All language subtitles for sb4

Shh. Shh!

Wait, it's me!

Alfie?

Oh!

Are you alright,
Sister Reg, I heard...

Oh.

Sister Boniface.

Meet my little brother.

Maggie said I
weren't welcome back.

But I'm going straight
this time, I mean it.

The prodigal son,
returning to the fold.

She got a screw loose or what?

So.

You get released from jail

and you decide to
start your new life

as a law abiding citizen

by breaking into a convent!

Can't a man visit his sister?

I thought I might
stay for a bit.

Oh, no. No.

The Reverend Mother
wouldn't allow it.

Why not?

It's not my fault
I got banged up.

When I was a nipper,
our Dad asked me

to join the family business.

How was I to know it mostly
involved nicking stuff?

This is a convent, Alfie.

Not a halfway house.

Fair enough.

I'll have to take my chance

with the old gang, then.

It won't be long before
I succumb to temptation,

but perhaps prison
is where I belong.

There must be
something we can do.

We got some wine.

Needs shifting to the museum

for a shindig they're having.

Lend a hand,

keep your grubby fingers
off the merchandise,

and I'll find you
somewhere to stay.

I'm not sure the Lord
created this humble body

for physical labour.

Well, He didn't create it

for doing over post offices!

Prefer I tell the police

an ex-convict attacked
me last night?

When you put it like that, sis,

where do I start?

Plenty of light.

It's perfect.

Just as perfect as that
gallery in Kensington.

A London happening
is too predictable.

I wanna bring my
work to the masses!

Why aren't we in
Liverpool or Manchester?

Heaven forbid, Birmingham.

The only masses here are sheep.

Where do you want
this, Mr. Ardwell?

Need anything else?

To wake up and realise
it's a bad dream.

What's the matter with
you, Francis, huh?

What's the matter
with you, man?!

You're here with
the wine, Sister...?

Reginald, Reg is fine.

Right, rest is in the van,

just need to settle up.

This is more than you
quoted last month.

Thing about wine is
the older it gets,

the more valuable it becomes.

Since the refurbishment,
the museum's finances

have been hanging by a thread.

Couldn't we.

Is that Gerry Ardwell?

Yes.

Tonight's party is to
celebrate the launch

of his new exhibition,
sorry, happening.

How about a 10% discount
for two free tickets?

Deal.

Massive fan.

Don't worry, you can come too.

She's a bit of a
looker, in't she?

That's the Virgin Mary.

It's not very big, is it?

Couldn't you afford
the full sized version?

It's the Immaculate Conception

by Sebastian Glendinning,

it's worth over 50,000 pounds.

And I thought I knew how
to get money for nothing.

I should be shaking
Mr. Glendinning by the hand.

He's been dead for two centuries

but if you light that
cigarette in my gallery,

you might just get a
chance to meet him.

I'll just fetch the rest
of the plonk, shall I?

Get off me! Bridy!

Stop it. Keep it down.

Sister Reginald.

I telephoned about the room.

No alcohol, no radios,

no guests, especially
women, including nuns.

The front door is locked
at nine every night.

Nine o'clock?

But what if I'm out?

Then you will remain
out, Mr. Lynch.

I only make an exception
for two of my guests

because they are
officers of the law.

You've got coppers staying?

I love coppers.

He'll give you no
trouble, Mrs. Clam.

If he does, he'll
be swiftly ejected.

Payment is in advance.

Come along, then.

I might as well be back in jail.

It can be arranged.

Help yourself to a drink.

We make the wine at the convent.

Oh, do you?

So.

That's the aftertaste,
is it? Guilt?

Ardwell.

Ardwell?

Thought you could
hide yourself from me

in the sticks, eh?

Far from it, Dickie.

I know how far you
travel for a free bar.

Come on,
tell. Tell my readers.

Which artist will
you be plagiarising

for this latest exhibition?

Readers?

Dear chap, I didn't
realise you had any left.

Well done you.

I don't see what all
the fuss is about.

Oh, you are a Philistine!

Where's your
appreciation of beauty?

Oh! Mr. Ardwell?

Excuse me, sorry.

Mr. Ardwell. Ruth
Penny, Albion Bugle.

I love your work.

Feeling's mutual.

May I have a quote about why
you chose Great Slaughter

for your exhibition?

How about I give you my
telephone number first?

Well, let's start
with the quote.

Having fun?

What do you know about
this Gerry Ardwell?

Bad boy of the British art
scene, very experimental.

Yes.

Once spent 24 hours
staring into a bucket.

What was in the bucket?

Oh, this is Francis Scritton,
my studio assistant.

When I found him, he was
a grubby little orphan

who could barely
hold a paintbrush.

Not technically true.

Soon, thanks to my tutelage,

he'll be the toast
of the Royal Academy.

Sorry to interrupt.

It's time.

Duty calls.

Well, good luck.

So. What are you working on?

Not much.

Mr. Ardwell keeps me very busy.

Well, surely you need to
have your own projects.

Oh, there is one project.

I've been planning it
for years, but I just

Lilly Ardwell.

Gerry's wife.

Oh, he...?

How do you do?

Ladies and gentlemen,
as museum director

it is my enormous pleasure

to introduce the
world-renowned Gerry Ardwell.

Thank you, Madeleine.

Throughout my career,

I have sought to deconstruct

the walls of elitism
separating traditional art

from the common man.

With my latest
work, I go further.

Bridging the gap between
artist and audience.

For the next month,

this is my home.

I'll not leave this stage

even for the most private
of bodily functions.

When the museum's open,
you may observe me

however you see fit.

At night, the gallery
is locked and alarmed

and I'll be incarcerated
with these other exhibits.

The artist as living art.

Yes, if you wish to
glimpse the true nature

of the art of Gerry Ardwell,

examine the contents of
his bucket.

I'll take that. Just in case.

It's exactly as
Mr. Ardwell asked.

Know what he's like first
thing in the morning,

don't want to get your
head bitten off, do you?

Gerry?

Gerry...

- Gerry?
- Gerry...

Inspector.

Please tell me you'll find
the Immaculate Conception.

We'll do our best, but for now

our priority is
Mr. Ardwell's death.

Sorry for your
loss, Mrs. Ardwell.

Doesn't make sense.

We locked him in.
He was all alone.

Rest assured, we will bring
the culprit to justice.

Let us know if there's
anything we can do.

What happened?

Oh.

A window was forced
from the outside.

The victim suffered blunt
trauma to the cranium,

no other wounds, and,
oh, and I found this.

What am I looking at?

Discoloration on the plinth.

This figurine has been moved
from its usual position, see?

Oh, and there are blood
traces on the base.

That's our murder weapon.

I'll check with the
victim's blood type.

So far, no fingerprints.

So someone breaks
in via the window,

they go to steal a painting,

not realising that
Mr. Ardwell's here

and then he tries to stop them

and gets bludgeoned
with a bronze figurine.

What about the alarm?

Mrs. Rigley?

Is the gallery alarmed at night?

Always.

I tested the alarm
before the party

and turned it on before I left.

If the thief entered
through a window,

it should've gone off.

And where's the control box?

My office.

Who else has access?

Usually, only me,
I keep it locked.

But yesterday I gave my
spare key to Mrs. Ardwell

and Mr. Scritton so that
they could store things

for the party.

Oh, and Dickie Whitfield,
the art critic.

He'd driven straight from London

so I let him use the
office to freshen up.

Thank you.

Smells like Old Nun's.

I beg your pardon?

Old Nun tobacco,

my father used to smoke it.

Mrs. Clam's neighbour saw a man

climbing out of her
guest house window

late last night.

It wasn't me.

I know who it was.

Mr. Lynch?

Let me.

Alfie.

Open up, it's the police.

He appears to have checked out.

Perhaps he went for a walk.

Not out
of the front door,

I'd have seen him, oh.

For once, Sister, your services

may be surplus to requirements.

Is Alfie stupid? Yes.

Is he a lazy, selfish,
greedy little toe rag? Yes.

- Sisters.
- Morning.

Sisters.

What was I saying?

Did Alfie kill Mr. Ardwell?

Oh! Not a chance.

To break in, disable the alarm

and leave no fingerprints?

It looks professional.

Perhaps your brother
was caught off guard.

Alfie wouldn't hurt a fly.

What about the Snosebridge job?

He was there, but.

Snosebridge?

Payroll robbery.

Local bobby tried to intervene.

So Alfie's gang beat him up.

He was lucky to survive.

It was Alfie who
told them to stop.

According to him.

He did his time.

Where is he?

If you see him, tell
him to hand himself in.

Let's go.

You gotta do something.

Like what?

Prove Alfie's innocent.

Thank you.

The alert has gone out.

Are you sure Alfie
Lynch is our man?

It was him.

I just, I can't work out

how he forced the window

without triggering the alarm.

Madeleine Rigley said
that she tested the alarm

before the party.

What if Lynch had an accomplice?

Someone who sabotaged the
alarm during the evening.

Yes.

Who had access to the
controls in the office?

- Lilly Ardwell.
- Mhmm.

Francis Scritton, and Dickie,

- Dickie...
- Whitfield.

Dickie Whitfield, yes.

Unless Mrs. Rigley was lying.

She's looking at a
sizable insurance payout.

Start there.

I'll brief Lowesley,
and then meet me

at the Tudor Hall Hotel.

I wanna see what
the victim's wife

and little helper have to say.

Any updates on the Ardwell case?

Nice hat.

What do you know about
Dickie Whitfield,

the art critic?

Or Drinky Whitfield as he's
affectionately known, why?

Quid pro quo.

See what you can dig up on him,

anything to do with
him and Gerry Ardwell.

And if I dish the dirt?

Regular updates and
an exclusive interview

with the officer in charge.

Well, how could a girl refuse?

Alright, swing by
this afternoon.

Toodle pip!

What happens if
the press discovers

that one of our sisters is
related to the murderer?

I told you, Reverend
Mulberry, it weren't him.

How can you be certain?

Because we have an arrangement.

Your brother is
clearly a lost soul.

Oh no, not with Alfie, with God.

My family always has a relaxed
interpretation of the law.

I am aware of that
among your relatives

there's a certain
criminal element.

Element?

The whole blooming
periodic table.

So, I made God a deal.

A life of service in
return for keeping

my nearest out of the
clutches of the Devil.

You should pray
for your brother.

And I shall pray for you.

Oh, look.

I know Alfie ain't
Your finest work.

But help me find him.

I just wanna know he's alright.

Psst!

Fair play, quick work.

I know what they think

but it weren't me, I swear.

Shh!

I need to hide.

Well you can't stay here!

You stick out like a sore thumb.

Unless...

I went straight home.

I was there until I
opened up this morning.

And how well did you
know Mr. Ardwell?

We were at art school together.

Even courted for a little while.

But, just a silly fling.

Gerry was never the type
to settle for one woman.

Before yesterday, I
hadn't seen him in years.

Will that be all?

I promised to
update the trustees.

We'll be in contact if
there's anything else.

Where's Sam?

I said I'd meet him at
the hotel, I should go.

No, no, no, no, no.

I was looking at the
scene of crime photographs

and there's something funny
about the blood spatters.

For a nun, you have a
disturbing interpretation

for the word funny.

It'll have to wait, sorry.

Our top priority is
catching Alfie Lynch.

I think you're right, Sister,

it wasn't Alfie.

I'm glad to hear you're
on my side, sweetheart.

Alfie Lynch?

No. Sorry.

Well, he's a known criminal,

staying at a guest
house in town.

We believe he broke in
assisted by a person

or persons unknown.

How long have you
worked for Mr. Ardwell?

About a year.

Were you close?

I never knew my real father.

Without Gerry I wouldn't
be the man I am today.

What exactly did you do for him?

Everything.

Gerry generated a lot of ideas.

He needed someone to
create the actual pieces.

Must have been galling,

you doing all the work
and him taking the credit.

All great masters
had apprentices.

Message from Sister Boniface.

She needs you at the
lab as soon as possible.

Right.

Hope you catch this Lynch fella.

We will. And whoever
he's working with.

I know it was daft, but I
was getting the jitters,

stuck in that room, so
I hopped out the window

and went to the pub.

Then this morning,
I heard them coppers

talking about a murder.

I knew I'd get stitched
up, so I legged it.

Maybe if I explain to Sam that.

No.

He'll have Alfie banged up.

Yes, but...

Yeah.

They're good, in't they?

One of Bridy's old brassieres

and a couple of spuds
I got out the kitchen.

Yes, very...

Creative.

The thing is.

Do you mind stepping outside?

Important police work, sisters,

sorry for the inconvenience.

What's so urgent?

Fact.

If someone's hit on the
head while standing up,

you expect a wide
blood spray pattern.

Mr. Ardwell was
already lying down.

See the two lines
in the floor wax,

running from the
stage to the body?

So Mr. Ardwell
was hit on the head

while he was still sleeping

and then dragged
to the painting?

There'd be a trail of blood, no.

Judging by the dilated pupils,

I think Gerry was drugged.

Dragged to the painting.

And then hit with
the bronze figurine

to look like he'd
disturbed a thief.

Sorry.

These four had
access to the alarms.

Any of them could have
also drugged Mr. Ardwell.

So which one of them's
working with Alfie Lynch?

Oh, we can't be
certain Alfie was.

The bobby from Snosebridge,

got beaten up by Alfie's
gang, he's a mate.

And he's never been the same.

So I'm gonna find Alfie

and I'm gonna put him in
jail where he belongs.

With the police about,

you're gonna have
to stay in here.

But what about lunch?

Try feeding your soul

instead of your belly for once.

Wait, Bridy.

I really am trying to change.

I'm unlucky, that's all.

You choose good or
you choose evil.

Luck has got nothing
to do with it.

That's easy for
you to say in here.

Not surrounded by
temptation like I am.

Oh, you think I've
never been tempted?

I could've taken the
easy route like mum.

Strutting down the high street

in her knocked off fur coat.

Half cut on gin.

Turning a blind eye
while you lot divvy up

the spoils on the kitchen table.

No.

I wanted a decent life.

And an honest life.

It takes hard work.

Read it. You might
learn something.

What's all this?

Articles where you
criticise Gerry Ardwell.

I'm a critic.

The clue is in the name.

"Gerry Ardwell epitomises

everything that's wrong
with his generation.

Superficiality, egotism,

obsession with celebrity."

Why do you
hate him so much?

After his first exhibition.

Ardwell wrote a manifesto,

declaring that
traditional art is dead.

He singled out one
artist in particular,

Robert Eddington.

Dismissing his life's work

as outdated and irrelevant.

So?

Robert was my friend.

He killed himself a week later,

left behind a wife and a child,

so I hated Ardwell, yes,

but this was 20 years ago.

If I wanted him dead, why
would I wait until now?

You tell me.

Someone at that party
disabled the alarm

to allow the murderer inside

and you had access
to those controls.

Well, this is
hardly in my skillset.

But if you are looking
for an accomplice,

what about the widow?

Huh?

Ardwell was a known womaniser.

Hey.

Look at this.

Gerry Ardwell with
fiance, Maddy Rigley.

What if Dickie's right?

What if Lilly knew that Ardwell

was here visiting an old flame?

May we come in?

Is there a problem?

No.

Have you found the murderer yet?

Not yet.

We'd like a better idea
of people's movements

after the party.

Well, I walked straight
back here with Francis,

said goodnight to
him downstairs,

and came to bed.

- Hmm.
- Why?

We're exploring the possibility

someone else was involved.

Did you know that your husband

and Madeleine Rigley
were once engaged?

Of course.

Gerry told me everything.

Ancient history.

Oh, that's Gerry's.

He could be quite a slob.

Is there anything else?

That lock is broken, I think.

I called down to reception, but

Open up.

I won't ask again.

Sister Reginald?

Hmm?

Didn't you hear the bell?

Hmm.

You don't want to
be late for chapel.

Sister Reginald.

It's just a bit of fun.

Gerry was always going
off with other women.

It must've made you very angry.

No.

Well, yes, but I
didn't kill him.

Lilly and I were
together all night.

So it couldn't have
been either of us.

Forgive us if we're
sceptical of the widow

and her new lover
exchanging alibis.

The night porter can confirm

that we arrived back together

and didn't leave
until after breakfast.

Nonetheless, either of you

could've drugged Mr. Ardwell

and cut the alarm
ready for Mr. Lynch

to come and do the rest.

Never even heard of
the man until today.

We've only got
your word for that.

As I've already mentioned,

we have an interesting
visitor here today.

Someone who will be familiar
to many of you, I'm sure.

Father Brown.

Thank you, Reverend Mother.

Sister Boniface.

It is reassuring to see

that your community is not
only surviving, but thriving.

I even see some fresh
faces sat here today.

- He knows. He knows.

Sister Reginald. Sister
Boniface and guest.

Please remain
behind after chapel.

I really don't mind staying.

It's convent business, Father.

What were you thinking?

Bringing a known criminal
into our holy refuge

and then allowing him
to desecrate your habit!

I never did.

I wouldn't, not in a convent!

I- -

Sorry about that.

He's mocking our
very way of life.

If I may.

No you may not!

I shall inform the police
that we've discovered

the whereabouts of the fugitive.

Aren't criminals meant
to be given sanctuary

by the church?

Oh, so you're admitting
he's a criminal now?

Well...

He has sinned. Yes.

But he was raised in
a family of sinners

and now he wishes to
turn towards the light

and shouldn't we help him?

Sanctuary is an
archaic tradition,

holding no basis in modern law.

I will not put the
sisters in danger.

He's not dangerous,
he's my brother.

And if you throw him out,

I'm going too.

I beg your pardon?

There's nothing else I can do

but leave St. Vincent's.

And may I say,
you might struggle

to balance the books without me.

Sister Reginald, you are
a highly valued member

of this convent, but I
will not allow St Vincent's

to be blackmailed.

Very well... No, wait.

You can't do this,
right? This is your life.

Gonna turn myself in.

They'll throw you in jail.

Not if Sister Boniface
catches who done it.

But... But Bridy!

I never done nothing
good in my whole life.

Let me do this.

Well, that's settled then.

You'll clear my name, right?

Oh, absolutely, yes.

100%.

Or 90 at the very least.

Actually, let's say 85.

It's good enough for me.

I should go.

Alfie.

You might want to get changed.

Yeah.

It's a pity.

I mean, these things are
surprisingly comfortable.

Now, according to the
post-mortem I was right.

Enough barbiturates
in Gerry's bloodstream

to send him to join
the choir invisible.

Right, let's talk motive.

Madeleine Rigley.

She's a jilted ex-fiance,

needed the insurance
money to save the gallery.

Lilly Ardwell, was sick
of her husband's adultery

and stands to
inherit his wealth.

Francis Scritton, he
was his love rival

and presumably envied
his success as an artist.

And then there's
Dickie Whitfield.

Whose friend, Robert Eddington,

was driven to suicide by Gerry.

And Dickie has the contacts

to shift the painting
on the black market.

Now, Lilly,
Francis and Dickie

were all staying
at the same hotel,

is that right?

The night porter claims
he didn't see anyone leave

during the night.

But if their job was
just to drug Gerry

and cut the alarm, then they
wouldn't need to return.

Alfie did the rest.

If, for argument's sake,

we say Alfie wasn't involved.

He's handed himself in.

Has he confessed?

No, not yet.

So, humour me.

Where does a wise
man hide a leaf?

Come again?

In a forest.

Exactly.

So where would he, or
she, hide a painting?

Madeleine.

We know that you and
Gerry were engaged.

More than just a
silly fling, then?

So?

Well, it must've hurt

when he ended things.

Actually, I ended it.

He was too chaotic,
too egotistical.

Prepared to do anything for fame

even if it meant
trampling over others.

I didn't mention it

because I wasn't
sure if Lilly knew.

Then you won't mind if
we search the museum

and your cottage for
the missing painting?

Be my guest.

Perhaps Felix had better
look at Madeleine's cottage.

Look, I've humoured you.

We're back to where
we were, it's Alfie.

He must've hidden the
painting somewhere

before he handed himself in.

The only problem is
he's refusing to tell us

where he was lying low.

Sam, there's something
I should tell you.

Unless.

Mrs. Clam said she
saw Alfie at breakfast

which means he returned
there after the robbery.

I bet it's been hidden under
our noses this whole time.

Is this entirely necessary?

I'm sure they'll
put everything back.

I should jolly well hope so.

I've already lost another
paying guest today,

he barely unpacked his suitcase

when he found out that a
murderer had slept in here

and he beat a hasty retreat.

What are you doing to my floor?

Perhaps we should
wait downstairs, hm?

Shall we?

Sister, I think I've
found something.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

You mustn't contaminate
the evidence.

Fine.

Ah!

Look at that.

Perhaps Alfie Lynch
will start talking now.

He did it, didn't he?

Supposed to have a
deal, me and God.

Only I'm starting to
think He's not listening.

Oh, but He is listening!

He wouldn't abandon you

and you shouldn't abandon Alfie.

The painting was
found in his room.

So?

I will find out
who put it there.

Can I help?

I understand you were a
friend of Gerry Ardwell's.

Well, not really.

But you were friends
with Robert Eddington,

so this whole thing
must've brought back

all sorts of painful memories.

Best to talk about it.

Thank you.

Spiritual advisor?

Yes, it's a service we offer

to help you deal with your loss.

- I see.
- Oh!

Silly me.

May I use your bathroom?

Are you
alright in there?

Oh. Yes.

No harm done.

Such a...

Butterfingers.

Hm.

All sorted.

So, you wanted to
talk to me about?

I just remembered I'm
needed back at the convent.

Breakfast.

I ain't hungry.

Oh, suit yourself.

I'll leave it here.

Do you have a
Bible I can borrow?

Somewhere, I'll
fetch it for you.

Thanks, love.

Someone wiser than me
said it's worth a read.

And I need all the
help I can get.

Bingo!

I forgive you.

For, if you will forgive
men their offences,

your Heavenly Father will
forgive you also your offences.

What is happening right now?

I believe he's found God.

Not another one.

Lilly Ardwell has a
prescription for sleeping pills.

This is not a good time.

They share the same
chemical composition

as the drugs given
to her husband.

So Lilly was working with Alfie?

No.

With Francis?

No.

Must you look so
pleased with yourself?

Yes.

I can't face being
alone in that big house.

Maybe you should move in.

Your husband's barely cold.

What would people say?

Who cares?

As long as we're together.

I should focus on my career.

But I thought.

Just like you said,
just a bit of fun.

Leaving us?

You have the culprit?

Seen this before?

It's Lilly's.

That's you were
doing in my bathroom?

That's for personal use.

Explains how Francis
was able to sneak out

during the night
without waking you.

The fire escape runs below
your bathroom window.

He could leave without you

or the night porter noticing.

I never went anywhere.

Oh, I think you did.

You'd already drugged Gerry
with the same medication

and disabled the alarm.

You returned to the
museum, moved Gerry's body,

then hit him round the head

to make it look like
he'd disturbed a burglar.

And then you stole the painting.

Francis?

You think I'd kill
Gerry for, for what?

For money? For her?

Revenge, for your
father's death.

Robert Eddington,

the artist whose
career Gerry destroyed.

Dickie confirmed that
Robert had left behind a son

who was taken into care.

And you think that was me?

I spoke to Mrs. Clam.

When you pretended to be a guest

so that you could hide the
painting in Alfie's room,

you gave your name
as Mr. Eddington.

Couldn't resist a final
tribute to your late father.

If I'd stolen a
priceless artwork,

why dump it in a guesthouse?

To make sure that someone else
was blamed for the murder.

I'm sure if we
hadn't have found it,

we would have received
an anonymous tip off.

And you can prove
all this, can you?

Mrs. Clam seemed very confident

she could identify you.

And while you were careful
at the murder scene

to remove any fingerprints,

the guest house was
a different matter.

You were in a rush,

and like the Inspector
here, struggled

to lift up the base of the
chest of drawers wearing gloves.

So you took them off,
only for one moment.

Well, as far as
performance pieces go,

I think Gerry would
have approved.

At least I had shock value.

This isn't a joke, Mr. Scritton.

Maybe you're right.

Gerry never cared
about art, anyway.

He wanted fame.

That's all.

He sabotaged my father's career,

destroyed my life,
to make that happen.

So you got a job with him

so you could take your revenge.

I'm only sorry he wasn't awake

when I smashed his head in.

Francis Scritton,
I'm arresting you

for the murder of Gerry Ardwell.

You do not need to say anything

but anything you do say
will be written down

and given in evidence.

For the record,

I'm sorry about what
happened to your mate.

The copper, if I could go back.

Just keep your word.

Go straight.

Come here!

Cor! You need a wash
and a change of clothes.

And before you ask, you're
not borrowing any of mine.

Thanks, Bridy.

For never giving up on me.

I had my moments.

For which I'm sorry.

So, I've been on the
blower to your Maggie.

She's gonna give you another go.

How did you manage that?

Oh, your sister can
be very persuasive

when she wants to be.

No messing, though.

One hint of mischief,
you're out on your ear.

Good as gold, me.

Here, I've even
started reading this.

Did you steal that from
the police station?

Borrowed it.

Bridy, ow!

- Just get over here!
- Ow!

Bridy, alright,
I'll take it back!

Revered Mother Adrian
told me about the murder.

I was going to
offer my assistance.

But I see that you had
everything in hand.

How about I tell you
all the gory details

over a nice cup of tea?

I can think of nothing
more enjoyable.