Pie in the Sky

[theme music] [Judith humming] [Judith gasps] Ooh.

[Judith screams] [dogs barking] [door thuds shut] I'm home.

Judith, what's the matter?

Right, Steve, that's the lot.

-Where is he?

-In there.

Morning, folks.

Got your lettuce and your Maris Pipers out the back, Crabbe.

Bunged in some nice purple sprouting broc as well.

Thanks, Henderson.

Any danger of some coffee?

Sure, ask Steve.

Cheers.

Morning, Nicola.

You're looking uh, very lovely this morning.

Morning, Henderson.

You're not.

Okay, now, if we compare this quarter with the last, we're averaging four more covers a day on dinners, but... Oh, for God's sake, Henry, this is important.

-I'm sorry.

-But we're down two lunches, so, you're going to have to charge more for the set lunch.

Yeah, look, is this gonna go on much longer, Margaret?

I'm expecting Hugh Downing any minute.

Oh, is Hugh coming today?

That's good.

I missed him last week.

Oh, is he the one that sells the cheese?

[Henry] Yes.

What is it about our friendly local cheese merchant that inspires all this interest, John?

Well, somehow, I don't think it's his Double Gloucester.

Hugh Downing is an extremely nice man.

Yeah, and he's seriously gorgeous.

So you and Linda have split up, right?

Look, she wanted to go back to Dublin, and I wanted to stay here, so that's what we've done, all right?

So uh, you have split up, then?

Yeah, all right, we've split up!

Now leave it out, will ya?

Have you got her phone number?

What do you want her phone number for?

Well, they have this Potato Growers Convention in Dublin.

Thought I might go this year.

I could look her up.

Well, I wouldn't, if I were you, Henderson.

I think she thought you were a bit of a prat.

Yeah, Steve, leave it out.

What did she really think?

Morning, everyone.

-Hello, Hugh, come in.

-Hello.

Hello, Margaret.

What a nice surprise.

Oh, Hugh.

Mm.

Mwah.

Long time, no see.

Hello, I'm Nicola.

We didn't really get a chance to meet last time.

Um, hello, Nicola.

Nicola joined us a couple of weeks ago.

You can put him down now, Nicola.

We've got some serious cheese business to transact.

Would you like some coffee?

I'd better not.

I'm running a bit late.

Henry, wanna come and see what I've got in the lorry?

Oh, yes, please.

-[rings] -Oh, god, bloody thing.

Sorry.

Hello.

Oh, hello, darling.

I'm at Pie in the Sky.

Well, yes, they're both here.

Of course, I'll ask them.

Good idea.

All right.

Yes, you too.

Bye, darling.

That was Sarah, she was wondering if you'd be our guests for lunch at the hotel on Saturday.

The thing is, it's um, a bit of a celebration because we've decided to get married, actually.

Oh, now, that's wonderful news.

Yes, congratulations.

Well, Laxton House Hotel's my best customer, so it makes sense to marry the manager, doesn't it?

Well, they'll have to announce a national day of mourning.

The county's most eligible bachelor is spoken for.

Come off it, Margaret.

Now, that's enough of this frivolity.

Come on, let's go and look at some cheeses.

Yeah.

[Nicola shudders] I'll have a truckle of the Wensleydale, please.

-[Hugh] Yeah.

-And you'd better give me some Parmesan.

The Reggiano?

The good stuff, yeah, but don't tell Margaret.

[Hugh chuckles] My, that Stilton looks marvelous.

Look at it.

Good veining, no discoloration.

Oh, I'll have to watch out.

You're getting good at this.

Who, me?

No, no, it's only what I pick up from you.

Oh, I've got some lovely cheese from Philippe Olivier in Paris.

[sniffs] This Reblochon will be perfect tomorrow.

[laughs] Don't be mad.

I could do a three-course meal for what that costs.

It's a present.

Go on, take it.

Special occasion and all that.

Hugh, I couldn't.

[sighs] And, as you may be aware, we are on the brink of a revolution in communications, most particularly, digital communications using fiber optics.

You may have heard people using the phrase, "information highway."

Yes, sir.

Well, the Home Office are setting up a project to ensure we in the police, are slap-bang in the middle of that highway.

In the event of promotion, how would working on a project like that appeal to you?

I've always been very interested in information technology, sir, and, of course, I'm eager to work in any capacity.

But I was really hoping to stay in CID, sir.

Surely, being at the cutting edge of this new technology-- You've gotta let us keep some of the bright sparks in Operations, Clive.

[chuckles] Hasn't he, Mike?

The Home Office haven't approved the budget for that project yet, anyway.

Play any sport, Constable?

Yes, sir.

We've a very good women's synchronized swimming team here, you know.

[Cambridge] So I've heard, sir.

Ever thought of having a go?

I'm not interested in any sport where the score is determined by a panel of judges, sir.

Yes, well, I don't think we need detain you any longer, Constable, thank you.

Sir.

[Clive] Promising officer, that.

Yes, much too promising to end up in front of one of your computers.

Well, we'll have to wait and see, won't we?

As you may know, Mike Meredith and I are conducting a personnel review for the Chief Constable.

Really?

Mm, fascinating what one turns up in all the nooks and crannies.

Detective Inspector Henry Crabbe, for example.

Name ring a bell?

Hmm, Possibly.

[chuckles] Come off it, Freddy.

Crabbe was suspended over a year ago, pending an inquiry into the Hooperman business.

The inquiry was called off, and Crabbe was put back on duty, only in what capacity, nobody quite seems to know.

Hey look, Clive-- But the word is, he's on call to do your dirty work, Freddy.

And when he's not doing that, he's hanging around some greasy-spoon caf', which allegedly belongs to his wife.

Crabbe is an exceptional officer, and I don't have to justify my use of him to you, Clive.

I am A.C.C.

Operations.

All right then, you're A.C.C.

Operations.

How about an operation on this prowler?

Prowler?

The one that scared the living daylights out of my wife, Freddy.

She's on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and all I get is some dimwitted DC sitting in my kitchen, drinking coffee all day.

I see.

Hmm.

How about putting your man Crabbe on to it?

Give us a chance to see how exceptional he really is.

I'd hate it if Mike and I had to go back to the Chief Constable and tell him you were overmanned.

See you later, Freddy.

David.

-Mike.

-Yeah?

Let's get together.

Uh, lunch, sometime?

Sure.

I'm back.

[Claire screams] Uh-oh, look who's here.

[Henry] Don't attract his attention, because he'll only come over here and chat.

[Hugh] Hm, there you are, darling.

Sorry about that.

There's a leaky cistern in the Lancaster Suite, so I had to juggle the bookings.

We ordered for you.

Good.

Did Henry frown at the menu a lot?

No, not as much as usual.

I didn't frown at all.

Oh, William.

Make sure the Carters get a window table, won't you?

Oh, for God's sake, darling, relax.

Here, have a glass of wine.

Sorry, just one of those days.

-Cheers.

-Mmm, cheers.

Here's to you.

-Congratulations.

-Cheers.

Well, it's not definite yet.

I may change my mind.

What?

Joke, Hugh.

Oh, right.

What are you having, Henry?

Scallops, and then the lamb.

Mm, good choice.

What about you, Margaret?

Oh God, I've forgotten.

No, no, come on, you remember.

They're deep-frying a Mars bar, specially.

[Sarah chuckles] The thing is, Mike, suddenly, I'm having to justify every secretary in Operations, every driver, every cleaner, to Ingleby.

Onion tartlet.

That sounds nice.

You're the Force Admin Officer, Mike.

You've got more say about personnel than he has.

Don't forget, I'm a civilian, Freddy.

Say what you like about equality of rank, the new Chief Constable isn't mad keen about civilians.

And now Ingleby's after DS Cambridge, an officer I've-- I've nurtured from day one, a very capable officer I don't wanna lose.

Yes, capable and Black.

What's that supposed to mean?

Well, it looks good at press conferences, doesn't it?

Nothing wrong with a bit of positive discrimination, is there?

For God's sake, Ingleby's got a West Indian PC, two Asian detectives, and a woman Chief Superintendent.

And now he wants Cambridge.

It's not fair, Mike.

She's my Black woman detective.

Did you enjoy the lamb, sir?

It was very interesting, thank you.

Oh, I've got something to celebrate.

A new client.

Barton's, the wine merchants.

Mm, they're supposed to be good, aren't they?

Could be handy for you, Henry.

Perhaps they could pay us in burgundy.

I deal in hard cash.

Nothing less will do.

Well, there's a lot to be said for the barter system, you know.

Of course, it would put a lot of accountants out of work.

I mean, how can you calculate the VAT on a goat or two bushels of wheat?

Oh, they'd find a way.

[Margaret] You better believe it.

Excuse me, will you?

Just gonna pop into the kitchen.

Going to fuss over the cheeses, make sure they're not being refrigerated to death.

[Henry chuckles] [Chef] Hey, Hughie.

How's it going?

I'm fine, thanks.

Just gonna have a look at the cheese.

[Chef] Help yourself.

Theresa, please.

It's too risky.

Oh, who cares?

Someone might come in.

So what?

-Come on, then.

-[Theresa giggles] You're such a naughty boy, you are.

[chuckles] I know.

You just don't want to admit it, do you?

Oi, you, brain-dead.

Two sorbets and a tarte Tatin, there.

As a matter of fact, I wanted a word with you tonight, Crabbe.

-Oh, yes, sir?

-About this prowler.

Prowler?

Peeping Tom, Crabbe.

Making himself busy in this part of the world, prowling, peeping, stealing uh, items of female clothing.

Yes, um, what's the bad thing he's done?

Made the mistake of peeping at the wife of Assistant Chief Constable Clive Ingleby.

Ah-ha.

Listen, Crabbe, Ingleby's doing a personnel review for the Chief Constable.

He's been poking around, and one of the stones he's lifted has got you underneath it.

Oh, I see.

Nothing he'd like better than to get at me through you.

So make yourself bloody useful to him, or before we know where we are, he'll be digging up the dirt on you and Dudley Hooperman, and running to the Chief Constable with it.

In which case, I may not be able to help you.

Office politics, Crabbe.

You know the sort of thing.

Can't stand it, myself.

No, sir, I know, I know you can't.

What are the sweets like in here?

I've no idea.

You might try the cheeseboard, though.

Stilton should be good.

Stilton and a glass of port, that's good idea.

Why not live dangerously?

Have a glass of sweet white.

Say um, Sauternes.

Sauternes?

[sniffs] Why did you tell him that?

He'll probably go and enjoy it, now.

Idiot.

He's got such good manners, Hugh.

He's quite old-fashioned, really.

Hm, that's not all that's old-fashioned about him.

What do you mean?

I mean sex, Margaret.

Well, you know what they say.

Try not to rush them.

You've gotta be patient.

Rush Hugh?

Chance would be a fine thing.

No, the trouble is, he's insisted we wait until we're married.

Do you mean you actually haven't... No.

I'm so wonderful, you see, he loves me so much, everything's got to be done absolutely by the book.

Our wedding's going to be this amazing, romantic thing, so we've got to wait, otherwise we might spoil it.

Do you mean you haven't done anything?

Well, we've done kissing, obviously.

And it was fine, but, [sighs] I don't know, Margaret, I'm beginning to think it's a bit weird.

Well, he does want to marry you, Sarah.

That does indicate some sort of interest.

Maybe you should try to be more assertive.

Some men like that sort of thing.

God, you've got to be so careful with them, haven't you?

I mean, what do men really want?

Cheeseboard's very good, here.

Let's have some Stilton.

And uh, oh I know, we'll have a, a glass of Sauternes with it.

Farmhouse Stilton and a couple of glasses of Sauternes.

Very good choice, sir.

I'm impressed, Freddy.

This is a whole new side to you.

Bye, darling.

Lovely lunch.

Oh, why do you have to rush off?

Come up to the flat for a drink.

Stay for supper.

Stay the night.

I promise I'll behave myself.

I told you, darling, I've got a mountain of paperwork to do, and a delivery first thing in the morning, hm?

-I'll ring you later.

-Okay.

Bye.

[Hugh] Bye.

I don't know why you had to go and upset Sarah's chef like that.

I didn't upset her chef.

All I did was ask a perfectly innocent question about the navarin of lamb, that's all.

You never ask innocent questions, must be something to do with being a policeman all these years.

You make, "How are you" sound like an interrogation.

Is this the chef at Laxton House?

Poor old Sarah.

She's got enough to worry about.

The same.

What's Sarah got to worry about?

You wouldn't understand.

Yeah, I've seen him posing down at the Purple Ploughman.

The Purple Ploughman?

[John] Yeah, it's a nightclub down in Brayfield.

It's the only place round here that's open late, so you get a lot of waiters and a lot of chefs.

Favorite haunt of yours, is it?

Certainly not.

All that noise and smoke?

Anyway, I've got Tolstoy to finish by the end of the year.

A late-night drinking den for chefs.

I think I ought to check that out.

[telephone rings] Excuse me.

Hello, Pie in the Sky.

[Man On Phone] Margaret, how are you?

Who is this?

I hear you're going to be working for Barton's.

-That's great news.

-[laughs] Bill, is that you?

[Man On Phone] Because I pass through Sommersby myself.

Maybe we'll bump into each other.

Okay, come on, joke's over.

Who is this?

Better still, I could pop round to the restaurant while Henry's out playing detectives, because I think I could really do something for you, Margaret.

Quite a few things, actually.

Are you alone?

If you are, I'll tell you exactly what I had in mind.

No, you won't, you pervert.

And if you ring me again, I will do something for you, believe me!

[Margaret exhales sharply] Not somebody wanting to book a table, I presume.

No.

Morning, sir.

Ah, well, well, Sergeant Cambridge, congratulations.

Thank you.

Coffee, croissant?

No, thank you.

So, where next in your inexorable rise to the top, eh?

Traffic?

Personnel?

Oh, no, no, wait, I know.

Wait a minute.

Information Technology.

I'm very happy in CID, sir.

Oh come on, Cambridge, nicking thieves is no way to get ahead in this job.

Well, you're quite right, but it's what we're stuck with for today.

Oh, is that a reference to Peeping Tom and the Assistant Chief Constable's wife?

Mm, Mrs. Ingleby's expecting us at 11.

Uh-huh.

Well, I suppose you'll have to go back to work as well, then.

Is she all right?

"Is she all right?"

All she has to do all day long, is eat, sleep, lay the occasional egg, and listen to Mozart.

Of course she's all right.

[chuckles] [Cambridge] I should warn you about Ingleby.

[Henry] That's all right, Cambridge, Mr. Fisher already has.

Don't worry, I'm not going to jeopardize your brilliant career.

Actually, sir, I was thinking of yours.

I went for dinner with friends at La Vie en Rose in Brayfield.

They do a plateau de fruits de mer which is just about acceptable for this part of the world, I suppose.

Clive was unable to join us.

He had to attend a last-minute meeting with Philip Norris.

Um, Philip, um, Morris, uh, does he have a bearing on this case?

Philip Norris, sir, he's the new Chief Constable.

Oh, is he?

Oh, well, huh.

Well that's his alibi, sorted out.

[laughs] I'm sorry.

Please, carry on, Mrs. Ingleby.

Well, I let myself in, turned off the alarm, then went straight upstairs to the bedroom.

I started to get undressed, when I noticed a draft was coming from one of the windows.

When I went to close it, I-- I saw him staring right in at me.

He had a mask on of some sort.

All I could see were his eyes.

I screamed and he disappeared from sight.

I arrived a moment or two later.

Judith was in a state of shock.

I ran downstairs into the garden, but he'd gone.

Um, now, let me see, uh, the bedroom's on the first floor, is it?

Yes.

So he got up using, what, um, a ladder?

Yes, my ladder.

I'd been clearing a gutter earlier that day.

Well, in the future, sir, I think it might be advisable if you put the ladder away.

You've no need to lecture me on domestic security, Inspector.

No, no, no, of course not, sir.

No, no, no.

No, sir, I won't even mention the window that was left open when you both went out.

Crabbe.

As soon as I saw him, I knew he was the one on the phone.

Uh, "the one on the phone"?

Mrs. Ingleby had an obscene phone call, sir.

Phone calls.

Five, so far.

Obscene, you say?

[Clive] The usual sort of thing, Inspector.

The unusual thing was how much he knew about me and the family.

The first time he called, he talked about my sister.

Her husband has business problems.

He knew all about it.

What was his voice like?

Well-spoken, but fuzzy.

Using some sort of distorting device, presumably.

[Judith] As soon as I pulled back the curtains 6and found myself looking right into that man's eyes, I knew.

I don't know why, I knew he was the one on the phone.

Margaret got a call last night.

I see.

Well-spoken, male, distorted voice.

Seemed to know everything about us.

And you're thinking it could be the same man.

Well, he's got to be the favorite, hasn't he?

You're having your incoming calls traced?

Yes, for what it's worth.

But he's not stupid, you know.

He used pay phones for all those calls to Mrs. Ingleby.

No, no, the question is, is he gonna start prowling around Pie in the Sky?

If he hasn't already.

Mmm.

Where to next?

Claire Bicknall, she's the manager of the Purple Ploughman, -it's a um-- - I know all about the Purple Ploughman.

-You do?

-I do.

[Henry] What happened the night you saw the prowler?

Well, I was working here 'til about 12:00.

I got back, everyone was asleep, needless to say, so I went out to get the washing and there he was, standing there on my patio, with his hands full of knickers.

Could you describe him?

No, he had something covering his face.

He was, what?

Two or three inches taller than me.

Average build.

Youngish, I'd say.

He must have been in pretty good nick, the way he took off.

Tell you the truth, I think he was just as scared as me.

Tell me about the phone calls.

Well, he knew where I work, what my husband does, the lot.

I mean, it's no secret we've had our ups and downs, but the stuff he came out with.

You mean, obscene?

Oh, yeah, but that didn't upset me.

You hear everything, working in a place like this.

No, it was the stuff about me and Colin, and, you know... ...our relations.

Oh.

Well, well.

Hugh.

-Hello, Henry.

-Hello.

So you're supplying the Purple Ploughman, eh?

[chuckles] My secret's out, now, isn't it?

Eight kilos of grated cheddar for the Purple Ploughman's lunch.

-Oh, lovely.

-Four kilos of shredded mozzarella for the Purple Ploughman's pizza.

Shredded mozzarella?

Yeah, it pays the bills, Henry.

[Cambridge clears throat] Ah, sorry.

Hugh Downing, Detective Sergeant Cambridge.

-Pleased to meet you.

-Pleased to meet you.

[Henry] Oh uh, is this your route?

Yep, quite busy today.

Hm.

Well, talk of the devil.

La Vie en Rose.

Well, I'm told that their plateau de fruits de mer-- Is just about acceptable.

Gosh, I doubt that.

[chuckles] You know, I really ought to come out on your round with you one of these days, so I can get the lowdown on my rivals.

Well, you're always welcome, Henry.

I'd appreciate the company.

But I'd better get on.

I'll see you the day after tomorrow.

Right, fine.

Well, it's been really nice, meeting you.

-Bye.

-Come along, Cambridge.

[classical music playing] Well, I'm not sure I agree with all this religious music.

I think the last thing we need round here is a born-again chicken.

[thud] -Got it.

-Aah!

It was in the outhouse.

Hm.

Now, stop that and sit down.

I want you to try some of this.

It's the first time I've done it.

Leek, ham, and egg pie.

Such good springing.

Well, I hope you're not going round and bashing people over the head with that thing.

Look, I'm not going to be intimidated if that pervert comes round here.

If he comes lurking around, he's going to have this to contend with.

I might even lay a trap.

-Trap?

What do you mean, trap?

-Oh, I don't know.

Hang a load of knickers in the garden.

Margaret, don't even think about it.

-Joking, Henry.

-[clock chimes] Damn, I meant to phone Sarah.

It's too late, now.

Do you know, I saw Hugh today.

He was delivering synthetic cheese to the Purple Ploughman.

Can you believe it?

It's a bit like catching Rembrandt painting a road sign.

I can't make that boy out.

I thought you liked him.

Oh, I do, I do.

It's just, oh, I don't know.

Sarah told me something, Henry.

Now, this is in the strictest confidence.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Apparently, Hugh has insisted on complete celibacy until after the wedding.

Complete?

You mean no... No hanky-panky.

He says it's because he's an old-fashioned romantic, you know, back to basics, all that garbage.

And she says, well that's all very sweet, blah blah blah, but, frankly, it's a bit odd.

God, I was hungry.

Mmm.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Margaret, what was in that pie?

Steak and kidney.

Well, it was some sort of meat.

Wasn't it?

Oh.

Blackberry and apple.

Unbelievable.

Well, I was hungry.

You see, if I'd known it was going to be an interrogation, I'd have taken notes.

Honestly.

[Henry] Pay phones are blue.

Red is for the places where our friend has been spotted.

When in doubt, Cambridge, stick a pin in a map.

People find it very reassuring.

Very impressive.

What are the yellow?

Yellow are restaurants.

All the women who've been pestered by this man have been connected with restaurants, one way or another.

See, here, you've got Margaret, Pie in the Sky, of course.

Then Claire Bicknall, manager of the Purple Ploughman.

Here, there's Judy Smith, waitress at the Maid's Head.

Tracey Miller, girlfriend of the chef at the Buggles Wine Bar.

And, last but not least, Mrs. Judith Ingleby, who, with her husband, is a regular at La Vie en Rose, -where-- -The plateau de fruits de mer-- Is just about acceptable.

And she's a personal friend of the owner.

Why is there a yellow pin in the Laxton House Hotel?

Well, yellow also stands for those places that get their cheese from Hugh Downing.

Your friend the cheese man?

Mmm, it dawned on me when I saw the route he had pinned on the door of his lorry.

All the uh, pay phones and the places where our friend's been spotted are either on it or near it.

I see, so he would have seen these women while making his deliveries.

And the personal stuff, well, that could be gossip he picks up on his rounds, yes?

Mmm.

His fiance is the manager of the Laxton House Hotel, and as you can see, the main entrance is just opposite our friend's favorite pay phone.

His fiance?

Well, that's the end of that theory, then.

Why?

Well, what's the one thing your voyeurs, flashers, and heavy breathers all have in common?

Apart from the fact that they're all men.

You've been reading books, Cambridge.

They're often unable to conduct a normal sexual relationship.

Downing's getting engaged, therefore... Hmm.

His fiance told Margaret... that, thus far, their relationship is strangely platonic.

Every time the question of sex arises, he apparently runs a mile.

Ah-ha.

I do not like this theory, Cambridge.

I do not like the idea that Hugh Downing is a voyeur.

Well, we'll just have to find out for ourselves, -won't we, sir?

-Mmm.

Morning!

-Morning, sir.

-Morning, sir.

Excellent.

[sniffs] [noisemaker blares] [Man] Happy birthday!

Two steak-and-kidney pies, boiled and beans, please.

Right.

We're running low on onion gravy, you know, Chef.

[Henry] No, we're not.

There's plenty more in the big fridge.

Can I have a break for me nosebag?

Henderson, look, shut up and get on with it, will ya?

Hello, Nicola.

Steve, where are my steak-and-kidney pies?

Yeah, all right, all right.

They're on the way.

Table five are getting a wee bit twitchy about their bread-and-butter pudding.

What, already?

Don't these people chew?

[telephone rings] Hello, Pie in the Sky.

Table five say they'll cook their own desserts.

[Henry] Yeah, yeah, yes, yes, I know.

Margaret, Roger Painter from the garage for you.

Hello, Roger.

If it's about that VAT return, it'll be ready tomorrow.

[Man On Phone] It's not Roger, Margaret.

Oh, it's you, is it?

[Man On Phone] Sneaky of me, I know, but I wanted to make sure you spoke to me.

Well, what makes you think I wouldn't speak to you?

[Man On Phone] You weren't very nice before.

I wasn't?

Oh, I'm sorry.

[Man On Phone] I know the restaurant's full tonight, so I won't keep you.

I just wanted to know if you're wearing that black dress.

You know, the low-cut one.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.

[Man On Phone] What else?

Oh, nothing.

I think, on these sticky nights, it's much more comfortable to wear as little as possible, don't you?

Of course, I am wearing these rather wonderful satin cami-knickers.

They're black, with very small, very pink flowers on 'em.

They'll be hanging in my garden tomorrow.

You can probably come and look at them, can't you, you dirty little-- [phone receiver clicks] Poor bloke, couldn't take it.

-Yay!

-Bravo!

Well, you told me to keep him talking.

Margaret, sometimes you are beyond belief.

Good.

The call was from a pay phone in Sommersby, one he hasn't used before.

I had Pinkney and Smith watching the Laxton callbox all day.

And?

And Hugh Downing came out of the Laxton House Hotel at 10:30 a.m. in his lorry.

He didn't use the pay phone.

But the odd thing is, instead of turning right, for Brayfield and the Purple Ploughman, he turned left and then went up this farm track.

Then what?

Pinkney and Smith had to go on a door-to-door in Barstock.

Probably doesn't mean anything.

Mmm.

Well, maybe I'll find out tomorrow.

And this is a hard cheese made from ewe's milk.

Like the Italian cheese, pecorino.

Right, but made in Norfolk.

It's great in souffles, this stuff, you know.

And this is a soft goat's cheese from the Mendips.

Goat's cheese?

No, not for me, thanks.

Oh, come along, Nicola.

You've got to know what you're serving to people.

All right, Hugh, if you insist.

-No.

-Oh.

Mm, yeah, it's quite nice, actually.

You see?

Anyway, the most important thing is, never, never serve cheese straight from the fridge.

I hope you're not suggesting that's what happens in this establishment.

Hello, Henry.

How are you?

I'm fine, Hugh, thanks.

Look, could I come out on your round with you today?

-What, now?

-Mmm.

-Today?

-Mmm.

Great, of course.

First stop, Marco's Pizzeria.

-Fine.

-See you.

Bye.

[Hugh] Right, one block of mild cheddar.

One block of mild cheddar.

And three bags of good shredded mozzarella.

Ah.

And one, two, three bags of shredded mozzarella.

[Hugh] Here you are.

-Enjoy.

-Thank you.

[Hugh] Laxton House Hotel next.

Then on to Brayfield for La Vie en Rose and the dreaded Purple Ploughman.

Still glad you came?

-[Sarah] How's Margaret?

-Fine, fine.

I hear she's been getting phone calls from this weird bloke.

-Well-- -Terrible, isn't it?

It used to be so quiet around here.

-Hello, darling.

-Hello, darling.

You're looking a bit stressed today.

-[Hugh chuckles] -Doesn't he look stressed, Henry?

Mmm.

Still, at least you've got company today.

-That's nice, isn't it?

-Mm-hmm.

Be good.

[Henry] Do you always turn right here?

[Hugh] Yep.

Next stop, Brayfield.

You never turn left?

Well, why would I, Henry?

I don't deliver to anyone that way.

You turned left here yesterday.

Henry, um, what's going on, here?

Well, you take me to where you went yesterday, and I'll tell you.

[Hugh] I don't believe it.

[Henry] Well, I don't want to believe it, Hugh.

Creeping around, peering into-- Look, let's, there's an easy way to deal with this.

Look at these dates.

Now, there must have been one of those evenings when you were doing something, visiting Sarah, for example, that someone can verify.

No, it's no good.

No alibis, I'm afraid.

Oh, come on, Hugh.

It's no good, Henry.

I'm sorry, I can't help you.

All right, then.

What are we doing here?

[horn beeps] Hello, gorgeous.

Morning.

Look, Henry, the thing with Theresa, it's over.

Well, almost over.

I was finishing it, really.

There you go.

Hang on.

Hello, stranger.

-Oh hello, Claire.

-Don't I get a kiss, then?

Look, sorry Claire, I can't talk now, okay?

I'll try and call you later.

-I love it when you're serious.

-Please, Claire!

Oh, dear.

Morning.

And what lies in store for us at La Vie en Rose, I wonder?

Well, actually, there's this rather... [Hugh] There's this chef called Lesley.

[Hugh] Thursday the 23rd.

Well on Thursday evenings, I go round to Bridget's.

Bridget's?

She works at the Deli in Barstock.

I sell them a lot of French cheese.

Bridget's very interested in-- French cheese?

Yes, actually, she is.

[sighs] Monday the 4th.

Um.

Well, Mondays are pretty hectic.

Most restaurants are closed, you see.

-Uh-huh.

-So I see Claire in the afternoon and then, well, it's dinner with Sarah.

And then I look in on Lesley.

[sighs] Sunday the 10th.

Yes, well, Sunday afternoons are Claire again, and then in the evening there's a waitress at the Maid's Head.

This is awful, Henry.

What must you think?

Well, what I'm thinking is, at least you're not prowling around, stealing underclothes off washing lines.

For one thing, you haven't got time, really, have you?

But, I love Sarah.

Well she's absolutely the only one I really want, but it's so difficult to... [sighs] I can't seem to...

When I was with the others, I don't know, it's easier.

It doesn't seem to matter, it's just a sort of game.

I'll have to come clean with Sarah, won't I?

Yes, of course I will.

Well, that's the end of that, then.

I'm sorry about all this, Henry.

Don't apologize to me, Hugh.

My only concern is whether you've broken the law.

I have absolutely no jurisdiction whatsoever over your private life.

Thank God.

[Henry] A witness coming out of the pub saw the lads spraying the lorry.

Turns out they worked at Marco's Pizzeria, where they'd heard a rumor about Hugh Downing from a mate of theirs who worked at a bistro, La Vie en Rose.

All right, Crabbe, no need to run through the entire Good Food Guide.

Who had heard it from the owner's wife, who admitted, under close questioning from Detective Sergeant Cambridge, that she had heard it from a close personal friend of hers, -namely-- -Get on with it, Crabbe.

[Henry sighs] [Cambridge sighs] [Cambridge] Mrs. Judith Ingleby.

I can only assume Assistant Chief Constable Ingleby told his wife we were interviewing Hugh Downing, sir.

I see.

Well...

Yes, and, in view of the source of the leak, I told Mr.

Downing he had probable grounds for launching an official complaint.

Yes, indeed.

Better leave this with me.

[Man] So all the time we were together, you were sneaking off and seeing her?

[Woman] Well, not exactly.

[Man] It certainly looks that way.

[Woman] Well, it wasn't quite that way.

It's so embarrassing.

[Woman] It wasn't.

We need to talk about it.

Is she gonna turn up and join us?

For goodness sake, you liked it here before.

I did.

It's always here, isn't it?

I know, you'd be happy with just a takeaway, wouldn't you?

I know, I know.

For heaven's sake, lighten up.

What was all that about?

-Well, he left her... for another woman.

-Yeah.

Then she met the other woman and they got on so well together that she's moving in with her.

Good God.

People talk about anything in front of waiters, you know.

We're non-people, till they want another drink, that is.

[Henry] I just thought there must be some connection between all these restaurants, apart from Hugh and his cheese deliveries.

And then it occurred to me, waiters and waitresses.

I mean, you remember all those personal details the caller knew about?

Well, waiters and waitresses hear the lot, and nobody gives it a second thought.

Well, the day you and Margaret had lunch here-- [Henry] Thank you.

Mark Weston was waiting on table.

That's right.

And he was there when Margaret talked about her new client.

Now, until that moment, she hadn't mentioned it to anyone, not even to me.

So, Mark Weston.

Can I talk to him?

I'm afraid not.

He was temporary.

When we're short-handed, I get emergency staff from Scullions.

Scullions?

It's a catering-staff agency in Barstock.

I was about to call them, actually.

We've just lost a waitress at short notice.

Are you all right?

[sighs] Yes, I'm fine.

Have you heard from Hugh?

Not since um...

He's thinking of moving to the West Country.

Wants to make cheese, not just sell it.

Poor Hugh.

Poor Hugh?

He was a sitting duck, wasn't he?

Just couldn't say no.

Except when he should've said yes.

Mark Weston, he's been on the agency's books for about a year.

Good night, Mr. Crabbe.

-Good night, Nicola.

-See ya.

Good night, Steve.

Safe home.

He's experienced, he's efficient, he's been offered permanent jobs, but he prefers to move around.

Not many friends, it seems.

Oh, don't tell me, he's a bit of a loner.

Exactly.

You wanna know where he's worked recently?

Laxton House Hotel, the Maid's Head, La Vie en Rose, Buggles Wine Bar, and Marco's Pizzeria.

My, what a breathtaking CV.

I had to go to all of them to find out where he lives.

It seems he changes addresses as often as he changes jobs.

Where's he living now?

Here, in Middleton, a B&B in East Road.

[doorbell rings] Yes?

Detective Sergeant Cambridge, Barstock CID.

We're looking for Mark Weston.

He's out.

We'd like to look at his room, if that's all right.

[door closes] Margaret.

-Hi, John.

-Hi.

-Good night?

-Not bad.

I've bagged up your swag for you.

How 'bout you?

Well, okay, if you're keen on the Retail Price Index.

Oh, yes.

Where's Henry?

Ah, he's gone off sleuthing with Cambridge.

Well, the people of Middleton will sleep safe in their beds tonight then.

Indeed.

Uh, you'll lock up, will you?

-Mm-hmm.

Later.

-Thank you.

Night-night.

What's he supposed to have done, then?

We're just making inquiries at this stage, madam.

Phone book.

Claire Bicknall.

Judith Ingleby.

Sir.

Dear, there's a pair of mine in there.

[sighs] Margaret Crabbe.

I'll tell you what, he can't have gone very far.

His car's still parked outside.

Pie in the Sky.

[yells] [moaning] [Mark] No.

Take that off.

You pathetic little... Keep her away from me.

Margaret, are you all right?

Never better, thank you.

[Henry sighs] [Mike] Well, Freddy, I don't know what you said to Clive Ingleby, but he's been as good as gold.

You can keep DS Cambridge for the time being.

Oh, Crabbe's in his good books as well.

Wasn't Crabbe pushing for early retirement last year?

Ingleby said he thought he might be able to swing something without any loss of pension.

Retirement?

Oh god, no.

Last thing Crabbe wants.

Fine, fine.

Mike, in the unlikely event that you should bump into Crabbe, don't mention the retirement thing, all right?

Fine by me.

This is excellent.

Shall we have the Stilton and whatsit, Sauternes, again?

Uh-huh.

Hello, Hugh.

[ending theme music]