12x04 - Front Window

[bunniefuu]

♪ We're not going out

♪ Not staying in

♪ Just hanging around
With my head in a spin

♪ But there is no need
to scream and shout

♪ We're not going out

♪ We are not going out. ♪

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH

Oh, God. Not this again.

Another cold night sleeping
on her own.

Since his painful knee operation,

the aching void in her bed is
matched only by that in her heart.

She can't find the precise words
to express her longing,

so instead simply says...

Shredded Wheat or Frosties?

Oh, here we go. Three, two, one,

and number leaves for work.

She checks to see if
she's remembered her phone.

The woman has remembered her phone.

She always remembers her phone.

Right on cue, the postie comes
and hands her the mail.

As always,
the mail is disappointing.

Yeah, isn't he just?

Don't forget, postie,
watch out for the little old lady.

You know I can just see all of
this out of the window, don't you?

What do the binoculars actually add?

Other than an extra six months
on your sentence.

And, as ever,
our sweet old lady stops

and chats to the policewoman.

It's like clockwork, this. People
have such predictable routines.

Says the man who's been staring
out of this window for the past

six mornings at exactly
four minutes past eight.

Can't you do what normal men do
and watch p*rn?

Bloke at number does that.

Oh, come here.

Here we go. Here comes the best bit.
Aw, he's great, this cat.

How do you know it's a he? Well,
they're very powerful binoculars.

Do you want to have a look?
No, you're all right.

I'll look for yours later instead.
In fact, these are so powerful,

I even managed to read his nametag.
Mr Snuffles.

Impressive.
I didn't know you could read.

Oh, and there he is.

Stuart opposite,
as always, hiding behind the bins.

Mr Snuffles approaches
Stuart's flowerbed.

Stuart bides his time.

Mr Snuffles goes to the toilet
and Stuart strikes.

Oh, every day.
He's never hit him once.

You hate him, don't you?

Hey, are you forgetting he blocked
our driveway? Oh, how could I?

That tragic Saturday when you
couldn't get to B&Q

to buy fence sealer.

I hear Gary Oldman is playing you in
the biopic.

Ha! He's such a loser.

Have you any idea what
schadenfreude is?

Ah, who cares? They seem to have
a name for everything, the French.

God, I love Mr Snuffles.

He's my joint favourite cat,
him and Deeley.

I'll tell you,
if Stuart ever caught Mr Snuffles,

he'd strangle him.

Oh, now he's lying on
the pavement, licking his bum.

Well, it's nice that
they've made up.

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH

It's showtime. Three, two, one,
number leaves the house.

Has she remembered her phone?
Of course she has.

Good morning, postie.
How are you today?

You know I've had affairs
with three different men

while you've been doing this?

Here's the little old lady
on her scooter.

Here's Lee's wife,
packing her bags.

Hang on. That's weird. No cat.

Mr Snuffles is always here at this
point - it's his toilet time.

Perhaps he's heard rumours
a pervert's been watching him.

Well, there's no point hiding behind
those bins today, mate.

Looks like the cat's not coming.

I wonder how long it'll be before

Stuart realises he's completely
wasting his time.

No sense of irony whatsoever.

Hang on. That's interesting.
He's not there.

The man who has been hiding
every morning

for seven days trying to scare off
a cat suddenly isn't there on

the exact same day as
Mr Snuffles doesn't appear.

It's almost as if he knew it wasn't
going to be there.

Maybe he's gone out.

So why am I looking at him right now
in his bathroom,

flossing his teeth?

No idea. But I'm sure
the prosecution lawyer

will be able to get
to the bottom of it.

The scooter lady's putting
a poster up.

Well, maybe it's a message to you.

Old person
with restricted walking abilities

seeks similar for fun
and voyeurism.

Well, well, well.
The cat's gone missing.

Oh, that's awful.
I hope she finds it.

Oh, I think we both know
that's not going to happen.

Only one person knows
for sure what happened to that cat

and he's currently removing nasal
hair with a Remington IPX .

Are you suggesting
he's k*lled the cat?

Well, he's certainly had a motive.

He hated that cat for weeing in
his garden and he fits the profile.

What profile?
Well, it's always the same on

the news when they interview
the neighbours.

He seemed like such a normal chap.

Well, you don't get any more
normal than him, do you?

Well, not in this house you don't.

Are you not concerned that he wasn't
in his usual place this morning,

hiding behind the bins?

Am I concerned that the man opposite
has stopped behaving in a weird,

dysfunctional and obsessive way?

No, Lee, I'm not concerned.
I'm jealous.

OK, fine. Yeah. You've got a point.
Good.

I can't just go round making
unfounded accusations.

That's right.
Not without hard evidence.

Oh, God.

Get the coffee on.
I'm on a stakeout.

From now on, nothing,
and I mean nothing,

gets past these eagle eyes.

Inspector Gadget. Ah! Oh, God.

I must have dropped off.

Oh. The old lady's still looking
for Mr Snuffles,

but she'll never find him.

All nine lives snuffled out
at once.

While you're wasting your only one.

Look, I don't know if this is
incriminating or not.

Go on. When you were asleep, I saw
Stuart come out of his front door

and att*ck Top Cat
and Garfield with a baseball bat,

then smear the blood on his face.

Oh. Hang on.

The woman from
has spotted something. Ah.

There you go.
So much for your theory.

How do you mean?

Well, he's obviously waiting
to catch the cat

weeing on his lawn again.

So he thinks it's still alive,

which means he can't have k*lled
Mr Snuffles.

Before I married you,

I never needed to say sentences
like this.

Well, well, well. The plot thickens.

He's not hiding.
He's digging a hole.

And why would he be doing that,
do you think?

Maybe he wants to crawl in it
and die.

Oh, no, wait, that's me.

Actually, I wonder... What?

Now, don't immediately dismiss this,

as I realise it's going
to sound outlandish, but maybe...

..he's gardening.

Gardening?
Or disposing of a corpse?

There you go.
He's planting a rosebush.

Yeah, well,
Anna Friel built a patio.

I'm making the point that he had
to do something

to explain all the digging,

otherwise we'd know
he was burying a cat.

This is how conspiracy
theories work.

Whatever he did, you'd find a way
to make it suspicious.

He's not behind the bins,
that proves he k*lled the cat.

He is behind the bins,
that proves he k*lled the cat.

He plants a rosebush,
that proves he k*lled the cat.

So you agree he k*lled the cat?

If he k*lled the cat,
why not just dump it in the bins?

You told me yourself
the bins were collected yesterday.

Yeah, well,
yesterday was cardboard and glass.

Dead cat recycling's Thursday.

What kind of m*rder*r buries
his victims in the front garden?

It's called hiding in plain sight
and it's ironic revenge.

He's burying the cat in
the very spot it used to wee in.

What, like me drowning you
in the bath?

I'm telling you. Hang on.

Let me enjoy that for a minute.

Guess what?

Don't tell me. Go on.

No, I'm saying, "Don't tell me."
I don't care any more.

So you don't
want to know what I've done?

Done? What have you done?

I thought you didn't want to know.
What have you done?

Been out. Out? Where?

Outside.

That's the same word but longer.

Across the road - about an hour ago.

Don't tell me you went
to confront Stuart.

Course I didn't. I'm not an idiot.
Good.

I stuck an anonymous note
on his door. What?

I stuck an anonymous note
on his door.

I didn't mean what as in pardon,

I meant what as in dickhead.
What did it say?

It said, "I know exactly what
happened to Mr Snuffles."

Don't worry,
he won't know it was from me.

Why, is it spelt correctly?

My plan is to get him worried

and then I see him trying
to remove the body.

I don't believe this.
Stop panicking.

I used simple red magic marker.

Block capitals.
He will never know it was me.

KNOCK ON DOOR

Oh, God, he knows it was me.

Hello. It's Stuart,
from over the road.

Lee, also from over the road.

Sorry it took so long to get to
the door.

Operation - on my knee.

Fine for years,
then suddenly, without warning,

it decides to pack up on me.

Yes, well, we often can't sense
when things are about to hit us.

Cats can.

Sorry? That's how they found out
I had a dodgy knee -

Cat scan.

You're not getting people
to write their names on your cast?

That's what some people do,
don't they? I could use this.

No, you're all right.
I'm... I'm not bothering.

Oh, OK.

You obviously prefer
to leave things unsigned.

I just wondered whether you've seen
anything strange lately.

Strange?

Suspicious characters in the street?
Nah, I don't think so.

But it's so hard to tell, isn't it?

I mean, it's always
the normal-looking ones, isn't it?

What is? That do things.

What kind of things?

Blocking people's driveways,
m*rder, that sort of thing.

So you didn't see anyone attaching
this note to my front door?

No, but I haven't really been
getting round much

to see anything, you know,
what with the wheelchair.

Yes. Although that's what
wheelchairs are for, of course,

for getting around -

otherwise they'd be chairs.

HE CHUCKLES

So you didn't spot anything
with those?

No, but it's not like I'm sat
staring out the window all day.

Oh. You scratched yourself?

Yes, I was doing some gardening.

Plant anything interesting?

Rosebush.

Thorny.

Very thorny.

Almost like it didn't
want to be planted.

Anyway,
sorry I can't be of more help.

Maybe you could ask one of
the other neighbours

if they saw
anyone leaving a threatening note.

Did I say it was
a threatening note?

Well, I just assumed. You don't see
many suspicious characters

leaving notes about jumble sales,
do you?

Was it a threatening note?
Ooh, it was a threatening note.

Well, now you've introduced
a threatening note

into the conversation,
I can confirm I didn't see anyone

leaving a threatening note.

Well, maybe one of the other
neighbours saw someone

acting suspiciously
and they'll tell me all about it.

Sorry to disturb you.

I was just curious.

And you know what they say
about curiosity.

No, what's that?

Um... I have no idea,
that's why I was asking you.

Did you hear that? It was virtually
an admission of guilt.

Oh, I don't know.
I think you got away with it.

I think it's time to get
the authorities involved.

Thanks for coming straight over.

How could I ignore such
an incredibly loud whistle?

I want to report a crime.

Hang on. Talking of whistles,

what's that noise?

LIGHT WHISTLING, THEN SILENCE

What noise?

Oh, sorry, I thought I heard
the kettle boiling.

Are you an actual
proper policewoman?

Yes! Well,
Police Community Support Officer.

We're the same as normal police
and the work is just as dehydrating.

Would you like a cup of tea?

No, thank you.

Coffee? Ooh, yes, please.

I would like to report a m*rder.

Shut up. Are you winding me up?

What?
Are you going to say something like,

"I bet you could m*rder a biscuit
with that coffee?"

It's not a wind-up.
There's been an actual m*rder.

When? In about half an hour,

if he doesn't stop banging on about
dead cats.

It's for later.

Hang on. Cats? Yeah.

Oh, I thought an actual person
had been m*rder*d.

That's disappointing.

Oh, right, so it's not illegal
to k*ll a cat, then?

Yes...I think.

I mean,
it's certainly frowned upon.

Have you seen any of the signs?

What? Like people
with cat fur on their hands?

That sort of thing?

The missing cat signs.

Someone's stolen the signs, too?

No. The signs about the missing cat.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, I've seen
them.

Well, Mr Snuffles is across
the road.

And does he know where the cat is?

No. Mr Snuffles is the cat. Are you
sure you've seen these signs?

Of course I've seen them.
It's my job to notice everything.

But how am I supposed
to remember every little detail?

I don't know. Have you got a pen?
Yes.

No.

OK. Talk to me.

Right, his name's Stuart

and, at first,
he threw water at the cat.

But the next morning,
the cat didn't come.

And guess what?
He didn't throw water at it.

Yeah. He didn't throw water
at the cat that wasn't there.

But what he did do was dig
a hole in his front garden.

Ooh. Carry on.

Well, that's it.

So you didn't actually see him
k*ll the cat?

No. But he buried it.

And you saw that?

Well, not exactly.

But what I did see was him planting
a rosebush and I joined the dots.

He does that on the place mat
puzzles at Pizza Hut.

He's very good.

I'm telling you, Mr Snuffles is in
the garden opposite, interred.

That's disgusting.

I could see it all over
Stuart's face.

Oh.

I mean, his reaction when he read
the note. What note?

I sneaked over to his house
this morning

and pinned a note on his door saying
that I was onto him.

You did what?
Don't worry, I didn't sign it.

You sent an anonymous thr*at
to your neighbour?

Now, that is illegal.

If you're going to be
technical about it,

then so's spying on him
through binoculars.

You've been spying on him
through binoculars?

Yeah, but not just him.
I've been spying on everyone.

I've been spying on you.

Objection! My client is in no fit
state to defend himself.

Actually, maybe I'll forget
the coffee -

unless you do takeaways?

No. OK. As you were.

Well, hang on. Aren't you going
to go and arrest him?

No. I can't arrest a man
for planting a rosebush

and not throwing water at a cat.

You can ask some questions.

OK, I will.

Are you taking any medication?

No.
Do you think maybe you should be?

So, have you learned your lesson?
Of course I have.

Which is?

If you want something doing,
do it yourself.

Oh, God.

Lee, I heard a noise outside.

Lee?

SHE SIGHS

PHONE RINGS

What are you doing awake at this
time of night?

I heard a noise and thought there
was a lunatic outside,

and I was right.

Oh, hello.

Get back in this house now,
you cretin.

Not without evidence.

HE GROANS

Oh, my God. What is it?

What do you think it is? Look.

And before you ask, yes,
it is Mr Snuffles.

He's still wearing the nametag.

LUCY GASPS

I think you've woken him up.

I think that's a bit optimistic.

Not the cat. Stuart!

RUSTLING

Get out of there, now!

LEE GRUNTS

Faster, you idiot.

I'm not Tanni Grey-Thompson! Who?

Gold-medal winning
wheelchair Paralympian,

now a member of the House of Lords.

She was an answer on Pointless.

DOOR BANGS AND CLATTERING

LEE PANTS

And the best bit of all,

he doesn't know it was me.

Ah!

What are you doing? I'm phoning .

You can't phone
for something like this.

We'll just tell that community
support officer.

She doesn't believe me.
No, she doesn't believe YOU,

but now you've got a credible
witness and hard evidence.

First thing in the morning,
we'll call her over again.

In the meantime, budge up.

We need to keep a close eye on him

and make sure he doesn't try
and move the body.

I knew he was up to something.

Oh. Any activity?

Some light farting and I think you
had a dream about turtles,

but, across the road, nothing.

She's here. Go and get her.
Oh, hang on. What?

Stuart's talking to her.

Well, he's certainly not trying
to hide the grave.

Do you think he's confessing
because he knows we're onto him?

He's probably asking
for other offences

to be taken into consideration,

like a freezer full of dead moles

and parking in front of
other people's driveways.

Oh, my God. What?
The devious little sod.

I bet he's spinning the story
to her.

I woke up in the night, Officer,
and I think that strange man across

the road had been in my garden,
digging a hole.

Well, to be fair,
that is exactly what happened.

So, if she finds anything,
she'll think I put it there.

He's setting me up.

Oh, God.

She's coming over. What do we do?

I've got an idea. Go on.

You still can't manage
the stairs, right?

Right. Good.

KNOCK ON DOOR

Hello.

I've just been, uh,

chatting to your neighbour
over the road.

He tells me someone vandalised
his garden last night.

I wondered whether you
saw anything.

I was asleep.

I've not told you what time
it happened.

I've not told you what time
I was asleep.

Do you know what this is?

Um, is it a very big spoon?

No, sir.

It is called a...miniature shovel.

It was found in his garden.

Do you know whose it is?
Hard to say.

But there are, uh,
tyre marks on the pavement,

just outside his house,

about this far apart.

Sounds to me like
you're looking for

a couple of cyclists
riding too close together.

Anything else, Officer?

Well, since you ask...

We're out of coffee.

In that case, as you were. Oh!

Good. I think you got away with it.

I haven't done anything.
He's the one getting away with it,

especially now I'm the one
who's going to get the blame

if she finds a dead cat.

Look. Enough is enough. No more.

It's that little old lady
I feel sorry for -

never knowing what happened
to her cat.

Driving that scooter around
every day, searching.

Putting a saucer of milk out
for him every day, just in case.

All right, maybe she should go on
Britain's Got Talent because,

with a story like that,
she is a shoo-in for first place.

LEE SIGHS

What are you doing?

I am phoning the number
that's on that poster.

She at least deserves the truth.
I'll keep it anonymous.

I've put the in
to hide my number.

What are you going to say?

Don't worry. I won't mention Stuart,
or the m*rder.

I'll just confirm that
Mr Snuffles has passed away -

try and give her some closure.

Answering machine.
I'll leave a message.

Do it sensitively.

I know.

Hello. Um...

Your cat's dead.

And probably best not to go
poking round - you'll regret it.

When I die, promise me you won't be
the one who tells the kids.

There's no point in keep thinking
about it.

He's hardly likely
to dig it back up now, is he?

Have you seen my front door keys?
I need to pop to the shops.

Oh, just leave the door ajar -
save me letting you back in.

Sure. I can see how busy you are.

Stop it.

Spot anything interesting?

The door was open,
so I let myself in.

And I didn't want you having to
answer, not with two broken legs.

One. Let's see how things pan out,
shall we?

What do you want?

I think you know why I'm here.

We need to talk about Mr Snuffles.

It was you that pinned that note
to my door, wasn't it?

You don't know that.

And it was you digging things up
in my garden

in the middle of the night.

Perhaps you can take a closer look.

I could bury you down there,
as well. As well.

So you admit it, you did bury
the cat? Of course I did!

Not the face! Now it's your turn
to tell the truth.

Come on, admit it!

OK, yes. It was me that wrote
the note and dug up your garden.

I know, I just told you that.
I'm not talking about that.

Well, what then?

You know damn well what.
Just say it.

Oh, that.

Yes. That.

Yes, OK, I'm sorry.

It was me that let your tyres down
last year.

I'm not talking about
the bloody tyres. Hang on, was it?

Well, you blocked my driveway.

Is this what all this is about?
Is this why you k*lled my cat?

What do you mean, your cat?
Mr Snuffles wasn't your cat.

Of course he was my bloody cat.

Why would I bury someone else's cat
in my garden? I'm not a lunatic.

But it belongs to the woman
on the scooter. Monica?

She's staying with us.
She's my mother-in-law.

She offered to put
the posters up for me.

But you always threw water
at the cat.

Because it weed on my flowers
every morning. Bit mean.

Says the man who k*lled it
and left it outside my house.

No, I didn't. Of course you did.

Then you have the audacity
to torment me by leaving notes

on my door saying you know
what happened to him

and weird answering
machine messages.

You even tried to dig
the body up, you sick bastard.

I didn't k*ll it, I swear to God!
Well, then who did?

Oh, for frig's sake,
Stuart, get off him.

I k*lled the mangy bloody thing,
didn't I?

What are you talking about, Monica?

The other day, I was in a rush.

Shops were closing
and I'd run out of fags.

Bloody thing ran out in front of me.

Never stood a chance.

I even helped by putting
the posters up,

so you wouldn't suspect it was me.

Why didn't you just tell me
the truth?

Because you'd overreact,
like you always bloody do.

No, I don't!

Is now an appropriate time
to mention the £ reward?

Argh!

That's for the tyres.

For the love of God.

Don't worry.
I'm putting them away now.

I've realised I'm no private d*ck.

You're halfway there.

Listen, if it wasn't for me,
we'd never have found out

the truth about who k*lled
Mr Snuffles.

And to think
you felt sorry for her.

Well, how was I to know
she was guilty of the world's

slowest hit-and-run?

No wonder she's lying low.
What do you mean lying low?

Well, she's obviously mortified.

I haven't seen her since
Stuart found out what happened.

I haven't seen her either

and Stuart was very angry with her.

Oh, God.

♪ We're not going out

♪ Not staying in

♪ Just hanging around
with my head in a spin

♪ But there is no need
to scream and shout

♪ We're not going out

♪ We are not going out. ♪