,

Clodagh's snooping reaped
dividends on this occasion,

enough to get you
disqualified for life.

It's burnt, you can't read that.

No, but we can read
an infrared photograph

"From Carys,
Speaking in Welsh..."

Happy birthday, Mummy.

[soft orchestral music]

I didn't mean to kill her.

[Clodagh] Whose
been a naughty girl?

[Sally Ann] What are you
gonna snitch on me for?

I'll give you, the kid
didn't ruin your figure.

Nice card,

Mum.

I was only 15 when I had her.

She was so beautiful
and she was mine,

I just couldn't give her up.

You'd have done the
same thing in my shoes.

Hardly, unlike you,
I'm still freshly packaged.

I'm begging you,
don't say anything,

not for me, but for her,
her name's Carys and she-

I couldn't give a monkey's
for your little mistake.

You're finished.

Once they find out,
you'll be Miss Nobody.

[soft orchestral music]

- [blow thudding]
- [Clodagh gasping]

[Clodagh thudding to ground]

[owl hooting]

An unlucky blow indeed.

You wiped your shoe on
Miss Glasgow's sash.

I found it by the pool.

So you planted it,
surely that was risky?

I heard you talking.

[Sam] Burnt to a crisp.

[Sister Boniface]
You'd be amazed

at the restorative powers
of a chloral hydrate bath.

[Sally Ann] Do you
know who did it?

You knew we were getting close,

so you framed an innocent
woman for murder.

It was her or Carys,

what chance would she have
with a mother in prison?

All I wanted was for her
to have a better future than mine,

for her to be able
to succeed without,

without taking her clothes
off and getting leered at.

I did it for my daughter.

[soft orchestral music]

Sally Ann Jones,
I'm arresting you

for the murder of
Clodagh Kilpatrick.

You do not have to say anything,
but anything you do say

may be written down
and given in evidence.

And you couldn't ask for a
field of shapelier fillies,

than those coming
under starters orders

for this year's Miss
United Britain stakes,

a veritable cornucopia
of beauties.

And for the moment all
the men in the audience

have been waiting for,

the best of the peaches
from the beaches,

it's the Swimwear Round.

[audience applauding]

Now for the facts and figures.

Airline stewardess,
Miss Walton-on-Thames,

- [cheerful melodic music]
- 36, 24, 36.

Certainly the hostess
with the mostest.

Miss Newcastle is a
bookkeeper from South Shields,

who would think it,
brains and beauty.

[audience applauding]

And from the look on
the judges' faces,

they can put two
and two together.

Number two, Miss
Cardiff, Sally Ann Jo,

sorry, that's number five,
Miss Glasgow, Moira McDonald,

- [audience applauding]
- 37, 24, 35.

Five feet 10 of
Caledonian cutie.

Miss Weston-super-Mare
is a secretary,

she can take down my
dictation anytime.

[soft orchestral music]

[car door thudding]

[car rumbling]

You'd better have
a good explanation

or you'll be spending the
remainder of your career

directing traffic.

She confessed.

Well done, Inspector.

I had a feeling that you'd
score a last minute goal.

I'm not sure what you've
been led to believe,

but I was fully appraised at
all stages of the investigation

and your men were acting
under my instructions,

as DS Livingstone can confirm.

I'm sure I can count
on you to back me up.

That's not necessary,
DCI Winner is correct.

I'll tell you about
it later, sir.

Oh, I can't wait.

I'm glad you see things my way,
because we're off tonight.

Tonight, I thought
this would take weeks?

Big job just landed
and they need manpower.

So give you half an hour
to pack up your things

and I'll see you at the station.

Yes, sir.

[soft orchestral music]

I suppose this is goodbye.

Merely adieu.

Now you will come
back and visit us?

Of course, Sister and I'll
wear gloves at crime scenes

and I will send Peggy
a postcard from all of the sights

and I will telephone
before nine.

Scotland Yard are
lucky to have you.

I will never forget
Great Slaughter. [Laughs]

I can say hand on heart,

this has been an
education and a privilege.

[soft orchestral music]

Right, you'd better go and
break the news to Mrs. Clam.

[Felix laughing]

There's a conversation
I don't envy.

[soft orchestral music]

There's no need for
you to come, Mrs. Clam.

Nonsense, someone
had to see you off.

[Felix laughing]

[suitcases thudding quietly]

You don't get fresh
game where you're going.

- Thank you.
- Sandwiches for the journey,

I made your favourite,

at least I couldn't
remember what it was,

so I made egg and cress.

Thank you, Miss Thimble.

[Tom speaking incoherently]

- No sharing.
- Thank you, Tom.

Oh, bye, Sarge.

Oh, if you're still on
for the Crown Jewels,

I reckon I can brave
a trip to London.

You don't let her out
of your sight, mind,

she'd be an innocent dove
amongst a flock of vultures.

Aye.

- Two innocent doves.
- [bag rustling]

I will write.

You'll do more
than that, I hope.

There's always a room
for you at the Sea View.

- Are we off then?
- Oh, right, yeah.

Bye, Sarge.

- Up that Smoke there.
- Thank you, sir.

- Goodbye.
- Take care of yourself.

- [hand patting]
- Bye.

Bright lad like
you deserves better

than a bunch of amateur yokels.

They're good people

and they welcomed me,
when I was a stranger.

Your DI's a maverick
sheriff in a one-horse town

and don't get me
started on the nun.

Actually sir, even though our
methods may be unorthodox,

we do have the highest
cleanup rate in the county.

We? Sounds like
you've gone native.

Looks like I'm getting you
out not a moment too soon.

What are you waiting for?
Chop chop.

[soft orchestral music]

And now we resume live
from Miss United Britain,

where our seven remaining
eye-riveting glamorettes

await the judges' decision.

In reverse order, third place,

Miss Birmingham.

- [audience applauding]
- [lively band music]

In second place,

Miss Newcastle.

[audience applauding]

And the winner of this year's
Miss United Britain is,

Miss Glasgow.

[audience applauding]

[Moira sobbing happily]

[lively band music]

[Moira laughing]

- [lively band music]
- [audience applauding]

[Moira laughing]

Well, one prayer at
least has been answered.

[TV clicking off]

The comfort of having a
friend may be taken away,

but not that of having had one.

To Felix, a fine officer
and an even finer friend.

- Hear, hear.
- Sorely missed.

- Hear, hear!
- To Felix.

- Dr. Livingstone.
- To Felix.

- To Felix.
- Aye.

- To Felix.
- [door clicking open]

The usual, please George.

- [door thudding]
- You forget something?

Apart from my integrity?

Ah, I understood.

DCI Winner would
not have understood.

He's not someone I can look up
to, never mind call a friend.

- You mean?
- [melodic orchestral music]

He's staying!

[all cheering]

Who is?

Sergeant Livingstone
has come to his senses.

Oh, welcome home, Sarge.

[spoon tapping]

[Tom speaking incoherently]

Mistress Mumsy!

[all laughing]

So, what do you say then, lad?

Ah, thank you, Tom.

- [Tom laughing]
- Yeah!

- [all laughing]
- [light orchestral music]

You do realise you
just volunteered

to be next year's
Mistress Flumsy?

Yes, she or rather, he leads
the annual Mummers Parade

in town, while being
flagellated with twigs.

Oh, but don't worry, the
flagellation's purely symbolic.

It's a great hon our.

Hold the front page.

I think he's pleased.

[all laughing]

[glasses clinking]

[melodic orchestral music]

♪ Ah ah ah ah ♪

♪ Ah ah ♪

♪ Ah ah ♪

♪ Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ♪