All language subtitles for Sister Boniface Mysteries Season 03 e06

Man: Come on, boys.

- Come on.
- Gee up, gee up.

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##

Of course, the responsibility
of being chairman

is simply incalculable.

The entire club relies
on my expert guidance.

As interesting
as all of this is...

I'm actually reporting
on the County Cup Final?

Ah.

Great Slaughter
takes on Stowington.

Chance to finally get one over
on the local rivals, eh?

And here's the man
who's gonna help us to do it.

Norman, meet Humphrey Lash,
star player and team captain.

Humphrey used to play for
Oxfordshire Young Cricketers.

Get it right, Hector.

Played and set the record
for the most runs

in an entire season.

Who is that?

Felix: I believe it is
Valerie Vandemeer.

She's Stowington's
new chairwoman.

Norman: Got given the club as
part of her divorce settlement.

Along with all the rest...

Ms. Vandemeer.

Always a pleasure.

Although I out
to point out the match

doesn't actually start
until tomorrow...

I'm aware of that,
Mr. "Lose-ley."

I actually wanted a chat,
given I'm now

leaseholder of this land.

I've been speaking
to my accountants.

This club hasn't paid its rent
for the last two months.

Well, clearly these --
these a-accountants --

I've seen the books myself.

And you'll be aware
that our agreement states

that if you miss another payment
then I'm allowed to kick you

and this club to the curb...
permanently.

A lot of potential here.

Can I get a photo of you guys
for my article?

Doubtless a mere oversight.

I'll make sure you get paid
in full.

Let's hope so.

Or this match tomorrow
might be

the last Great Slaughter
ever plays.

##

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##

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Oh, this is most exhilarating.

The first cup final between
Great Slaughter and Stowington

in over 30 years.

I forgot you were
such a fanatic.

Mrs. Clam: Egg sandwiches and
cucumber on this side please.

Vera,
where would you like this?

What is it?

Started life
as a Victoria Sponge.

Though I forgot halfway

and thought I was making
a chocolate cake.

And that was before I added
the walnuts and lemon drizzle...

Mrs. Clam. A word.

So, can we expect
another century today?

Blimey.
Put pressure on a bloke.

Don't you think it's time
for a new pair?

Andy: Wish the quarry's
wages stretched that far.

Still,
these are my lucky ones.

Like we said at practice, Tom.

The bat faces this way.

Hey!
You're late.

Relax, old man.

It's "coach."
And show some respect.

I'm not sure
if anyone's told you, Coach,

but "ze war" ended decades ago.

It's time to move on, hey?

Oh, we thought you'd got lost.

- Sorry, I was...
- Getting ready?

Honestly, the way
you've been dressing up lately,

I'd say you were out
to impress.

Ah, heads.

We'll bat first.

Andy!

Brilliant, brilliant.
I'm looking forward to it.

Who says we show them
how it's done?

With that thing?

Dear, oh, dear.

It seems withdrawals have
been made using this chequebook.

And judging by these stubs,
they've taken the lot.

Who would be so despicable?

Someone who had access
to this office,

which could be practically
anyone on a match day.

So in effect you're saying

that this club hasn't got
a penny to its name?

Ah!

Ms. Vandemeer,
we were just discussing --

Stop.

I'm getting flashbacks to
that appalling

amateur dramatics show
you were in.

What?

So you really have
no way of paying me?

Well, um, uh...

The prize money.

T-T-The prize money.

If we win this match,
we'll have more than we owe.

And if you don't?

Please!

You have seen
who our captain is?

##

##

Yo!

- Get a jog on!
- No, no, no.

Ah.

Did you do that on purpose?

- Oi!
- Felix: Hey!

Did you see what he did?!

I'm sure it was
a misunderstanding.

Yes. Of course.

Here.
Don't give him the satisfaction.

##

##

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Care to try my Victoria,
chocolate, walnut,

and lemon drizzle cake?

Mm.

So, Elsie, someone informs me
you've been accepted

into nursing college.

Start next month.

Off to the big smoke.

Can imagine how proud
her mum would have been.

Excuse me.

##

- This arrived for you.
- Thank you.

That's in!

Yeah.

Hey!

Catch!

Oh!

Oh!

##

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Time!

Simply superb!

Sir? Look.

Stop! Stop!

- Problem?
- What? Humphrey's on 111.

Known as a Nelson.

The unluckiest number
a cricketer can be on?

Surely another over
wouldn't hurt?

Play's been called,
and my boys are gassed.

Need their rest for tomorrow.

Whilst I appreciate
that some of us

wouldn't know the difference
between a stump,

silly mid on, or a googly,
tradition states --

It's fine.
It's fine.

Never bought into any of that
superstitious rubbish anyway.

Well, there are several theories
as to its origins,

the most common being
Horatio Nelson --

the fact he had one eye,
one arm, and one leg.

If you want to sit
somewhere else...

No, CC Lowsley, he asked me
to keep an eye on Humphrey,

given what's happened.

Ah.
My favourite little scorer.

We're leaving.

But, Dad, I've still got...

##

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I think it's time to go home.

Oh, give over, man.
I'm --

Needed at your best
tomorrow, right?

Let's go home.

You don't believe in this
Nelson nonsense, do you, Sister?

Well I've always found it
best not to judge the beliefs

of others, even if it is
the cricketing gods.

Miss Thimble: Hoping this one
goes down a bit better.

Though I ran out of raspberries
and had to improvise.

Is that Spam?

Someone's beaten us to it.

Well, I can tell you
I wasn't at all happy

with the presentation
of the Scotch eggs yesterday.

Oh! If it's
not one thing it's another.

##

##

Felix: You don't think...

Sister Boniface: I've deduced
this to be the fatal blow.

Caused by the screen
falling on him?

Certainly meant
to appear that way.

Though the shape
of the wound

isn't consistent
with the framing.

Observe --
the lack of bruising,

suggesting that he was already
dead by the time it fell.

Then there's the grass-stained
drag marks on his whites.

Implying the body was moved.

Sam: "Yell"?
What does that mean?

I'm not sure.

Though I am certain
of one thing.

Someone has used the alleged
curse of scoring a Nelson

as a way to commit...

- Murder?
- I'm afraid so.

Which means we'll
have to call off today's match.

You'll do no such thing.

But, sir, the entire club is now
a crime scene.

Look, um, recently, there's been
a few...irregularities.

A large -- well, substantial
amount of money stolen.

- By whom?
- Could be anyone, apparently.

But if we don't win this match
and get that prize money,

then Valerie "No-Idea" --
sorry, Vandemeer -- will.

Of course.

- This is her.
- Sir?

Well, Humphrey was
the only thing standing

in her way of getting
this place.

Arrest her on sight.

Sir...

We'll allow the match to go on.

You just focus on that.

Yeah, I guess I'll just...

Not so fast.
Our man on the inside, huh?

Fine. But we're relieving Button
of her scoring duties.

Sir, we're still
down a player.

Hmm.

Mrs. Clam,
when you arrived this morning

did you notice anything
suspicious?

There was that corpse
beneath the screen thing.

No.
We -- We arrived.

We walked up to the gate.

Only, it was unlocked.

Humphrey had a key?

Not to my knowledge.

And I definitely locked
everything up last night.

Which means whoever did this

must have had access
to the club.

Mrs. Clam
finally gave me a set.

Can practise when I want then.

Yesterday at the match, you
and Humphrey had an altercation?

Yeah, because he got me out.

Couldn't stand the thought of
anyone stealing his thunder.

I sometimes lock up
after practice.

What was
your relationship like?

Well, we weren't on each other's
Christmas card lists.

He clearly felt he was
above being coached.

That looks
particularly vexatious.

The depth and colouration
signifying an electric burn?

I tried to do some rewiring
at home.

Ask Elsie
if you don't believe me.

I'm the leaseholder.
Of course I have a key.

And now a greater chance to do
what you want with the place.

You said it had
great potential?

That was me trying to get your
boss to actually pay his rent.

I wouldn't know what
to do with a place like this.

- Are we done?
- Just one more thing.

I'll compare their handwriting
samples to the paper we found.

Oh, and I've also
acquired Humphrey's

from his
member registration form.

I still don't understand
why he came back.

You know, when I took him home,
he looked ready for bed.

Perhaps someone telephoned him
last night,

asked to meet here.

We've searched the entire area.
No sign of a murder weapon.

Good work, Button.
Would you contact the GPO?

See if anyone dialled in

or out of Humphrey's house
last night.

Sir, is that you?

Huh?

Sister Boniface:
"Sam Gillespie --

Star player for the
Steeple Hampton youth team."

- A distant memory.
- Is that a moustache?

Sister Boniface: Oh, yes.

Uh, call records, Button.

Sir.

Felix:
Anything of interest?

Sam:
Found this in Humphrey's bag.

I assume it was sent in that.

Felix: Oh, there's a sender's
name and address.

Sam: There's a page missing.

Felix: Sir?

What are you...

Stepping up to the breach,
Livingstone.

I'm a tad rusty, but I'll soon
get into the swing of things.

Oops.

It appears Humphrey's
wound contained traces

of willow and linseed oil.

Which indicates
our murder weapon...

- Was a cricket bat?
- Affirmative.

And that piece of paper
you found?

Doesn't match any
of our handwriting samples.

Equally frustrating are
the fibres on the back.

Completely transparent,

removing the possibility
of a dye test.

What exactly could it mean --
"yell"?

So, it turns out it was
an old teammate

who sent Humphrey the magazine.

Apparently has a photo from
when they were part of

the Oxfordshire
Young Cricketers.

Really?

Must be this page torn out.

Annoyingly, it was
his only copy.

Perhaps -- Perhaps it's worth
contacting The Bugle.

They might have an archive
for this sort of thing.

I'm sure Norman
would happily assist.

But, sir, I was hoping
to catch the match.

Fine.

- Anything else?
- Well, let's see.

The rust on the gate's padlock

made it impossible
to lift any prints.

But what I did find were
traces of methylparaben,

propylparaben,
and butylparaben.

Individually,
just common parabens.

Yet, combined, they make
the perfect formula

for hand cream.

About an hour after the game
I came back,

with some property developers.

They think this is the perfect
spot for a housing project.

So when you said
you wouldn't know

what to do with
the place...

We were shooting the breeze.
A conversation.

Strange one to have,
given Great Slaughter's lead.

Unless you knew
their star man

wouldn't be around
for much longer.

Look, I can't say

that I'll ever understand this
insomnia cure you call cricket.

But what I do know is
that it's just a game.

And games can change
at any point.

So I was looking at my options.

Last I checked,
that wasn't a crime.

##

Norman?

Peggy!

Hi.

I was literally just, um...

Do you want to...

Or you can stand.

Or you can...
do whatever you like.

Thanks.

I need a favour.

Without wishing
to sound intrusive,

was there a reason you
gave up the gentlemen's game?

Couldn't find the time
once I joined the force.

Also discovered other ways
to occupy myself.

- Oh, excellent batting, Felix.
- Thank you.

Victoria will undoubtedly be
"bowled over" by your efforts.

Yeah. It's just a shame
she's not here to see it.

Oh, there'll be other times,
I'm sure.

Is Lindsay about?

Mrs. Clam said he went home
with Elsie.

She was upset about Humphrey.
Inordinately so.

Huh.

We were seeing each other.
Couple of months now.

- I loved him.
- Did you know about this?

Last night.

Just before she announced
she'd given up her place

at nursing college.

Because of Humphrey?

- No. Because --
- Of course it was.

Been filling her head
with nonsense.

I should have realised
what was going on

with all the new make-up,
jewellery.

You can't have been
best pleased.

Oh, come on, Sam.

You can't honestly
think that...

You know, last year,
before we lost Suzanne,

I made her a promise.

That I'd always be around
for Elsie --

our little girl --
no matter what.

So to think I'd do anything
that might put that at risk...

What about you, Elsie?

Living here you have access
to your father's keys.

She was in all night.
I can vouch for that.

Vice-versa
if it puts your minds at ease.

Come on, please, let's just get
back to the game.

- Bowling!
- Good shot.

##

Man: Break.

Magnificent innings,
Livingstone.

Thank you, sir.

Lunch is served!

With me.

Thank you.

##

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Ooh! I do love
a good bin rummage.

Find anything interesting?

##

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I think I just might have.

##

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Bingo.

We have our murder weapon.

Both the willow and linseed oil
match that on Humphrey's wound.

Well done, Felix.

Ah, but perhaps
most significant,

uncovered beneath
the fibreglass --

several hairs.

The colour
and microscopic features

suggest they belong to --

Andy Fitch?

Well, how did you --

Turns out he'd invited
two guests to the match.

A background check
from Button

identifies them as
professional cricket scouts.

I know how it looks,
but -- but I didn't kill him.

After I was run out
I went home, left my bat here.

When I turned up this morning,
it was gone.

Why didn't
you report it missing?

I was worried how it might look,
given that barney we had.

And the fact that he'd

potentially sabotaged
your career?

I just wanted a chance.

To show them my potential,
escape a life in that quarry.

He must have spotted them,
decided to get me out.

The kinda bloke he was.

Where is it?
My bat.

It shattered on impact,
I'm afraid.

Might not even matter.
Those scouts ain't coming back.

Reckon I've blown any future
I had in this game.

So have you been playing long?

Yeah, since I was a little kid,
actually.

I have to say,
your uniform looks...

All right, Peggy?

Yep. Just trying to have
a conversation.

Sports editor has got
the entire collection.

Part of their archives.

Thanks so much, Norm.

Actually, Peggy,
I was wondering if, uh,

if you're free later,

maybe you fancy a trip to
the picture--

and you're gone.

A few of my boys
fell ill unexpectedly,

so we had to regroup.

These guys are from Australia
and the West Indies.

Helping with a project
I'm hoping to start.

And you expect me
to swallow that codswallop?

I mean, you've clearly just gone
and...

Found replacements
for those unable to play?

A bit
like you did this morning.

What?

Felix: Why would anyone
tear this out?

Could do a background check
on the players?

Might be a link
to our suspects.

Good idea, Button.

Whoa!

No-ball!
Bowler's foot was over the line!

Needs glasses, that one.

I've been thinking.

Even if there's something
in this photo,

it's hardly a coincidence that
Humphrey died at the same time

someone was stealing
from the club.

Either way, the chances
of them winning it back

are getting slimmer
by the wicket.

For those of you tuning in,
we bring you news

of Great Slaughter's
emphatic defeat

at the hands of Stowington,

Who will now receive the
much-coveted winner's cheque.

A cheque.

How was the money
being stolen again?

##

##

It appears our thief

was none other
than Humphrey himself.

So maybe someone found out,
decided to teach him a lesson.

Or perhaps they were
an accomplice,

wanted it all for themselves.

Sir, I've just had
a message from the GPO.

Someone did ring Humphrey's
house last night.

- Do you have a number?
- Yes, sir.

Although it doesn't belong to
a particular person.

So, once these are out...

Then Stowington are batting,

and we haven't given them
much of a target.

Oh, give me strength.
Tom! The other way!

Oh...

Did I hit it?

Great Slaughter all out
for 210.

Valerie:
Very good.

I'm beginning
to like this game.

Right, listen to me.

We are having an
emergency practice session.

I'm sorry?

So you should be after
that spineless performance.

Half of this lot
couldn't bat an eyelid.

- They did their best, Hector.
- Their best?

Sorry, but aren't you the chap

that led entire squadrons
into battle?

Or did you leave
your fighting spirit up there?

- Come on, lads.
- What?

No.
No, no, no, no, no, no.

Come back here.
Come here immediately!

Ple-e-e-ase?

None of the neighbours
saw anyone use

the telephone last night.

- Anything?
- Aside from severe neck ache?

It seems the receiver's
been handled too frequently

to find a clear print.

So that's it?

We've no way
of knowing who called Humphrey.

What is it?

A flowerhead.

Evidently fallen
from a piece of jewellery.

And I know exactly who
it belongs to.

Sister Boniface: Given what we
now know, might I assume

that bracelet was purchased
using the club's finances,

along with the other items
you've started wearing?

What happened last night?

We got back from the pub,
Dad fuming.

I, uh, went up to my room,

waited till he fell asleep.

Then I snuck out,
called Humphrey.

We'd always meet at the club.

I told him Dad knew.

But I didn't care

because it meant
no more hiding.

He seemed happy, told me
I could stay at his.

And as we left I...

he said he'd forgotten
something inside.

That's when I saw
the office lights on.

- What are you doing?
- Hello, darling.

It's, uh, a little gift for us.

Wait. You're not stealing
from the club?

Well, there wouldn't be
a club without me.

And if the star player
can't treat himself...

Or you for that matter.

No.
You can't do this.

Excuse me.

I can do whatever I like.

Oh, dear.

Oh, trust me, sweetheart.

There'll be
bigger disappointments

than me in your life.

I saw who he really was
for the first time.

And I just left.

- Came back here.
- Els?

Elsie was with Humphrey
at the club last night.

But I didn't kill him, Dad.

And it wasn't because of him why
I gave up my college place.

I do still want to be
a nurse one day.

But before then

I'd actually like to travel
a bit, see the world.

Losing Mum made me realise...

we're only here once.

You're right, love.
We are.

You're still here, sir?

Over 150 years old,
this place.

Survived two world wars.

I can't quite accept
that it might all end...

...and I couldn't stop it.

Sir...

As much
as I admire everything you do --

you know, the cricket,
the amateur dramatics,

the church bell ringing...

Morris dancing.

Yeah. That too.
Uh...

There perhaps comes a point
where you should ask for help.

And stop trying
to do everything yourself.

When I joined this club,

the first thing that the members
reminded me of was its motto.

Unum quadrigis simul.

"One team together."

Maybe you should remember
that as well.

##

##

Oh. Someone's eager.

Or a cynical evasion
of Mrs. Clam's breakfast.

No, I just keep
thinking about this paper.

Surely there's something
we've missed?

Some clue as to our killer?

Given your
discernible frustration,

said clue is yet
to materialise?

Morning.

You're looking
very bright, Button.

Thought I'd wear something nice
for the last day of the match.

- Well, yellow suits you.
- Thank you.

Of course. Yellow.

The fibres on the back
of this paper.

I didn't run any initial tests
due to them being colourless,

when in fact

clothing can be a mixture
of coloured fibres

and colourless ones
which contain fluorescein,

the latter being invisible
to the naked eye.

Yet...

Where is it?

When examined under UV...

Oh, look at that.

We can determine which colour
of clothing they belong to.

"Yell,"
short for "yellow."

So it's a label
for someone's clothes?

Why would anyone label
their clothes by colour?

If they were unable
to tell the difference?

Colourblind, perhaps?

Yellow.
Colourblind.

But that doesn't make
any sense.

Anyway, sir, I followed up
on some of the other players.

Not a single connection
to any of our suspects.

Why would someone tear
this page out?

Sister Boniface:
Well, knock me for six.

Sam.

Can we have a word?

Sam.
What are you...

Ah, wait.
You can't still think --

Sister Boniface: We discovered
some yellow fibres

on some paper
at the crime scene.

Ones reminiscent of the jumper
that you wore

on the day of the murder.

Though it's
the colourblind aspect

which was most perplexing.

- What on earth are you --
- The signs were there.

Namely your electrocution burn
gained through rewiring,

implying a failure
to differentiate

between red and green.

Yet, if you were colourblind,

you'd have been ineligible
to join the RAF,

let alone
become wing commander.

We found a copy of this
in Humphrey's bag.

There was a photo missing,

which we thought might relate
to his death.

Turns out it's what's on the
other side that really mattered.

Sister Boniface:
Lindsay Calder-Marshall.

Taking part
in an RAF charity game.

Except that person isn't you.

During the war,

we were stationed
on the same base in Italy.

Him in the RAF, me in the Army.

You being?

Scott Ellis.

Private Scott Ellis.

What?

Els.

What are
you talking about, Dad?

Sweetheart, listen.
I came from the slums.

A world
you can't even imagine.

If you'd found a way
to escape...

Escape?
What are you saying?

The war was ending.

But we still had to fight.

Them in the air,
us on the ground.

And during
that last offensive,

I found him,

his plane shot down,
his body just...

Well, this was my chance.

And nobody realised?

Barely anyone survived
that last day.

And he was a bachelor.
No real family.

Not long after, I was demobbed,
so I returned to Britain,

moved as far away from home
as I could

to a place
called Great Slaughter

and built the most amazing life
for myself.

Did she know? Mum?

I told her
before we got married.

She helped me
keep it a secret.

She labelled your clothing.

Hence no handwriting match.

So what happened
with Humphrey?

After I went to bed last night,
I couldn't sleep.

Then I heard Elsie sneak out.
I saw my keys were missing.

So I decided to come up here
and have it out with them both.

But by the time I arrived,
she'd gone.

Oh, you're disgusting.

Chasing girls
half your age?

You don't get to lecture me.

The man whose entire life
has been one big lie.

Came in the post today.

I couldn't believe it
when I was flicking through.

You can't tell anyone.

I'm going to tell everyone.

When they all
know the truth,

I'll get little Elsie
all to myself.

Oh! Hey!

You're pathetic.

Lindsay:
I couldn't let him leave.

And then I realised I could
make it look like an accident.

The curse of the Nelson.

We're all waiting.

Get away from me.
You're a liar.

No, you're right.
I was never Lindsay.

I was never
an RAF wing commander.

But the one thing
I always was is your father

and your mum's husband.

Those things were entirely me
and always will be.

##

##

Now, I appreciate
that a lot's happened recently.

Captain murdered, coach stealing
the identity of a war hero.

I also appreciate
that I haven't helped things.

The truth is I've --

I've discovered
that the club is facing

severe financial difficulties,

and if we lose today's match
we will cease to exist.

Now I-I realise that I should
have told you all sooner.

I also realise
that I need to stop trying

to do everything myself,

whether it's my work
or other commitments,

theatricals, bell ringing.

My flower arrangements.

Which is why I am taking
a step back from the team.

Luckily I've found a chap

who's actually played
on a winning cricketing team!

Not a word, Sister.

Let's hope
you're on form today.

Because of the club
and yourself.

I called them yesterday.
I explained everything.

And they're excited
to see you play.

Thank you.

So, if this does turn out
to be our final game,

just get out there...

and ruddy well
make Great Slaughter proud!

That's it.

So, gather it into your chest,
make sure you don't drop it.

These two look pretty handy,
so we'll do two on the boundary.

Who's feeling brave?

Okay, perfect.

We're gonna start
with one of you two.

Felix, you bowl first.
There you go.

Come on, boys.

##

Yes!

##

##

Yeah!

- Catch it!
- Yes!

Ball in!

##

##

Yes!

Now, come on!
Come on now, move down!

Move!
Move your little feet!

That's it! Move, move, move!
Come on!

Man: Catch it!

Oh, very good.

Um, excuse me.

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- Mrs. Thimble: Oh.
- Mrs. Clam: Oh!

Dotty!

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Lowsley: Wait!

Excuse me.

You realise what
this means, don't you?

Bowl one more player out
and we win the match.

But regardless, you've done me
and the club proud.

Unum quadrigis simul.

Thank you, sir.

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Catch it!

Yes!

Go on, lad!
Good man.

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Excited to move forward
with you.

- Our pleasure.
- Thank you.

Ah, marvellous.
Thank you very much.

Oh, and some silver.

Thank you.

Perhaps as a consolation prize,

I could offer you some tickets

to our next appalling
amateur dramatics show.

I'll be giving my Bottom
in "Midsummer Night's Dream."

Just pay your rent on time.

Actually, the consolation
will be us

winning back that trophy
next year.

These past few days.

Something kinda special
about that leather on willow.

Though I'll now be building
the strongest team possible.

Well, as the saying goes,

the bigger they are,
the harder they fall.

Fighting talk, Lowsley.
We'll see.

Sir.

Oh!
Come here, Gillespie!

- No, sir --
- Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes!

You're one of the team now.

You can't escape.

If everyone could
sort of move in.

After me.
Three, two, one.

Together: Great Slaughter!

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