Original subtitles

♪ Heartbeat

♪ Why do you miss when my baby kisses me? ♪

♪ Heartbeat

♪ Why does a love kiss stay in my memory? ♪

HE GROWLS, OTHERS SHRIEK

SCREAMING

Get away! SHE SHRIEKS

SCREAMING

BOY ROARS, OTHERS SCREAM

Shh! Come round here. Be quiet! Quiet! Shh!

- YOUNGER BOY: What's she doing? - I don't know!

She looks like a witch!

- Come on, come on! - A witch!

Stop, stop!

- Stop! - A witch!

Stop! We seen a witch in the cemetery!

- Where? - In there! Come on, quick!

- Come on! - All right, I'm coming.

Come on, a witch!

CHILDREN SHOUT

SHEEP BLEAT

KATE: Amy Dewhurst. She was a patient of mine.

Died a few months ago.

What a weird thing to do, though.

You sure it wasn't the kids just messing about?

They would hardly have flagged down the first passing copper.

Was it damaged at all?

Probably dampened her spirits a bit, I should think.

- What did you do with it? - Well, I put it back, of course.

You better let the family know.

- I've got an address. - Right.

ON RADIO: ♪ I got a black magic woman... ♪

♪ Got a black magic woman... ♪

♪ Yes, I got a black magic woman

♪ Got me so blind, I can't see... ♪

Was your aunt ever frightened by an Irishman?

An Irishman?

This thing she obviously had for all things green.

She said she found it very restful.

Yeah. One word for it.

♪ Don't turn your back on me baby... ♪

♪ Yes, don't turn your back on me baby... ♪

Suppose we were right, were we?

You know, to move in ourselves.

Be worth a fortune once we've done it up properly.

Yeah, possibly.

- I'll say one thing for this place. - It's green.

- It's pretty damn big. ROCK MUSIC ON RADIO

Pretty damn cold as well.

Oh, great!

TURNS UP VOLUME, MIMICS GUITAR SOLO

TURNS VOLUME DOWN Er... would you like a hand?

Thanks, Aunt Nancy. You'll not have some with us?

Er, no, thank you.

So, where's the urn now, then?

Back where it belongs, Mrs. Salter.

And no harm done, as far as I can see.

You're Miss Dewhurst's niece, aren't you?

- Great-niece, yes. - And she lived here with you, did she?

With Aunt Nancy, actually. Until Aunt Amy died,

and then everything came to me as the only surviving relative.

For the last ten years, I've been in the music business down south.

Oh, I see.

This woman these kids saw...

would they recognise her again, do you think?

Well, the little girl thought she was a witch.

She was all dressed in black from head to foot.

Really?

Rings a bell, does it, that description?

Could do.

Aunt Nancy?

- Could she be in her room? - Oh, she doesn't live here.

Not any more. Not since Aunt Amy died.

See, Nancy isn't Marjorie's real aunt, just her late aunt's companion.

So, when you moved in, she had to move out?

It was made quite clear to her she could take as long she liked

to find somewhere of her own.

And we kept her on.

She still does the housekeeping here just to keep her in funds.

After all, she could hardly have stayed on permanently.

I mean, it's not as if she's family. It'd be a bit odd.

Where's she living now?

She rents a cottage down on Watermeadow Lane.

Nice little place.

Ideal, really, for somebody on their own.

APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS

- Yes?! CAT MEOWS

- Oh, erm... I'm-I'm Claude, er... - I know who you are!

- Once seen, never forgotten, eh? - What do you want?

I-I've just formed a new company.

I've got no cards yet, but we do agricultural and domestic servicing.

- You what? - Odd jobs.

Have you got owt you want doing?

Oh, I could do with some wood chopping, I suppose.

Aye, that'll do.

You're not really gonna scoff all that, are you, Alf?

Good God, no.

What I thought I'd do for a change

was push it up my nose with a pencil.

Only, you're gonna have to get yourself in shape, you know.

In what?

Well, you've heard about this latest bright idea of Crossley's, haven't you?

From now on, all officers have to attend at least two PT sessions a week.

Oh, give over!

That's right, you know. There's a notice up on t'board.

- Miss Bellow? - It is.

PC Rowan, Aidensfield Police.

- Oh, yes? - Can we have a word, do you think?

LOW GROWL

I know nothing about a funeral urn.

So, where were you this morning, Miss Bellow?

Up at the house.

And you were there all morning, were you?

Yes.

You didn't, by any chance, drop in on the cemetery

on your way over there, did you?

And why would I do that?

Pay your respects, perhaps?

To what? An urn?!

The problem is, Miss Bellow,

we do have three children who witnessed the incident.

They told us that a woman fitting your description was responsible.

Then, they were obviously mistaken, weren't they, young man?

Hm?

GREENGRASS GRUNTS

What are you up to, Claude?

Earning a living.

You haven't done anything really stupid, I hope, Rowan...

like charging her?

Well, I thought I'd see what you thought first, Sarge.

You have cautioned her, right? You've put the fear of God up her?

Well, I've warned her, anyway.

So, then, let's leave it at that, shall we?

Right.

Unless, of course, she starts making a habit

of running around churchyards, chucking urns away.

HE CHUCKLES

Daft old bat.

What do you think of Crossley's latest brainwave, then, Nick?

- What's that, Alf? - About us all having to keep fit.

Really?

It's all up there on the board, Nick.

Hm!

Now, er, what you wanna do, Alf,

is break yourself in gently at first with a few early morning runs.

- That's right, innit, Nick? - That's right, yeah.

And, of course, cutting back the fags to 80 a day

can only help, you know.

You're gonna give him a heart attack.

No, he's had a heart attack already... just reading it.

Oh, we'll have a bit of you, I suppose, today. I suppose we will.

SHE MUTTERS ...gotta go, I suppose.

You know old Nancy Bellow, don't you?

Only as a patient.

You don't think it was her, do you?

Well, everything points to her.

I thought that whole business was wrapped up now.

Well, it is. Officially.

Just bothers me a bit, that's all.

Why don't you sleep on it, love?

I'm not that tired.

Oh...

PHONE RINGS

MUSIC: You Really Got Me by The Kinks

HARRY: Come on!

Come on!

HE RETCHES

PHONE RINGS

Aidensfield Police.

Yeah, yeah.

Kate!

Come on!

MARJORIE: Harry!

Harry, please!

Hang on, love. It's all right, they're coming.

♪ See, don't ever set me free

♪ I always wanna be by your side

♪ Girl, you really got me now

♪ You got me so I can't sleep at night

♪ Yeah, you really got me now

♪ You got me so I don't know what I'm doin'... ♪

- Mr. Salter... - Never mind about me. It's my wife.

Upstairs, in the bedroom.

♪ You got me so I can't sleep at night

♪ You really got me. ♪

It looks like food poisoning.

Do you know what caused it?

Impossible to say yet,

but the only thing either of them can remember having all day is some soup.

- Go on, then. You go over. - No, John!

Suppose she turns you into summat! CAR APPROACHES NEARBY

Not chicken, are you?

Might be a chicken she turns him into!

HE CLUCKS

- Leave him alone. - Chicken! Shh!

CAR DOOR CLOSES

QUIETLY: John, quick, come on! Let's go! Go, go, go!

KNOCK ON DOOR

THEY GIGGLE

Did you know Mr. and Mrs. Salter are in hospital?

Hospital?

Mm. Admitted during the night with food poisoning.

Are they gonna be all right?

Oh, yes, I think so.

But I want to try and find out what caused it.

- That's why am here, actually. - Oh?

You see, according to Mr. Salter, the only thing either of them

can remember having all day is some soup.

I'm sure that won't have done anybody any harm.

I make all my own soups!

Can you tell me exactly what you made it with, Nancy?

Oh... potatoes, leeks, onions...

a few home-grown herbs.

Nothing that would poison anybody.

I had a bowl of it myself!

And was there any left over?

None, no.

What about the pan you made it in?

Washed and put away.

Just like everything else when I finish cooking.

Right. Well, thanks for your help.

I'm afraid when something like this happens,

I have to ask these sort of questions.

Oh, and don't worry about Mr. and Mrs. Salter.

They'll back on their feet in a couple of days. Bye-bye.

KNOCK ON DOOR

Witch's cat, witch's cat!

She's coming!

- What? - Run away!

Quick, come on, then! NANCY SHOUTS

Off!

- Come on! - Oh...

Flaming kids!

Course, you can get your body back in shape these days

without even moving out of your chair, you know, Alf.

- Can I? - Course you can.

And they're all at it in America, you know. All the top lads.

- Morning, sir. - Bellamy.

Sir...

Sergeant Blaketon's out.

Then he'll have no objection to my using his office for a bit,

will he, Bellamy?

I wouldn't bet the coin of the realm on that, neither.

Arsenic poisoning?

Not in the sort of dosage that would kill anybody,

but strong enough to make them pretty poorly for a couple of days.

Well, how would they have come into contact with arsenic?

It could be something they were using in their home, I suppose.

They're still in hospital, aren't they?

Not for long. They've made a good recovery.

Right. Better have a word.

- So, you've seen Marjorie? - Oh, yes.

- Is she all right? - Coming home tomorrow, she thinks.

Yes, that's what I've been told.

Oh, hello, Mr. Rowan.

Mr. Salter. Miss Bellow.

Morning.

Oh, anyway, I'll be off.

Er... oh, and I brought you these.

Thanks very much.

Bye now. Bye.

- Bye. - Bye.

- How you feeling? - Better than I did, at least.

Look, erm, thanks.

I think you and your wife saved our lives, you know.

All part of the service.

Look, you do know it was arsenic poisoning?

I do, yeah.

- Any idea what might have caused it? - None whatsoever.

- You using any rat poison? - We haven't got rats.

Anything in the garden that might have a poison base?

I haven't been near the garden yet.

As I said, the only thing either of us can remember having yesterday

was the soup.

Well, if you think of anything else, give me a call, eh?

I'll do that.

Thanks. Bye, then.

Bye.

HE STRAINS

DOOR OPENS, HE GRUNTS

You all right, Alf?

- Me? - You look a bit red.

I can't think why!

KNOCK ON DOOR

Sorry, sir. I was looking for Sergeant Blaketon.

Something you need a word about, is there, Rowan?

- Not really, sir. It'll keep. - Tell me anyway.

Well, it's probable something and nothing, really, sir.

Go on.

Well, it all started with some old biddy vandalising a funeral urn,

and now we've got two people in hospital with arsenic poisoning.

Really?

Something wrong with your wrist, then, is there, Ventress?

Er, well, I think I've probably sprained it, Sarge.

Aye, as long as you're not thinking of taking any time off...

on the strength of it.

I think it's about time you had another word with Miss Bellow.

In fact, I'll tell you what, we'll both go.

Something I can help you with, is there, sir?

I wouldn't have thought so, Sergeant.

Right, then, Rowan, let's get over there, shall we?

Right, then. Sarge.

Er, Sarge.

- Sarge. - Yes, Ventress?

About these keep-fit sessions, Sarge.

I can't see myself able to do much with this wrist, you know.

What keep-fit sessions?

Well, you stuck the notice up on the board, Sarge,

from Inspector Crossley.

- I did, Ventress? - Yes, Sarge.

Are you sure about this?

Well, somebody did!

MUSIC: 'Just One Look' by The Hollies

♪ Just one look

♪ That's all it took, yeah

♪ Just one look

♪ That's all it took, yeah

♪ Just one look

# And I felt so I, I... I'm in love... ♪

♪ With you

♪ Oh, oh!

♪ I found out

♪ How good it feels, feels, feels

♪ To have your love

♪ Oh, oh!

♪ Say you will

♪ Will be mi-i-ine forever

♪ And always

♪ Oh, oh! Just one look... ♪

- Let me see! SHE SIGHS

GREENGRASS: All right, what's your game?

Hey, come 'ere, come 'ere! Come 'ere.

- What do you think you're doing? - Get off me, will you?!

Yeah, leave me brother alone, you big fat lump!

Kick his dog, will you?!

'Ey, don't even think about it! And you two, come 'ere!

We weren't doing any harm!

No, just mithering the living daylights

out of that poor old lady, right?

Cos she's a witch, that's why!

Oh, is she? Show you her broomstick, did she?

All witches don't have broomsticks.

All the ones I know have. In any case, you're talking daft.

I mean, all she is is summat you three are going to be

one of these days - old!

I mean, she's not always looked like that, you know.

No more than I've always looked like this.

I mean, I used to open the batting for Yorkshire.

- You did?! - Aye, and look at me now.

I get out of breath opening a bag of crisps!

Come on. Hup.

Now, sit. That's a good boy.

There we are.

Haven't you three got owt better to do than hang about,

making a nuisance of yourselves?

Bet you used to muck around when you were a kid!

Oh, did I?

When I were a kid, I used to go around, trying to help folk, didn't I?

Because I was a Boy Scout.

Did you wear shorts?

THEY LAUGH

What sort of good turns did you do?

All sorts of good turns.

I used to go out of my way, didn't I,

trying to find old folk who I could help.

Like I could do with a bit of help now with these logs.

Ain't you getting paid for it, then?

"Paid"?

You don't think I'd charge that old lady in there money, do you,

to chop up a few logs?!

So how can we help, then?

Well, for a start, you can put them logs in that basket.

Right.

Well, come on, then, you two!

CAT MEOWS

KNOCK ON DOOR

Miss Bellow?

- Yes? - Inspector Crossley.

And you already know Constable Rowan, I believe.

Could we have a quick word, do you think?

What about?

Well, just a few points I'd like to clarify.

Best inside, I would've thought.

So, you really hated her that much, did you, your old friend Amy?

- What? - Well, you must've done.

Why else do you throw a funeral urn away?

I've already told you, I know nothing about that!

Miss Bellow, we have at least three witnesses

who are prepared to swear they saw you do it.

You best talk to them, then, hadn't you?

Now, look, we don't enjoy this any more than you do, you know,

so why don't you do yourself a favour and stop messing us about?

I'd hate to charge you for obstructing the police

as well as everything else.

Now, why don't you sit down?

Something she once said to you, was it, Nancy?

Something you've never been able to forgive or forget?

If you only knew...

TEARFULLY: ...just how badly that woman let me down!

SHE CONTINUES SOBBING How did she let you down, Nancy?

The lot.

That's what I was promised.

Everything. The house, everything!

And not surprising when you realise

how I carried her around all those years.

And then, when the will were read...

...nothing. Not a penny.

Not even a decent roof over my head any more!

- Everything went to the Salters, right? - Who we'd hardly seen for ten years!

- And you resented that? - Wouldn't you have?!

Of course I would. No wonder you lost your rag.

- My rag? - In the soup, was it, Nancy?

I... I don't know what you're talking about.

I'm asking what you used to put Mr. and Mrs. Salter in hospital.

Spot of rat poison, was it?

That's usually the favourite in these cases.

You're mad.

No, no, no, you were the one who was mad, Nancy.

Good and mad.

So mad, in fact, you couldn't help yourself, could you?

Any more than you could when you laid eyes on that funeral urn.

I tell you, I don't know what you're on about!

Got any here in the cottage, have you? Rat poison?

No.

You'll have no objection if we have a quick look around, then?

I will, you know.

Look, if you've got nothing to hide, Nancy...

Cos I won't have you rooting through my things, that's why.

We can, of course, get a warrant, you understand?

Then, you'd best get one, hadn't you?

As you wish, Miss Bellow. As you wish.

Sir... you don't really think she did it, do you?

Well, why not? She had the opportunity and the motive.

Now, I want you to start by checking the poison registers

of all likely shops in the area.

But if our suspicions turn out to be entirely unjustified, then, for now,

it's strictly between us.

CAR DOOR CLOSES, ENGINE STARTS

What are you talking about?

Look, according to this,

Nancy bought rat poison with an arsenic base only last week.

That's enough to kill a regiment.

CHILDREN: Mr. Greengrass! Claude!

What do you three want?

Nothing! 'Ey, I told my dad what you said.

What I said?

- About opening t'batting for Yorkshire! - Oh.

- He said he'd never 'eard of you. - Neither had my dad!

Oh, well, they wouldn't have done, would they?

Why not?

Well, because people only remember Len, don't they?

- Len who? - Len who?!

Len Hutton, of course!

I mean, when people talk about Yorkshire opening batsmen,

they only talk about Len.

They don't think about the people blocking up the other end

while he were breaking his records.

And that were you, then, were it, Mr. Greengrass?

Yeah. Apart from when I were opening the bowling, like.

- Were you a bowler as well, then? - A bowler?!

They used to come to Headingley from miles around

just to see my chinaman.

And when I bowled my googly, even Len had trouble picking it.

- What's a chinaman? - Chinaman?

Oh, well, that's a bit difficult to describe, really.

Look, I'll have a word with Nancy Bellow, sir.

There may be a perfectly reasonable explanation.

All in good time, Rowan. All in good time.

Where are the Salters at the moment?

They're being discharged from hospital this morning.

Right, well, when they come home,

I shall want you to pay them a visit.

- Right, sir. - But first...

...whose decision was it not to take this urn business any further?

Sergeant Blaketon's, sir.

Mm. Who else?

But it was a decision I was more than happy to go along with, sir.

But then, as a humble constable,

yours is not to reason why, is it, Rowan?

- Still determined to nail her, is he? - Yeah, but not just her, perhaps.

Hm?

Well, just seems odd that Crossley's taken

such a personal interest in this case.

- What are you getting at? - Oh, I don't know.

I've just got this funny feeling that maybe he's got

more than Nancy Bellow in his sights.

Aunt Nancy.

Oh... is that for us?

Shepherd's pie for your dinner.

Only, we've already had sandwiches, you see.

Today. At the hospital.

Oh, yes.

In fact, I think we'll be giving dinner a miss altogether in future.

Trying to lose a bit of weight, you see.

Oh, I see.

SCRAPING

You told her?

DOORBELL RINGS

Nancy?

Nancy!

SCRAPING

Got you back at it, has she?

My wife should've been a foreman on the pyramids.

One of those with a big bullwhip.

There he goes again, fantasising.

Well, what can we do for you this time?

Er, just one more thing.

Whose decision was it to have your aunt cremated?

Her dying wish, apparently.

Oh, right.

Well, according to Aunt Nancy, anyway.

Well, she should know.

So you'd consider her to be entirely compos mentis, would you?

Yes.

A bit of an eccentric, perhaps.

What was her late companion, Amy Dewhurst, like?

More or less an invalid when I joined the practice. More tea?

No, thank you. What did she die of?

Heart failure, brought on by pernicious anaemia.

But, principally, old age.

And you saw no reason to call for an autopsy?

No. Certainly not.

There were, in fact, no suspicious circumstances?

If there had been, Inspector,

I'd hardly have signed the death certificate, would I?

Nor would my colleague at the hospital.

Of course not. Silly question.

Oh, well, must get on. Thanks very much for the tea.

You're welcome.

Oh, by the way, you wouldn't still happen to have Amy Dewhurst's

old medical file anywhere, would you?

I probably have.

Any chance of a quick look at it sometime?

Unless, of course, that causes you ethical problems.

Not now that she's dead, I suppose. I'll look it up for you.

Thanks. Bye, then.

Goodbye, Inspector.

Bellamy! I want all this lot cleared up before you go home tonight.

Oh, I'm sorry, Phil.

HE CHUCKLES

So, he's been round here chatting you up, then, has he,

the good inspector?

I can see I'm gonna have to watch you two.

Don't worry, love.

He's more interested in Amy Dewhurst's body than mine, I'd say.

Oh, really?

He was going on and on about her.

Well, he's had me finding out whose decision it was to have her cremated.

He thinks she was poisoned as well.

- It's ridiculous. - That's what I thought.

I mean, if she had been, you'd have known, right?

Well... not necessarily.

It'd depend on what she was poisoned with. And the dosage.

Oh, my God, Nick.

Wouldn't it be terrible if she really had been poisoned?

I mean, for a start, where would it leave me...

as the one who'd signed the death certificate?

Well, where would it leave you?

Well, put it this way, it wouldn't do me much good, would it?

This funeral urn business, Blaketon...

Yes, sir?

As far as you were concerned, it simply wasn't worth pursuing?

Well, it's hardly the crime of the century, is it, sir?

And I believe the lady in question is in her 60s.

Hardly gaga, from what I've seen.

Oh, I see. You know her, then, do you, sir?

We've met, yes.

Well, now, there you have the advantage over me, I'm afraid, sir.

Yes, I do, don't I, Blaketon?

Do you know why?

I took the trouble to check.

Just in case next time she decided to do something a bit more serious

than vandalise funeral urns.

And do you want to know something, Sergeant?

It appears that she already has.

- Really, sir? - Yes, Sergeant.

But then that's what the job's all about, isn't it?

Following up on things.

Leading by example if necessary.

Because I'll tell you now, Sergeant, if you aren't prepared to do that...

or if you don't feel up to doing it any more,

you're of no use to me, I'm afraid.

Ah, there you are, Rowan. About time. Come on.

CROSSLEY: Now, Miss Bellow...

...you told us yesterday that you hadn't purchased any rat poison.

- Isn't that right? - Yes.

You bought some from the Aidensfield Stores only last Tuesday.

- No. - You signed the poison register, Nancy.

In fact, it wasn't the first time that you'd bought poison from there,

was it, Miss Bellow?

You bought a bag of the same stuff from the same store

just seven months ago.

I don't remember.

Your signatures for both purchases are in the book.

It was for the rats.

The rats, Miss Bellow?

Up at the house. We had rats.

Oh, you mean on the first occasion, right?

Yes!

Oh, what about last week? Was that also for the rats?

- Yes! - Really?

Mr. Salter knew nothing about it.

Not for there, for here.

Oh, I see!

You have rats here as well, then, do you?

I thought I'd seen something. Droppings.

- Really? - It's true, I tell you.

Why won't he believe me?

HE GROANS

Let's talk about the cremation of Amy Dewhurst, shall we, Miss Bellow?

Now, it was you who told the Salters it was what she always wanted?

- Well, it was! - It's also the perfect cover, right?

"Cover"?

There's absolutely no way of establishing

the presence of poison in human ashes.

Only, what you failed to take into account was the Beardsley method,

you see.

I don't understand.

It's a new forensic technique.

I tell you, I don't know what you're on about!

Miss Bellow, seven months ago, you bought some rat poison.

Then, a couple of months later, Amy Dewhurst died of symptoms

that could be consistent with poisoning.

Last week, you bought some more poison, and this time,

Amy Dewhurst's niece and her husband,

two people that you openly admit to resenting bitterly,

went down with poisoning.

Now, if you were in our position, Miss Bellow,

what conclusion would you make?

I want you to go now.

I want you out of this house, do you understand?

Just think how much better you'd feel now, Nancy,

if you got the whole thing off your chest.

Out... of this house!

SHE GROANS, RETCHES

It's news to me, that one, sir.

What?

She bought rat poison from the Stores seven months ago.

It's because when you checked the registers,

you didn't go back far enough. That's why, Rowan.

- But you did? - Correct.

And the Beardsley method, sir?

You haven't heard of that one, Rowan?

- No, sir. - Neither has anybody else.

- You made it up? - Well, we need a confession.

It's the only way we're gonna crack this one,

so we'll leave her to stew for about 24 hours,

then we'll have another go at her.

You got some sort of problem with that, Rowan?

Just not my style, sir...

browbeating confused old ladies.

You disappoint me. I wouldn't have thought you were so squeamish.

No, sir.

PHONE RINGS

Aidensfield Police.

It is.

Hello, Mr. Salter.

What?

♪ Must be the season of the witch

♪ Must be the season of the witch

It's the Salters. They're ill again.

I can't believe it's happened again.

The symptoms are identical.

I think it's Scheele's green.

You what?

It's what happened to Clare Booth Luce.

Who?

She was the American ambassador to Rome.

I've been reading up.

Kate, I haven't got the faintest idea what you're talking about.

Come here.

Clare Boothe Luce was suddenly struck down by arsenic poisoning.

It was quite a scandal.

Do you know what caused it?

What?

The ceiling.

Dust, to be exact, falling from the ceiling of her bedroom.

Copper arsenic was used as a pigment in paints for interior decoration.

Until someone cottoned onto the fact that one particular colour

was poisoning people.

Scheele's green.

Then it was banned.

Is this what happened to the Salters?

Well, I can say for sure until this has been properly analysed.

But the plaster they've disturbed

must have been here for half a century at least.

And they'll have been breathing it in

in pretty substantial quantities as they chipped away.

And Amy Dewhurst?

We'll never know, will we?

CHILDREN PLAYING OUTSIDE

CHILDREN GIGGLING

GIRL: You can't catch me!

So the lab can confirm all of this, can they?

Yeah, they just did, Sarge.

Substantial quantities of the arsenic compound

have been found in the plaster.

So why have you come to me with this...

and not Inspector Crossley?

Well, I did try and get him, Sarge,

but he appears to be out of his office at present.

So what I thought was perhaps I could leave you to tell him

while I go and put Nancy Bellow's mind at rest.

I see.

All right, Rowan. Off you go.

Sarge... there is one thing I still don't quite understand.

Oh, aye?

Why CID have kept such a low profile about all this.

I mean, in view of the seriousness of the original allegations,

presumably, Inspector Crossley will have kept them informed, won't he?

DOOR CLOSES Thank you, Rowan.

Get me Divisional CID, please.

Chief Superintendent Royston.

Thank you.

Mr. Greengrass! Mr. Greengrass!

- Mr. Greengrass, come quickly! - Can't you see I'm busy?

- Come on! - Why? What's the matter?!

Come on! Just come, quick!

Oh, hello, sir. Sergeant Blaketon over at Ashfordly.

HE CHUCKLES Aye, long time, no see.

Well, it's about these poisonings we've had up here.

Bit of a turn up for the book.

Well, I'm sure Inspector Crossley has kept you fully informed.

Oh, he hasn't?

It's the witch, mister! She's dead!

- Where? - In there!

Blimey... GREENGRASS: Come on, love.

C-Come on. Oh!

You better get an ambulance, quick.

Oh, no.

BELL RINGS

So, what are her chances?

Well, about uh... 50-50, sir.

- And definitely attempted suicide? - She left a note, sir.

Oh? Saying what, exactly?

Well, she protested her complete innocence of these poisonings

that she's been accused of,

and she was very distressed, apparently,

that the police didn't believe her.

PHONE RINGS Sergeant Blaketon.

Oh, er, hello, sir.

Yes, sir, he is.

Thank you, sir. It's for you, sir.

Chief Superintendent Royston, Divisional CID.

WHISPERS: Sergeant...

Excuse me, sir.

- Yes, sir? - "What's going on down there?!"

Gotcha.

Rowan!

Why the hell didn't you come to me with this report about the plaster?

I couldn't find you, sir.

Then, you should've hung onto it until you could, dammit!

Inspector.

Oh, so, erm, how is she?

Likely to pull through, thanks to my husband's prompt action.

Otherwise, she'd be dead.

You must feel very relieved, Inspector.

Would you care to amplify that remark, Doctor?

Oh, I'd be happy to amplify it at the inquiry.

There will be an inquiry, won't there, Inspector?

I won't forget this, Rowan.

Now, then... how's Nancy doing, then?

- Oh, I think she'll be okay. - Thank the Lord for that.

We're going into business together, you know.

Doing what?

Well, we've not got the cards printed yet,

but we're going to be merchandising conflagrational combustibles.

- What? - Selling firewood.

Can I put you down for a few bundles?

When did you talk her into this?

Sometime next week, with a bit of luck.

HE CHUCKLES

- He's gone already? - According to Blaketon.

Who I last saw doing cartwheels round his office.

He's gone where, exactly?

Oh, to wherever they send thrusting young inspectors

caught poaching on the CID's patch.

So, we're getting ourselves a new inspector, then, Sarge?

Aye, Inspector Murchison is due to arrive sometime this morning.

- So, what's he like, then? - Well, you tell me, lad.

Well, whoever it is, he's gotta be an improvement on the last one.

That's enough of that out of you, Bellamy.

- Sergeant Blaketon? - It is.

Inspector Murchison.

I'm the new subdivisional inspector at Whitby.

♪ Heartbeat

♪ Why do you miss when my baby kisses me? ♪

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