All language subtitles for Bergerac s07e08 Trenchards Last Case

(Echoing bangs, industrial noises )

(Screams )

(Waves lapping on shore )

(Seagulls crying)

(Wind whistling)

(Car starting)

(Ticking)

- Hello, you two.
- Jim!

- Hello, Jim.
- That was a short week, wasn't it?

- Well, you know how it is.
- Thought you'd left us for good.

(Chuckles ) I was tempted.

Oh! Hello, Jim. How was London?

Er...Debbie and Kim were fine.
The weather was bloody awful.

Oh, dear. It's been lovely here.

Oh, yeah?

So, what's the news, then?

(Laugh)

(Bergerac) Well, he always did
fancy himself in the old cap and belt.

- When's he leaving us, then?
- I don't know.

He's not even here half the time.

- Who's gonna take over from him?
- Don't look at me.

Barney!

(Wolf-whistle )

All right, cut it out, cut it out.

I wasn't expecting to see you.

I couldn't wait to catch up with the gossip.

Why get it from the monkeys when
you can get it from the organ-grinder?

Excuse me. Your car is waiting,
Superintendent.

Thank you, Peggy.
Would you er...walk down with me?

So, what are you telling me? That
there won't be any successor appointed?

I shall co-ordinate the work
from my new office at HQ

- for the time being.
- That's stupid.

Recommendation from
the external consultants, Jim.

- Do the lads know?
- No. I'll brief them in a couple of days.

Peggy knows. In fact,
I think she'll be coming with me.

How long have you known?

- Ollie!
- Charlie.

(Laughs )

And, of course, the lovely Jennifer.

Hello, Charlie.

(Hum of voices )

Now, then, I'm not going to make
a speech, so nobody need leave.

(Laughter)

But I don't think
we can let an occasion like this pass

without just a few words of thanks,
on behalf of the other school governors,

to our hosts for this evening,
Jennifer and Ollie here.

Arguably - and I use the word advisedly -

two people who have done
more for charity

than any other residents
of this fair island of ours.

(Applause )

I must say, in all honesty now,

ever since this charming young couple
first arrived here on Jersey,

their generosity has become legendary.

- Nobody...
- (Speech continues )

Oh, dear.

It's worse than the first one.
I think I'd better see the proprietor.

So, ladies and gentlemen,
I give you a toast

to Jennifer and Oliver Sutton.
Jennifer and Oliver.

- Jennifer and Oliver.
- Well done. Well done.

Cheers.

Thank you.

- (Laughter)
- Oh! That was very good.

(Murmurs )

Really?

(Others chatting)

Well, well!

Hello, Ollie!

- Long time no see.
- Not long enough for me.

(Laughs )

Nice place. Shame about the wine.

What's wrong with the wine?

Ollie, you're going to get yourself done
under the Trade Descriptions Act.

Passing this off as Mouton.

- Nothing wrong with that.
- Pure plonk, Ollie.

If that's not a contradiction in terms.

I mean, speaking personally,
I wouldn't put that on my chips.

Your wine's all right, is it, sir?

The gentleman had a coat, did he?

Oh, I see. Like that, is it?

At Ollie's place,
take it or leave it, or else. Right?

We...reserve the right
not to serve undesirables.

Problems, Ollie?

- No, Charlie. No.
- Oh, good.

Hi.

Oh. Hello, Jim.

- Sorry. Are you free for lunch?
- No, I'm not.

Excuse me.

Er...how about tonight?

- Something wrong, is there?
- You may not think so.

Well, I'm working late.
D'you want to drop in about seven?

Yeah, that'll be fine.

I told you you'd enjoy it!

(Laughing)

Hello, Danielle.

Jennifer.

Oh, I see.

Sunday names these days, is it?

FAast boats, smart friends,
contributions to local charity,

all the social graces.

That's right.

What are you doing here?

Collecting for
the Police Benevolent FAund.

Care to make a donation?

Oh, never mind. I'll ask Ollie.

He's got more of a conscience.

(Man ) Well...he always was a little odd.
Wasn't he?

Don't worry about it. I'm not.

You sure th...

He hasn't got anything on you, has he?

Like what?

Mm...

Why else would he be acting like that?

Trenchie doesn't need a reason.

He never did.

(Distant phone )

Clever old Barney.

That's why he's a superintendent and
you're still a humble sergeant.

Yeah, probably.

He didn't actually say
they would close the Bureau?

No. But it was intended to be
an independent unit.

That's what made it special.
That's why I joined.

- So, what will you do?
- Dunno.

Ten years of my life to that Bureau.
I feel like resigning.

You're joking, of course.

Am I? Why?

''Why?''

You're asking me that, Jim?

Remember me?

She who fought the FAorce for
a place in your affections and lost.

Come on, now. If there hadn't been
a police force,

they would have had to
invent one for you.

It's just another job, right?
That's what you were always telling me.

Since when did my opinion
count for anything with you?

- You know, you're getting cynical.
- Must be something to do with

the company I've been keeping
for the past few years.

- (Woman ) Police. Can I help you?
- I'd like to report an accident.

(Chatting)

- Be at the house if you want me.
- OK, sir.

You stupid bastard!

Oh, dear.

How about a meal?.

- Can't afford the time. Sorry.
- OK.

- Well, thanks for listening.
- What are ex-lovers for?

- Night, Sue.
- Good night, Jim.

Hang on a minute.

It was this...stupid, old pillock...

who backed into me.

He reversed into you, did he, sir?

Yes. Deliberately.

I see, sir.

Well, you will, of course,
be given every opportunity

to make a full statement
in a moment, sir.

But just for now, if you wouldn't mind...

Thank you. That's clear.

(Charlie ) But you could do something,
just for old time's sake.

(Bergerac) It's nothing to do with me
and nothing to do with the Bureau.

What do you mean,
it's none of your business?

A pillar of the local community
persecuted by some loony?

- We don't know that.
- I'm telling you.

Look, Ollie Sutton
was well over the legal limit, right?

Well, technically, yes. But the point is,
the whole thing was a setup.

- What d'you mean?
- In retaliation

for something the previous night.

I still don't see
what it's got to do with the Bureau.

Well, the other fella
was a visitor to Jersey.

So?

Have you any idea
how much Ollie Sutton has given

- to local charities this past year?
- That's very commendable.

But it still doesn't give him the right
to have someone run off the island.

Me and Ollie's wife
are fellow governors, you know.

- On the same school board.
- Oh, yeah?

Yeah, I've got to know them
pretty well recently. They're er...

Well, they're thinking of buying my boat,
as a matter of fact.

Oh, nice.

I suppose if this other party should
turn out to be some sort of a nutcase,

your lot might be persuaded
to intervene, eh?

I sometimes wonder how you ever
got on that Law and Order Committee.

Ollie Sutton's not on it, as well, is he?

Not yet, he's not, no.

But now you come to mention it,
it's not a bad idea.

I thought you'd be dead by now.

Or was that just wishful thinking?

So...

come for a bit of a gloat, I suppose?

It's one of the few pleasures
left to you in life, Ollie,

when you get to my age. A good gloat.

Yeah.

Well, don't gloat too much.
It's not good for you.

Concerned for my health, Ollie?

Just watch out for yourself, that's all.

And you.

You're not gonna get boring again,
are you, Trenchie?

Oh, never that, Ollie.

Many things, but never that.

I don't know what your game is,
but I'll give you a clue.

- I've changed my name.
- Oh?

Known as Eliot Ness now.

The great untouchable, right?

It's very droll, Ollie. Yes, I like that one.

So, nothing to worry about, then, eh?

Who's worried?

When he leaves, follow him. All right?

I wanna know where he's staying,
what he does...the lot.

Well, who is he, anyway?

Ex-Chief Superintendent Trenchard.

- What, of Scotland Yard?
- Yeah, that's him.

- What's he doing in Jersey?
- FAishing, he says.

Well, that's what he told our blokes
the other night.

Well, he's hardly the type
to go round ramming people, is he?

- He was breathalysed as well, I suppose?
- Clean as a whistle.

Hasn't touched a drop for years,
apparently. Not since he took the cure.

I see.

Look, er...what exactly is in this for us?

Call it curiosity.

Well, if it's curiosities you're after...
take a look at that.

Yes?

- Mr Trenchard?
- Yes.

I'm Jim Bergerac from
the Bureau des Étrangers.

- Bureau des what?
- Police.

- Oh, I see. Come in.
- Thank you.

I'm afraid I can't
offer you a drink, Sergeant.

Oh, that's all right, sir. I don't.

Got to you, too, did it?

So, you're er...here for the fishing,
are you?

- Am I?
- According to the accident report, yes.

Oh, that's why you're here, is it?

- You caught much yet?
- Nothing, so far.

Perhaps you can recommend
some good local water.

- Yeah, I'll ask about for you.
- Very civilised of you.

- A cup of coffee, then? Kettle's on.
- Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks.

- You were about to tell me, Sergeant...
- I was?

..what possible interest
a minor accident could have

for this Bureau des what's-it of yours.

Oh, yeah.

Well, there was an aspect of that
which intrigued us quite a bit.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah. You see, the message reporting
the accident was timed at 19:55.

Yes.

But according to
at least one reliable witness,

it happened as the church clock
was striking eight.

Good Lord!

You wouldn't know, I suppose...
how that happened, would you?

Church clock was...
five minutes fast, perhaps.

No, it's exactly right.
I checked it on the way here.

Well...at least your chaps
got there in good time.

Eh? FAor once.

- Milk? Sugar?
- Er, neither. Ta.

Mr Sutton reckons
that you backed into him...on purpose.

Probably annoyed
at getting himself breathalysed.

Thank you.

Yes, I... Did you?

Who, me, Sergeant?

Thank you.

Now...there was some sort of incident

at his restaurant the previous evening.
Is that right?

I sent the wine back.
He seemed to take it badly.

- I thought you were TT.
- Only when I'm driving, Sergeant.

- Are you a regular customer there?
- FAirst visit.

- But not your first meeting?
- Oh, no.

We go back a long way...do Ollie and me.

- All the way to London?
- You've been doing your homework.

Must have been a bit of a shock,
bumping into him over here.

He bumped into me, Sergeant.
Remember?

Oh, and you won't forget...
about the fishing?

- I'll get back to you.
- I'll look forward to that.

(Knocking on window )

Cup of coffee?

FArom that, you can see
the new arrangements

won't make any actual difference
to the daily running of the Bureau.

Except that we'll be reporting
direct to HQ from now on.

- Yes, but you'll still be working to me.
- You won't only be responsible for us.

You lot will certainly be
one of my responsibilities.

Jim, it's New Scotland Yard.

So, to wind up, let me say again,

the Bureau enjoys
a very high reputation at HQ.

But, as I hardly need say,
reputations have to be maintained.

Jerry. How are you?

(Laughs ) Yeah, well, I wouldn't mind
a new job, either.

No, no, that wasn't the reason
I'm ringing you.

What I'm after is
a spot of background, really.

Er...both on and off the record.

About one of your former colleagues.

(PA) Will passengers
who have just disembarked

rom the Southampton hydrooil

please proceed to the arrivals lounge.

- Hello, Mickey.
- Trenchie.

- He retired two years ago.
- What, gracefully?

After a serious heart attack.
At one stage, they thought he was a goner.

I see.

Not that they were sorry to see him go.
Apparently, he was a real maverick.

Good Lord. A ''real'' maverick.

What's all this to us, though?

Well, the only blot on his otherwise
glittering career was Ollie Sutton.

Sutton. Hm.

You remember
that two-million-quid bullion job

in the City of London
about four years back?

Where the young copper got himself hurt
having a go?

Yeah. Well, Sutton's was the company
that was turned over for it.

But the suspicion is...that the robbery
was just window-dressing

and that Sutton organised
the whole affair himself,

to clean up on the insurance.

- But Trenchard couldn't prove it?
- He almost bust a gut trying to.

Maybe that's what caused
his heart attack.

- Have you talked to him yet?
- It's like fighting smoke, Barney.

Well, try again.

Only, this time tell him I sympathise
but I'm not having any ageing cowboys

riding in here to settle old scores, OK?

(Metal gate squeaks )

(Bee buzzing)

(Pigeons cooing)

Can't be bad.

- Ah. Hello.
- Who the hell are you?

Mike Blain. Er, you've probably read me.
Britain's Brightest Sunday.

- How the hell did you get in here?
- Oh, the gate was open.

We thought you might have intruders.
You know.

Well, I have, haven't I? You two.
Well, what do you want?

Well, just to check
a few things with you, really.

Like what?

We had this sent to us, you see.

Erm...that is you, is it? In what
you might call a previous incarnation.

As last seen on the Soho stage, right?

Under your professional name of...
Danielle Demure?

- Where did you get this?
- Ah, well, a usually reliable source.

- We do, of course...have copies.
- Get out of here.

Boris!

Boris!

Erm...it is also true, is it,

that although you are known locally
as Mr and Mrs Oliver Sutton,

Mr Sutton, in fact, is your live-in lover?

Boris!

Erm...tell me, how would that affect
your social position

as a governor of one of
the better local public schools

- if it was generally known?
- (Barking)

Boris! Here, boy! Boris!

(Panting)

(Sutton ) Where the hell
did they get their hands on it?

Well, where d'you think? He's making
a right mug of you, is that old man.

- Oh, you think so, do you?
- Don't you?

There must be something
you can do about him.

Send Norman round,
break both his legs, right?

You'd have done something once, love.

Yeah. And then he really would
crucify us, wouldn't he?

- Brilliant.
- So, we do nothing, right?

We just sit here and take it, right?

Not necessarily.

(Bergerac) When did you find it?

(Trenchard) Just now,
when I got back from the beach.

Quite sure it wasn't there before?

I'm positive, Sergeant.

- You haven't touched it, have you?
- Now, what do you think?

Why did you call me?

You're the only policeman
I know on Jersey, Sergeant.

Well, it's hardly a police matter,
leaving a bullet on a table.

Well, whoever left it broke in to do it.

Or are burglars screened out
on Jersey these days?

- Anything taken?
- No.

It's hardly burglary, is it?

Who do you think left the bullet,
Mr Trenchard?

Someone who was trying
to tell me something, perhaps.

- Somebody like Ollie Sutton?
- You're the detective now, Sergeant.

You tell me.

Is there...some kind of vendetta

going on between you and Mr Sutton?

Vendetta, Sergeant?

- Just chokes you, doesn't it?
- What?

The thought of him getting away
with all that lovely loot.

More than just loot, Sergeant.

He got away with murder.

That's what our Ollie got away with.

(Wind whistling)

The lad's name was Harry Brennan.
PC Harry Brennan.

Nice kid. Just turned 21.

He just happened to be passing
so, like any good copper would,

when he saw a crime being committed
he had a go.

They ran him down with the getaway car.

Dragged him nearly half a mile.

- I never knew he'd been killed.
- Oh, he wasn't killed, Sergeant.

Better off if he had been.

No. Just paralysed.

FArom the neck down.

Buried alive in cement
for the rest of his life.

I went to see him in hospital.

Got to know him quite well,
as investigating officer.

He begged me
to put him out of his misery.

He begged me.

And I would have done...if I could.

And the bastard who did it is fit and well
and living like a king in Jersey.

A local hero.
Giving away money by the bucketful.

The old Al Capone technique.

That's when you got the idea, was it?
To continue the investigation.

- Was it?
- Well, if it wasn't, what's all this about?

Unless you're simply planning
to write a book about him.

That's it, Sergeant. Thought I might call it
The One That Got Away.

I do hope, Mr Trenchard,
you're not playing games with us.

Never played a game in my life,
Sergeant.

Part of my problem, they told me.

That your wife?

Ex-wife. Now we're just good friends.

- You're married, are you, Sergeant?
- I was.

Does make you wonder, though, eh?
The price we pay - whether it's worth it.

- Don't you ever wonder that, Sergeant?
- Did you?

Not for a second.
Loved every minute of it.

- That's another of your problems, isn't it?
- Another one?

Yeah. Coming to terms with the fact
that er...it's time to let go,

let the younger fellas do it.

Can't be easy...
if the job has become your entire life.

Not easy for any of us, Sergeant...
you'll find.

(Ticking)

Oh, that fishing you wanted.

There's a little bay to the west of Booley Bay.
There you are, I've marked it.

It's highly recommended.

Well, nothing like a spot of
local knowledge, eh? Quiet, is it?

- Very.
- Sounds like it's just what I'm looking for.

Thank you, Sergeant.
In fact, won't you join me?

Er, no thanks. It's not my bag, fishing.

Don't like the way they look at you when
you take the hook out of their mouths.

(Bell rings )

Poor old bugger.
Clinging on by his fingernails like that.

Oh, you think so, do you, Willy?

You should know when it's time to go.

I mean, if nothing else,
you should know that.

- And will we, do you think?
- Well, I know I will.

Yeah. Me, too.

What's so bloody wonderful
about being a policeman nowadays, eh?

I mean...hours are lousy, pay's not great.

Not when you think what
you're being paid to do half the time.

Exactly. When it's time for me to check in
the warrant card...watch my smoke.

Well, the way things are at the Bureau
at the minute, don't think I'll wait that long.

- Are you serious?
- Oh, I don't know.

I'll probably take a long leave and
think about it. You want the same again?

Oh...no. I'm on earlies tomorrow.
I'd better be off, mate.

- Cheers, Jim.
- See you. Ben?

No, no. The old ceiling-spin, Jim,
it's starting already.

But look, I'll get you one before I go, eh?
What would you like?

What I would like, Ben, is a very large
brandy with hardly any soda,

followed by another one, or possibly two.

No, it's all right. I'll see you tomorrow.

Yeah, all right. Good night, mate.

(Applause )

Hello, Jennifer.

- This is it, then, is it? The Sutton Cup.
- Yes, that's it.

And very nice, too. You will be on hand
later on, won't you, to do the honours?

- Oh, yes, yes, of course.
- Oh, good, good. Good show.

- Hello, Danielle.
- Don't call me that.

- Oh, sorry.
- What are you doing here?

Nothing I enjoy more
than an afternoon's cricket.

Well, well. Trenchie, if it isn't you again.

Hello, Ollie. Got your message.

My message?

Marion said to say hello, by the way...
if I bumped into you over here.

Said to send her love.

- Marion?
- Lovely girl, Marion.

Bit younger than you, of course.

But then, some men prefer that.
Right, Ollie?

Marion who?

- I said Marion who?
- I heard what you said, Jennifer.

- Well, then?
- (Mobile )

Yeah?

What does he want?

Right. I'm on my way.

Something's come up. I'll catch up with
you later. You stay well away from him.

Right?

- Marion who?
- Marion Clay.

And who's she when she's at home?
Marion Clay.

She's the better half of this...
double-bed act.

Back in Soho.

Well, at least, she used to be.
Till she got discovered.

Now she's got a double bed of her own.

And her own flat, too.

- (Boy ) Yay!
- (Laughter)

So...you're no longer
accusing him of harassment?

No.

Oh, I'm sorry.
I must have been misinformed.

Look, I feel sorry for him. Really.

I mean, here I am...and there he is.

With a weak heart and only
a policeman's pension to keep him warm.

Quite.

His cottage was broken into yesterday.

Oh, dear. Really?

- Was there much taken?
- Nothing, actually.

Hardly worth your while
investigating it, then.

Where were you yesterday afternoon,
Mr Sutton?

Looking over Charlie Hungerford's
cabin cruiser.

I'm making him an offer he can't refuse.

Why? Is Trenchard suggesting
it was me who broke in?

Oh, no. Think he understands you
a bit better than that.

- Who was that?
- Bergerac. Detective Sergeant.

- What did he want?
- Nothing for you to bother about.

Tell me about Marion Clay, then.
I'm bothered about her.

- Never heard of her.
- Well, that's not what he says.

You've been talking to him.

All the comforts of home
whenever you're in London, eh, Ollie?

And you've been there a lot lately,
haven't you?

I said, ''Don't talk to him.'' Right?

Now, that's what I said.

And that's what I meant.

- Is that...clear?
- (Cries out)

Jennifer!

(Yelps )

Keep away from me
or I'll have your eyes out.

- Jenny...I'm sorry.
- You can stick your apologies, mate.

Nobody, but nobody,
hits me and gets away with it.

Oh, all right. If that's the way you want it.

Plenty more fish in the sea. And younger.

You bastard!

Ah. You're an early bird, Jim.

Why didn't you tell me
Sutton had changed his mind?

- What, not about buying my boat?
- No. About this intimidation business.

I didn't know he had.

Bet you didn't know about
the changes at the Bureau, either.

- Well, I er...
- Oh, come on.

As a member of the Law and Order
Committee, you must have done.

Well, positions of trust

- carry a duty of confidentiality, Jim.
- Oh, I'm sure.

Besides, I can't see
it affects your prospects much.

Oh, I'm very glad.

Anyway, isn't it about time you started
looking for a nice, cosy, inside job?

I mean, none of us
is getting any younger, you know.

(Ticking)

(Sutton ) Yeah? Stay with him.

- Morning, Jim.
- Morning, Peggy. Anything for me?

Erm...yes, a phone call.
About five minutes ago.

- Oh, yeah?
- FArom a Mr Trenchard.

Ah. Saying what?

Er...that he'd gone fishing.
In the place that you recommended.

- Oh, yeah?
- FAor the one that got away.

- Sorry?
- FAor the one that got away.

Oh, yes. And another thing.
He said that if...

- All quiet?
- As the grave, boss.

OK, you can go.

I said go.

Hello, Ollie. Been expecting you.

Just couldn't leave well alone,
could you, Trenchie?

Always been my problem, Ollie.

Never would be told.

(Yells)

Sutton!

A flak jacket?

You cunning old sod.

You got my message.

(Rasps )

Pills in my pocket.

You must have been out of your mind,
setting yourself up like that.

What if I hadn't got your message?
Or he'd shot you in the head?

Or was that the idea?

Reckon I've got a death wish, do you?

Have you?

- In custody, is he?
- Oh, yeah.

Well, he had nowhere to go, had he?

Grubby sort of epitaph.

FAor a long life.

Makes you wonder...

why you even bothered.

Sell her to you? You couldn't afford it.

Well, I'd sell the cottage.

I mean, Sutton's not going to need
your boat where he's going, is he?

Well, what do you want with a boat?

Sail around the world, perhaps.
FAor starters.

I'm thinking of taking an unpaid sabbatical.

You're mad. You're daft as
that Trenchard fella.

Not yet. Not if I can help it, Charlie.

All right, I'll tell you what I'll do.

Just for old time's sake,
I'll lease her to you for a year.

At the going rate, of course.

And then, if you still want to make me an offer,
we can talk about it again, all right?

Well. I thought you'd stood me up.

I thought about it.

Still time to change your mind.
Want to come with me?

No, thanks, Jim.

I'll miss you.

Yeah.

Well...see you on, then.

Bye, Jim Bergerac.