Sister Boniface Mysteries (2022) s01e10 Episode Script
Crimes and Miss Demeanours
1
[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 travelled 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 [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 fromage 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 Bardot.
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 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 cockup.
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, nevermind 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 honour.
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
[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 travelled 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 [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 fromage 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 Bardot.
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 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 cockup.
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, nevermind 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 honour.
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