All language subtitles for heartbeat_s11e09_uninvited_guests

Heartbeat, what do you miss when my baby
kisses me?

Heartbeat, what does a love kiss say in
my memory?

Mrs Johnson?

Yes? Mrs Meryl Johnson, manager of the
Ellaby Building Society.

Who are you? What do you want?

Get the keys, Mrs Johnson. We're going
to make a withdrawal.

Not this week, you aren't. The builders
are in.

Not a penny on sight.

Are you talking to him, Mum?

These gentlemen were just leaving, Toby.
Come on, Ben, let's go.

You've got yourself two lodges, Mrs
Johnson. Full board.

Go! Go!

Ben?

Shift that bike round the back.

We have a cup of tea, first thing.

Didn't I bother making him one today?

Jim's your nephew, you said?

My brother's lad.

And has he been unwell?

He must have been. He's dead.

Oh, no, I mean, has he complained of
anything recently?

No. And now you mention it, I did hear
him being.

He reckoned the new chicken pies at the
pub tasted funny.

How was it, Vernon?

Delicious. Good.

You should have had some, Vernon.

Watching you eat yours was as much as I
could manage.

Whatever's the matter, David?

This, it, uh, belongs to Harry Davis.

Who's he when he's at home?

What is it? It's Hector.

It's his pet rat.

Get that thing out of here.

It won't be any trouble, Mr Blaketon.

It's dead.

You and him both if you don't shift.

He wants us to bury it for him. Get out.

Now.

Tell him we don't do animals.

Why don't we do animals, Bernard?

Sarge, I've just had Dr. Somerby on the
blower. A sudden death in Weir Lane,

Aidensfield, number five.

Straightforward, did she say? Well, I
think she'd appreciate your opinion.

Right. Bradley?

There's nothing here to concern us, Dr.
Somerby.

Nothing you can see and nothing I can
prove yet.

I'll put the kettle on, shall I?

Look, why don't you come back to the
surgery? I'll show you what I mean.

All right.

Yes? Well, I've been out on a call, Mr
Fothergill.

Right. I'd better see her. I'll be
around after surgery.

Another one by the sounds of it.

I've seen four this week, all presenting
classic symptoms.

Nausea, vomiting, abdominal cramps,
fever, headache.

In short, salmonella enteritidis.

And you think Jim Pritchard died of it?
Well, that's for the pathologist.

But if I'm right, Jim may not be the
only one. The coroner's bound to ask, Dr

Somerby. Any idea of the source?

Afraid so.

One thing all these cases have in common
is the Aidensfield Arms chicken pies.

Dr Somerby?

Tiffy, it's Tom.

Tom who? Oh, Tom Nicholson. Listen, I'm
a little bit busy. Oh, sorry. Are you

busy?

May I, Dr Somerby?

Nicholson? What the... Devil you playing
at?

No joy.

Again. It's Craddock.

He was there in her office.

Blimey, Tom. When lightning strikes,
you're there with a metal rod, aren't

mate?

Never mind, Mr Pickering, to the rescue.

Off you go, lad.

Where are the wafers all round?

We have the field.

We have the workforce.

And we have a business that's crying out
for expansion.

And at an outlay that you will hardly
notice.

Why is it always we until it comes to
shell -out time? Then it becomes you,

which is me, Muggins.

We've also got a customer, Mr Burden.
Aye, step up, lad. I told you to get rid

of him.

Now then, you, or rather, what's his
name?

Hector. Hector?

have the honour of being our first
client.

This is where I'll end up, is it? Yes, a
nice little plot, headstone of your

choice, and a burial fit for a king.

It's a dump.

Yes, well, it is at the moment.

But in a week's time, you will not
recognise this place.

I'll come back in a week, then.

What about Hector in the meantime?

Fridge.

on your face, Craddock, I would say this
was business and not pleasure.

Yes, I'm afraid one of your regulars has
died, Mr. Becton.

Jim Pritchard.

Jim?

Well, he was only in here on Thursday.
He's probably died of salmonella

enterotitis, which he may have picked up
here.

What?

Well, we're waiting on the pathologist,
but Dr. Sunderby's seen four similar

cases this week, and they have one thing
in common.

Your homemade chicken pies.

So we'd like one, please.

But for testing.

Well, if you come back with the
appropriate requisition form signed by

chairman of the local health authority,
I just... And that also prevents you

from selling food until further notice.

Are you sure there's no fags in this
house?

I keep telling you, neither of us smoke.

Our late husband couldn't abide the
smell.

You know him?

Stops off every week.

Oh, Mum, Leonard O 'Connor? Her death
row.

Stay where you are.

He sometimes knocks at the door.

Yeah.

Sit down.

Shotgun. Be warned.

Ben.

Look at the state of you.

He's been fixing my scooter.

Get yourself cleaned up. I need you to
go for some fags. I'll never laugh till

Monday. Well, if you're planning on
staying, you'd better get some food as

Make him a list.

He'll never do it without.

Make sure it's a shop at least ten miles
away, right?

All right.

There's one in Herondale should be open.

Mrs Martin's Pantry.

As long as they sell fags.

Evening, Doctor.

Oh, heck, you look all in.

Come on, sit yourself down. I'll get you
a cup of tea.

Thanks, really. I should be getting
back.

Sergeant, I've been to see Doris
Fothergill. Who was rushed into hospital

earlier, I gather? She's in intensive
care.

We're pretty sure it's salmonella
poisoning, but there's a catch.

She's teetotal.

She's never been inside a pub, let alone
had one of Gina's pies.

Sorry, back to the drawing board.

I do have one clue.

Doris has a weakness for ice cream.

She bought two vanilla wafers yesterday
from Mr Pickering. Right. Thanks very

much, Doctor. I must dash.

What are you playing at?

Correspondence. Just because the office
closes down doesn't mean that I do.

I want to see these before you post
them.

Fine.

And I'd like my car back.

After breakfast.

When is it?

Whenever you make it.

Danny!

Morning, Doctor. Thank you for coming.

You've seen the past report on Jim
Pritchard?

Confirmed. Salmonella poisoning.

Right. Listen up, everyone.

As you know, in a murder inquiry,
attention to detail is vital.

This isn't a murder inquiry, Sarge.
There are many similarities, Bellamy.

Albeit that our killer is a microbe.

So, what do we know about him?

Well, we know his name.

Salmonella enterititis.

And we know his favourite haunt. So
let's track him down and make sure he

doesn't strike again.

When you say, we know his haunt,
Sarge...

Do you mean like Mr Pickering's ice
cream sort of thing?

That's the latest possibility.

With something like this, you see, you
look for the common factor.

Yesterday it was Gina's pie.

Well, along comes Doris Fothergill and
her passion for vanilla wafers.

But what else do these people have in
common? Is it just ice cream or is it

something else?

Visit them, find out what they've eaten.
A pattern will soon emerge.

Thank you very much, Doctor.

Typical bank letter.

Dear Mr Venture, according to our
records, your mortgage payment of the

overdue. Since late settlement can
prejudice your interest in the property,

urgent attention to the matter is
advised.

Yours sincerely.

Not so much as a plea, thank you, or buy
your leave.

Business.

Brief and to the point.

I don't know where you got that idea
from, Mr Begram. We do not provide a

service for animals.

What advert?

You know, David, for a rush job, that
typeset has done us proud.

Better phone you back, Mr. Peter. Oh,
no, it's really good, Mr. Bernard.

Scripts, fur and feather farewells. Yes,
Bernard.

This is one of those rare opportunities
where we not only serve the community,

but make a bobber to ourselves.

I suppose that was a potential customer
you've just turned away.

So let me just guess how it works.

You use my premises.

My good name.

Yes, and for that, dear brother of mine,
you get half the profits.

Not bad wages for a sleeping partner.

Sleep's the last thing I'll be getting.

Look, David and I are going to clear
that land at no expense to you

But could you fill the truck up with
fuel?

Hello?

It's Daisy Pritchard.

Oh, hello, Mrs Pritchard.

I think you know the animal.

Oh. Oh, I don't want to say that Boris
has died.

Give it to me, you daft beggar.

It's only Jim she wants, Barry, and not
the cat.

Hello, Daisy.

Yes, it's me, Bernie.

Who was it before, then?

David Stockwell.

Yes, listen, I meant to come round and
say I was sorry I was about Jim, but you

know how life whips past you.

Oh, Jim did, certainly.

A bit fatter than he bargained for.

Yes, Constable, what can I do for you?

I'd just like to ask you a few
questions, Miss Pritchard, about Jim and

else he might have eaten.

Right.

You'd better come in.

Bernie, I'll ring you back. I've a
visitor.

Right -o, Daisy.

To be honest, it surprised me when they
said chicken pie.

Not because he'd eaten it. He'd eat
anything.

But not pie for preference.

A piece of cake with your teeth?

Oh, yes, please.

On second thoughts, I'd better not. I've
only just had breakfast.

What did he eat, for preference?

Well, he was a sandwich man, was Jim.

Any particular kind? Oh, anything.

From chips to chocolate.

So long as it had two slices round it,
Jim would see it off.

Milk with that.

You don't have any lemon, do you?

Yes, I do.

It's been sitting in that cupboard for
donkey's years. Nice that somebody wants

it at last.

So, that's three on there that also had
ice cream.

Aye, Mr Pickering's in all.

You know, I keep thinking, is that
bellyache or is that my imagination?

What if...

We go the same way as Jim Pritchard.

Well, so long as it's not in my pyjamas.

Never given him much thought before.

Dying.

You probably have. None of your age.

What's this?

OK. Yep.

Oh, God, thanks.

Thank you.

Control to Panda One.

Alpha, I've got that information for
you.

Take this down, will you?

It's registered to Mrs Meryl Elizabeth
Johnson.

Pybeck Cottage.

Ferndale. Over.

Thanks, Phil. Out.

I know her.

She's the manageress of the Building
Society.

Tell you what, we've got some petrol in
the boot.

We'll pop the car back to her.

Ashfordly Police.

Yes, Dr Thumbaby.

Right.

OK.

Yeah, just hold on.

What is it, Benjamin? A serious case.
Toddler. Three years old. Needs hospital

treatment. Can we help?

Ambulance? At ETA, 30 minutes. There's
been a pilot near Whitby.

Get the address.

OK, Doctor. Do you want to give me the
address?

Get rid of them.

Go right!

Calm down.

Please, please, don't hurt him. Mum, I
can handle it, really.

Go.

Morning.

That's so kind of you.

It's our pleasure.

Thank you.

Nice to see you again, Miss... I don't
think we've ever met. In fact, I'm sure

we haven't.

Awkward spot for you to run out of
petulant, where you did.

Yes.

Went into Herondale for a few things
last night.

Had to get home.

Walked. It's a long way.

Good for you, eh?

Nowadays we walked everywhere.

Well, you could have phoned for a taxi
from the telephone box in the dip, I

suppose.

I did.

Mr Scripps wasn't answering.

No harm done.

Good day to you, then.

Thank you.

She seemed a bit anxious not to gnaw you
off.

Should I read anything into that?

No, you shouldn't.

Yes,

do take care.

Tricia.

Jenny, hiya. How are you? I'm fine.

I've just seen a patient of yours.

Doris Fothergill? How is she?

Complaining about her corns.

She's getting better then.

Jen, this is Sergeant Raymond Craddock
from Ashfordly. Sergeant, this is Jenny

Latimer. Jen's a pharmacist here.

Pleased to meet you. And you.

Trish?

Sorry, this must be catching up with me.
I don't usually... You'd better sit

down, Doctor.

Can you get her a glass of water?

What's wrong?

Well, I can answer that, Miss Latimer.

16 -hour days.

Thank you.

Patchy, sleep.

Meal's taken on the hop. Does take its
toll.

At the risk of being presumptuous.

What Dr. Thalmaby really needs is a bit
of extra help in her surgery.

And at the best of times, not just
during an emergency.

You don't know anyone, do you, Jen, who
could just give me a couple of hours a

week? Oh, not offhand, but I'll ask
around.

In the meantime, how about a cup of tea?

Sergeant Craddock?

Thank you, no, I must get back.

Nice to have met you, Miss Latimer.

Goodbye, Doctor.

Now you stay there.

What's all this, then?

Me being made a victim of another Vernon
big idea.

He means beneficiary thereof.

Oh, aye, the pet funeral thing. I saw
the advert.

We've dropped on something the public
didn't realise they wanted until we

offered it.

Like sliced bread or a life insurance.

Exactly. Get the kettle on, David. Might
just take the edge off things.

Have you dropped in, Al?

Business or social?

Er... Well, business, I suppose.

Well, don't tell us that little Titch
has popped his clogs, Mr Ventress. No,

Titch is in rude health, I'm afraid.

Oh, well.

You know what they say about Jack
Russells.

Vernon, were you answering the telephone
last night?

Taxi -wise, I mean.

Oh, certainly.

Only I had a friend who said she
couldn't get through.

Must be a line up the creek, then.

That'll be it.

Two sugars.

Hello, Jenny Latimer?

It's Sergeant Craddock. We met earlier.

Yes, Sergeant. What can I do for you?

Well, I just wondered whether you'd had
any luck in asking around.

You know, about extra help for Dr.
Thalamy.

Well, I've not had much time and... I'm
just a bit concerned about it, you see.

I mean, not for any reason.

You don't have to explain, Sergeant.

You leave it with me.

I've got something else.

Thank you very much, Mr. Latimer.
Goodbye to you.

Come in.

Still working, Sarge?

Yeah, Plantress. Jim Pritchard's inquest
opens tomorrow, so make it brief, will

you? Well, that mini that I found.

Out of petrol near Herondale? Yes. I
took it back to Mrs.

Meryl Elizabeth Johnson of Highbeck
Cottage, Ferndale.

And? Well, she said that she rang for a
taxi when she broke down.

Well, Vernon's script says otherwise.

There were no calls all evening.

She also said that she didn't know me.

Dented your pride, is it, Ventress?

No, Sarge, per se.

Tomorrow morning, I'm appearing before
the most demanding coroner in Yorkshire.

We have a possible epidemic on our
hands, and you are worried about whether

young... What's wrong, Sarge?

I think I'm coming down with something.

Oh, right.

You haven't had any ice cream lately.

Ice cream?

Can't abide the stuff.

Best news I've had today.

Tricia.

Jenny, what are you doing here? I found
you some help.

Well, that was quick, who is it?

Me. Don't worry, I had some leave to
take anyway.

Yeah, but why spend it with me? This is
hardly Paris or Rome.

You don't remember, do you?

That week before my pharmacy exams?

Me climbing the walls, confidence in
tatters?

Well... You held me together.

So, where are the patient records,
where's the dispensary and where's the

Well, there's the phone.

Good morning, Dr Summerby Surgery.

Could I take a name, please?

Oh, great news, lads.

Craddock's gone down with the book.

Well, that's not very charitable, Alf.

For you.

No, no, no. The point is that Craddock
hates ice cream and he couldn't have

caught it from Mr Pickering, which means
we couldn't have either.

What do you mean, even for me?

Has he gone sick?

Oh, that'll be the day. No, he's at the
doctor's and then he's going on to the

inquest. Right, gents, who's going to
the corner shop?

What for?

Well, ice cream, of course.

This good weather can't last forever.

It's your round, I think, Phil.

Miss Latimer.

You've taken the mantle of good
Samaritan upon yourself, I see.

I wonder if I could have a quick word
with Dr. Somerby in between patients, as

it were. Oh, I think that can be
arranged.

Thank you very much.

So, any news regarding the bug hunt, as
my officers call it? Yes, I spoke to

Chrissie Pitwell last night.

And how's her daughter?

Better. And she had eaten ice cream, but
not from Mr. Pickering, from the

supermarket. Oh, well, that's the case.

Did he like it spread way beyond our
reach?

But that's the point. It hasn't spread.

Which makes me think the source is still
local. What have your officers found?

Well, a common area, certainly.

Hungry roast, fish suppers, sandwiches.

Nothing specific.

Well, maybe it's just a matter of
waiting for a new case to point us in

direction. Yes.

I've got a nasty feeling that I might be
the new case you're referring to.

Good morning, sir.

Which of script services do you require?

Vehicular or funereal?

Fur and feather farewells.

I've had a bereavement.

Amanda. Oh, I am sorry to hear that.

Mr, um... Herbert Madison.

I want the best you can give her. No
expense spared.

And was Amanda a furred or feathered
friend?

She was more sort of suede.

Suede.

I'm not sure I follow.

She was a large white.

£308.

£308?

She's died young.

Yes, well, our Garden of Remembrance
doesn't actually open until Tuesday, but

I'm sure we can fit you in.

Thank you.

If you could pop Amanda round this
evening.

Aye, I'll do that.

You're a good man, Mr Scripps.

Not something you hear every day,
Bernard.

There you go.

They reckon that bloke who died the
other day was salmonella poisoning.

Nothing to do with salmon, is it?

No, it's named after the bloke who
discovered it. A vet, Daniel Elmer

How do you know such a thing?

Looked it up.

Encyclopedia. He's had time on his hands
in case he hadn't noticed.

Listen.

I have to go into Ellaby this evening.

What for?

The builder.

I need to check his work before we can
move back in. Mayonnaise, Mum?

No, thanks.

OK, we'll go. These two can stay here.

You haven't got any of your late
husband's clothes still here, have you?

Well, they've come in the loft.

What are you after?

A suit.

Fit for an area manager.

How are you?

Well, according to Dr Somerby, Ventress,
I'm suffering from stress.

That's a new disease the Americans have
invented.

Is this an ice cream wrapper?

I believe it is, Sarge.

But it's not one of Mr Pickering's.
Well, I've got news for you, Ventress.

Mr Pickering's not to blame anymore.

He's more likely to be one of the big
manufacturers.

Oh, dear.

How do you tidy your desk, will you, ma
'am?

It's becoming offensive.

Right, Sarge.

Sarge, could I have a word?

Certainly. What did he mean by, oh,
dear?

He just teased him.

I think.

It arrived for me this morning, Sarge.

Late payment.

That's got to have serious consequences
professionally, Ventress.

Sarge, it's from Meryl Johnson.

More to the point, I made my final
payment months ago.

What makes you think it's anything more
than a character error?

Something that she said when I made my
final payment.

It's funny how these things stick in
your memory, but she said, this will be

last you hear from me, Mr Ventress,
unless, of course, I need your help.

And add that to her claiming not to know
you.

Exactly.

Ah, Bernie.

Is Gina about?

I believe she's having a bath.

Oh, good. Because I've got a problem.

You've got a problem?

Look around you. What do you see?

Nothing. Ah, precisely.

This time of the day, I should be making
sandwiches, Gina should be baking pies,

and thanks to Jim Pritchard, I can't
even give the punters a bag of crisps.

What's yours?

Oh, half of the usual, if you're
offering.

Not what you're drinking, Bernie. What's
your problem?

Oh, Vernon.

The pet cemetery.

It's going too far. It's taking over.

He's using me premises, me tools, me
good name.

Hey, steady on, Bernie.

I want him stopped, and I don't know
how.

Well, put your foot down.

I have done.

It takes the notice.

What I need is a really big reason that
he can't do it before it gets out of

hand. Right, um...

I'll give it some thought.

I'll be ever so grateful, Oscar.

Thanks.

Best he doesn't know that I'm behind it.
We've enough family baggage as it is.

Right, I'll see what I can do.

Who's that with the boy?

Danny Begley.

Went down about five years ago for armed
robbery with his brother, Ben.

Didn't know they were out.

The kid on the scooter?

That's Meryl's son, Toby.

Right.

She's given her job as the manageress of
the building, and the fact they're

closed for refurbishment doesn't take
much working out, does it?

Well, they'll be armed, do you think?

Given their record, almost certainly.

Right. Spread the surveillance between
you.

Bradley, I suggest...

Move them, Sarge.

That's Ben.

Imagine they're going to see the
builders.

Work's been finished, so somebody's got
to check it.

Is there any money on the premises?

No. The security firm said they'd
deliver first thing, £8 ,000 into a

deposit safe.

Follow Begley and Mr Johnson, see what
they're up to.

Right, Sarge.

Nicholson? Yes, Sarge?

I've got to square things with CID. We
don't want any bruised egos if we have

make an arrest.

Can you handle the surveillance on your
own? Yes, Sarge.

If anything untoward happens, you radio
in, OK?

Is it, er... Amanda?

Yes, well, the casket is in need of its
final touches, so if you could leave the

trailer with us...

and we'll fetch it back after the
committal.

You've not given this a scrap of
thought, have you?

How are you going to lift her, for a
start?

How are you going to carry the coffin?

And who's going to pay for the rear
suspension on my hearse?

Do you know something, Bernard?

All you ever think about is money.

You alright, mate?

No, I'm not.

What is it?

Your stomach?

Hey, come through. I'll get you a glass
of water. It's alright.

I'm glad you're burning up.

Dr. Thunaby's surgery?

Is the doctor there?

Can I have your name, please?

Never mind about me. It's Toby Johnson
who's ill. He's burning up.

And your address?

Highbeck Cottage.

Ferndale. It's this bug that's going
round. I'm sure it's got him.

Tell her to come as quick as she can.

How's that new case you've been working
for?

Do you feel any better?

No

Don't do anything stupid, Toby.

I'll be watching you.

Hello?

Toby?

It's Dr Somerby.

Toby?

It's Dr Somerby. Can you hear me?

Yeah. Toby, do you know where you are?

Yeah. Okay, look at me. Have you been
sick?

Yeah. When were you last sick?

Just now.

And how are you feeling now?

Hot and cold.

Okay. Have you any stomach pains?

Whose is it?

Doctor's.

What happened?

Mrs Johnson, I was just concerned that
with this Salmonella scare...

It's OK, there's no emergency.

No emergency? Jim Pritchard died of it.
Jim Pritchard was overweight and

generally unfit. Toby's a strong,
healthy teenager.

Yeah, Mum, don't go overboard.

Right, well, thank you, Doctor.

You must have other calls to make, so we
won't keep you.

I'm sorry I didn't catch who you were.

I'm Toby's uncle.

I see. Only I'm just wondering who
called me.

Kat, I'll be on my pride.

Anyway, if it is salmonella, Mrs
Johnson, it would help if I knew exactly

Toby had eaten lately.

Some of the time.

You've done your bit for today, Doctor.
Thank you.

I'll see you to your car.

I've just had Nicholson on the radio. He
says that Dr Somerby has just come out

of Highbeck Cottage and driven off.

Did you see her car there, Bradley? When
I tailed them?

No, but then I didn't go all the way up
to the house.

Right. Well, take Ventress with you,
find her, and see what she's got to tell

us.

Danny,

where are you?

What the hell do you think you're
playing at, calling a doctor, eh? He was

He said in the paper that bloke died.

Why do I bring you along, eh?

Thank you, Doctor. It's on my back.

Tricia, what does this say?

Oh, Pennebob, 100 mil.

Doctor's handwriting.

It's quite an art form. Hello, Alf.

Mike, this is Jenny Latimer. She's
helping out for a week. Nice to meet

you too.

Trish, you've been up to Highbeck
Cottage? Yeah, I went to see Toby

He's ill.

Salmonella, I think, but he'll weather
it. While you were there, did you notice

anything odd?

No.

His uncle was a bit strange.

Well, his so -called uncle is going to
rob the Ellaby Building Society.

And we believe he's armed with a
shotgun, so we can't just barge in

did. I walked straight in, and I let
you.

No wonder they wouldn't discuss what
they'd all eaten lately.

Well, I might be able to help you there.

Er, it's the shopping list. It was in
her car.

Er, salad, tinned salmon, Mrs Martin's
mayo, shortbread biscuits.

May I know you?

Sandwiches. You found common areas,
Sergeant Craddock said. Sunday roast,

supper, sandwiches.

But it isn't the sandwiches, it's the
mayonnaise that goes in them.

I think we've found it.

You should leave.

What? I think the police might know.

How? That you may have saved Toby's
life, calling the doctor.

Thank you.

Donny!

has wrecked my garage.

Oh, don't exaggerate, Bernard. It's
knocked a tin of paint over, that's all.

Shall I... Shall I go get the vet?

No, telephone Herbert Madison.

Get him here, quick sharp.

Problem? He's gone.

Good. He's on the old bike, mate.

Not as good.

But still good.

Right, on your feet, the pair of you.
Get your keys, Mr Johnson.

Oh, come on!

Don't offer 2 -1 to control, over.

Subject to leaving Highbeck Cottage in a
blue mini. Begley is armed. Repeat,

Begley is armed. Over.

Right. In you go.

Get the money.

Fetch it out.

Couldn't be simpler.

Come on. I can handle it, really.

Sarge, she's just entered the building
society.

He's still in the car with the boy.

Don't try and arrest him until he's on
his own.

If he leaves them there, fine.

If he takes them home, follow. Over.

Understood. Over and out.

Amanda!

You are an amazing man, Mr Scripps.

Yes, well, I won't say I don't have any
moments.

How long have you had the gift?

Of the gab since he was two.

How else do you explain this?

Other than as the gift.

Just a second. I wouldn't read too much
into this if I were you.

Catalepsy. That's how you explain it. We
had a cousin with it. Luckily, nobody

tried to bury him. Now, kindly remove
your pig from my garage.

How do you get on with young Nicholson,
Bradley?

Oh, well enough.

Seems a nice enough chap.

Headstrong, of course.

Inexperienced. Keener.

Yes. Enthusiasm counts for a lot,
doesn't it?

I want you to take him in hand for me.

How do you mean, Sarge? A man of your
experience.

Keep an eye on him. Make sure something
rubs off.

Best thing for all concerned, I think,
is if he moves in with you.

You've got a spare room at the police
house. Well, hang on a second, Sarge.

They're back.

Sergeant Craddock to all units.

Subjects have returned to Highbeck
Cottage.

Bellamy, is everything set up, over?

Yes, Sarge. We've got both exits
covered.

Good. Over and out.

Get in the cupboard.

Get in the cupboard.

Come on.

Mr.

Johnson? Where's the police?

No! We're in here, under the stairs!

Thanks.

Are you all right?

Fine.

Good.

Oh, morning, Oscar.

I see they've nailed the salmonella bug.

And it turned out not to be your chicken
pies, after all.

Well, I feel a bit sorry for Omar
Martin, having to close her down.

I take it you've got planning permission
for this? See what?

Planning permission from the council.

Oscar, you don't need planning
permission for a pet cemetery.

You just dig a hole and fill it in
again.

Well, the enforcement officer won't see
it like that. Have you applied?

Funny you should ask, but no.

No, and if you did, you wouldn't get it.

Oscar, I'm only planning on doing what
people have been doing for hundreds of

years, burying their pets.

I've got six booked in for this morning.

Well, you'd best bury them, but make
sure you don't take any money off them.

Oh, come off it, Oscar. I'm a
businessman.

All right, but there's a principle at
stake here. If you can turn this into a

cemetery, why shouldn't Joe Blogg turn
his field into a ten -storey car park?

Do you follow me?

Yeah, I suppose so.

You mean you're quite willing to close
this place down?

As it happens, yes.

There's a bit more to it than I thought.

I thought it was just a case of taking
the money and burying the animals.

But that Herbert Madison, the grief of
the man when he thought his Amanda was

dead, and the joy when he found out she
wasn't. What are you talking about?

Oscar, you wouldn't understand.

I'm talking about people's feelings.

I'm not very good at that sort of thing.

You do surprise me.

Come in.

You wanted to see me, Sarge?

Yes, Nicholson, I did.

Close the door.

You thought I hadn't noticed, didn't
you?

On surveillance, when you saw Dr
Summerby's car leave Highbeck Cottage,

radioed in. But my question is this.

Why didn't you see her go in?

I nodded off, Sarge.

Well, at least your honesty does you
credit.

Thank you, Sarge.

You'll be moving into the police house.

While you're there, under the general
supervision of P .C. Bradley, read, mark

and learn.

That's all.

Thank you, sir.

Hello?

I'll pass on the message.

Harry.

You know, you're the last person I
wanted to see today.

You and... what's his name?

Hector. I said I'd be back in a week.
It's been a week.

You know, Hector starts with an H.

I mean, it's going to be important for
his headstone.

Don't be daft. If it had an H, it'd be
Hector, not Hector.

We're going to bury him, then.

Aye, lad.

Up and we are.

Would you like to say a few words, lad?

Aye.

So long, Gector.

You were a terrific rat.

See ya.