All language subtitles for boniface_nover_04x06_gepi

Is there anything better than a weekend
getaway?

Pinting the spitfire on that date you
made me cancel?

Sir, I really wish you would tell us
what training we'll be undertaking.

Is this on kind of?

Top secret training facility.

Yes and no.

But mostly no.

Reminds me of a girl guide camp I went
to.

We all got dysentery.

Here comes the cavalry!

Splendid to see you, Hector.

Len.

Welcome, friends. I'm Len Shepard,
retired chief constable, active

camaraderie guru.

It's my job to turn you from this into
this.

You'll tackle several challenges,
earning points for excellent teamwork.

point... gives you a one -second
advantage over your opponents in the

course finale.

Wait, it's a competition?

Even better. We are in the running for
Police Team of the Year, and this will

decide the winner. I've always wanted to
go to them posh police awards.

I hesitate to ask, but who are we up
against?

When I'm not getting anywhere.

Stonington Police reporting for duty.

Name's Jack Stagg.

We've heard the stories.

All true.

Let's get this over with, Len. You know
I don't wait for anyone.

Winthrop.

Loseley.

That team of the year award is mine.

Think again, Winthrop.

Stillington's going down.

I'm Peggy, Detective Sergeant Thorne.

Civilian names, please. Hello, we're all
off duty.

Everyone comfy?

Then let us begin our story of a small
village and a big investigation.

The dastardly crook Billy McCoy is
terrorising the community.

Two officers join forces to take him
down, but before they can work

they must first get to know each other.
So, let's follow their lead.

For one point, can you work out who
among us is professionally trained in

ballet?

Don't look at me.

Cece Winthrop says I've got two left
feet. Well, it's certainly not one of

so I can only assume... A lazy
assumption's the foundation of all your

Will the real ballerina reveal
themselves?

The actual term is ballerino.

No, it's a challenging discipline.

Sorry, but this game is highly
inappropriate.

Oh, sit down.

Sir, he's sharing out private business.

Fine. You can go and make the tea
instead. There's a good girl.

Two officers forge their friendship.

Together, they swoop to raid Billy
McCoy's safe house.

Just one problem.

It's awfully dark inside.

Guide your partner around the booby
traps to gather Billy's loot.

Oh, you're doing great, sir.

Faster, Heather. Well, shush. I'm trying
to concentrate.

Now, you tell me you're cut out for
leadership.

Oh, bad luck, mate.

What are you playing at? Two, three,
four, five.

Oh, bravo, Heather. Two points to
Starrington.

One to Great Slaughter for a fine
display of trust.

Okay, sir, there's a corn two feet
ahead.

What's that in parsnips?

Parsnips? I measure distance in root
vegetables.

Left, Beagle. My left or yours, sir?

Where are you going, boy?

I don't know.

Oh, no.

Man down.

He's fine.

Walking disaster, aren't you, Beagle?
Yeah, sorry. My fault. Nonsense.

As I always say, we rise and fall as a
team.

Funny. I always say a chain is only as
strong as its weakest link.

You of all people should know that.

Well, pause there with the scores even.

Dry yourself off, Beagle.

Our story's about to get interesting.

Good news. The raid was a success.

Having recovered Billy's loot, the two
officers retired to one of their homes

toast their triumph with a bottle of
wine or two.

Or five.

Am I right?

Actually, Jack, they won't make it past
the second.

At 2am, somebody fires through the
window, injuring one of the officers

tragically, killing the other. Ooh, plot
twist.

Your task?

Examine the scene of the crime.

But your ranks have been reversed. Peggy
and Beagle are in charge.

Look, to assist with forensics, it's my
pleasure to introduce esteemed local

expert, sis... Oh, yes, that's me. Ta
-da!

Oh, sorry. Did I miss my cue?

Backstage butterflies.

Oh, dear.

Poor chaps.

Right. So, Sarge. Oh, I mean, Felix.

Yes, Melissa.

Right, so maybe you could search for
footprints.

Sam could record the items and...

Oh, there's no camera.

I'm happy to create sketches of the
scene, ma 'am. Wonderful delegating

slaughter. What's the meaning of this?

Sorry, Constable. If you can't handle
the demotion, then maybe you should go

make the tea.

Someone's enjoying herself.

Oh, without a real -life victim, I must
admit, nothing beats a good murder.

Have you read the surviving officer's
statement?

Not yet.

Have you found something?

Well, I'm merely an observer.

I couldn't possibly say.

Aha!

Impressive, right?

Compromising the scene?

Extremely. Heather's right.

I must dock Stoughton a point.

And then award you two.

Jack's just found the spinning top.

Calling card of Billy McCoy. Enough.

You're an embarrassment.

I've just backed us a point.

What are you two whispering about?

Over this bullet hole.

Sister Boniface says it contradicts the
eyewitness account.

Well, actually physics says it. If you
observe the angle... I knew it. The

one of them.

This competition's rigged. Don't be
absurd.

You're even worse at this than you were
as a chief constable.

Fetch our room keys. The day is over.

I bet you're wondering why you got stuck
with me.

We could...

Talk or play a game?

I don't know what mind games you're
playing, Peggy.

But I'm going to that awards ceremony
and impressing the big wigs.

And nobody is getting in my way.

Morning. Everything all right?

It's CC Winthrop, sir. He's not
answering.

Well, some of us enjoy lying.

In Stonington, we don't squander the
best hours of the day.

Are you in there, Chief Constable?

Ah, Len. Can we get the spare key,
please? I'm afraid the only copy fell

to Russ.

Stand back, then.

They don't call me the wrecking ball for
nothing.

What have you got for us, sister?

Cause of death, rather nasty blow to the
back of the head.

Consistent with an equally nasty
bedpost.

So he fell and hit his head.

Drunk, perhaps?

As a skunk, this is to Reg's expression.

Bloodshot eyes indicate inebriation.
Blood tests should confirm.

And the key was on the chest of drawers
when I came in.

The groundskeeper confirms that's the
only one.

Lock hasn't been tampered with.

Winthrop must have locked the hut from
inside.

Is there any other way in?

The windows are securely bolted. No trap
doors or loose panels.

Well, I can't say that I warned to the
chap, but it suddenly is a tragic

accident. Perhaps we should reserve our
certainties.

Billy McCoy's calling card has left
beside his victim's body.

Like Len's fictional story, it must have
dropped when he fell.

Well, let's see, shall we?

Blood loss would have been gradual,
pooling gently around the spinning top.

Observation, blood spatter around the
pool.

And on the spinning top itself.

Deduction, the blood had settled before
it was impacted.

Meaning Winthrop was already dead and
someone else dropped the spinning top.

Well, people seldom fall backwards
unaided.

More likely, somebody pushed him, left
the spinning top and fled, contriving a

locked room to cover their tracks.

Stowington's chief constable was...
Murdered! I'm sorry, sir. Local rivalry

aside, I'm sure C .C. Winthrop meant a
great deal to you. Don't be ridiculous.

It's the politics I'm worried about.

I'd better go and inform Winthrop's
deputy chief constable.

Well, in the meantime, we'll handle this
like any other murder. You will not!

Until you have overwhelming evidence,
Winthrop's death is an accident,

officially speaking.

But how are we supposed to investigate?

Unofficially. That lot will be far more
cooperative if they don't suspect their

suspect.

I'm not answering to you. We're the same
rank.

Relax. No one's answering to anyone.
We're just trying to establish how this

accident happened.

How can we help, sir?

We found this in C .C. Winthrop's heart.

Do you think he was killed by a
fictitious villain?

Actually, no. No, we think that he might
have slipped on it.

Did anyone hear a crash?

Obviously not.

I'd have been there in five seconds
flat.

Was your boss a big drinker? Seems like
he was on the vocal last night.

Vincent Baudelaire to his final breath.

I gather you two had history.

Ancient history.

Winthrop knew about my no -alcohol
policy. He insisted on hut inspections

enforce it. Really?

Well, he didn't inspect our hut, did he?

Because nobody grasped you up. I would
never.

Look, I think everyone's feeling a bit
of shock.

Why don't we wrap this up elsewhere?

Write it down, then.

Vodka was mine.

Who cares?

Well, I'm sure your boss did.

Winthrop wasn't bothered about rules.

He was waiting for an excuse.

Careful, sir, that cologne's imported
from Djibouti.

Oh, dear, Jackie boy.

Look.

We can share it.

And you were so close to that promotion.

Let's have it, then.

Bet you're glad he's dead.

Bet I'd be relieved, too. He sounds like
a nightmare.

Couldn't handle a superstar climbing the
ranks behind him. That's the old guard

for you.

Your gap is the same, then?

What, Loseley?

Yeah, I can't stand the thought.

Guess the grass isn't always greener.

At least you've got that button, girl.

She's a bit of all right, eh?

Careful. Relax, mate.

I'll let you keep her.

Thanks.

Right. We ducking out for a pint, then?

It's 10am, Jay.

How thirsty are you?

You saying I've got a problem?

What?

It's all like a drink to my mind.

It's not easy being everyone's hero.

So, we had to relocate the body first to
avoid suspicion.

Yes, alas, before vanishing into thin
air, the killer cleaned up expertly,

leaving no trace but the spinning top.

Which Jack and Winthrop clashed over
yesterday.

Maybe Jack killed him and then left it
there out of spite.

But why would he make it look like an
accident only to leave a clue? Good

question.

OK, what else have we got?

I found a letter in the bin outside the
hut.

Well, I think it's a letter.

Secret investigation and a jigsaw
puzzle. Must be my birthday.

No, no.

I hope I'm not interrupting.

Oh, no.

We were just team bonding.

So, we're all agreed the contest will
resume.

One of our opponents just died.

I mean, Stanton, a persuasive bunch, and
they really want that award.

Well, I'm sure it won't be that bad.

Following the shooting, the police swoop
on Billy McCoy.

But, unwilling to come quietly, he takes
a hostage, kindly played by Felix.

But I didn't exactly know what I was
volunteering for. To arrest Billy and

his hostage, you must find a way past
his vicious hounds.

This one's mine.

Makes no odds who I take down.

Ah, steady, Heather.

One simple touch sends them back to the
start.

Ready?

You go left, I'll go right.

All right, just don't do anything to
antagonise our suspect.

my way.

Wonderful.

That's a point to great slaughter.

Let's see how Stowington fare.

What's up, Sammy boy?

No shame in being runners -up. Ready?

No, wait, wait, wait.

Something's wrong.

Hey, it's just a game.

Oh.

I'm all right.

Just Need a break.

Right, everyone, take five.

Not so easy playing the victim, is it?

Should be used to it.

Just thought things might be different
now.

Without 61 troops?

That wound looks fresh.

When we arrived yesterday, he was in a
worse mood than ever.

Chop, chop, Beagle. We'd like to unpack
sometime today.

Let me carry mine, sir.

I can't watch.

I'm happy to do it.

It'll be quicker in two trips.

Where's the entertainment in that?

Almost on my hand to thread, but I
didn't crack.

I never cracked.

Allow me.

So, do you know why he singles you out
for mistreatment?

I'm sure all recruits get picked on.

This is bullying.

And he runs the risk of losing a very
promising officer.

When police is in my blood, I'd never
quit.

No matter how miserable I am.

If I could give you some advice, I'd be
freaked.

What's this?

So it's better you do another trick?

It's all right, Felix. It's just... Oh,
pretending to be your best mate to throw

you off your game.

Yeah. Just had to actually take from his
partner.

That wasn't my intention at all.

Do you know what? I didn't fall for it.

Can't trust anyone but yourself.

Is it possible Winthrop locked himself
in after he was attacked?

No, he died instantly. Plus, that
doesn't explain what the spin top was

there. So we don't know how it was done,
but we have two more tips.

Winthrop was blocking Jack's promotion
and he was equally bullying his new

recruit.

It's a beagle.

Oh, right, right.

But why would you kill your boss with
six other officers around?

You wouldn't. This is probably an
argument that escalated. Until one of

snapped. Am I the only one who feels
sorry for Stillington?

They all seem so lonely.

Well, little wonder when the chief
constable had them spying on each other.

It's a report addressed to the victim.

Gained access to their baggage.

Beagle, packed light, unexplained rag,
maybe infantile comforter.

Oh, you've got a blankie.

Concealed alcohol in Jack's suitcase.

Probable rule violation.

So Heather was the grass?

Oh, I sneak to peek at her pocketbook.
The Fs are unremarkable.

Did she write anything else?

Oh, only some cursory observations about
the three of you.

Although he was hanging.

Well, it appeared to Sergeant Thorne
that

Peggy is a doormat. Felix has no
discernible talents.

Ouch. And Sam's staggering lack of
intelligence is

mitigated only by his boyish good looks.

That is outrageous.

Oh, Spiroff. What? I'm as insulted as
you two.

Anyway, the important bit is why
Winthrop felt the need to spy on his own

Button, we need to have a word with your
roommate.

Do we have to, Sarah?

It's true.

That ogre made me do his bidding.

Shameful waste of my talents.

There must have been a reason.

I assumed that was the reason.

They try and break our spirits.

We dig our heels in and work twice as
hard as a lot of them.

Are you talking about men?

Clearly I misjudged your sparkling
intellect.

I'm sorry that your boss treated you
badly, but Inspector Gillespie respects

everyone.

If he did, he'd drop the pretense and
admit this was a murder investigation.

Very well, but you're capable of
standing up to anyone.

Winthrop had something on you.

If there was a secret, what on earth
would I tell you? If this was a murder

investigation, you wouldn't have a
choice. I know the law. This line of

is a dead end.

Sorry, Heather.

The inspector, Sam, doesn't want to
invade your privacy, do you?

No, I just...

Need to know if it's pertinent to C .C.
Winthrop's death.

Fine.

Winthrop had information that could
destroy the only thing that matters.

My career.

But it's not relevant.

You have my word.

Sam. Now, stand aside.

I have a competition to win.

Do you reckon she'll tell her colleagues
they're all murder suspects?

Oh, I'm sensing some tension.

This does happen sometimes in team
building.

On the bright side, Billy McCoy was
successfully detained.

Alas, his girlfriend gave him an alibi
for the night of the shooting.

Further evidence must be gathered.

20 items scattered around the grounds,
each worth a point.

Let's split up. We'll find them faster.

That's not in the spirit of unity.

I've been thinking.

Remember how uncomfortable Heather was
when Len started sharing our secret

talent? Oh, yes.

Ballet. Please continue.

Well, there's only one way Len had that
information.

He's got our personnel file.

Of course.

Anything the suspects are hiding must be
in their files.

a lockpick when you need one.

Bravo, sister.

Sorry for adding to your list of sins.

I'm sure the Lord won't begrudge me one
weekend of fun in the pursuit of

justice. Okay.

I found our files.

And here are the spoils of them.

Empty.

Looks like someone beat her to it.

It's just full of dust you're capable
of.

I'm sorry, sir. We're trying to
investigate discreetly, but the thing

suspects were all trained detectives.
Well, at least tell me we're on course

TV.

I believe...

That's every last item.

Unprecedented. I only wish you'd worked
together.

Winning's what matters, right?

We get the points?

Your head start in tomorrow's assault
course appears insurmountable.

Ah. It's always next year, Sammy.

Sorry. Sit, Peggy, please.

I feel I should say thank you for
calling off your inspector earlier.

Oh.

You're welcome.

The observations I made about you were
unfounded.

If you wish to rebuke me, you have 15
seconds.

Don't be daft.

I forgive you.

My dad always says, only take criticism
from those who know you.

You're one of the most impressive
officers I've ever met, let alone female

But, well, we don't actually know each
other, do we?

Before I joined the force, I made a
brief foray into the racy modelling

industry.

Now I live with that regret.

A detective and a model.

You're like a superhero.

Of course I understand why you wanted to
keep it to yourself.

I thought I'd burnt all the photographs,
but... nothing got past Winthrop.

I come from a family of policemen.

I know how their vulgar boys' club
operates.

We do what we can to survive.

They're not all like Winthrop.

Even your colleagues might surprise you
if you give them a chance.

I see enormous potential in you, Peggy
Boone.

But be careful.

Your trusting nature may be your
downfall.

It was right in front of us. The living
room, the two offices, the calling card.

Did you steal a file from Len's office?

Well, in my defence, you did commission
me for a burglary.

Sorry, I'm not following.

Len's story isn't so fictional after
all.

Remarkable. An inch perfect
reconstruction.

So ten years ago, you were Starrington's
chief constable when two of your

officers were shot.

And this happened in Faget Harrison's
home, where he sadly died.

Harrison was a good man.

But his partner survived.

Inspector Winthrop.

The spinning top left it unseen.

That wasn't the calling card of Billy
McCoy, a figment of your imagination.

It was the very real Jimmy McGrath.

His alibi was paper thin.

But so was our evidence.

Just the patchy testimony of that
drunkard.

All this team -building twaddle just to
mess with me.

I hoped it might jog your memory of that
night.

Don't you want justice?

Of course I do. But you screwed up the
investigation. Because of your

narrative. Sister Boniface... She's a
nun, then!

Be honest.

Did you take a bribe?

Move on with your life.

You're not a copper anymore.

I'll always be a copper.

I didn't retire.

Winslow had me pushed out for failing to
protect my team.

The case went unsolved.

So, you spent the next ten years raking
over every detail.

challenging scores of detectives to find
a breakthrough under the guise of a

team -building course.

But why invite Winthrop now after all
these years?

Jimmy McGrath's on his deathbed. This is
my last chance to nail him, so I

brought in the best of the best.

And the man you always blamed. The man
that took your job.

I was the failure. He was the hero.

Wounded, trying to save his dying
partner.

Paths around different trajectories.

Trajectories.

Am I in heaven or hell?

One can only speculate.

But your present injuries barely agree.

Your partner wasn't so fortunate. I
tried to save him. Threw myself in front

the gun.

Your blood's about to tell a different
story.

I've been drinking.

Might be a bit fuzzy on the details.

Like the gunman in the window?

No, that bit's true.

Curious how his bullet changed the
course in mid -air.

Entering the wall at an angle defying
all physics.

Well, maybe it ricocheted.

Or maybe the shooter had extraordinarily
long arms.

How else can one explain your gunshot
residue burn from a gunfight at point

-blank range?

You don't know what you're talking
about.

You weren't there.

No.

And neither was the gunman.

Oh, bullet holes.

Sister?

I'm sorry, Len.

The evidence against your suspect was
weak because he was innocent.

Winthrop planted the spinning top and
shot himself to cover up the truth.

That he killed his own partner.

No.

He wouldn't have.

So Lynn had no idea?

Apparently not. But he already blamed
Winthrop for costing him his career, so

had a motive.

So did Heather.

Winthrop was blackmailing her.

Her secret's not important, but if you
must know, she'll understand.

Any motives remain academic until we
determine how the killer escaped a

hut.

Could they have duplicated the key?

Not without planning.

And this wasn't premeditated.

Probably the killer stayed in here the
whole night.

No, all the suspects were present when I
opened the door.

What if they pumped a toxic gas through
the air vent, so Winsor passed out, then

a special contraption fired the spinning
top?

Yes, well, um...

There's certainly something to be said
for thinking outside the box.

Ah, there you are. Good morning, sir. I
believe we're on the cusp of a

breakthrough. What?

This is no time for a murder
investigation.

This soul course is about to begin. Go,
go and go!

Bit of a head scratcher, this one, isn't
it?

Even I can't figure out how a key passed
through a solid wall.

Sorry, a key?

Well, clearly the killer locked the door
on the way out and then came up with

this fiendish plan to return the key to
the top of the chest of drawers.

But that's the obvious part.

Yes, obvious.

The final showdown.

First team to cross the finish line
wins.

First full team.

I'll carry these two if I have to.

Places, please.

I've been thinking.

When the dust settles, there may be a
place for you in Stonington.

Are you serious?

Those buffoons in Great Slaughter are
holding you back.

What do you think?

I'm flattered, Heather.

Thank you, but if I have to choose
between my career and my friends, I'll

the buffoon.

Understood.

This will have no bearing on the
humiliation you're about to endure.

I wish you good luck.

You've got more chance of catching your
phantom murderer.

One, two, three. Criss -cross.

If you went through death, feel like a
contradiction.

You know, unplanned attack made to look
like an accident, but yet leaving the

spinning top field premeditated, which
clearly indicates murder.

Put yourself together, Beagle.

Winthrop was no coincidence.

This must be about Winthrop killing his
partner.

But only Len was around ten years ago,
and he never knew the truth.

You know I don't like physical contact.

Dringo.

Only I can manage. There's nothing more
man needed. Stubborn bride.

What did you say? Why tomorrow? The same
tune.

Jacket! What's she doing back here?

I don't know.

Sister, so, I don't think Len's
business, but who would leave a string

Well, it was only a tool to engineer the
locked room. The perpetrator had to

abandon the top itself, but they
absconded with the string after using it

transport the key back through the grill
and onto the bedside table.

That's, uh... Kind of brilliant. I mean,
I myself couldn't pull the string

swiftly enough to release the top. Not
without injury, anyway.

Oh, sorry.

Are you all right?

Yeah, I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Just a bit of rope burn.

Thanks.

Policing was in your blood.

Is that why you stole the personnel
file? Are you related to Sergeant

The child's spinning top that Winthrop
found at two in the morning.

It was yours.

Was Sergeant Harrison your father?

That living room was so familiar.

It didn't click two hours later, but the
spinning top.

I used to have one just like it.

And then you saw the way that Winthrop
reacted when Sister Bonnie first poked

holes in the evidence.

Is that when you confronted him? He was
drunk.

Said he hadn't touched a drop in ten
years, not since the night he shot my

His son? There was no one else there.
Tell me the truth.

Who were you joking around?

I didn't know my pistol was loaded.

He was my best friend. You're a monster.

Breathe a word of this and I swear I'll
kill you.

You didn't

mean for him to die.

I should have called for help. I should
have, but instead I did the same

cowardly thing he did back then.

So you cleaned up the evidence and
staged the scene?

Spinning Top betrayed you.

I only ever wanted to help people, but
all I do is make things worse.

No, that's not true.

We need you, Beagle.

She's right, mate. Listen, Rupert.

Whenever Winthrop squandered his talent
chasing personal glory, your father

forgave him.

He was a true team player, and I've let
him down.

I ruined my career. I disgraced the
uniform.

Dad would be ashamed of me. Actually,
actually, I think he'd be proud of you.

Oh, yes. Yes, agreed.

If he forgave Winthrop's flaws, he could
forgive your mistakes too.

If he could see what a fine officer
you've become, one that believes in

the right thing.

PC Beagle, I need you to come down and
make things right. How can I? By working

with me. You know...

It is my duty to uphold the law.

You know this because you took the same
oath as me.

Show me that it still means something to
you.

I just wanted to let you know,
everything you told us stays

Thank you, Peggy.

Though I'm not sure keeping secret has
helped my cause.

Bravo, dream team!

Finally put my mind at rest. If only I'd
instilled my old gang with your esprit

de corps.

So, what are you going to do next, old
chap?

Ah, now the case is solved, I shall have
to find something else to live for. I

believe you've already found it.

You make a splendid camaraderie guru.

Agreed. You're a natural, then.

Really?

You don't think I'm an embarrassing old
cheeseball?

No, you're a natural, then.

Oh, on that note...

As neither team finish the assault
course, I'm afraid I'm going to have to

Stowington champions on points.

Well,

they may need a couple of minutes.

Right.

Ready to go home?

Oh, fine, fine.

Sir, you're not still moping about the
team of the year thing, are you?

Losing an award I can accept, but losing
it to Stowington?

I'll never be able to show my face at
the clubhouse again.

But we did solve an impossible murder
and rectify an historic injustice.

Well, I suppose two out of three isn't
too disastrous.

Oh!

And we discovered a ballerino in our
rack. Honestly, Felix, did you lie about

being a ballerina just to liven up your
old CV?

Bravo!

Did you wear a toothy, Sarge?

Those tights must be terribly
restricted.

And this is why I don't share my
hobbies.

I'm all for it. I just want you to
introduce me to some of your ballerina

friends.

You're all philistines.