03x05 - A Fragrant Scandal

[bunniefuu]

♪♪

Male announcer:
Formulated in his very own
fragrance laboratory,

celebrated Head Nose
Sterling Thistleton blends

time-honoured perfumes
that are long-lasting

and true to fresh flower.

Discover new Fawning Flora,

the latest scent sensation
from Thistleton's

Fine Fragrances.

-Top class.
-Hear hear.

-To Thistleton's.
-How can you say

that when Willoughby's
keep trouncing our sales?

Which graceless commoners
are buying all

these modern perfumes?

Whatever happened to good,
classic taste?

Ignore our competitors,
brother dear.

Thistleton's has survived for
over a century, thanks to us.

-I've decided to retire.
-What? You can't.

I've worked myself
to the olfactory bone, Venetia.

Now's my time to stop --

and not smell the roses.
[ Chuckles ]

But who'll take over
as Head Nose?

One of these two.

-Good luck.
-Fight you for it.

But they're apprentices...

Well, who else is there?
I've made my decision.

And tomorrow I shall name
my successor.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Chop-chop.

My niece will be arriving
at any moment

to help me choose an outfit.

I'm fragrance testing
at the Manor today.

Yes, you may've
mentioned that...

You'll never guess
what happened last night.

Sarah-Mary Clam.

You remember
Sergeant Livingstone and

Inspector Gillespie.

Sarah-Mary:
Of course, sorry.

Mr. Thistleton announced
his retirement.

He'll be picking
a new Head Nose.

[ Snickers ] Picking.

[ Clicks tongue ]

Big perfume dynasty.

Not an easy family to work for,
I'd wager.

Sarah-Mary was hand-picked
by Mr. Thistleton himself.

She's their number one
apprentice.

Well, Brammers is there, too,
Aunty.

And he is amazing --

I reckon he can identify
one hundred different roses.

[ Clicks tongue ]
Nicknames before noon.

You do mention this
Bramwell rather often...

Hmm.

Thistleton's used to make my
Cyril's cologne back in the day.

I didn't know that. Which one?

The name has long since left me,

but I shall never forget
the scent.

Sadly I've never come across
another bottle.

[ Sniffs ]

Does anyone smell burning?

Oh, the kippers.

Check each glass for smudges.

Of course.
Thistleton's standards.

Sorry I'm late.
Bumped into the postie.

[ Sniffs ]

Why can I smell burnt fish?

-[ Sniffs ]
-Today must go well.

Sterling's been
so erratic lately,

we can't risk another
of his meltdowns.

That's enough yapping, testers
will be here at any moment.

Ah, yes.
Oh. Good heavens, is that a nun?

[ Chuckles ]

Hm.

Aunty, I thought you'd like
to meet my friend Brammers.

Bramwell Baisley.

Ah, it's a pleasure, Mrs. Clam.

Sarah-Mary's
told me so much about you.

Yet I know barely anything
about you.

But I'm sure we
can soon remedy that.

You're not one of the
Shropshire Baisleys, are you?

Aunty.

Brammers, maybe
you can help us solve a mystery.

We're trying to source
an old Thistleton cologne,

on sale before the w*r.

It smelt of leather, honey...

and a dash of rum.

Well, there's a high chance it's
been discontinued, I'm afraid.

Mr. Thistleton got rid of most
of his father's formulations

when he took over.

His signature scent, Sterling
Silver, was a runaway hit...

But no-one buys it anymore.

Veritable paint stripper.

My Great Uncle Cornelius
wore it.

Always had a faint whiff
of alley-cat about him...

Sterling: [ Clears throat ]

Sterling Silver fans?
[ Chuckles ]

I insist.

For the men in your life.

Mrs. Clam: [ Chuckles ]

And now...I'm proud to announce
the world-first and exclusive

testing of my final
fragrance --

Beauty's Beast.

[ Applause ]

Fresh mouillettes.

I'm not going to spray it
up their nostrils.

Between you and me, Peggy,

I believe my olfactory capacity
is probably above average.

Yes, I have the gift of a nose
as it were, a refined skill...

Oof, yes.

As I remember.
Distinct feline gust.

[ Sniffs ]

♪♪

♪♪

Sterling:
In its final stages of creation,

this formula is classic
Thistleton's -- cedarwood,

balsam [sniffs] and my
signature whisky base note.

-Hey, that's heavenly.
-Indeed, very nice. Very fresh.

[ Sniffs ] Sorry to be
a Bothersome Bertha,

but [sniffs] I'm not picking up
any of the notes you listed.

[ Sniffs ]
I'm getting more of a sort of

[sniffs] peachy smell.

Yeah, me, too.
[ Sniffs ] And mint.

But green garden mint,
not Sunday lamb sauce.

[ Sniffs ]

Mint? Peach?
What is the meaning of this?

Look how much everyone's
enjoying your new creation.

Another Sterling Thistleton
masterpiece.

What was all that about?

Oh, Look, Peggy.
Look at this. Civet.

An extremely precious
raw material

I've always been
most curious about.

The harvesting process
is fascinating,

fascinating -- you see the musk
is collected

-by squeezing the a**l glands --
-I beg your pardon?

[ Gasps ]

[ People coughing ]

Civet.

That's all the feedback we need.

Thank you so much for coming.

I'm so sorry about my --
my butter fingers.

Not at all,
you've been a wonderful help.

Do enjoy the Sterling Silver.

Jupiter, what are you doing
here?

Ask him.

Sterling:
You thought the company
would bankroll you forever?

Time to get a job, boy.

Enough.
We'll discuss this tonight.

-What's happening tonight?
-What's happening tonight?

[ Woman giggles ]

-Surprise.
-Surprise.

It's a retirement party,
dear brother.

Sterling:
Yes, I can see that.

All keen as mustard
to see the back of me, are you?

-Well, I am.
-Of course not.

Tonight is for celebrating.

Another final nail
in the coffin.

I thought this was
what you wanted.

And if anyone deserves to put
their feet up, Sir, it's you.

Is that so?

And you know we'll take
stellar care of the place.

-Oh, yes, I bet you will.
-A toast to Uncle Sterling.

May all our lives become
richer through his departure.

Sterling:
You think my retirement means
you're going to get

your allowance back?

You won't see a penny more
till I'm six foot under.

I'm sure that won't be
necessary.

But there is the matter
of your successor...

My successor. Yes, I've spent
a very interesting afternoon

mulling that over.

Doing my homework.
Who could possibly take over?

-Me.
-[ Groans ]

What? It was his idea.
"Time to get a job", you said.

Well, I want this one.

And as the only male heir
of the Thistleton bloodline,

it's not just my want --
it's my birthright.

Allow me to bring
this carousel of nonsense

to a shuddering halt.

Jupiter, you are many things
to me -- nephew, dependent,

fork-tongued sparring partner.

But first and foremost
you are a disappointment.

My decision is made.
The next Head Nose will be...

...me.

I've changed my mind.

You're not retiring?

But that's wonderful news.
Isn't it, everyone?

Whisky.
You were right Venetia.

It is a night
for celebrating after all.

[ Door closes ]

[ Woman screams ]

A highly unusual method
of demise...

-Do they have pets?
-[ Camera shutter clicks ]

Well, that'll be
the Sterling Silver.

His signature scent.

I have a bottle of it,
if you'd like?

♪♪

Rigor mortis?

Positively statuesque.

Deduction?

Death occurred between
the twilight hours of midnight

and 2:00 A.M.

Mm. Nice vintage.

No.
This was no drunken accident.

See how the pointy bit thrust
up into his chest?

Someone had to have been
holding the other end of it.

And look at this.

There's an imprint
on his left cheek,

suggesting an altercation.

-Solid right hook.
-So we're talking m*rder.

Sister Boniface:
Highly probable.

And since this poker's
from Sterling's own set,

I'd say unplanned.

A burglary gone wrong?

Felix: It doesn't seem
like a break-in.

The windows, they're all intact,
and the door was locked --

so the k*ller must have
came from inside the building.

Sam: One of the household.

Peggy and I overheard the victim
and his nephew

exchanging some choice
unpleasantries yesterday...

I spy, what's this?

♪♪

♪♪

Polyvinyl acetate and alcohol.
As every papier-mâché

fan will attest --
an excellent stabiliser.

A uniquely fragrant case.

The lingering aroma of m*rder
most foul...

With a whiff of an inside job...

[ Both chuckle ]

I've never seen
a dead body before...

I wish I'd found him first.

Who could do such
a horrible thing?

My brother -- skewered.

Like a piece of venison.

[ Retches ]

We can't let this destroy
Thistleton's, what he built.

We must have a plan...

A press conference.

To announce a new Head Nose.

If I may -- we'd
always advise waiting

until an investigation's
concluded before making

any statements to the press.

Quite.

Wouldn't want to promote...

the wrong sort.

I know.

A competition --
that'll give us a few days.

You shall each compose
an original fragrance,

the winner decided when
this sordid affair is behind us.

-What about me?
-What about you?

You can't possibly
have meant it

when you said you wanted
the top job.

Well, in that case,
can I have my money?

Jupiter Thistleton-Thorne?

Why would I m*rder my uncle?

Revenge?

To regain access
to your allowance?

Mr. Thistleton recently cut you
off, is that correct?

In Vegas. On my birthday.

I had to pawn my own watch to
pay for the poker party, look.

He wanted me to get a job.
Like a poor person.

It's not my fault I was born
at the end of a rainbow.

And now Mummy's being
all tightfisted.

She's in charge
of choosing the next Head Nose,

and by rights that job's mine.

It's just perfume,
how hard can it be?

So you do want employment?

Jupiter:
Don't be ridiculous.

But it might just persuade her
to do the right thing...

So is your mother
in charge of all

of the financial decisions now?

With him gone, yes.
Moneybags Mummy.

[ Chuckles ]

The money's gone.

Or it's going. Fast.
Think mountain to molehill.

The company was
in financial trouble.

Why's that?

My brother was a genius,
in case you've any doubt.

He built up Thistleton's
from our grandfather's

fledgling little shop to the
haute parfumerie it is today.

So what happened?

Fragrance markets are
volatile beasts.

We are down
but we could've risen up.

We still can.

With Jupiter at the helm?

That would be
an absolute disaster.

But what can I do?
Give him the job and we sink.

Give him the money...

It must be frustrating.

All these men in
the top jobs taking the glory,

while you struggle
to keep things afloat...

Never. Being a Thistleton
is my duty and my pride.

Can you think of anybody

who might have wanted
your brother dead?

No. Well...
there's Willoughby's.

Our mortal enemies.

-Mortal?
-Sterling's words.

They're our biggest competitor.

He was convinced
they were stealing his formulae.

Perfume larceny?

It's a million pound industry,
Inspector.

I dare say the value
of his final formula

would've matched your salary,
several times over.

Right. Well, where is
this priceless formula now?

What do you mean?
You have it. Don't you?

Felix: "Beauty's Beast.

An Original fragrance
by Sterling Thistleton."

Found in a suitcase
under your bed.

Planning a trip?

In your statement you said you
didn't see him after the party.

-So how did you get this?
-It's not what you think.

I'm no thief.

Dreams of promotion,
recently dashed.

All that hard work...

Sterling's death put you back
in the running.

No, I would never hurt anyone.

I just wanted to see
if I could change his mind...

Felix:
So you did go and see him.

Is that
when you took the formula?

He gave it to me, I swear.

Anyway I couldn't have stolen
it, because it was already mine.

You promised it would be me.

I said nothing of the sort.

I gave you an opportunity
and you overstepped the mark.

Changing my formula,
how dare you.

But the testers loved it.

Do you think anyone
will buy this fragrance

because it was yours?

Nobody would.

Because you're a nobody.

Mine is the name
that consumers want.

Your only claim to fame is
your connection

to Thistleton's,
and now you've blown it.

Are you sacking me?

I'll tell everyone.

I'll tell everyone
that the great

Sterling Thistleton
got some nobody

to create his final perfume.

[ Gasps ] Be my guest.

And watch
how quickly something priceless

becomes utterly worthless.

I was planning to leave
at sunrise.

But the next morning...
his study door was wide open.

And I screamed.

And then Venetia ran in,
and Brammers ran in.

And Jupiter was sleeping
off a hangover.

So I ran up to my room
and I hid the formula.

But why would a master perfumer
like Mr. Thistleton

ask you to do his work for him?

He never, he never explained
why, and I never asked.

Girls like me
don't get many chances in life.

Can you prove
that this is your work?

Pen and paper?

He told me what to compose,
but I put a modern spin on it.

And I thought he liked it.

I may be a fool,
but I'm no liar.

This is the basics
for Beauty's Beast.

♪♪

Verbatim.

♪♪

The mark on the cheek.
Could it perhaps be a number?

I wondered that.


Sister Boniface: Right.
Who wants to find out

what went poof
in Sterling's fireplace?

Sam, would you do the honours?

Yeah.

♪♪

Infrared detection.
Neat, isn't it?

Felix: Look at that paper.

-It looks official.
-Sister Boniface: Indeed.

One could almost whittle
down the make of typewriter.

To my eye...
Imperial Model 50.

Steel.
Leicester made.

Used in hospitals, registries,
that sort of thing.

Right, a photo for posterity?

"W-I-L-L-O-U-G-H--"

Willoughby's.

The rivals to Thistleton's.

Oh, yes, they are
"Mortal enemies."

Is that a number 8?

Hmm.
Most likely -- the letter B.

"B. Willoughby."

It seems like these numbers
are indicating a date.

The 12th of March...
twenty-two years ago.

Right. Goggles off,
thinking caps on.

What certified event of note
happened two decades ago,

connected to one B. Willoughby,

that ended up in the
Thistleton fireplace last night?

It's not exactly an
"event of note,"

but it's not far off
when I was born.

Hm.

Peggy Button, you genius.
A birth certificate.

But whose?

Okay, it's too young
to be Venetia's.

Sarah-Mary's
was around Christmas.

Do you remember Mrs. Clam's
yule log?

I'd rather forget.
Jupiter just had his in Vegas.

So that leaves Bramwell.

But his surname is...

I know. It's --
It's Bramwell Baisley.

Very much not Willoughby.

Unless...

Baisley is my mother's name.

I've never even met my father.

After the party, Sterling
accused me of being a mole.

A spy for Willoughby's.

-Sam: And are you?
-Of course not.

They don't even know
I'm working there.

Is that why you burnt it --
to stop the truth coming out?

No. I did it to prove
my loyalty.

Not to Willoughby's

but to Thistleton's.

Did you think
I'd never find out?

A well-spoken,
educated young man

like yourself --
perfect as my successor.

Or so I thought, until I did
a little background check.

It's not what you think.

Sterling:
Put you up to it, did he?

What was the plan -- infiltrate
Thistleton's, filch my secrets?

Become Head Nose then slowly,

like an apple rotting
from the core,

turn my family empire
into yours?

Never.
Willoughby is no father of mine.

-The family rejected me.
-So this was your way back in?

My own protégé,
the son of mine enemy...

-My loyalty is to you.
-Get out of here.

♪♪

-I beg of you, Sir...
-I want you gone by the morning.

[ Door closes ]

But he was the one
gone by the morning --

keeping your secret intact.
Rather convenient.

I'm telling the truth --
I'm not a spy.

I was born out of wedlock.

My father paid my mother off,

and she used the money
to send me to school.

I have the accent and education,

but not a penny to my name.

Willoughby's abandoned me,
but Thistleton's gave me a home.

A family.

The one you've been lying to.

I-I couldn't bear
to be rejected again.

Especially not by...

Are you and Sarah-Mary...?

No.

No. Just...good friends.

In which case, can
you clear something up for me?

Why would Mr. Thistleton ask her
to create his final formula?

He did?

Is anyone in that house
playing with a straight bat?

I'm so glad you're back.
[ Chuckles ]

As if you'd hurt a fly.

I need to tell you something...

I've not been entirely honest
with you, about who I am.

My name is Bramwell Baisley
but I -- By birth --

my father -- he's not...

I'm a Willoughby.

-You've been lying to me?
-I'm so sorry.

I trusted you.
You were my best friend.

I'd hope I still am.

Best friends don't keep secrets
from each other.

You know everything about me.

Except that Sterling asked you
to create his formula...

How did you --
that's different, I --

I guess we don't know each other
as well as we both thought.

Sarah-Mary, please --

Oh, dear.
Trouble in the smell cell?

Not now, Jupiter.

Alright, I'll leave you alone,
if you help me with my entry.

Mummy's withholding
the big bucks because I

"haven't got the gift."

But it must be in me somewhere.

I'm a Thistleton.

Is this yours?

[ Sniffs ] Caviar.

That's incredible.

-Keep it.
-What?

I'm working on something else...

I'm so stupid.

Don't ever say that.

We Clams have an average IQ
of 130.

I trusted him.
[ Sniffles ]

Probably for the best.

How could he lie to me?

Well, did you ask him?

What difference does it make?

You know,
I'm starting to think

maybe this dream
isn't for me, Aunty...

Now look here.

It is most unbecoming
for a young lady

to throw away everything
she's worked so hard for,

especially because of a man.

Cyril always used to say,

"Actions speak louder
than words."

So stop snivelling,
pull your socks up, and go

-and get that promotion.
-[ Sniffles ]

There we go.

One Snowball,
one syrup monstrosity

and two well earned pints.

Oh, no.

Evening all.

Any update on our
Malodorous Manor m*rder?

No comment.
And you can do better than that.

You were there that day,
weren't you, Peggy?

Quote for the paper?

I'll do you one better.

Here. From the lab itself.

A gift? [ Chuckles ]
For me? [ Chuckles ]

It's not exactly a --

Oh, Peggy.

I'll wear it every day.

Erm, actually,
as it happens, I'm,

I'm covering the U.F. Oboes
concert later...

and erm,
well I've got a spare ticket

and I was thinking --

Peggy.

Sister. It's the symbol.

The imprint on Sterling's cheek.

Of course...

A planetary symbol.
But which one?

Venus?

Mercury?

[ Laughs ] Uranu--

I'll stop you
right there.

Earth to Boniface?

Astro bingo.

Sam: Your tan line...

I told you I pawned my watch.

Sam:
The one on your finger -- where
your signet ring used to be.

The one embossed
with your astrological namesake.

Where is that ring?

In the ornamental koi carp pond.

-I threw it in there, after I...
-Attacked your uncle?

I knew this would happen.

You've got it all wrong.
You think you know

what happened that night
but you don't understand how.

Okay, let's say I did stab
my uncle with the poker --

but it wasn't my fault.

So are you saying it was
his fault?

Yes. Kind of.

So Mr. Thistleton ran into
the poker

you just so happened
to be holding?

You really had to be there...

What on Earth
do you think you are doing?

I didn't touch anything.

You pathetic,
useless degenerate.

Aah! [ Groans ]

-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.
-You hit me.

You hit me. [ Grunts ]

Please don't hurt me...

Please don't hurt me.

How dare...
[ Gasps ]

See?

An accident.

-[ Wheezes ]
-[ Panting ]

After which
you came away believing

that all your money woes were
over.

And you destroyed incriminating
evidence -- throwing the ring

into the pond, and wiping
your fingerprints off the poker.

Because I knew I'd look guilty.

Honestly, I don't know
what you people want from me.

You say tell the truth
but nobody listens. [ Sighs ]

I've been in pieces
since this happened.

I've lost all the joie de vivre.

Your uncle, he lost his life,
Mr. Thistleton-Thorne.

Yes, the guilt is k*lling me.

Jupiter Thistleton-Thorne.

I'm arresting you for the m*rder
of Sterling Thistleton.

What? What?

-Morning, all.
-Sam: Morning.

-Felix: Good morning.
-The post-mortem's here.

And something is
frightfully amiss.

Sam: Oh, don't say that.

I've got enough on my plate with
Jupiter demanding his own chef.

And a goose-down pillow.

Well, he won't need any of that
if we're forced to release him.

Release him? Why?
We have our man at the scene,

our m*rder weapon,
our confession --

And a poker that didn't hit
a single vital organ --

meaning it didn't k*ll him.
Well, not instantly anyway.

It would've been
a horrendously protracted --

and noisy -- death.

Jupiter didn't mention
any screaming.

Nor did anyone else...

No.
Which begs the question --

did Sterling Thistleton meet
his maker

before he met that poker?

You mean died
before he was stabbed?

How's that even possible?

A heart attack, maybe.

Perhaps. But that's not all.
Look at this --

His blood alcohol levels --
through the roof.

This man was as pickled
as an onion.

Which tallies with Jupiter's
version of the story --

you know, his slurred speech,
he was unsteady on his feet...

Did he die of alcohol poisoning
before he fell on to the poker?

Peggy, the evidence photos...

I don't believe this.

We've had this down
as a m*rder from the off.

[ Sighs ]

♪♪

As I remembered --
barely a drop imbibed.

Well, if he wasn't walloped on
whisky, what was he drinking?

♪♪

-Ugh.
-[ Sniffs ] Oh.

That morning at the crime scene.

Bingo, Peggy.

To the Manor.

-Does this mean?
-Cancel the pillow.

They know about Jupiter,

won't leave
until they have a statement.

Hasn't Venetia been
through enough?

Well, I could turn
the hose on them?

-On who?
-The press.

No need. I've just had a call
from the station --

and Jupiter's coming home.

It's not a m*rder enquiry
anymore?

We can turn this
to our advantage.

For Sterling. Let them in.

I'll shortly be announcing
our new Head Nose.

♪♪

Sterling Thistleton died
before he hit that poker.

And I have a horrible feeling
I know how.

As I feared...

empty.

[ Sniffing ]

♪♪

♪♪

Sterling was poisoned...

with Sterling.

You don't mean he...

he drank it?
Could that k*ll someone?

Sister Boniface:
Besides essential oils,

the main compositional compounds
of a fragrance

can include benzyl alcohol,
acetone, ethanol,

ethyl acetate, benzaldehyde,

formaldehyde,
and methylene chloride.

So pick your poison, Peggy.

How did he not realise?

Well, I have a theory,
but it's not a pretty one.

Are you familiar
with the term anosmia?

[ Sniffs ] Ooh.

How long before
Jupiter starts re-orbiting?

[ Vehicle approaches ]

We have touch-down.

Venetia:
As we close this frightful
chapter in Thistleton's history,

I'm inviting you all
to become a part of our future,

by sampling our two competition
entries for Head Nose.

We'll begin
with Sarah-Mary Clam's.

Happy with your scent?

You should be.

-Thanks.
-Mm.

Means a lot.
And you?

Well, I hope so.

There's an awful lot
riding on it.

Top notes of peach
and orange blossom.

[ Sniffs ]

Drying down to a base of...

[ Sniffs ]

Is that coconut? Delightful.

[ Applause ]

An exceptionally strong start,
well done.

Next, Bramwell Baisley...

Don't I get a shot?

An innocent man.
Incarcerated no more.

A hair's breadth away

from a devastating miscarriage
of justice.

Correction.
You're on police bail.

And ready to claim
my rightful crown

as the next Head Nose
of Thistleton's Fine Fragrances.

[ Chuckles ]

Very well, but we're
doing this by the book.

I'll fetch your entry.

Don't worry.
Thistleton's is safe with me.

♪♪

♪♪

The bottle's been washed
out thoroughly,

but the former contents remain
searingly detectable.

What are you talking about?
What's going on?

Sister Boniface:
His signature scent,

hidden in his favourite drink --
a rather romantic detail.

And the perfect way to disguise
a fatal dose of ethanol.

Are you suggesting?
That's absurd.

Who in their right mind
would drink perfume?

When did you first realise
that your brother had lost

his sense of smell?

-And taste. Lost his "gift"?
-This is preposterous.

My brother was
in perfect health.

Sister Boniface:
Was it the day of the testing,

when he didn't notice
that Sarah-Mary

had changed his formula?

Or when he didn't react to

the stench of the civet
being dropped?

I have a competition to judge.

With sales down the pan,

a dud Head Nose
would present quite the threat

to your business...

You so deserve a peaceful
and well-earned retirement.

Make Bramwell do some
of the heavy lifting.

-Or Sarah-Mary.
-Snakes, the pair of them.

I'm ten times
the Noses they'll ever be.

Even without your gift?

I know, Sterling.

How could you possibly think
you can carry on as Head Nose?

Sterling: How can you survive
without me, more like?

Look what I've achieved --
from nothing.

-I am Thistleton's.
-We did it together.

Sterling: Oh, I dragged you
along behind me.

I'm the gifted one.

Yes, but you can't smell
anymore.

You know the state of our sales,

one more flop
and we're finished...

Dear brother.

If you can't retire for me then
do it for the company -- the one

you say you love so much.

Thistleton's was never
just perfume.

You're the only other person
who truly understands that.

Thistleton's first, always.

My decision is final.
Now where's my whisky?

Very well...

If that's the way
you want it to be.

You haven't a drop of proof
that I touched that bottle,

or tampered with it's contents.

A drop, no.

But a smudge...

Ethyl acetate.

A fragrance compound
capable of dissolving

nitrocellulose in nail varnish.

[ Sighs ]

Sterling: Venetia!
Where's my damn whisky?!

♪♪

In other words...
veritable paint stripper.

♪♪

Do you think I wanted this?

Thistleton's
meant everything to both of us.

But his refusal to bow out made
it clear he'd lost his mind,

along with his gift.

He was going to take
the company down with him.

I had no choice.

But you did.
You chose m*rder.

The truth is --

if I'd been the one
threatening to destroy

our family's legacy
and future...

...my brother would've done
the same to me.

And I would have applauded him
for it.

Venetia Thistleton,

I'm arresting you for the m*rder
of Sterling Thistleton.

You are not obliged
to say anything

unless you wish to do so,

but what you do say
may be put into writing

and given in evidence.

What are you doing?
Get your hands off my mother.

-Stand back.
-She didn't k*ll Uncle Sterling.

It's all on you now, darling.

Promise you'll do what's
right for Thistleton's.

Promise me.

♪♪

How do I know what's
right for Thistleton's?

I don't know
how to run an empire.

I'd say forget about
what's right for the company,

do what you usually do --
what's best for Jupiter.

♪♪

Thank you all for coming.

[ Clears throat ]

As the new owner
of Thistleton's Fine Fragrances,

I will be appointing myself the
very first Global Ambassador,

spreading the word across an
international market of dinners,

black-tie receptions,
and parties.

Oh, and I'll be choosing
a new Head Nose --

to do all the boring stuff
back here.

So, our second entry, without
further ado -- Bramwell Baisley.

[ Clears throat ]

Now, don't be shy,
sniffers for everyone.

There you are.
One for you, Sir.

[ Clears throat ]

Oh.

Cyril...

I hope I got it right.

Oh, you have. You truly have.
Thank you.

How did you?

I didn't have the words
to say how sorry I was,

so I hoped that this might prove
how I really feel about --

And right now on
with the winner,

because I've a plane
to catch --

Wait.
Brammers needs another go.

You can't win
with an old formula.

I know.

And I don't want to.

I have everything
I need right here.

Sarah-Mary Clam,
we're in public.

Jupiter: The next Head Nose

of Thistleton's
Fine Fragrances is...

Female announcer:
For a refreshing modern spritz,

look no further
than Jupiter Rising.

The inaugural fragrance from
new Head Nose Sarah-Mary Clam.

Thistleton's Fine Fragrances --
the classic choice

for a new generation.

[ Applause ]

And there are wedding bells.
What do we think?

Does this say
"Thistleton Manor Wedding"?

You'd be in danger of upstaging
Victoria, Mrs. Clam.

-Oh.
-Sam: [ Chuckles ]

Oh, erm, I almost forgot.

They kindly let me loose
in the fragrance lab...

And after much analysis
of neurological pathways

and nasal receptors,
I believe...

...I was indeed born with
"the gift of a Nose."

Let me know what do you think?

No name yet,
but suggestion box open.

[ Sniffs ]

Mm. I-It's very,
er, unique.

Sam?

I -- erm -- it's
not really my area...

Felix?

[ Sniffles ]

[ Chuckles ]

I can honestly say that
my nostrils haven't quite

encountered a smell
like this before.

Is it really that bad?

Oh...fish bums.

Let's just say...

I think you may've just come
up with the perfect name for it.

-Oh.
-[ Laughter ]

Very good.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪