Pie in The Sky Series 2 Episode 8 - The mild bunch

I can manage. Cambridge: Fine. Fisher: Morning. Cambridge: Morning, sir. Fisher: I'll see you later. Cambridge: Morning. Man: Here, mate, do you want me to get this for you? Here you go. I can do that. I can do that! Man: Suit yourself. Man: Morning, Constable. Man: Is it? Beautiful day, ladies. Woman: Smashing. Going for a walk? Queue, more like. Pension day. We don't tell everybody. Man: Right. Woman: You can't trust people. You never know nowadays who's going to hit you on the head and pinch your money. Man: [ Laughs ] Your secret's safe with me, Ma'am. Have a nice day. What do you want to tell him all our business for? Woman: He had a lovely smile. Ha, false. You never see a Yank with his own teeth. Well, you'd know. What was he called -- Audrey? Aubrey. That's right, Aubrey. You had an eye for the men. Oh, for heaven's sake, that was 1944. But you still found out whether his teeth were his own, Tatsie. Where's our taxi? [ Telephone ringing ] What's P.C. Lefebvre up to nowadays? Man: He's in the Information Room, sir. Fisher: Is that working out? Can he do his job? Man: I think so. I can make a few inquiries if you'd like. Fisher: Yes, I would like. Nothing official, just, he seemed a bit tense this morning. Man: Yes, sir. Fisher: We need to look after the P.C. Lefebvres in this job. Man: Yes, sir. Fisher: Men who made a sacrifice. We look after our own. I don't want any other story getting around. Man: I don't think there's any great mystery about Lefebvre seeming tense, sir. Wisley...gets out of nick this week. Fisher: Wisley? Man: Pow. Wisley. Fisher: [ Sighs ] Already? Oh, dear. Information Room. What's that? Eight-hour shifts? Man: Yes, sir. Fisher: We need to keep Lefebvre busier than that. Find me some...some nice, unsolved case. A series of burglaries, a long firm fraud, something like that. Man: Yes, sir. I'll have a think, sir. Fisher: Well, get on with it. Man: How about the Twirlies? Fisher: Twirlies? I'll fetch you the file, sir. [ Humming ] What are you being so cheerful about, o Queen of the Home Office Statistics? Cambridge: Oh, not cheerful, just busy. Crabbe: Why am I here? Cambridge: Well, everybody's got to be somewhere...sir. Crabbe: Oh, relax, Cambridge. It's not you. It's Fisher. "You're spare, Henry. I know, read these for me." Not stopping then? Cambridge: Apparently, I've got other fish to fry. Oh, sorry. Crabbe: Hoppit. How much did he say? Man: 2,999. Woman: 2,900? Man: And 99. How is it, Tats? How do you switch this off? Woman: Well? Well, my feet touch the pedals, if that's what you're asking. Florence, what on earth are you doing? Plenty of room in the front. Legroom, too. Man: It's not mean, ladies. It's a luxury car. It's got power steering. And heated seats. Heated seats. That doesn't sound very hygienic, does it. Man: We can unplug them. How much did he say again? 2,900? Man: All right then. 2,900. Man: I'll write you a check. Got the checkbook, Florence? Fisher: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the United Kingdom, and welcome to our modest police headquarters. My name is Assistant Chief Constable Fisher, and this is Detective Sergeant Cambridge. She'll be showing you around our facilities. I hope to see you again before you leave, but for now, have a nice day. [ Laughs ] Cambridge? Thank you. I'll just get your paperwork. There you are. And there you are. Florence: What's that? Man: What? Oh, spag bol. It's my lunch. Well, I warm it in the microwave. Florence: No wonder he looks so tired. Bread and butter pudding. Oh, thanks! My mum used to make that. You must get your wife to learn. I'll warm it in the microwave. No, I won't. No, no. Woman: Your mother never had a microwave. Your mother never fed you on spaghetti bolognese. No. Put the bag in the car for us? Here we have an archive section -- various offices where statistics are collated. Man: It's very quiet. Well, collating statistics isn't usually a noisy pursuit. I think you'll find it's a hive of activity. Mental activity. D.I. Crabbe is one of our strategic thinkers. Next, the Information Room. This is nice. I've always wanted a big car. Woman: Problems? No. You took your time. We had to choose. Florence: It's lovely. Man: It's a good choice. Florence: Really? Yes? Try this on your shoulder. Oh, blue suits you. As if Maeve would know. John: Is everything on, then? Steve: Is everything on, Chef. Full menu. John: Specials? Steve: Moules farcies. John: Stuffed mussels. John: English lamb and apricot sauce. And Tarte Tatin. And you can start peeling if you're not too busy. John: That's your job, Chef. And yours, ducky, is out there polishing knives with me. Nicola: Oh, I was enjoying that. In the Information Room, we have computer controlled dispatch, manned, as you would expect, 24 hours a day. There's an Inspector in charge, of course, and he has access to senior officers. In the unlikely event of a third world war breaking out, we have a bomb-proof replica in the basement. We call it the Fuhrerbunker. Man: Does that have access for those who are mobility-challenged? Crabbe: Sorry? Lefebvre: Wheelchair cripples, Sergeant. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure. Lefebvre: In the unlikely event of the third world war breaking out, I would remain here on the ground level, ready to fight off the invading forces with my trusty truncheon and my double-butted racing wheelchair. You obviously have an equal opportunity policy in place here. Crabbe: Yes, we do. Lefebvre: We have policies for everything, mate. We have an equal opportunities policy, we have a health and safety policy. We probably even have a foreign pol-- Well, we must have 'cause you lot are here. P.C. Lefebvre means that we have norms. They do. And standards. Every department has one black, one white and one khaki. We have the cripple. We also have the deaf geezer, who works in the archive section, and the lame, limping gimpy who washes the bosses' cars. Now, statistically speaking, we should have at least one homosexual, although we don't know who he is, yet. He's still in the blue serge closet, so to speak. And who can blame him? Beg your pardon? [ Laughs ] Granted. Although, I must say that being ogled at by a bunch of Yanks while I'm just trying to do my job is not my idea of a beanfeast, sport. Man: They're from Oklahoma, sir. Lefebvre: Okey-dokey. Now, get out of my way. Ah, Crabbe. This wasn't the arrangement. What? We never agreed that you'd have me here from 9:00 till 5:00 shoving mountains of paper around. We've got to submit those statistics to the Home Office. What's that to me? It's your job. Hardly. Crabbe: Look, you're in charge. What about all these civilians your lot took on? I'll decide who does what duties, thank you, Inspector. It's not part of the deal. I can't do this and run my restaurant. Your wife's restaurant, as I remember. What's that to me? Cambridge: It won't do. It will not do. It wasn't part of the deal. Fisher: We're not having a row about this, are we? Cambridge: It's absolutely unacceptable behavior, How dare you -- how dare you embarrass me like that? Lefebvre: Yeah, whatever, whatever. Cambridge: How dare you embarrass all of us like that. Now that's a row. Cambridge: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Yes. Put a sock in it! Cambridge: You were appalling! So what?! Cambridge: You should be ashamed of yourself. Well, I'm not! I am not some side-show freak for a bunch of American tourists. If you ever treat me as such again, you will get the same again, Sergeant. Constable, if you behave like that before me again, I will personally lodge a complaint against police, naming you. Sergeant, I was walking the beat while you were still in university! You don't frighten me! Now fetch me a glass of water. No, no, no, no, no, no. Sergeant, I need to take these painkillers. Fetch me a glass of water. Don't you go fancying me, Sergeant. It won't do us any good. Oh, just go away. You'll have to leave anyway. You can't stay here unless you stand to pee. Well, that lets you out. Next the Dog Section. Obedience training. Fisher: I've got something for you. Crabbe: God, not more filing? Fisher: A case, the Twirlies. Two old girls. Blue-rinse check fraudsters. They've had quite a career around here. Cambridge will help you a bit and I'd like you to take Lefebvre with you. Crabbe: Take him where? With you. To work. He's quite capable to do that kind of duty, and we don't want any hint of tokenism. If P.C. Lefebvre stays on the job, he'll have to do whatever duties are set. Same goes for you. Crabbe: Yes, sir. Thank you very much, sir. Fisher: Well? Crabbe: Well, I mean, two old ladies bouncing dud checks. How long has this been going on? Oh, six months, minimum. Crabbe: Six mo-- What's so urgent about it now? Solving crime is an important police duty, Crabbe. I sometimes wonder we don't lose sight of that fact. Crabbe: Yes, quite right, sir. Fisher: Don't you want to know why they're called Twirlies? It's bus passes. As pensioners get on the bus, they hold up their passes, and say -- "Am I too early for this?" I know, yes. Do you remember the last time you were actually on a bus, sir? You start tomorrow. You tell Lefebvre. Thank you. Nicola: Tarte Tatin? It's, um... well, I'm actually not sure, sir. Um, John? John: Yes, one moment. Madame. Thank you. Um, What's that? Tarte Tatin and creme fraiche, sir. It's an upside down caramelized apple tart. If you could order it before your meal because it does take a while and we cook it fresh. Man: All right. John: Thank you. John? What exactly does "caramelized" mean? It literally means "burnt sugar." But we don't say "burnt" in front of the customers. Nicola: No, I suppose not. And, um, what's Tatin about it? It's the surname of the sisters who invented the dish. By accident. What, they burnt a tart? John: Shh. I think you've sold one. Margaret: Isn't that a bit burnt? Steve: No, it's supposed to be. Crabbe: It's supposed to be burnt a bit. Not Guy Fawkes. Now bin that and do another one. Whose idea was it to put French tarts on the menu, anyway? Honestly I sometimes think I just can't turn my back for a minute. Margaret: Don't throw it. Steve: Well? Throw it. Now, that is criticism. Steve, henceforward, all of our burnt puddings are going to be English burnt puddings. Margaret: Don't be so *** him. Crabbe: There are perfectly good English puddings. Margaret: It was your idea he should spread his wings, and he's just done it. Why did he take it upon himself to choose the specials? Margaret: And it's not his fault that you've been in Freddy Fisher's salt mine all day. John: Two rabbit, two sole, one pie, one vegetarian, one pond pudding, two spotted ***, and I was going to say two Tarte Tatin. Steve: Tarte Tatin is off. I don't believe it. I don't believe it. You've done it again, Tats. Tatsie: Not bad. [ Door opens ] Morning, ladies. Mmm, that smells lovely. Have you been teaching chef all your secrets? Tatsie: Some. Taste? Mm, Smashing. Fantastic. Uh, slightly bitter. Tatsie: Dundee marmalade. Of course. Thank you. I'll put it on the menu. The Townsend Sisters' Bread and Butter Pudding. Now, ladies, Your bags are in the car, your nephew is behind the wheel, and your bill is ready at the front desk. [ Clicks ] [ Clicks ] [ Sighs ] Is it true? What, that we're having to work with that little friend of yours? Well, of course, Cambridge, it's absolutely true. Don't take your coat off. I want you to go down to collators' office at Barstock nick, find out what you can about con-men. Con-men. Well, con-women, actually. Aged 65 and over. Cambridge: OAPs? Don't complain, Cambridge, or I'll send PC Lefebvre to spend the day with you. It's rather a lot, but it's all explained on the bill. Oh, no. It was lovely. We've had a lovely time, haven't we, Florence? Florence: Lovely. Tatsie: The rooms, everything. Florence: Very clean. And the chintz. Tatsie: Yes, we loved the chintz. Thank you. I will always recommend you, if asked. Man: Well, that's very kind. And I would recommend you. The very best. Five star guests. A rarity. Oh, um... Yes? I wondered, could you possibly cash us a check? You see, Florence has problems queuing at the bank. Man: Of course not, of course not. No problem at all. How much do you need? Uh, I think £400 would do it. Here. Thank you. Here we go. Man: Goodbye. I think I'll just run down to the bank with these now. Woman: Okay. [ Gunfire ] You won't need the gun where we're going. Lefebvre: No. So what's the plan? Crabbe: We've just had a hot lead. Apparently one of the banks just phoned in. Somebody's tried to pass off one of their checks. Lefebvre: Ooh, hot lead. Crabbe: Mm-hmm. Come on, we'll go in your car. Fuel injected, twin cam, 330 BHP. She'll do 155. Crabbe: How would you know? Lefebvre: No one lives forever, Henry. Crabbe: Oh, please, no philosophy. Man: Yes? Police. Oh, you were quick. Well, we were already working on the case, sir. You're our "hot lead." Crabbe: How do we get in? Man: The door. Uh, Yes. Oh, well you'd better come through the kitchen. See? What's wrong with the kitchen door? I use one all the time. Lefebvre: It would be nice to have a choice. Do you hear me? Yes, it would be nice to have a choice. So, now how much was it? Man: £1,200 on the rooms and meals, £400, I advanced them against a check. Lefebvre: Advanced them? You were done, Mr. Russell. Russell: Yes. Thank you. Quick, but blunt. Crabbe: Were there any other visitors? The nephew had a companion. A hard-looking woman. I only saw them briefly. Anything else special about them? Russell: Knitting. Crabbe: Knitting, yes. Russell: And cooking. Ah, cooking. Bread and butter pudding. Crabbe: Really? They showed our chef how to do it. Crabbe: Now, is that one of the chef's or one of theirs? Theirs. Do you think I might...? Russell: [ Laughs ] Why not? Here, you have some, too. Have a spoonful of pudding that cost 1,600 quid. Crabbe: Thanks. Hmm. Now what's that taste? Lefebvre: About 50 quid. Russell: Dundee marmalade. Strained, then spread on the bread and butter before cooking. Crabbe: Course. It's magnificent. Um, your chef isn't in at all, is he? Well, he didn't know them really. I dealt with them. You want the recipe? Um...please. Tatsie: Well, looks fine to me. Maeve: Let's go shopping first. Man: It's the right time to book in. People are funny if you turn up late. All right, but I want to go shopping at some point. Man: We will. Maeve: Maybe we should stay somewhere else. Oh, I don't think we'll find anywhere nicer. I mean us. You and me. Maybe we should stay somewhere alone. Well, you know best, Maeve. Maeve: It might be better. Crabbe: Did you notice anything particular about these ladies, sir? Man: No. Just two old biddies. Very mumsey -- They were obsessed with what I ate. They told me off for using the microwave. And they gave me some fantastic bread and butter pudding. Did it have marmalade in it? Oh, come to think of it, yes, I suppose it did. Uh! What's the matter? I've broken it. I don't believe it. I can't close the door, I can't get anywhere. Great. Have you got a telephone, sir? Excuse me, can you give me some information about opening an account here? It's just that my wife and I are very interested in the shop. The stuff's so nice and we'd like to know how easy it is to open an account? We ought to get one of those orange sticker things, then we can park where we want. Florence: We have parked where we want. Tatsie: Yes, but when we want. Woman: Yes, that's fine, we'll take the details. Man: Excuse me, I'll be back in a minute. Please excuse me. Two secs... Did they pay for that? Woman: No. Excuse me?! Maeve: Come on. Come on! Oi, you! Stop! Come back! Mr. Hume, could you let me have a copy of that bill of sale for the Volvo, please? Hume: Yeah, sure. Crabbe: Thanks. Any luck at the collator's office? No. Did you check missing persons? Cambridge: Not yet. I think that's where we'll find them -- missing persons. Unattached and unencumbered old ladies do not float round England any more than babies do. Somebody must be missing them? The question is who? Well, they're from round here. They know the area. Do me a favor, will you go, and see what he's done with that document? Certainly. Lefebvre: Henry? Crabbe: Yes? I don't know how to explain this. Crabbe: Something on your mind? Something like this perhaps? Lefebvre: I have a license. Crabbe: Not to carry it in the boot of your car, you don't. Weren't you shot once? Don't you understand? Crabbe: Yes and no, in that order. Look, a gun is for the gun club. The boot of the car is for your shopping. Thank you. Now, Detective Sergeant Cambridge will drive you back. Meantime, I'll check with Barstock nick on missing persons. You quite sure you wouldn't prefer to drive him back yourself, sir? Crabbe: Positive. Right. Mr. Coverly? Coverly: Yes? Crabbe: Hello, I'm Detective Inspector Crabbe. You reported your sisters as missing. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions about that? Coverly: Yes, of course. Crabbe: Did you make those? Coverly: Of course, I learned from my mother. She was a great cook, our mum. Crabbe: They're very good. What does bread and butter pudding mean to you? Coverly: Harriet. She makes the best bread and butter pudding you've ever tasted. If you've found that, you've found my sisters, Mr Crabbe. Um, I'm looking for two old ladies. I understand they cash their pensions here. Man: The Coverly sisters. They've done it for years. Well, except for the last few months. They've been traveling around. So where are they now? Couldn't say. It's a free country, mate. There. They'll be back. Crabbe: How do you know? Man: You can only do so many changes. Then you have to return to base, so to speak. Crabbe: Are you sure? Man: Their time is up. I've got their new books. Smashing old dears. Do you know, they once brought us in a -- Crabbe: Yeah, I know, a bread and butter pudding. Man: How did you know that? Ugh. [ Grunts ] I'll take you in. Lefebvre: Thank you. Thank you. Cambridge: That's twice. Lefebvre: Yeah, so it is. And here's a "please." Cambridge: Please? Would you help me on with that, please? This? Mm-hmm. What is it? It's an electronic stimulator for the nerves in my back. It, um, cuts down on the pain. I see. [ Grunts ] Uh, you'll have to put the jelly on first. It makes the contact. Oh. Forget it. I can't feel. What is there to forget? That you're beautiful. I'm a Detective Sergeant assigned to working with you, P.C. Lefebvre, temporarily. Is there anything else? Lefebvre: Yeah, my whisky. Cambridge: Ice? Lefebvre: No. And the white tablets, the big ones there. See? You could always get me another bottle, there's an offy down the road. Cambridge: I could. What good would it do? Lefebvre: Do you want one? Cambridge: No. Lefebvre: No, of course, what good would it do? If you keep on drinking and taking painkillers at the same time, you will eventually kill yourself. Good. What am I, Sarge? Eh? I'm a crippled copper who gets *** on whisky and prescription morphine, eh? And it has to be this way? Yes, apparently, yes! I didn't choose this fate -- it chose me! And anyway, it's not so much the length of it, it's the depth. Sorry? It's not so much how long I live, but what I feel when I'm alive. What I feel! Maybe this is true of us all. But circumstances rather shoved it in my face. I'm very tired, Cambridge, I think you should go now. [ Door closes ] Crabbe: Whoa! Steve: Chef, that smells fantastic. Crabbe: I should say so. Nicola: Right, coffee's up. Crabbe: Can you call Margaret, Nicola? I hope you were taking notes. John: So do I. Steve: Yeah, of course. Bread and butter pudding for tomorrow's lunch. You see the secret is to warm the marmalade, strain out the peel, and then spread it on the bread before you make the pudding -- bitter sweet. John: My grandmother used to put it on the plate. Steve: Well, you kept that to yourself. John: You were too busy chasing foreign recipes to notice, chef. The romantics were prompted to travel to far off places in search of the unfamiliar. Nicola: Who's romantic? Steve: John. Nicola: Aw. John: No I'm not. You are. Nicola: That's nice. Crabbe: Er, Margaret? Nicola: She's just coming. She's just seeing the last couple out. Is this a midnight feast? John: No, no, you've got to have pajamas on to have a midnight feast. Nicola: I haven't got any. Steve: Well, we'd best have a midnight feast then, eh. It's hot. Good night. Thanks for coming. Bye. [ Knock on door ] Cambridge. May I come in? What happened to P.C. Lefebvre? Crabbe: Oh, he got shot. Years ago, before you were on the job. Cambridge: How? Crabbe: It was tragic. He was on traffic. Pulled in a bloke for speeding, a man called Wisley. He produced a gun and shot him. Ian begged them to let him stay on, and, well, it was good for the image of the new caring force, you know. "We do not throw our policemen aside." Margaret: In fact, some people have trouble leaving. Cambridge: Why is he so angry with me? Crabbe: Well, probably because you're well in one piece. You're right at the start of your career, and making a success. Cambridge: But you know, he's got to allow people in. I mean, if you do anything for him, he immediately throws it back in your face. Many people are like that. Many policemen are like that. No, he's different. He's...empty. He says it's a question of quality, and he sees his quality of life as poor. Crabbe: Well, you can see his point. But he doesn't have to be that way. No, but it's his problem. He has to work it out for himself. Margaret: That's right. I mean, Henry was shot once. Look how normal he's become. Steve: There we go, Chef. Crabbe: Aha, Now come on, Cambridge, cheer up. Bread and butter pudding. Thank you. Substance...a postcard from the real world. It looks very nice. Still not right. I don't know. This is not as good as theirs. [ Sirens ] Why me? It's always me. Why me? it's always me. Good evening. In a bit of a hurry, aren't we, sir? Man: Good evening. Lefebvre: Can I see your license, please? Yeah, sorry about that. [ Single gunshot ] [ Breathes heavily ] Ah! Ah! [ Doorbell ringing ] Oh, um...all right! We fixed your car. Oh. Hume: No charge. Lefebvre: Oh, thanks. Thanks a lot. What time is it? 7:30. I was on my way to work. Oh. Look, I've got someone waiting for me. Mind how you go with that motor, eh? Yeah, yeah, thanks, yeah. Listen, um... thanks again, yeah? Crabbe: Morning, sir. Fisher: Have we swapped offices? Crabbe: No, I just wanted to get your attention first before your phone started ringing. Fisher: So you have it. Found the Twirlies? Yes, sir. The Coverly sisters. Harriet and Florence -- spinsters of this parish. We've even found their companions in crime, too. Maeve Cormack. Born April 29, 1960. She's got more form than Red Rum. 73 arrests. Theft from shops, using stolen checks, using stolen credit cards. Possession of stolen goods, you name it. Fisher: 73 arrests? She's not learned much. Crabbe: Oh, on the contrary, sir, I think she has. She's learned how to use people. Really. Crabbe: Sidney Ruff, for example. He cashed some stolen checks for her. He ended up going away for it for three months. Interestingly enough, Sidney was the old ladies' lodger. So, Maeve is using the Twirlies to front her stolen check books and credit cards. Crabbe: Exactly. Fisher: Have you pinched them? Crabbe: Not yet, we hope to today, sir. Fisher: Good. Better get on with it, then. Hmm, I checked our copy of P.C. Lefebvre's Firearms Certificate, this morning. You were up early. You know, he's got four pistols. Fisher: So? I'd have thought shooting was a good choice of sport given his circumstances. I found this one in the boot of his car. It's quite safe, of course, but I can't say the same for the other three. We did too much, you know. We made such a performance over him. Queens Police Medal, insurance payouts, pensions, the works. You've seen that car he drives. He's got everything. Crabbe: Not quite everything, sir. Fisher: All he had to do was go somewhere quiet and enjoy it. But would he? No. I can hardly show him the door. He hangs around here like an uninvited guest at a wedding. Crabbe: So why the sudden urgency to attach him to ClD? Fisher: Wisley starts his parole today. Crabbe: Wisley? The man who shot him? Fisher: Yes. Crabbe: Oh, thanks. Thanks a lot. Hello, Ian. I thought you were supposed to be on duty? Lefebvre: I called in sick. Crabbe: Oh, yeah? So what are you doing here? Lefebvre: You know very well what I'm doing here, Henry. I've come to see Wisley regain his freedom. Come on, Ian. You don't have time for that. Lefebvre: Don't I? Crabbe: No, neither do I. Now come on, I need your help in the High Street. Lefebvre: I'm busy. Right now. Look, you begged the force to keep you on. So they let you. So, are you going to come and do this work now, or are you going to sit here the rest of your life feeling sorry for yourself? I was kept on because there was advantage in it. Political advantage. I'm a weapon in the publicity war. Yeah, well, we all make our bargains, mate. Now are you going to come and do the job, or what? Lefebvre: There he is. Scot-free. Five years, then it's over. Is that just? Crabbe: No. No. If I could walk out that gate too, that'd be just. Released. Game over. And is that your devil? He took away my legs. He didn't take your brain. Now come on, I need your help, Ian. You've got to forget about Wisley. Lefebvre: Forget? Insofar as you can, yes, you've got to put him out of your mind. Now come on, turn that key. [ Engine starts ] Good man. [ Engine revs ] [ Car door closes ] [ Engine starts ] What time is it? Lefebvre: 12:15. Crabbe: Do you think they close for lunch in there? Lefebvre: What, am I an habitué of pension queues? Now don't go soft on me, Ian. Lefebvre: As if I would. So what's the plan, boss? Spread out. Lefebvre: Okey-dokey. Maeve: Get off. Police, Maeve. You're nicked. Tatsie: What are you doing? Florence: Sorting these. Which ones we've used, which ones we haven't. Flo. Yes, dear? What will become of us? In what sense? This is wrong. Mummy and Daddy wouldn't have liked it. There isn't much Mummy and Daddy would recognize now. But they'd recognize us. And they'd say it was wrong. Florence: Well, Tatsie, nothing lasts forever -- especially at our age. Tatsie: But we shouldn't do this. It's too late for regrets now, dear. Much too late. The die is cast. Crabbe: Hello. Tatsie: There are plenty of other seats. I know, but I particularly wanted to talk to you two ladies. What about? Crabbe: Cooking. You see, I'm a man who wants to know a really good recipe for bread and butter pudding. Bread and butter pudding? Crabbe: Yes. How are you doing it? Well, I cut the crusts off, then I spread the bread with butter and strained marmalade, and then I sprinkle sultanas and sugar on top and then bake. Full cream milk? Oh, naturally. Vanilla sugar? [ Clicks teeth ] Of course. Vanilla sugar. See, I knew I was missing something. It's our mother's recipe. I know. I had a version of it from your brother, Jack. You are the Miss Coverlys, I presume? Because, you know, he's very worried about you. And you are? Detective Inspector Crabbe. Unfortunately. 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