Original subtitles

♫♫

Good morning, Archie!

Good morning.

Hello?

Lovely day for running out, gov.

Bet you´re glad of a break from that kitchen, aren´t you?

Get your teeth into some real police work.

I like nothing more than a nice fresh corpse

first thing in the morning, Pinkney.

Sets me up for the whole day.

Why did Fisher pick me for this job?

Didn´t say, gov.

Bit of a manpower crisis, I think.

Just like old times, eh?

You and me.

Oh, slow down, slow down, slow down.

No, on second thought, better not.

Drive on.

How is the cookery trade anyhow?

Slow, Pinkney. Decidedly slow.

What you need is

a bit of a gimmick to pull in the punters.

Gaff down my way started doing these theme burgers.

Theme burgers?

Yeah, you know, like there´s your Aloha Burger

with pineapple and grated coconut.

Do people really go out and eat these things?

Oh, what?!

Then there´s your Zapata Burger.

That´s with chili sauce and --

Pinkney!

Yes, gov?

Just concentrate on the driving, all right?

Anyway, what do you mean manpower crisis?

What manpower crisis?

Don´t know, gov. Mr. Fisher didn´t say.

Good morning, sir.

Morning, morning.

Oh, get me the Chief Constable on the phone, would you?

Yes, sir.

Inspector Crabbe.

Parkes, sir.

Crabbe: Good morning. So, what have we got?

Looks like a burglary that got a bit out of hand.

Victim is a Guy Featherstone.

According to the partner -- Bentley --

there´s about 200 quid missing from the petty cash.

You want to watch your step here.

It´s crawling with the little buggers.

They´re the edible sort.

Company flies them to France

for a bloke that breeds them up at Adenfield.

Name of Rosten.

Rosten?

Rosten.

Rings a bell.

Hello. Henry.

Um...

Time of death?

Sometime between midnight and 4 a.m.

Midnight.

What was he doing here?

The main gate´s locked at 10:00 apparently, but he had a key.

Shot at very close range, I´d say.

Handgun probably, but that´s just guessing

till I get him down to the shop

for a proper look.

Is it usual

for a burglar to go after £200

armed with a handgun?

Well, not to say usual, exactly.

Man: Hello, this is Chris Bentley.

I´m afraid there´s no one here to take your message

at the moment, but please wait for the tone

and leave a message afterwards, thank you.

Woman: You can´t go in there!

Calm down!

I´m sorry, I´m fed up with waiting.

Mr. Bentley? Who the hell are you?

Detective Inspector Crabbe, Bostock CID.

Well, why don´t you get out there

and do something about catching this bastard?

What a brilliant idea.

I´m going to get everybody to do that.

But, first, we have to find out

which particular bastard that is.

Um, if you don´t mind.

Thank you.

Yeah. Woman: The Chief Constable for you, sir.

Right, put him through.

Man: Good morning, Fisher.

Sir, I just thought I´d let you know

there´s been an interesting development out at Thaxford.

Bentley´s partner seems to have got himself shot.

Crabbe: Tell me about the business.

What do you do exactly?

Flying is always the main thing, I suppose.

Some air taxi work, aerial surveying,

freight charter.

Snails, that sort of thing?

And machine parts, computer software,

medical supplies.

As long as the check is good, we´re not fussy.

Look, I suppose there is a point to all this.

I´m just trying to get a picture, Mr. Bentley.

That´s all.

A bit like cooking without a recipe,

if you see what I mean.

First you got to lay out all the ingredients,

and then you decide on a dish.

A bit like that.

Also, I was wondering if your burglar

might have been looking

for something in particular last night.

Such as?

Well, I have no idea.

But there must have been something.

Unless he wanted us just to think there was.

Bentley: What are you implying?

I mean, what the hell are you implying?

Darling, for heaven´s sake.

Did Mr. Featherstone phone you last night?

No. Yes.

He rang about 12:30.

You were asleep, sweetheart.

He was a bit upset.

A bit drunk, I think. He´d had a row with Liz.

Liz Wynant, his...

well, girlfriend.

They´ve been together for quite a while now.

I did try calling her earlier, sir -- no answer.

Bentley: For God´s sake.

You´re not suggesting Liz had something to do with this?

I´m not suggesting anything, Mr. Bentley.

Good.

Well, if you´ve got the picture now,

I mean, if all your ingredients are sorted,

only my wife just happens to have a pupil coming.

If you don´t mind.

Sweetheart, I can´t possibly --

One of us has to.

Unless you´d rather just give up altogether.

Do you think that´s what Guy would have wanted?

Yes, I think we can leave it there for the moment.

Thank you.

I´ve assigned Crabbe to the case, as a matter of fact.

Crabbe?

Bit of a maverick, isn´t he?

Well, he has his faults,

but canteen gossip isn´t one of them.

I´m rather keen we should keep this to ourselves pro tem, sir.

Yes, does he know the background?

No, no, no. As far as he´s concerned,

it´s a straightforward murder inquiry.

I thought we´d let him work the rest out for himself.

Cambridge?

What´s she doing here?

Cambridge!

Hello, sir.

I thought you were supposed to be on leave.

That´s right, the only thing is

I always quite fancied flying, so...

You´re Mrs. Bentley´s pupil. That´s right, I´m staying

at the Cock and Rabbit in the village next to the pub.

You´d approve.

Listen, I wonder, could we...

I´ll see you later then, Constable.

I suppose she´s never exactly been

the fortnight in Marbella type.

No, I suppose not.

Leonard.

Leonard Rosten.

I wonder what the devil that man´s up to now.

Who´s that then?

What? Oh, Mr. Fisher, of course.

No. Sir, I´m not with you.

Oh, come on, come on.

Right. Where to, exactly?

Adenfield,

where the snails come from.

Cambridge: Throttle, carb,

heat, mixture.

Trim.

Good.

You´re obviously a quick learner, Ms. Cambridge.

Thanks.

What did the inspector want, by the way?

Inspector?

Oh, is that who that was?

He said something like, "Rather you than me, madam."

Trying to be funny, I suppose.

Flaps. Used for?

Increasing lift and drag

to permit a slower approach

and improve visibility on landing.

Very good.

I don´t think my wife mentioned

what line you´re in.

Ah, no.

Well, it´s a rather closely guarded secret.

Oh?

Well, it´s not very glamorous --

pest control.

Pest control.

Well, I´m on the management side, you understand.

I don´t actually...

No, no, of course not.

Right.

Let´s see what you remember about takeoff.

Pinkney: This bloke Rosten, do you know him?

Crabbe: It´s possible, yes.

Well, who is he then exactly?

Just drop me off and wait in the car, Pinkney, would you?

Right, gov.

Thank you!

Ah, good morning.

Ah, Mr. Rosten?

Ah.

Yes, hi.

Oh, can you hang on a second?

All right, Danny, I´ll go up to 15K.

Didn´t think you were going to show.

No, no, no way. 15 tops.

I know you, don´t I?

No, it´s just some guy from the local rag.

Yes, all right.

Sorry about that, my broker.

I dabble. That´s nice.

I definitely know you.

Crabbe.

Detective Sergeant Crabbe.

Except it´s inspector now, isn´t it?

And I heard you retired.

I see you still keep yourself informed.

Well, you know how it is,

old habits.

Ha.

I get quite a bit of press interest actually.

You know, local man sells escargots to frogs.

Ha.

Yeah, but you used to be into food.

I remember, didn´t you?

Yeah, come on.

Why don´t I give you the tour?

Oh, thank you.

Rosten: Helix pomatia,

a grove of them.

Beautiful, don´t you think?

Well, I suppose it´s a question of opinion really.

Oh, I find them quite fascinating.

They´re hermaphrodite. Did you know that?

No.

Must make their sex life rather confusing.

Yeah.

Come on, back you go.

Oh, sorry.

Would you like me to pack you up a couple dozen?

No, thank you.

It´s no trouble.

I -- I tried some once.

Tasted rather like elastic bands

that had been marinated in garlic butter.

Oh, tinned probably.

These are the real thing.

Totally organic, high protein --

practically fat-free.

You don´t know what you´re missing.

Well, if it´s all the same...

Bye, Ms. Cambridge.

Well done. Thank you.

She´s very good.

Is she? Yeah.

Hello, Archie.

Want a lift?

No, thanks.

Rosten: Do you know how all this stuff started?

Crabbe: No.

When I was away...

Ha ha, if you remember,

they had me working in the gardens.

Acres of cabbages.

I must have been slaughtering hundreds

of these little beauties a day.

Anyway, the food in that place wasn´t too hot.

And suddenly it struck me.

50 million Frenchmen, right?

So, I went to the library, read everything they had.

I was hooked.

You´re not telling me this is a hobby.

You´re asking do I make money.

With production costs and freight fees,

I´m pulling in around 1,500 a trip.

You always were good with figures,

amongst your other talents.

I´m just a businessman now, believe me.

And you still haven´t told me why you´re here.

No, well...

Actually, I´m investigating a murder.

A murder?

My God.

The victim was a man by the name of Guy Featherstone.

I believe you knew him.

Good God.

You don´t think I had anything to do with this.

Oh, I really don´t know, Mr. Rosten.

But suppose you tell me where you were last night

between midnight and 4 a.m.

Inspector Crabbe´s telephonic apparatus.

Can I help you?

Crabbe´s elsewhere, I take it.

Uh, yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

He´s interviewing a Mr. Leonard Rosten.

Rosten? That doesn´t ring any bells.

But Crabbe thinks he´s connected, does he?

I´m not sure exactly.

A bit more on the cuff.

A bit more what, sir?

Pinkney, I´m in a meeting.

He´s coming over. Do you want a word?

No, no, it´s all right, just...

keep me informed, Pinkney -- And, Pinkney...

Yes, sir.

No need to mention I called, understood?

Pinkney?!

Yes, sir. Understood.

Who was that?

Wrong number, sir.

Pinkney: You do know Rosten then?

Crabbe: I used to, yes.

But he was in rather a different line

of business in those days.

Well, gov?

Yeah, as well as can be expected, thank you.

No, gov.

I meant, when are you going to give me the full SP?

Full SP.

Ooh, speaking in code now, are we?

Pick me up in a couple of hours, would you?

I just want to know what´s going on.

What´s going on?

I´m now proceeding with my inquiries, Pinkney.

That´s what´s going on.

And you can tell Mr. Fisher that

next time he calls, can´t you?

It keeps getting worse.

Not even talking to each other tonight.

I´m sure it´s not that bad.

It´s like a morgue after a major air disaster.

You can hear a pin rust.

It´s just a temporary fluctuation

in the trend cycle, isn´t it?

Have you been to IFT again, Steve?

Well, yeah.

It´s the restaurant code, Margaret.

He likes to keep up with the opposition.

Oh, do you have to do so much of everything?

Aye, got to be ready for the rush.

Two steak pie, one lamb, two salmon.

And the lady says she knows it´s not on the menu,

but could she please have two lightly poached eggs on toast?

Pie in the Sky. Oh, Mr. Crabbe, hello.

What have you got on at the moment?

Oh, a nice little rubber tubing I found.

Oh, well not to worry. We´ll manage.

Now, that is the sort of business to be in.

Whatever happens,

people will always need rubber tubing.

Oh, yeah, right.

Well, I wouldn´t say slow, exactly.

Won´t work.

Now you come to mention it, I´d hate to see it.

Mrs. Crabbe,

your husband says he´s unavoidably delayed.

Well, give him my love, and tell him

if this keeps up, we will be bust within a month.

She says that´s fine, sir.

And you´re not to worry about a thing.

Oh, hello, sir.

Are you all right?

Oh, it´s...

Pie in the Sky, Cambridge.

Oh, it can´t be that bad, surely.

Why, I keep asking myself.

Why have all my customers deserted me?

Oh, I expect it´s just a slow patch.

Probably isn´t a reason.

There´s always a reason, Cambridge.

Nothing ever happens without a reason.

That´s the detective´s creed, isn´t it?

For instance,

why have you suddenly taken to the air?

Oh, well...

that was Mr. Fisher´s idea.

I´m supposed to be undercover.

Yes, I gathered that.

Why?

Information received really.

Don´t fence with me, Constable.

No.

Right.

About two weeks ago, the uniforms

pulled in a bloke called Ray Frazer.

Very small time actually -- receiving stolen cars.

But it turns out his brother Archie

is a flight mechanic at Thaxford.

And he´s been telling tales about Bentley Air.

What sort of tales?

Oh, just hints about

a regular delivery to the continent

and how their fuel consumption doesn´t match up

with their flight logs.

Well, you get the picture.

So, I´m not here because of what happened last night.

Oh.

An image of sorts begins to emerge.

Chiefly the look on Fisher´s face

when he realized that Leonard Rosten

was one of Bentley Air´s clients.

He must have been pretty special, this Rosten.

Indeed, he was.

At his peak, Rosten had more couriers

coming through Heathrow than Thomas Cooks.

But what I don´t understand

is why Mr. Fisher is being so secretive.

Oh, come on, Cambridge.

Interdepartmental politics are his speciality.

So, this way, if anything goes wrong,

he can always put his hand on what passes for his heart

and say to the drug squad

he didn´t know anything about it.

So, do you think there´s a link

between Featherstone´s death and Leonard Rosten?

We started out with a former dope smuggler

and a bent air taxi firm.

And now we have a break-in that isn´t a break-in

and a murder with no apparent motive.

Is there a connection?

I think it´s a reasonable assumption.

All we have to do is prove it.

Hello there.

Evening, Sergeant.

Looking after you, are they?

Yes, it´s quite a revelation, in fact.

I didn´t know places like this still existed.

Oh, we like it.

That was the best leek and potato soup

I´ve tasted in years.

Thank you.

Oh, the Vichyssoise -- good.

We´re thinking of branching out

as a matter of fact.

Maybe get one of those microwave ovens.

Well, don´t.

I beg your pardon? You let a microwave through that door,

and before you know where you are, this place will be infested

with fruit machines, piped music, and theme burgers.

Now, theme burgers

are vile little bits of reconstituted meat substitute

slathered in pineapple and grated coconut.

Then the place will fill up

with every half-witted adolescent moron

from Bostock CID,

and then you won´t be able to move

in this place for acne.

Now, it´s your decision, of course,

but that´s my advice.

Very good, sir.

I´ll say you enjoyed the soup.

Oh, we tracked down Ms. Wynant, by the way.

She confirms Mrs. Bentley´s story as far as it goes.

But I didn´t push for details.

I thought you´d want to speak to her yourself.

Fine. Thank you.

Ms. Cambridge.

Parkes: She wants to watch her step.

How do you mean?

Bit of a lad for the girls, that one.

Ah.

Hi. Hello.

Do you want a drink?

Oh, brandy and ginger, please.

Mind you, so was Featherstone from what I hear.

He seems to be bearing up remarkably well

under the circumstances.

Yes, sir.

I thought that.

Thank you, Frankie.

Sir.

Could you excuse me a minute, please?

Yeah.

Sorry.

Damn!

Pinkney: Do you want me to come with you?

I´ll manage, thanks.

And don´t go back to sleep, Pinkney.

I want you to get me everything you can

on Bentley Air -- company accounts,

bank statements, that sort of thing.

Any problems, and you´ll have to go through

Mr. Fisher´s office.

So, here´s your big chance to impress him, right?

Yes, gov.

Don´t look so miserable, Pinkney.

If you want to find out about Rosten,

why don´t you look him up on the computer?

That is what it´s there for.

Oh, yeah, right.

Never thought of that.

Ms. Wynant?

Yes?

My name is Henry Crabbe.

Oh, yes.

I was just...

No point in putting these things off, is there?

Hello.

Push off.

Don´t be like that.

I´ve got nothing to say to you, sweetheart.

What, not even a message for Ray?

That´s not very brotherly.

All I want to know is when Bentley

is planning his next little jaunt to France.

Ask him yourself then.

I´m asking you.

I don´t know nothing.

Oh, come on, you service the planes, don´t you?

You fuel them up.

Ray will be so disappointed.

Tough.

Lovely.

You know, he said you were keen on bikes.

You can show me the log books sometime.

Hi!

I was looking for you.

Crabbe: I´m sorry.

This must be very difficult.

The thing about Guy,

he was one of those men...

He had a wonderful time in the RAF.

And everything after that was a bit of a let-down, you know.

I understand he had something of a reputation.

You´ve been listening to village gossip.

He enjoyed the reputation, but that´s all it was.

The only love of his life was flying.

What did you argue about that night?

What do you argue about?

He took my car without asking me, that´s all.

Do you know what for?

He wouldn´t say.

But it sounds trivial, I know.

But he´d already written off his own bloody car.

Drunk, probably.

Was that usual?

Just the last few months.

He never used to drink.

He hated drugs of any kind.

Then all of a sudden...

Look, you mustn´t read anything into this.

He had this idea that the Bentleys where cheating him.

They had some sort of money-making scheme

they were keeping quiet about.

Something connected with the company?

He refused to discuss it in the end.

He would have talked to Collin,

I imagine -- his uncle.

They were very close.

He used to be the GP here. He´s retired now.

Oh, God. He won´t have heard.

Look, I´m sorry, I need some air.

Collin fishes, Inspector.

Obsessional about it.

Well, that´s sort of a family trait, I suppose.

He´s got a holiday cottage up in Speyside somewhere.

Do you have a number for him up there?

There isn´t one. It´s pretty basic.

You can leave a message with the local post office.

I´ve got their number, if you like.

Do you think...

I mean, did Guy...

It must have been very, very quick.

I don´t think he knew anything about it.

But I thought there was a burglar,

a struggle.

That´s why I couldn´t understand,

because...

Go on.

It hardly matters now, I suppose.

And he wasn´t meant to have it, you see.

Another keepsake of the bloody RAF.

But are you saying he had a gun?

He kept it in his desk at work.

I want you to think very, very carefully about this.

Who else knew he had the gun besides yourself?

Chris, of course and...

My God, do you think that Chris...

Ms. Wynant --

No, please. I don´t want to know.

I´ll find you that number, then you better go.

Not bad, Ms. Cambridge.

Really.

Not bad at all.

Tomorrow.

He wants his plane fueled up and ready by 2:00.

Hello, I´d like to leave a message, please,

for Dr. Collin Featherstone.

He´s on a fishing holiday.

Yes, he´ll be in -- yes.

My name is Crabbe -- C-R-A-B-B-E.

Detective Inspector Crabbe.

Woman: Robert Fellows

from the TV news for you, sir.

Fine!

Come!

What is it, Pinkney?

You asked to see these, sir --

Bentley Air´s company accounts.

Man: Hello? Bob!

How´s life in media land?

Good, good, good.

Listen, Bob, I think I might have a story for you.

Can you hold the line for a minute?

All right.

Let´s see what Crabbe makes of these.

I was wondering, Bob,

that reporter that did that piece

on the Building Society robbery -- Sarah Dacre.

That´s right.

Might she be available at the moment?

Crabbe: What do you think then?

Well, they´re not going to be worrying the real BA

for a while, I´ll put it like that.

As far as I can see,

it´s only these cash payments

that are keeping the thing afloat.

What am I looking at?

Two thousand. Two thousand, six hundred.

No invoices either, which is a bit odd.

Oh, yeah, I see it.

On the other hand,

if we´re talking about drugs,

I would have thought the amounts would have been higher.

Unless the real money is going somewhere else,

and this is just what they need

to keep the official business ticking over.

You´re really very good at this, you know.

You ever thought of turning professional?

Chef?

A bit more of the old vino rosso?

It needs something, doesn´t it?

Mmm.

Talking of businesses ticking over...

Oh, must we?

If it were anyone else,

I would suggest raising your prices.

Never.

Or cutting down on the cost of your ingredients.

Margaret, really!

But seeing as it´s you, Henry,

then my professional advice

would be a nice little fire.

At least then we´d pick up on the insurance.

Have we got insurance?

Well, of course.

Well, let´s cut back on that then.

You´re serious, aren´t you?

Absolutely.

In my experience, insurance is nothing more than

criminal incitement to fraud and murder.

Has Featherstone got any insurance, by the way?

Pinkney: How´s that, gov?

Would anybody benefit by his death?

The Bentleys for example.

Well, the company´s got a mortgage protection scheme

on the aircraft.

What´s that? If one partner dies,

it covers his share of the payment.

But it´s not much of a motive.

The survivor is no better off.

We´ve got a customer -- shall I tell him to come back later?

Certainly not!

Oh, my God!

It´s Rosten!

Hide the papers, quick.

Ah!

Well, I´ve been asking around about you, Mr. Crabbe.

When I heard about this place,

I just couldn´t resist.

Yeah.

Now, they just had the basic 40 minutes,

low heat, in a light coquille.

What you do with them now is up to you.

Steve: Well, they look all right.

No, no, you go ahead.

Not about to poison you in front of witnesses, am I?

Ha ha ha!

Oh, my God!

It´s like...

it´s like ox liver.

Oh, but infinitely more subtle.

Nice texture.

It´s like...

the finest filet steak.

Linda: Gorgeous.

Crabbe: Dill!

I can taste dill!

They won´t touch the dried stuff, mind you.

Fussy little buggers.

Gov?

Not now, Pinkney!

Gov, can I have a word?!

Oh, come on.

One asparagus, one risotto, one smoked halibut...

This isn´t right.

I mean, he´s --

Yes, yes, yes, I know!

I know he´s a suspect in a murder case.

I haven´t forgotten --

We have got customers out there.

Not many admittedly, but --

Shh! Margaret!

Taste this.

Oh!

No, come on. I insist.

Okay, I suppose.

"Okay, I suppose."

"Okay, I suppose."

Coming from my wife,

that is practically a standing ovation.

Well, have I converted you?

You have, and I´m profoundly grateful.

Just one thing...

I think my constable is rather anxious

this might be intended to influence

my handling of the inquiry.

A corrupt payment of two dozen

escargot farci à la Bourguignon.

Well, hardly.

But perhaps knowing my particular passion for food.

Rest assured, Mr. Crabbe,

the thought never entered my head.

Good night.

Good night.

Now, that, Pinkney,

is an extremely dangerous man.

Crabbe: Boarding kennels, are you sure?

Yes, sir. Absolutely.

This case is turning decidedly bizarre.

I mean, first snails, now dogs

It did just occur to me, if they are bringing in drugs,

they´d need some front for their distribution, wouldn´t they?

Come on.

The snail farm´s no good.

All the buyers are in France.

A bit thin, isn´t it?

Well, it did look like quite a lot of money, sir.

Well...

It would be nice to tie in Rosten

with the kennels, or better still Featherstone.

Featherstone? I´m not with you.

Well, the night he died,

he borrowed his girlfriend´s car.

I´d really like to know why.

Oh, you think he might have been

checking up on the Bentleys.

Well, if he was,

it would be a big help in the motive department.

Hello, Pinkney!

How are you?!

Fine, thanks, gov.

I´ve got the forensics on the bullet.

Ah!

What do you think, scrambled or fried?

.32 caliber,

consistent with a Browning automatic.

RAF pilot issue sidearm, like you said.

Cambridge: So, it was his own gun then?

Scrambled eggs all right with you, Pinkney?

Lovely.

There was one other thing. What´s that?

Was he fond of animals at all -- Featherstone?

No, more of a machine man, I´d have thought.

Why?

It´s just the lab found dog hair

on his trousers.

Dog hair? Yeah, gov.

15 different sorts.

What sort is the dog?

Um, what sort?

The little dog.

Oh, the little dog, yes.

Um...

Well, it´s a Labrador.

Ah, lovely temperament.

Yes, yes.

Never a cross word.

You do realize our fees.

Oh, well, that won´t be a problem, I´m glad to say,

as long as Fisher´s happy.

Fisher?

Oh, is that the little dog?

Yes. Ha ha ha.

Oh, that´s nice.

Uh...

We get them all here --

musicians, TV personalities, fashion designers.

Really?

And what is that place?

The quarantine block.

Oh.

Looks very...

secure.

Well, we don´t want just anyone wandering in, do we?

No, no, no!

So, where were we?

Oh, yes.

Any special dietary requirements?

For Fisher?

No, no.

He´ll eat almost anything, I´m afraid.

That is the jewel in our collar, as I like to say --

the exercise paddock.

Crabbe: Oh.

Are you all right, dear?

Uh, I just remembered a previous engagement actually.

Ahem...

I´ll let you know -- about Fisher, I mean!

Fisher: Rosten, you´re quite sure it was Rosten?

Crabbe: Oh, yes, sir. Absolutely.

Well, that´s it then, isn´t it?

Rosten´s obviously bankrolling

this place as a distribution center.

We don´t actually know that, sir.

Oh, come on. You said yourself.

All the wealthy clients,

so-called musicians and TV people.

What more do you want?

Well, a bit of solid evidence wouldn´t hurt.

I mean, this is supposed to be a murder inquiry.

Well, that´s all wrapped up, isn´t it?

Featherstone robbing them,

threatened to blow the whistle, they killed him.

Simple.

Man: Good morning, sir.

Fisher: Good morning.

Drug squad.

Couldn´t catch a chill.

Who? Who what?

Who killed him?

Well, Bentley, I presume.

Or his wife or Rosten.

Really, I don´t see why you´re being so negative.

Besides, the motive is secondary.

Murder.

Secondary?

Henry...

Henry, you´re a good detective, I´ve never denied it.

A great details man.

But you got to try to see the broader picture.

We´re talking about smashing a major drugs ring.

Chance to show the public we serve

that the police are worthy of their trust.

Yes, and a nice chance to get your picture in the paper.

I will pretend I didn´t hear that.

Look, sir, let me question them.

Let me talk to Dr. Featherstone.

Let me try and find the murder weapon.

It´s impossible.

Bentley is expected back later today, right?

Well, then...

Operation Dragonfly is go.

Ah, Ms. Dacre.

It´s good to be working with you again.

It´s nice to see you.

Fine, usual self, I suppose.

Let´s go!

All right, sir?

What the hell does he want the helicopter for?

We know where he´s going, don´t we?

I think Mr. Fisher felt it might have more impact.

"Impact" is not a word to be bandied about lightly

in the present circumstances!

Flying doesn´t bother you, does it, sir?

Man: Inspector?!

Phone call for you from Scotland. All right.

Fisher: To be frank, at this point,

I think I can say only that the man

we believe at the center of this operation --

the Mr. Big, if you will --

is a major player in the drugs world.

The intelligence reports indicate

that large quantities of heroin have recently

been entering the country via France.

Hello?!

Yes?

Yeah, Dr. Featherstone,

I´m afraid I´ve got some very bad news for you.

All right, everyone, this is it. Good luck!

Fisher: Crabbe, what the hell are you doing back there?!

Thank you.

I got a horrible feeling we´re about to make

complete idiots of ourselves, Cambridge.

Get him to hang on a minute, will you?

Sir!

Fisher: For God´s sake, man, come on!

Sir!

Sir, I think we´re making

a terrible mistake!

Don´t be absurd, man. Sit down!

Crabbe: Sir!

Fisher: For God´s sake, Crabbe, what now?!

The Bentleys didn´t shoot him.

Say again?

The Bentleys didn´t shoot him!

What?! They´re innocent!

Featherstone was very ill!

His uncle diagnosed it!

He´d been having tests!

I can´t hear you.

Sit back!

Crabbe: Oh, my God!

Put the box down, Bentley! You´re completely surrounded!

Are we dead yet?

No, sir!

Well, come on, then!

Crabbe: Sir!

Sir, will you please just listen for one minute?

You´re honestly not going on

about the state of Featherstone´s health again.

But that´s the whole point, sir.

The man was suffering from MND,

a progressive neurological disorder.

What´s that got to do with anything?

I really wouldn´t do this, sir. I just really wouldn´t do it.

Now then...

Well, get them!

Pinkney, get them to cuff the nasty --

Pinkney!

Dacre: Police today claimed a major victory

in their campaign against the smuggling

of domestic pets from the continent

after a series of arrests earlier this afternoon.

Oh, this is one of those rare occasions

where I wished I owned a video recorder.

Dacre: Constable Freddy Fisher,

seen here examining the crates used by the gang.

Pinkney: It´s no laughing matter, sir.

Mr. Fisher might easily have got rabies.

Dacre: ...paid up to £10,000 per animal...

Chef? Coming.

Pinkney: Sir?

Have I got this right?

You´re saying Featherstone committed suicide?

But he wasn´t even sick!

Right, but he did know he was going to

lose his pilot´s license.

And for a man who´s obsessed with flying as he was...

Cambridge: Finding out about the smuggling racket

can´t have done much for his morale either.

Look at that board.

Isn´t it the most wonderful sight in the world?

You were right.

Just a slow patch. There was no reason.

Pinkney: Well, what about the break

Tell him, Cambridge.

Well, the Bentleys set that up after they found the body.

Suicide would have invalidated their insurance.

That´s right.

So, you see, we start out with a box of snails,

and end up with a bunch of red herrings.

Pinkney: Oh, yeah.

Good, gov.

Margaret: Henry, when you have quite finished,

people are starving to death in there.

Cambridge: One thing that´s still puzzling me, sir.

What´s that? If Rosten had nothing to do with it,

why was he still at the kennels?

Futures.

Sorry? Financial futures.

He and Mrs. Purtwee had a mutual interest

in the money markets.

Coincidence again, you see, Cambridge.

The police mind is simply not programmed

to deal with coincidence

whereas the real world is just full of it.

That´s what life is about, you see.

It´s just one long string of random events.

Except cooking, chef.

Ah, yes.

Except cooking.

Nothing at all random about that.

Subtitles made possible by Acorn Media