14x07 - Say It With Flowers

[bunniefuu]

♪ Heartbeat

♪ Why do you miss when my baby kisses me?

♪ Heartbeat

♪ Why does a love kiss stay in my memory? ♪

VEHICLE APPROACHES AND STOPS

OWL HOOTS

CHAIN CLINKS

SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC

GATE CREAKS

SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC INTENSIFIES

THUD Urgh!

ENGINE STARTS

LIGHT MUSIC

BIRDS SING

DAVID: Hello, Mrs Crompton.

Me Auntie Peggy said there was some jobs needed doing.

MRS CROMPTON: That's right. Come through.

We go back years, you know, me and Peggy.

Yeah. I heard.

You see, er...

I'm moving into sheltered accommodation in a couple of weeks.

Yeah. I reckon you'll miss this place, though, eh?

Oh, I'll miss me garden, yes. And me plants.

Right, well, what can I do for you?

Come through and I'll show you.

Now, you know it's Aidensfield Flower Show

over at the village hall tomorrow, don't you?

Yeah, that's right.

Well, I want you to enter this for me.

But not in my name.

Oh. Well, how come?

Well, it wouldn't have a chance, would it?

Why not?

Because he wouldn't let it, would he?

Erm... who?

Hector blooming Plumpton,

that pompous ass of a chairman of the Society.

W-Why?

I fell out with him, as to why it were always his pals

that won all the glittering prizes.

Oh, I see.

Anyway, enter it in your own name

and if you win anything, you can keep it.

Oh, and if there's anything else you fancy, just er...

just help yourself.

Can't take it with me, where I'm going.

Oh, right.

Oh, thanks, Mrs Crompton.

Woah!

WALKER: That was a Spitfire, wasn't it?

A Hurricane. It's the wing commander's very own.

MUSIC PLAYING ON THE RADIO

Oh, David. You shouldn't have.

Eh?

Me favourite colour an' all.

- ROSIE: However did you know? - Oh...

GIGGLES

No, it's Mrs Crompton's. She wants me to enter it for the flower show.

I've got one an' all

she's given me that I'm thinking of entering too.

There's nothing like the sheer unadulterated excitement

of a flower show to get the old pulses racing.

Well, I suppose that depends, don't it, Mr Scripps?

VERNON: On what?

On whether you think your prize petunias

are going to be pipped at the post by somebody's winter pansies?

Whether you cop for one of the prizes or not.

Huh!

BERNIE: Don't mock, Vernon.

Lord Ashfordly puts up £ for t'best in t'show.

Really?

VERNON: Do you think that plant might be in with a shout, David?

Well, Mrs-Mrs Crompton must think so.

And she said I can keep anything that it wins, as well.

You'd better get yourself a proper entry form though.

And where would you get one of those from?

Hector Plumpton's the chairman.

He runs that nursery over on the Ellesmere road.

Right, David.

You'd better get over there right away and get yourself an entry form.

I'll tell you what, I'll come with you.

Give you a bit of moral support.

Oh.

IMPOSING MARTIAL THEME

- PENNINGTON: Come on, Brownie. - BROWN: All right, all right.

Come back. Come on. Come on.

BROWN: Here, sir.

WALKER: So, he runs the place, then, does he?

BELLAMY: And gives lessons.

So, if you fancy being taught to fly by a genuine Battle of Britain ace,

he's your man. Wing Commander Andy Carstairs.

DFC, scourge of the Luftwaffe and heaven knows what else.

So, what happened to his legs, then?

Well, he got one of them shot off over the Channel

by a Messerschmitt pilot. It was a bit niftier than he was.

Word has it he was bounced by an entire wing of them.

He still managed to take a couple down with him, though.

WALKER CHUCKLES BELLAMY: There we go.

Bellamy, isn't it?

BELLAMY: Morning, sir.

This is PC Walker, Aidensfield Police.

Walker.

Here to inspect the scene of the crime, presumably?

Yes, sir.

In that case, this way, gentlemen.

- BELLAMY: So, was much taken, sir? - CARSTAIRS: I'll show you.

BELLAMY: What is it?

It's an expl*sive wedge.

- What does it do? - It blows holes in things.

Doors, walls

and bits of fuselage that people are trapped behind.

I try to keep a few on the premises.

You never know when something like that's going to come in handy

around a place like this.

- How many were taken? - A couple.

I wonder why they didn't take them all.

They were interrupted presumably by the arrival of the security man.

How is the poor chap, by the way? Still with us, I hope?

Only just, I'm afraid, sir. And he still hasn't regained consciousness.

Good chap, Sam Shepherd. Saw service in Korea, you know.

What's the country coming to, eh?

LIGHT MUSIC

Er... Mr Plumpton, I presume?

That is, the Mr Plumpton, chairman of the Aidensfield Floral Society?

- Yes. - Well, I have a friend here

who has a couple of plants he'd like to enter into the show this year.

Are you a member of the Society?

W-Well, no, not as such,

but he has every intention of joining,

as he's just got his allotment up and running.

- That right, David? - Oh, yeah, that's right.

And what sort of plants were you thinking of exhibiting?

As a society, we do have certain standards.

Oh, well, one of them's definitely a fuchsia.

- Mmh. - A yellow one.

A yellow what?

- Fuchsia. - PLUMPTON: Erm...

I don't think so.

Er... Do you have a problem with fuchsias?

Yellow fuchsias?

Well, only that it's highly unlikely I would say he had one to exhibit.

- Or anyone else, for that matter. - Why?

Because, young man, no such plant exists,

though a lot of people have spent a lot of money trying to develop one.

So if we did have a yellow fuchsia, that would be worth a bob or two?

A lot more than that.

Look, if you must, go down to the office,

find a form there, fill it in,

be down at the village hall by ten tomorrow.

Well, she said it was a fuchsia.

And she would definitely know, right?

There's nothing that Mrs Crompton doesn't know about plants.

Well, according to me Auntie Peggy, anyway.

Really?

Why do I get the feeling that the fickle finger of fate

is suddenly pointing in our direction, David?

MUSIC: 'Emerald City' by The Seekers

♪ Take me to the Emerald City

♪ Down yellow brick roads... ♪

GANLEY CLEARS THROAT

Sergeant Ganley?

Detective Inspector Ganley now, actually, Walker.

Congratulations, sir.

Thank you. Is your sergeant in?

Yes, sir.

KNOCK AT DOOR Yes?

Detective Inspector Ganley to see you, sarge.

MERTON: Good evening, sir.

This report you sent us about expl*sives being stolen

from Cranleigh Airfield.

Oh, yes, sir?

There's a firm operating in the Middlesbrough area

using expl*sive wedges to break into security vans.

And you think it might be the same mob who did the airfield job?

We don't know anybody else using that sort of gear.

They must be getting it from somewhere.

So, any progress with the inquiry?

Well, nothing so far, sir.

What about the guard who was clubbered,

has he not given you anything yet?

No, and he's unlikely to for some time, according to the hospital.

INHALES

Well, if you do turn up anything fresh, push it through to me.

MERTON: Yes, sir.

I gather you used to be in CID, Sergeant.

Yes, that's right, sir.

Well, don't go getting any fancy ideas. Let me know straightaway.

TYPEWRITER DINGS

GANLEY: Oh, and er... make that for my eyes only, will you?

- Right, sir. - Walker.

You know him, do you, Walker?

He was a Detective Sergeant at Middlesbrough when I was there.

Bit of a high-flyer.

Well, so was Icarus. And look what happened to him.

MUSIC: 'Long Gone Geek' by Procol Harum

♪ Weird goings-on at the county jail

♪ Prisoners reading the sheriff's mail

♪ He's strapped down to a swivel chair

♪ Trying to swivel right out of there

♪ Pinstriped sweet's in cell

♪ Convinced himself it's all a dream... ♪

SHEEP BLEATING

So, do we know how much they got away with?

An entire month's payroll, apparently. £ , .

I've no doubt in my mind it's our friends from Middlesbrough again.

- Where are Forensics? - On their way, sir.

When they get here, tell them to take that car apart if necessary.

Sir.

Anything?

All he could tell is that there was two of them,

and they were both wearing masks.

But he did manage to get the number of the getaway car.

That's something. You'd better check it out.

It's almost certainly nicked, if this g*ng are half as professional

as Ganley reckons they are. - Right, sarge.

- Just the one night, Mrs Parker? - That's right.

- I've come up for the flower show. - Oh, right, lovely.

EXHALES

So, will I be seeing you at the flower show tomorrow then?

They're not really my thing, flower shows.

Mmh. It's just that the word is, this year,

Lord Ashfordly, as president of the Society,

has lumbered his charming and handsome young estate manager

with running the whole thing.

- Really? - Mm.

And he, from what I hear,

can't wait to offer a certain gorgeous young doctor

a drink and a sandwich over there at lunchtime.

If you put it like that, how could a girl possibly refuse?

VERNON: Oscar.

Is that, or is that not, a fuchsia?

Don't ask me, ask Alf.

He's the one devoted to gardening these days.

BLAKETON: Right, Alf?

Look, just because Mrs Ventress gave me a cold frame for my birthday

doesn't mean I've suddenly turned into Percy Thrower.

I'd say that's definitely a fuchsia, and not just any old fuchsia either.

How do you mean?

JENNY: Growers have been trying to develop

a yellow fuchsia for years.

It's become a sort of Holy Grail of flowers, they reckon.

And that is certainly yellow.

Right, well, in that case, David,

without further ado, we'd better get this somewhere safe.

At least until the unveiling tomorrow.

Right, Mr Vernon.

MUSIC: 'Summer Comes Sunday' by The Swinging Blue Jeans

♪ Summer comes Sunday my-oh-my

♪ Soon I'll see the sun in the summer skies... ♪

Put me through to Ralph, will you, please, love?

Phil...

You like flowers, don't you?

Well, er... I can take 'em or leave 'em, sarge,

depending on whether the park keeper's looking or not.

Good. Then I'd say you were the ideal man

for parking duty at the flower show today.

Sarge, surely that's a job for a Special.

Personal request from Lord Ashfordly himself.

In view of the traffic chaos last year courtesy of the local Specials,

he'd prefer to see a real-live police officer this time.

Thanks, sarge.

A bunch.

VERNON: Ah, good morning. Is that the editor?

Er, Vernon Scripps.

O-Of Scripps Funerals.

VERNON: No, I don't want to put a death notice in.

Look, I take it you will be covering the Aidensfield Flower Show today.

Well, could I suggest that your representative

get in touch with me as soon as he gets there?

I could just have a story for you.

One of national, if not international, importance.

Now, then, David, you know the plan.

We keep the fuchsia under wraps until the last minute.

Right.

Then, when the press have all assembled, we unveil it,

and sit back and watch the offers roll in.

Right. Let's get down there. DOG BARKS

KNOCK AT DOOR

- Yes, Walker? - The getaway car, sarge.

- Yes? - It belongs to a local vicar.

They've no idea when it was stolen,

because he was away at some conference or other.

Where was it stolen from?

Right outside his vicarage, here in Ashfordly.

- Ah. - Also, sarge,

the other car that was abandoned belongs to a local builder.

Now, why would a g*ng who were planning a major hijack

nick two cars locally?

Why not steal them in Middlesbrough,

if that's where they operate? - Good question, sarge.

The wedge that was used to blow the security van,

get onto Forensics. Find out if the serial number survived the blast.

I already did that.

And?

Well, the one that was used was definitely one of the two

stolen from Cranleigh. - Excellent.

MOTORBIKE APPROACHES Ta.

ENGINE STOPS

CARSTAIRS: Walker. Further developments?

Sort of. You perhaps heard about the security van that was hit yesterday?

Yes. Yes, apparently, the blighters used an expl*sive wedge on it.

One of yours, actually, according to the serial number.

Really? Good Lord. That's what they wanted them for.

If nothing else, original, I suppose.

So, how many people knew that you had the wedges stored here?

Quite a few, I imagine.

People pass through here all the time. It's hardly a state secret.

I can show you a list of the people I teach,

Flying Club members and so on.

Do you have any members from the Middlesbrough area?

Mm, not that I can think of,

but the lads here can show you our records.

CARSTAIRS: Anyone hurt in the attack?

- WALKER: No, not seriously, sir. - CARSTAIRS: Oh, that's a relief.

What about poor old Sam Shepherd?

- Any news on him? - Still unconscious, I'm afraid.

Oh... But he will come round some time, won't he?

- There's no guarantee, apparently. - Oh, really?

Ready when you are, Wing Commander.

Thanks, Bill. Well... Excuse me, Constable.

I have this daily appointment, you know, with the Almighty.

What does he mean by that?

Well, it's as he sees it.

PENNINGTON: He says when he gets up there,

it's like touching the face of God. I reckon he read that somewhere.

MUSIC: ' Miles' by Ray Brown And The Whispers

♪ Twenty miles from my house to your house

♪ Twenty miles and I walk it all the way

♪ Twenty miles when you're in love is nothin'

♪ And I got to see my baby every day

♪ I walk along (Shalalalalala shalalala)

♪ I sing a song (Shalalalalala shalalala)

♪ Twenty miles is a long long way

♪ But I got to see my baby every day

♪ Lots of girls are ridin' near to my house

♪ Lovely girls walkin' past by all day

♪ Lots of girls but I don't ever see 'em

♪ 'Cause the girl I love is twenty miles away

♪ I walk along (Shalalalalala shalalala)

♪ I sing a song (Shalalalalala shalalala)

♪ Twenty miles is a long long way

♪ But I got to see my baby every day... ♪

So you're Bill Pennington, right?

You're the one who found Sam Shepherd.

Oh, me and Brownie here.

We come on duty early, and there he was.

Thought he was a goner at first. Right, Brown?

I'll say.

And how long have you two worked here?

Ooh... seems like a lifetime.

PENNINGTON CHUCKLES

No, no, no, we knew the old wingco from the w*r, you see.

Used to put his crate back together for him again

every time he pranged it.

And when we'd heard he'd bought this place,

we was the first people to ring him,

see if there was any work going. - WALKER: I see.

Those expl*sive wedges they took,

you'd find them on most airfields, would you,

as part of emergency equipment?

Fairly common, I'd say.

Safe, are they?

Well, they haven't blown up in our faces so far.

BOTH CHUCKLE

Presumably you've never had cause to use them so far.

That's true.

BROWN LAUGHS

I tell you, crazy like a fox, that one. Always was.

Now, the old man said you wanted a list of members?

BACKGROUND CHATTER

BEN: Ah, everything all right for you, Mr Plumpton?

Seriously cramped, as usual, but I expect we'll manage.

Good grief. What's this when it's at home?

Oh, it's a Snowy...

Er, Snow on the... something.

Foreign, is it?

Oh, no. I got it off a friend of me auntie's.

OK. Erm, well, stick it over there on the table.

I'll see if Mr Plumpton can find a category for it.

And er... what's this?

You can put this down as a fuchsia.

Any particular reason why you got it stuck in a brown paper bag?

Well, let's just say that at this moment in time,

it prefers to remain anonymous.

CHUCKLES

I see. Well, stick it over there as well.

Scripps.

What the devil is going on?

I've just had a reporter from the local rag on,

inquiring about some earth-shaking announcement I'm supposed to be

making here this afternoon. - VERNON: Journalists! Ha-ha!

Do you know, you can't trust them to get anything right, can you?

Well, he tells me it was you who told him.

Well, I didn't...

I didn't say that you would be making an announcement, Mr Plumpton.

- You didn't? - No.

If anybody's going to be doing that, it's going to be me.

By the way, when the plants are put out,

erm...

we'd like to put ours out ourselves.

Erm... you'll find us in the bar.

Come on, David.

- BEN: Good morning. May I help you? - Just getting my bearings.

Oh! - Sorry.

My fault. BOTH CHUCKLE

- Hello, you. - Hello.

- You're early. - I'm afraid I can't do lunch.

Oh. But you've got time for a coffee at least?

- Yes. - Good.

Follow me.

BACKGROUND CHATTER

Thanks very much.

Here you are.

Well, you've got yourself a nice little earner here, Oscar.

OSCAR: For your information, Vernon,

I do this job for the Floral Society every year, free, gratis

and for nothing.

And any profit goes straight back into the Society's fund.

Oh, well, I'll have a small whisky with you, then.

- No, you won't. - Why not?

We're not open yet.

- DAVID: You'd better come quick. - Why, what's the matter?

Just come, will you?

Oh, no!

Now what's happened?

We've been robbed, that's what's happened.

And probably of a king's flaming ransom.

DAVID: It's through here.

Right, Vernon, what's this about some plant that's gone missing?

VERNON: Not just some plant. A yellow fuchsia.

Why would anybody want to nick a fuchsia?

You can pick one up at the market for about half a crown.

This isn't just any old fuchsia.

This fuchsia is the Shangri-la of fuchsias.

Probably the rarest plant on the planet.

Worth a flipping fortune.

Right.

- Is that right, Alf? - Er... it seems likely, aye.

Right, well, where was this plant left, then?

I-I put it up here, behind this one.

Obviously, somebody knocked it over reaching out for it.

It was definitely here ten minutes ago when I popped out for a coffee.

Well, was anybody suspicious hanging about?

Well, there was a woman. She had a camera.

- The one I bumped into? - That's right.

Right.

What's going on, Sergeant?

I beg your pardon?

Forensics tells me you've been onto them,

checking out the serial number on the wedge used.

That's right. They confirmed the wedge was one of the two

stolen from the airfield.

GANLEY: I could have told you that myself, Merton,

if I'd thought for one moment it was any of uniform's business.

Did you know that both the cars they used were stolen locally?

So?

Well, in view of the fact that the expl*sives used

were also stolen locally,

doesn't that point to it being a local job?

So, you don't think it would be a big coincidence then,

for two different gangs to be using identical MOs on security vans

within miles of each other?

If you have any further inquiries for Forensics or for anybody else,

make them through me, all right?

Yes, sir.

And if you should manage to turn up anything else,

be sure that I am the first to hear about it.

What do you think, then, sarge?

I think it's a local job, whatever Ganley might think.

So, what do we do? Leave it to CID?

It would seem as if we have no choice in the matter, wouldn't it?

VERNON: Oscar,

are you and Alf still in the private investigation business?

Depends what you want investigated.

Well, the theft of our fuchsia, of course.

I thought the police were already looking into that.

Alf, far be it from me to impugn your old profession,

but I didn't get the feeling

that Phil Bellamy was exactly chomping at the bit

to get his magnifying glass and his deer stalker.

You do realise this'll cost you?

On this occasion, Oscar, money is no object.

Isn't it?

So, go to it, gentlemen.

Gird your loins and go to it.

Have you seen the evening paper, sarge?

No.

That g*ng from Middlesbrough had a bit of bad luck this afternoon.

Oh?

The expl*sive wedge they were using blew up in their faces, literally.

As a result of which, two are in hospital and the rest in custody.

Really?

Incidentally, sarge, I hope you didn't mind me

not going through Mr Ganley as ordered, but erm...

I rang an old mate of mine who's a DS over at Middlesbrough,

just to find out what was happening.

I don't think anyone can object to you phoning an old friend, Walker.

What did he say?

He reckons the g*ng have asked for their previous jobs

to be taken into consideration. - Including ours?

No, all of them, except ours.

In fact, they categorically deny having anything to do with that one.

And Ganley is furious about it.

I'll bet he is.

CHUCKLES

I'm back.

What's happened to your hands?

Oh, I seem to have come out in some sort of rash.

No idea where I got this from.

Look.

What do you think it could be?

I don't know.

But I reckon you should get yourself down to the surgery.

Hmm.

Have you had any luck with that list of Flying Club members yet?

- Not yet, sarge. - Keep looking.

Anyone with a criminal record, anything.

What about the staff, Carstairs and his crew?

Yes, while you're at it.

Anyone who had anything to do with that airfield.

What have you done to your hands, Ventress?

I don't know, sarge.

Get yourself round to the doctor's.

Yes.

Right away.

Now, then, Oscar, what's the problem?

Well, er... this is.

Not you as well.

And me.

JENNY: What have you all been up to?

Right, sarge. I checked out the wing commander with the RAF.

According to them, he's everything he's cracked up to be and more.

In fact, he begged them to let him carry on flying,

even after he'd lost his leg.

A regular Douglas Bader, then, eh?

I also checked up on his two mechanics, Pennington and Brown.

And it seems that their w*r record

wasn't quite as glorious as the wingco's was.

Oh, no?

They were part of his ground crew during the Battle of Britain,

but they spent a lot of their time in custody,

flogging black market petrol.

And they've been in and out of prison ever since.

What's he doing taking on a couple with that kind of form?

Well, having met him, sarge, I'd say he probably felt sorry for them.

WALKER: He struck me as that kind of fellow.

Should we have a word with him?

Oh, no. Not yet.

He's obviously aware of their backgrounds

and he won't welcome us steaming in with unfounded accusations.

So, keep on digging?

Exactly.

Right, sarge.

LIZ: Now, obviously you've all recently

come into contact with something that's caused this reaction.

Can any of you think what that could have been?

Er... well, we were... we were all at the flower show.

Well, at least, four of us were.

And you certainly were there, Mrs Parker.

That's right.

Can you think of anything that you might have touched

or brushed against that might have caused it?

Er... there was a plant, I suppose.

Which plant?

The one that was knocked over.

Oh, aye. We both handled that. You two must have done as well.

LIZ: And what about you, Mrs Parker?

Did you come into contact with it at all?

Not that I can remember.

And what sort of a plant is it?

Well, you brought it.

Yeah, I don't know anything about it, though, do I?

Oh, but my auntie's friend Edie, she will, I reckon,

because she gave it to me.

Right, David.

I need you to find out what sort of plant it is we're dealing with here,

just in case that's the source.

Meanwhile, I want you all to get yourselves over to the hospital.

We'll see what they make of it. I'll give them a call now

and tell them to expect you. OK?

(Alf...

meet me in the car.)

- That Mrs Parker back there. - Well, what about her?

According to Liz, she and Ben Norton left her on her own

in the room where the plants were

just before that fuchsia went missing.

But she reckons she never went near the plant.

Then how come she got the rash as well?

Well, perhaps we'd better ask her.

You're a mind reader, do you know that?

ENGINE STARTS

Snow on the Mountain, it's called.

Oh, David, love. I should have warned you about that.

- How do you mean? - Well, cos it's poisonous.

V-Very poisonous?

Oh, no, not very,

but it can give you a very nasty rash if you fiddle with it.

Mind you, it clears up in a couple of days.

Oh, well, thank goodness for that, anyway.

Now, how did you get on with me fuchsia?

EDIE: Oh, I'd love to have seen their faces when they saw it.

They mocked me for years, you know,

when I said I was going to try and grow one.

Er, well, that's the other bit of bad news.

Right, David?

Oh...

Yeah, er... right.

LOW CONVERSATION

- Sister. - Can I help you?

I was wondering what the latest was on Sam Shepherd?

Would you like to come this way?

REGULAR BEEPING

As you can see, no change.

So, what's the prognosis, then?

SISTER: Well, put it this way. He won't be in any condition

to sink his teeth into any of this lot before they've rotted.

And whoever bought them... must have cost a fortune.

Who were they from?

Whoever sent them, they didn't even put their name on the card.

So they're not from one of his visitors then?

Oh, he hasn't had any visitors.

SISTER: He lives alone, you know.

Keeps himself to himself from what I can gather.

Mind you, a Mr Carstairs has called to see how he was, of course.

Two or three times.

Wing Commander Carstairs from the airfield?

I believe he was in the RAF once, yes.

Now, he's very concerned about him.

- Do you mind? - Help yourself.

He's in no condition to read it. Even if there was anything to read.

There's nothing on it.

Except for the name of the shop that delivered it.

Thank you, love.

You're welcome. Hope you enjoyed your stay.

- Oh, yes, it was lovely. Bye-bye. - Bye-bye now.

- Mrs Parker. - Oh, there you are again.

CHUCKLES How's er... your rash?

Much easier, thanks.

Funny, that, you getting it as well,

even though you never touched the plant.

Physically impossible, I would say,

so why don't you just tell us what you've done with the fuchsia.

Or shall we leave it to the police to talk to you about it?

You think I took it?

Didn't you?

LAUGHS

Look, I'm a magazine photographer, right?

With The Yorkshire Gardener. SHE LAUGHS

And the only thing I took was its picture,

after I spotted it in here the other night.

CHUCKLES

And I was lucky to get that, I can tell you.

How do you mean?

Because that Hector Plumpton, the Society chairman,

he turned up and practically threw me out on my ear.

Seemed to me he couldn't get rid of me fast enough.

Now, why was that, do you think?

Hm.

Why indeed?

MERTON ON THE RADIO: "Carstairs sent it? Over."

WALKER: "Yes, sarge."

"And apparently he's never been off the phone to the hospital,

asking how Shepherd's doing."

But more importantly, they insisted on him paying cash.

Wouldn't even accept a cheque.

In fact, almost all of the shops in the area

wouldn't allow him any credit at all.

He owes a lot of money, all over the place.

Word has it he's up to his medals in debt.

The only thing he owns up there is the Hurricane.

I see.

Which perhaps also explains, if the three of them did do it,

why he's been so concerned about Sam Shepherd.

Or perhaps what he's really concerned about

is what Shepherd might say if he does come round.

There is that as well, sarge.

So, what should we do? Pass it on to CID?

And tell them what, though?

We've flushed out a pair of mechanics with more form than Arkle

and a wing commander who can't pay his debts?

All we have at the moment are suspicions, Walker.

Oh, no.

I think we need to turn up something a bit more substantial than that

before we hand it over. - Right, sarge.

- Where's Bellamy, by the way? - He got an urgent phone call.

Something to do with stolen property.

BELLAMY: Have you two any proof at all

that it was Plumpton who took this plant?

BLAKETON: Not really, no.

Then what am I doing here?

What you're here for is to provide us with erm... well, bottom, really.

Yes, Constable?

It's about this plant, sir.

The one reported stolen from the flower show yesterday.

Oh, yeah, I heard about that. Have you caught the culprit?

Well, the point being, sir,

that these two gentlemen think there must be another,

much simpler explanation. - PLUMPTON: Oh, really?

And what might that be?

We were wondering whether it might have got mixed up with some of yours

and been brought back here?

By mistake, of course.

Highly unlikely, I would say.

Then you'll have no objection to us having a look around?

I most certainly would.

When I was a copper and someone took that attitude,

it usually made me very suspicious

and I'd end up getting a search warrant.

A search warrant?

What, for tracking down some wretched fuchsia?

Either way, that's a very nasty rash you've got there, Mr Plumpton.

You haven't come into contact

with the same poisonous plant that we came into contact with yesterday?

You know, the one that was knocked over when the fuchsia went missing.

What are you suggesting, that I took it?

Oh, perish the thought.

No, it's just Mrs Parker, the magazine photographer,

told us that she left you alone in the room with the plants,

just before the theft was discovered.

I shall have a look around myself, all right?

But I'm telling you this: this is a complete waste of time.

What chance have I got of getting a magistrate to sign a search warrant

to look for a flaming fuchsia?

(Well, I know that, Alf knows that,

but Mr Plumpton doesn't.)

PLUMPTON: Would you believe it?

Look what I've just found.

It was er... stuck behind a couple of rose bushes.

- Good heavens. - PLUMPTON: Yes.

Obviously, as you were saying, it must have got mixed up

with my stock. - I'll apologise to Mrs Crompton.

- Mrs Crompton? - Yes, Mrs Edith Crompton.

She cultivated the plant.

She used to be a member of your Society, I believe.

PLANE FLIES PAST

WALKER: What I still don't understand is why,

if they did do the job,

why go to the trouble of burgling the place for those wedges

when they could have just helped themselves?

Because they would know that we could trace the wedges

back to the suppliers and then quite possibly right back here.

By making it look like a burglary, they not only cover their tracks,

they also lay on a big fat red herring, as well.

Unfortunately, what they hadn't allowed for

was the unexpected arrival of Sam Shepherd on the scene.

So, give me five minutes, all right,

and then get Bellamy to make that call.

Right, sarge.

TAPS ON GLASS

Ah, David, here we are.

One yellow fuchsia.

Oh... Thanks, Mr Blaketon. That's fantastic.

BLAKETON: Is Vernon around anywhere?

What's up? He's just gone home

for his tea.

That's not a problem, is it, Alf?

We'll er... We'll catch up with him later.

BLAKETON: Right?

VENTRESS: Oh, right.

CARSTAIRS: So, Sergeant, how goes the investigation?

Well, everything points to it being some sort of copycat job, really.

Copycat job?

There's been a g*ng operating over in Middlesbrough

using an identical MO.

We think that's what gave them the idea.

Them?

- The local g*ng. - Oh. Oh, I see.

PHONE RINGS

Cranleigh?

Yes. Yes, he is. Hold on.

Police station for you.

Hello?

Yes, Constable?

And what sort of shape is he in?

MERTON: That's terrific.

I'll see you at the hospital in ten minutes.

Right, sarge.

- Good news? - MERTON: Yes.

Sam Shepherd came round about an hour ago.

And he not only remembers the car the burglars used,

he also got its number.

MERTON: So, if you'll excuse me.

Surely.

LOUD MUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO

Have either of you two seen David?

Er... gone to see Mrs Crompton, he said.

Oh?

We should have nicked a car instead of using our own.

CARTSRAIRS: Never mind about that now.

What matters now is that the minute the police

trace that registration back to here, they'll be back here too.

We need to split the money and get out of here sharpish.

PENNINGTON: Coppers!

Round the back. DOOR SLAMS

INDISTINCT SHOUTING

Well, Sergeant,

I suppose this is what's known in the trade as a fair cop.

I don't understand it. Why would a man like you,

a w*r hero, get himself involved in something like this?

Unfortunately, Sergeant, being a w*r hero doesn't pay the rent.

And it certainly doesn't pay for my daily communes with the Almighty.

INHALES

Besides... I was bored.

Out of my mind, in fact.

And planning and carrying out this robbery was...

CHUCKLES

I can't remember when I last had so much fun.

Well, that's something Sam Shepherd is unlikely to have again.

You said he'd come round.

I lied.

Oh. I see.

Oh, well.

CARSTAIRS SIGHS

As you're obviously going to charge me and...

...keep me in custody for the rest of my life,

could I just...

...get a toothbrush from the bathroom...

...before you take me away?

Be my guest.

Where's the wing commander gone?

In the bathroom.

LAUGHS

You've got to hand it to the old devil, though, ain't ya? Ha-ha!

ENGINE STARTS

IMPOSING MARTIAL THEME

Right. Get onto the RAF, somebody.

I wouldn't bother. He's not going very far.

- MERTON: You know where he's going? - PENNINGTON: Nowhere.

Except to meet his maker.

MERTON: What do you mean?

PENNINGTON: Watch him. He'll turn and head for the coast.

Where's he headed, Holland? Denmark?

CHUCKLING No.

He's flying on vapour.

The Hurricane's got about five miles of fuel left.

MERTON: And he does realise that?

Now, what do you think?

BROWN: Not really cut out for life in prison, the wing commander.

PLANE FLIES OVERHEAD

IMPOSING MARTIAL THEME

Wow.

ENGINE SPLUTTERS

IMPOSING MARTIAL THEME

BACKGROUND CHATTER

Well, I never had you for a glory-hunter, Merton.

No, you'd be quite right there.

But if there's one thing I do object to,

it's being ticked off in front of one of my constables

by the likes of you.

So I'd advise against that in future if I were you,

if you want to hang onto that top set of yours.

Now, if you'll excuse me, sir,

being off duty, I happen to be enjoying a quiet drink with my wife.

EXHALES And you gave it back to her?

Well, it was hers, Mr Vernon.

All she said was that I could keep any prize money that it made.

And what's she going to do with it?

Flog it to the highest bidder, I suppose.

No. No, she's not going to sell it to anybody.

She said it's going to live on the windowsill of her new flat.

Said it's going to die with her.

Oh, great.

And we didn't even get a handling fee.

After all the trouble I went to.

And just to fill your cup to overflowing, Vernon...

Our bill.

Doh.