04x06 - Let the Games Begin!

[bunniefuu]

♪

♪

Is there anything better
than a weekend getaway?

Pint in the Spitfire and
that date you made me cancel?

Sir, I really wish you'd
tell us what training

we'll be undertaking.

Is this some kind of top
secret training facility?

Lowsley: Yes and no.

But mostly no.

Reminds me of a Girl
Guide camp I went to...

We all got dysentery.

Here comes the cavalry!

[ Trumpets ]

Splendid to see you, Hector.

Len. [ Both laughing ]

Welcome, friends. I'm Len
Shepherd, retired Chief Constable,

active camaraderie guru.

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

You'll tackle
several challenges,

earning points for
excellent teamwork.

Each point gives you
a one second advantage

over your opponents in
the as*ault course finale.

-Wait, it's a competition?
-Even better.

We are in the running for
Police Team of the Year,

and this will decide the winner!

I've always wanted to go to
those posh Police Awards!

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

[ "This Road Is Too Long"
by The Prisoners plays ]

♪

♪ Why is it taking so long
when I'm not getting anywhere ♪

♪

Stowington Police,
reporting for duty.

Name's Jack Stagg.

Sure you've heard all
the stories: all true.

Let's get this over with, Len.

You know I don't
wait for anyone.

-Winthrop.
-Lowsley.

That Team of the
Year award is mine.

Think again, Winthrop.
Stowington's going down!

[ Knuckles crack ]

♪

Hi, I'm Peggy.

Detective Sergeant Thorne.

Er, civilian names
please, Heather.

We're all off duty.

Everyone comfy?

Then let us begin our
story of a small village

and a big investigation.
[Winthrop yawns]

The dastardly
crook, Billy McCoy,

is terrorising the community.

Two officers join
forces to take him down,

but before they
can work together,

they must first get
to know each other.

So let's follow their
lead. For one point,

can you work out who among us

is professionally
trained in ballet?

Don't look at me... CC Winthrop
says I've got two left feet!

Sam: Well, it's
certainly not one of us,

so I can only assume...

Are lazy assumptions the
foundation of all your policing?

Will the real ballerina
reveal themselves?

The actual term is ballerino.

[ Jack scoffs ]

No, it's... it's a
challenging discipline.

Sorry, but this game is
highly inappropriate.

Oh, sit down.

Sir, he's sharing
out private business.

Fine. You can go and
make the tea instead.

There's a good girl.

[ Deep sigh ]

♪

So, our two officers
forge their friendship,

together they swoop to raid
Billy McCoy's safe house.

Just one problem... it's
awfully dark inside!

Guide your partner
around the booby traps

to gather Billy's loot.

[ Whistle blows ]

Steady, sir, steady.
Left a bit, left a bit...

Go, go Gillespie!

Straight on straight on...

-Come to me, come to me.
-Well done, Button!

Oh, you're doing great, sir.

-Faster, Heather!
-Will you shush!

I'm trying to concentrate!

And you tell me you're
cut out for leadership?

Ooh, hard luck, mate!

-Oh!
-What are you playing at?!

-Skulduggery?!
-Three, four...

Len: Oh! Bravo, Heather!
Two points to Stowington.

One to Great Slaughter for
a fine display of trust.

[ Whistle blows ]

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

-What's that in parsnips?
-Parsnips?

I measure distance
in root vegetables.

-Left, Beagle.
-My left or yours, sir?

-Where are you going boy?!
-I don't know!

Oh no! Man down!

Winthrop: He's fine.

Walking disaster,
aren't you Beagle?

Yeah. Sorry. My fault.

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

Funny. I always say

a chain is only as strong
as its weakest link.

You of all people
should know that.

We'll pause there,
with the scores even.

Dry yourself off, Beagle.

Our story's about
to get interesting.

Good news, the
raid was a success!

Having recovered Billy's loot,

the two officers retire
to one of their homes

to toast their triumph with
a bottle of wine or two.

Or five. Am I right?

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

At 2A.M., somebody fires
through the window,

injuring one of the officers and
tragically k*lling the other.

Lowsley: Ooh! Plot twist!

Your task... examine
the scene of the crime.

But your ranks have
been reversed...

Peggy and Beagle are in charge.

To assist with forensics,
it's my pleasure

to introduce esteemed
local expert, Sis...

Oh, yes, that's me! Ta-da!

Oh, sorry, did I miss my
cue? Backstage butterflies.

Oh, dear. Poor chaps.

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

Felix: Yes, boss?

Let's see. Maybe you could
search for footprints?

And Sam could record
the items, and...

Oh, there's no camera.

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

Wonderful delegating,
Great Slaughter!

What's the meaning of this?!

Sorry Constable, if, er, if
you can't handle the demotion,

then maybe you should
go and make the tea.

Someone's enjoying herself.

Well, without a
real-life victim,

I must admit... nothing
beats a good m*rder!

Okay, have you read the
surviving officer's statement?

Not yet. Have you
found something?

Well, I'm merely an observer.
I couldn't possibly say.

Jack: A-Ha!

Impressive, right?

Heather: Compromising the scene?

-Extremely.
-Heather's right.

I must dock
Stowington a point...

and then award you two!

Jack's just found
the spinning top.

Calling card of Billy McCoy.

Enough!

You're an embarrassment!

Jack: I've just
bagged us a point.

What are you two
whispering about?

Oh, er... this b*llet hole.

Sister Boniface
says it contradicts

the eyewitness account.

Well, erm, actually,
physics says it.

If you observe the angle of...

I knew it! The
nun's one of them!

This competition's rigged!

Don't be absurd!

You're even worse at this than
you were as Chief Constable.

Fetch our room keys,
the day is over.

♪

Bet you're wondering why
you got stuck with me.

Er, we... we could talk, or...

play a game?

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

But I'm going to
that awards ceremony

and impressing the bigwigs.

And nobody is getting in my way.

♪

[ Trumpeting ]

Sir, are you in there?

Sam: Morning.
Everything alright?

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

Well, some of us enjoy a lie-in.

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

[ Knocking ]

[ Clears throat ]

Sam: Are you in there,
Chief Constable?

Ah, Len. Can we get
the spare key, please?

Erm, I'm afraid the only
copy fell victim to rust.

Stand back then.

They don't call me The
Wrecking Ball for nothing.

[ Door bangs open ]

♪

[ Camera snapping ]

Sam: What have you
got for us, Sister?

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

Consistent with...
[ Camera snaps ]

An equally nasty bedpost.

So he fell and hit his
head. Drunk, perhaps?

As a skunk. Sister
Reg's expression.

Bloodshot eyes
indicate inebriation;

blood tests should confirm.

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

The groundskeeper confirmed
that's the only one.

[ Lock clicks ]

Lock hasn't been tampered with.

Winthrop must have locked
the hut from inside.

Is there any other way in?

The window was securely bolted.

No trapdoors or loose panels.

Sam: Well. I can't say
that I warmed to the chap,

but it certainly is
a tragic accident.

Perhaps we should
reserve our certainties.

Billy McCoy's calling card.

As left beside his
victims' bodies.

Like Len's fictional story.

It must have dropped
when he fell.

Well... let's see, shall we?

Blood loss would
have been gradual,

pooling gently around
the spinning top...

Observation... blood
spatter around the pool...

and on the spinning top itself.

Deduction... the blood had
settled before it was impacted.

Meaning Winthrop
was already dead

and someone else dropped
the spinning top?

Well, people seldom
fall backwards unaided.

More likely,
somebody pushed him,

left the spinning top and fled,

contriving a locked room
to cover their tracks.

Stowington's Chief
Constable was...

-Lowsley: m*rder*d?!
-I'm sorry, sir.

Local rivalry aside,

I'm sure CC Winthrop
meant a great deal to you.

Don't be ridiculous. It's the
politics I'm worried about.

I'd better go and
inform Winthrop's

Deputy Chief Constable.

Well, in the meantime,

we'll handle this
like any other m*rder.

You will not!

Until you have
overwhelming evidence,

Winthrop's death is an accident,

officially speaking.

But how are we supposed
to investigate?

Unofficially.

That lot will be far
more cooperative,

if they don't suspect
they're suspects.

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

Relax. No one's
answering to anyone.

We're just trying to establish
how this accident happened.

How can we help, Sam?

We found this in
CC Winthrop's hut.

And you think he was k*lled
by a fictitious villain?

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

Did anyone hear a crash?

Obviously not, I'd have been
there in five seconds flat!

Was your boss a big drinker?

Seems like he was on
the vodka last night.

Insubordinate to
his final breath!

I gather you two had history?

Len: Ancient history.

Winthrop knew about
my no alcohol policy

he insisted on hut
inspections to enforce it.

Really? Well he didn't
inspect our huts.

Because nobody grassed you up.

I would never!

Look, I think everyone's
still in a bit of shock

Why don't we wrap
this up elsewhere?

[ Grunts ]

Write it down then.

Vodka was mine. Who cares?

Well, I'm sure your boss did.

Winthrop wasn't
bothered about rules.

He was waiting for an excuse.

Careful, sir! That cologne's
imported from Djibouti.

Oh dear, Jackie Boy.

Look... We can share it.

And you were so close
to that promotion.

[ Winthrop laughs ]

Let's have it, then.

"Bet you're glad he's dead?"

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

Couldn't handle a superstar
climbing the ranks behind him.

That's the old guard for you.

So your gaffer's the same then?

What Lowsley? I
can't stand the sod.

Guess the grass
isn't always greener.

Least you've got
that Button girl.

She's a bit of alright, eh?

-Careful.
-Relax, mate.

I'll let you keep
her. [ Clicks tongue ]

Thanks.

Right. We ducking
out for a pint then?

It's 10 A.M., Jack,
how thirsty are you?

[ Scoffs ] You saying
I've got a problem?

What?

So I like a drink to unwind.

It's not easy being
everyone's hero.

♪

So. We had to relocate Sister
Boniface, to avoid suspicion.

Yes alas, before
vanishing into thin air,

the k*ller cleaned up expertly.

Leaving no trace but
the spinning top.

Which Jack and Winthrop
clashed over yesterday.

Maybe Jack k*lled him and then
left it there out of spite.

But why would he make it
look like an accident,

only to leave a clue?

Good question. Okay,
what else have we got?

I found a letter in a
bin outside the hut.

Well, at least I
think it's a letter.

Secret investigation
and a jigsaw puzzle.

Must be my birthday!

Len: Knock-knock.

Hope I'm... not interrupting.

Oh, no. [ Laughs ] We
were just team bonding.

So, er, we're all agreed?
The contest will resume.

One of our opponents just died.

I mean, Stowington are
a persuasive bunch,

and they really want that award.

[ Sam sighs ]

[ Boniface clears throat ]

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

Following the sh**ting, the
police swoop on Billy McCoy.

But unwilling to come quietly,

he takes a hostage...

kindly played by Felix.

I didn't exactly know what
I was volunteering for...

To arrest Billy and
free his hostage,

you must find a way
past his vicious hounds.

This one's mine.

Makes no odds who I take down.

Len: Ah, steady, Heather.

One simple touch sends
them back to the start.

♪

Ready?

Right. You go left,
I'll go right?

Alright. Just don't do anything
to antagonise our suspects.

[ Whistle blows ]

♪

I said stay out my way!

Wonderful!

That's a point to
Great Slaughter.

Let's see how Stowington fare.

Chin up, Sammy-boy. No
shame in being runners-up.

Len: Ready!

No, wait, wait, wait!

Something's wrong.

Hey, it's just a game.

[ Panting ] I'm alright...

just... need a break.

Right, everyone, take five.

[ Beagle panting ]

♪

It's not so easy playing
the victim, is it?

Should be used to it.

Just thought things
might be different now.

Without CC Winthrop?

That wound looks fresh.

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

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

Let me carry mine,
sir. I can't watch.

I'm happy to do it! It'd
be quicker in two trips.

Where's the
entertainment in that?

♪

Beagle: Almost tore my hand
to shreds, but I didn't crack.

I never cracked.

Please...

Allow me.

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

I'm sure all recruits
get picked on.

This is bullying.

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

Policing's in my
blood, I'd never quit.

No matter how miserable I am.

If I could give you some
advice, as a friend?

What's this, first
aid or another trick?

It's alright, Felix was just...

Pretending to be your best mate,
to throw you off your game?

Yeah. Just had that
shtick from his partner.

That wasn't my intention at all.

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

Can't trust anyone but yourself.

♪

Is it possible Winthrop
locked himself in

after he was attacked?

No. He died instantly.

Plus that doesn't explain what

the spinning top
was doing there.

So we don't know how it was
done, but we have two motives...

Winthrop was blocking
Jack's promotion,

and he was equally
bullying his new recruit.

It's a beagle.

Oh right, right!

But why would you k*ll your boss
with six other officers around?

You wouldn't.

This was probably an
argument that escalated.

Sam: Until one of them snapped.

Am I the only one who
feels sorry for Stowington?

They all seem so lonely.

Well, little wonder,

when their Chief Constable
had them spying on each other.

It's a report.
Addressed to the victim.

"Gained access to their
baggage. Beagle packs light.

Unexplained rag may be
infantile comforter..."

Aww, he's got a blankie!

"Concealed alcohol
in Jack's suitcase.

Probable rule violation."

Sam: So Heather was the grass?

I sneaked a peak
at her pocketbook;

the Fs are unmistakable.

Did she write anything else?

Oh, only some cursory
observations...

[ Clears throat ]
...about the three of you.

Well, don't leave us hanging!

Er, well, erm...

It appeared to Sergeant
Thorne that, erm...

"Peggy is a doormat, Felix
has no discernible talents..."

Ouch.

And, erm, "Sam's staggering
lack of intelligence

is mitigated only by
his boyish good looks."

That is outrageous!

-Oh, spare us.
-What? I'm as insulted as you two.

Anyway, the important bit is

why Winthrop felt the need
to spy on his own team.

Button, we need to have a
word with your room-mate.

Do we have to, sir?

It's true. That ogre
made me do his bidding.

Shameful waste of my talents.

Sam: There must've
been a reason.

I assume that was the reason.

They try and break our
spirits; we dig our heels in

and work twice as hard
as the lot of them.

Are you talking about men?

Clearly I've misjudged
your sparkling intellect.

I'm sorry that your
boss treated you badly,

but Inspector Gillespie
respects everyone.

If he did, he'd
drop the pretence

and admit this is a
m*rder investigation.

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

Winthrop had something on you.

If there was a secret, why
on earth would I tell you?

If this was a m*rder investigation,
you wouldn't have a choice.

I know the law.

This line of
enquiry's a dead end.

Sorry, Heather. The inspector...

Sam doesn't want to
invade your privacy.

Do you?

No, I just... need to know

if it's pertinent to
CC Winthrop's death.

Fine.

Winthrop had information that
could destroy the only thing

that matters.

My career.

But it's not relevant,
you have my word.

Sam.

Now, stand aside.

I have a competition to win.

Do you reckon she'll
tell her colleagues

they're all m*rder suspects?

Len: Oh, I'm sensing
some tension.

This does happen sometimes
in team building.

On the bright side, Billy McCoy
was successfully detained.

Alas, his girlfriend
gave him an alibi

for the night of the sh**ting.

Further evidence
must be gathered.

Twenty items, scattered
around the grounds,

each worth a point.

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

That's not in the
spirit of unity!

I've been thinking.

Remember how
uncomfortable Heather was

when Len started sharing
our secret talents?

Oh, yes. Ballet!

Please continue.

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

He's got our personnel files.

Of course!

Anything the suspects are
hiding must be in their files.

♪

Where's a lock pick
when you need one?

[ Door clicks open ]

Ah! Bravo, Sister!

Sorry for adding to
your list of sins.

Well, I'm sure the Lord won't
begrudge me one weekend of fun.

In the pursuit of
justice, of course.

Okay, I've found our files.

And here are the
Stowington ones.

Empty.

Looks like someone
beat us to it.

It's just full of
dusty old case files.

♪

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

but the thing is, the suspects
are all trained detectives.

Well, at least tell me we're
on course for Team of the Year?

I believe that's
every last item.

Unprecedented!

I only wish you'd
worked together.

Winning's what matters, right?

We get the points?

Your head start in
tomorrow's as*ault course

appears insurmountable.

Ah. There's always
next year, Sammy.

♪

I... Sorry.

Sit, Peggy please.

I feel I should say thank you

for calling off your
inspector earlier.

Oh. You're welcome.

The observations I made
about you were unfounded.

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

Don't be daft.

I forgive you.

My dad always says,

only take criticism
from those who know you.

You're one of the most
impressive officers

I've ever met, let
alone female ones.

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

Before I joined the force,

I made a brief foray into
the racy modelling industry.

And now I live with that regret.

A detective and a model?

You're like a superhero!

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

I thought I'd burnt all
the photographs, but...

nothing got past Winthrop.

I come from a
family of policemen.

I know how their vulgar
boys' club operates.

We do what we can to survive.

They're not all like Winthrop.

Even your colleagues
might surprise you,

if you give them a chance.

I see enormous potential
in you, Peggy Button.

But be careful.

Your trusting nature
may be your downfall.

♪

Oh!

It was right in front of us!

The living room, the two
officers, the calling card.

Did you steal a file
from Len's office?

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

Sorry, I'm not following.

Len's story isn't so fictional,
after all! [ Chuckles ]

♪

Remarkable. An inch-perfect
reconstruction.

So ten years ago, you were
Stowington's Chief Constable,

when two of your
officers were shot.

And this happened in
Sergeant Harrison's home.

Where he sadly, died.

Harrison was a good man.

But his partner survived...

Inspector Winthrop.

The spinning top
left at the scene.

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

but of the very
real Jimmy McGraph.

Yeah, well, his...

His alibi was paper thin.

But so was our evidence.

Just the patchy testimony
of that drunkard.

All this team building
twaddle just to mess with me?

I hoped it might jog your
memory of that night.

-Don't you want justice?
-Of course I do.

But you screwed up
the investigation.

Because of your
unreliable narrative!

-Sister Boniface said...
-She's a nun, Len!

Be honest. Did you take a bribe?

Move on with your life.

You're not a copper any more.

I'll always be a copper.

I didn't retire.

Winthrop had me pushed out,
for failing to protect my team.

The case went unsolved.

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

challenging scores of detectives
to find a breakthrough,

under the guise of a
team building course.

But why invite Winthrop
now, after all these years?

Jimmy McGraph's on his deathbed.

This was my last
chance to nail him,

so I brought in the
best of the best.

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

I was the failure,
he was the hero...

wounded trying to save
his dying partner.

Our paths were on
different trajectories.

Trajectories...

[ Whimsical music ]

Am I in Heaven or Hell?

One can only speculate.

But your present injury
is barely a graze.

Your partner wasn't
so fortunate.

I tried to save him.

Threw myself in
front of the g*n.

Your blood spatter
tells a different story.

I've been drinking.

Might be a bit fuzzy
on the details.

Like the g*nman in the window?

No, that bit's true.

Curious how his b*llet
changed course in mid-air,

entering the wall at an
angle defying all physics.

Well, maybe it ricocheted.

Or maybe the sh**ter had
extraordinarily long arms.

How else can one explain
your g*nsh*t residue burn,

from a g*n fired at
point blank range?

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

You weren't there!

No.

And neither was the g*nman.

[ g*nsh*t echoes ]

Oh, b*llet holes!

Sister?

I'm sorry, Len.

The evidence against
your suspect was weak,

because he was innocent.

Winthrop planted the
spinning top and shot himself

to cover up the truth...

that he k*lled his own partner.

No. No, he wouldn't have...

♪

Felix: So Len had no idea?

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

-So he had a motive.
-So did Heather.

Winthrop was blackmailing her.
Her secret's not important,

but if you must know,
she'll understand.

Well, any motives
remain academic,

until we determine how the
k*ller escaped a locked hut.

Could they have
duplicated the key?

Not without planning.

And this wasn't premeditated.

Perhaps the k*ller stayed
in here the whole night?

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

What if they pumped a toxic
gas through the air vent,

so Winthrop passed out,

then a special contraption
fired the spinning top?

Yes, well, erm... there's
certainly something

to be said for thinking
outside the box.

Ah! There you are!

Good morning, sir.

I believe we are on the
cusp of a breakthrough.

What? This is no time for
a m*rder investigation.

The as*ault course
is about to begin!

Go! Go! And go!

♪

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

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

-Sorry, a key?
-Mm.

Well, clearly the k*ller
locked the door on the way out,

and then came up with this
fiendish plan to return the key

to the top of the
chest of drawers.

But that's the obvious part.

Yes. Obvious...

[ Lowsley laughs ]

♪

Len: Well, here we are.

The final showdown.

First team to cross
the finish line wins.

First full team.

I'll carry these
two, if I have to.

Len: Places, please.

I've been thinking.

When the dust settles,

there may be a place
for you in Stowington.

Are you serious?

Those buffoons in Great
Slaughter are holding you back.

What do you think?

I'm flattered, Heather.
Thank you, but...

if I have to choose between
my career and my friends?

I'll choose the buffoons.

Understood.

This will have no bearing
on the humiliation

you're about to endure.

I'd wish you good luck,

but you've got more chance of catching
your phantom m*rder*r. [ Laughs ]

[ Whistle blows ]

♪

[ Metal clinks ]

♪

-One, two, three...
-Together: Great Slaughter!

[ Whistle blows ]

♪

[ Gasps ] Oh!

♪

CC Winthrop's death feels
like a contradiction.

An unplanned attack made
to look like an accident,

but yet leaving the
spinning top feels...

Premeditated. Which
clearly indicates m*rder.

♪

Come on! Up you get, up you get!

Pull yourself together, Beagle!

♪

The spinning top
was no coincidence.

This must be about Winthrop
k*lling his partner.

But only Len was
around ten years ago,

and he never knew the truth.

♪

Ah! [ Grunts ]

Oh, my hand's k*lling me. Help!

You know I don't like
physical contact.

Ugh!

♪

Stringo!

Get off me! I can manage.

Oh there's nothing more
manly than stubborn pride.

-What did you say?!
-Felix: Stop fighting, we're all on the same team.

Come on Great
Slaughter! Get stuck in!

What's she doing back here?

No!

Sister, so I don't
think Len did this.

But who'd leave a spinning top?

Well, it was only a tool.
To engineer the locked room.

The perpetrator had to
abandon the top itself,

but they absconded
with the string.

After using it to transport
the key back through the grille

and onto the bedside table.

That's, er, kind of brilliant.

I mean, I myself couldn't
pull the string swiftly enough

to release the top. Not
without injury anyway.

Whoa-oh!

Oh! Oh, sir... are you alright?

Yeah, I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Just a bit of rope burn.

Wait...

Oh! He must've heard us!

♪

Don't come any closer!

Wait, wait!

Look... you said policing
was in your blood.

Is that why you stole
the personnel files,

are you related to
Sergeant Harrison?

The child's spinning top

that Winthrop found at
two in the morning...

it was yours.

Was Sergeant
Harrison your father?

That living room
was so familiar...

It didn't click
'til hours later,

but the spinning top...

I used to have one just like it!

Sam: And then you saw
the way Winthrop reacted

when Boniface poked
holes in the evidence.

-Sam: Is that when you confronted him?
-Beagle: He was drunk.

Said he hadn't touched
a drop in ten years.

Not since the night
he shot my dad.

-His son?
-There was no one else there.

Tell me the truth!

We were joking around.

I didn't know my was
p*stol was loaded.

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

Breathe a word of this and
I swear I'll k*ll you too!

[ Head slams ]

[ Sniffles ]

Felix: You didn't
mean for him to die.

I should've called for help.

I should've, but...

instead, I did the same
cowardly thing he did back then.

Boniface: So you cleaned up the
evidence and staged the scene.

♪

Yet the spinning
top betrayed you.

I only ever wanted
to help people.

But all I do is
make things worse.

No! That's not true!

We need you, Beagle.

Jack: She's right,
mate. Len: Listen!

Rupert... whenever Winthrop
squandered his talent,

chasing personal glory,

your father forgave him.

He was a true team player.

And I've let him down.
I've ruined my career.

I disgraced the uniform!
Dad would be ashamed of me.

Actually, actually I think
he'd be proud of you.

Oh, yes! Yes, agreed.

If he forgave Winthrop's flaws,

he could forgive
your mistakes, too.

If he could what a fine
officer you've become...

one that believes in
doing the right thing.

Sam: PC Beagle...

I need you to come down
and make things right.

-How can I?
-Sam: By working with me.

You know it is my duty
to uphold the law.

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

Show me that it still
means something to you.

♪

[ Quietly cries ]

♪

I just wanted to let you know,

everything you told
us stays confidential.

Thank you, Peggy.

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

♪

Bravo, dream team!

You've finally put
my mind at rest.

If only I'd instilled my old
g*ng with your esprit de corps!

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

Now the case is solved,

I shall have to find
something else to live for.

Boniface: I believe
you've already found it.

You make a splendid
camaraderie guru!

Agreed. You're a natural, Len.

Really?

You don't think I'm an
embarrassing old cheese-ball?

-No, you're a natural, Len.
-No.

Hear, hear!

Oh! On that note,

as neither team finished
the as*ault course,

I'm afraid I'm going to
have to crown Stowington

the champions on points.

Well, they may need
a couple of minutes.

♪

Right. Ready to go home?

Oh, fine, fine.

Sir, you're not
still moping about

the Team of the
Year thing, are you?

Losing an award I can accept,

but losing it to Stowington?!

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

Well, we did solve
an impossible m*rder

and rectify an
historic injustice.

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

Oh! And we discovered a
ballerino in our ranks.

Honestly, Felix.

Did you lie about
being a ballerino

just to liven up the old CV?

[ Scoffs ]

♪

Bravo!

Did you wear a tutu, Sarge?

Those tights must be
terribly restrictive.

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

I'm all for it.

I just want you
to introduce me to

some of your ballerina friends.

Felix: You are all philistines!

♪