I can't think why you don't teach it in police colleges.
So you think it's Rusk, do you? You think he's our man?
Well, of course. Anyone can see that.
He knew both: Mrs Blaney
- and that Barbara what's-her-name. - Yes.
Well, there you are.
You told me the man's a sexual pervert.
That's why he kept the clothes and put them in Mr Blaney's case.
We have no proof of that.
It stands to reason.
Don't you mean intuition?
What does your intuition tell you I want for dinner tonight?
Steak and a baked potato.
But you're getting pied de porc a la mode de Caens.
- It looks like a pig's foot. - That's what it is.
I put it in the same sauce the French use for tripe.
That's comforting.
Well, when are you going to arrest
this Mr Robinson, or Rusk, or whatever he's called?
When I have the proof I need.
- It takes longer than intuition. - When will you have it?
In a few minutes I hope, dear.
Really?
You old slyboots. Tell.
Well...
...we know that if Rusk is the murderer,
he traveled up in a potato truck with his victim.
How do we know that?
Did you ever hear of a corpse that cut itself out of a tied sack?
What would he want to take the corpse out of the sack for?
Obviously he was looking for something.
How do we know that?
The corpse was deep in rigor mortis.
He had to break the fingers of the right hand to obtain what they held.
(Cracking)
It would be so nice to get back to plain bread in this house.
What do you think they held?
A locket? A broach? A cross.
It had to be something that would incriminate him.
Something that he missed when he put the body on the truck.
A monogrammed handkerchief, perhaps.
Not a cross, I think.
Well...
I don't see why not.
Religious and sexual mania are closely linked.
Anyway, whatever it was, he found it,
which was unlucky for us.
But we did have one piece of good fortune.
The truck driver told us that he stopped at one place on his journey,
and that was at a pull-in somewhere out of London.
- A pull-in? - Hmm.
It's a... cafe frequented by truck drivers, dear.
They serve humble foods like bacon and egg sandwiches,
sausages and mashed potatoes and cups of tea and coffee.
How is it so fortunate that this driver stopped there?
It's not so much that he stopped,
but that he stopped only once that is important.
The only place our man coulďve got out of the truck was at that cafe.
I sent Sergeant Spearman to see,
if he could find anyone who could remember Rusk being there.
I'm expecting him back at any minute.
Well, eat up, dear. You'll want to be finished by the time he arrives.
Tasty, very tasty.
Not a lot of meat on it, mind.
No sense in gorging, dear.
I'll take mine and eat it while I'm beating my eggs for the soufflé.
(Doorbell Rings)...
- Good evening, Sergeant. - Good evening, sir.
- Am I interrupting your dinner? - No, not at all. Come in.
- Thank you, sir. - Put your hat and coat on the sofa.
Good evening, Sergeant Spearman. What would you like to drink?
Good evening, madam. I don't know. I...
Oh, that's alright. You're off duty.
How about a Margarita? It's delicious.
Tequila, triple sec,
fresh lemon juice and... salt pressed 'round the rim of the glass.
- You'll love it. - Thank you, madam.
Sergeant Spearman, you are positively glutinous with self-approbation.
- You might as well speak out. - Yes, sir.
The woman behind the counter at the cafe
positively identified Rusk from the photo I showed her
as being a man who was at the cafe the night the body was discovered.
And that's not all.
- Are you waiting for a drumroll? - No, sir. Sorry, sir.
The woman also said that Rusk was dishevelled and very dusty,
and asked to borrow a clothes brush.
This is the brush she lent him, sir.
You see there?
What do you say, Spearman? Potato dust?
Here you are, Sergeant.
Cheers.
- Cheers, madam. - Did you hear all that?
- Yes, I told you. I knew all the time. - Quite.
- Get this down to the lab quickly. - Very good, sir.
It rather looks like we put the wrong man away this time.
What do you mean 'we'? You put him away.
- All right, Spearman, you can go. - Good night, madam.
You haven't finished your drink.
I'm sorry. I have to get down to the lab in a hurry.
Good night, Spearman. Good work.
- Very good work. - Thank you, sir.
Poor Mr Blaney. You've got to get him out, Tim, immediately.
He's in hospital at the moment.
I'll talk to the assistant commissioner in the morning
and get the case reopened.
He won't like it, but there's quite enough evidence for a pardon.
Will they give him any compensation?
I expect they'll give him some money,
but there's no real way to compensate in cases like these.
Poor man.
I think the least you can do is ask him 'round for a really good dinner.
Let's see.
It will obviously have to be something substantial.
I think a Caneton aux cerises.
- What's that? - Duckling
with heavy sweet cherry sauce.
After that jail food he's been having, I expect he'll eat anything.