Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

This is Agnes DiPesto. We need to speak to the butler, please.
I didn't just fall off the turnip truck.
That policeman kept asking me what I was doing at the house.
You see, I'm not sure how much time I have before Jake throws you out.
You? You? What's this got to do with you?
Well, actually, "find" isn't the right word.
Mrs. Renborn, I'm sorry you're going through all this...
Oh, Herbert.
-Excuse me? -We also don't think...
Well, I guess it is kind of hard meeting somebody in the big city.
And I've been late three times, only one of which was my fault.
-I did? I'm sorry. -It's okay.
And when it processes information...
You have a beautiful home.
She believes that the spirit in this house...
He's....
Yankee smarts.
-Fact gathering? -Insignificant fact gathering.
But thank you again.
What I really need is proof.
I do.
I thought I heard a scream.
But I'm not going to.
He was in the gin trade, hence the secret panels...
...hot to mention, years of experience.
Good. How do you plan on documenting the ghost?
-I'm gonna solve this case. -Ms. Hayes--
Stop it.
...and parading them proudly through the village...
...I never feel safe anymore.
...and this house being haunted...
I'd like to hire you to find a ghost for me.
-Who is it? -The butler.
What's that?
It's Debby-Toes.
...and I knew how unstable she was, but poor Margaret.
He got wind of our plan and tried to blackmail Emily.
Oh, no. You're not horning in on my case.
You. You killed Ludwig.
-Shouldn't we check her room? -No. That won't work.
What's the matter, Agnes?
Not some nervous Nellie who jumps every time she sees her own--
-She's not moving me anywhere. -No wonder you got...
...than to scurry after me spewing root-vegetable metaphors.
...1s probably more afraid of us than we are of it.
Oh, and by the way, kids...
Oh, then you've had quite a shock.
A hard night? He's put two women in the bin and gotten a man killed.
Ludwig said this place was filled with hidden rooms...
This is Ludwig. He's our major-domo and general factotum.
Emily, are you all right?
Herbert, that was great.
Well, I wouldn't know where to begin.
But she wouldn't hear of it.
To the mister and missus, for instance?
I feel this weight, this heaviness.
Nothing worse than a bad toupee.
Weeks. Months, maybe.