11x09 - Uninvited Guests

[bunniefuu]

♪ Heartbeat

♪ Why do you miss when my baby kisses me?

♪ Heartbeat, Why does

♪ a love kiss

♪ stay in my memory? ♪

- Mrs Johnson? - Yes.

Mrs Meryl Johnson, manager of the Ellerby Building Society?

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 site.

Who are you talking to, Mum?

These men were just leaving, Toby.

Come on, Ben. Let's go.

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

No! No!

- Ben? - Shift that bike round the back.

I have a cup of tea first thing.

I needn't have bothered making him one today.

- Jim's your nephew, you said? - My brother's lad.

And has he been unwell?

He must've been. He's dead.

Oh. No, I mean, has he complained of anything recently?

No. But now you mention it,

I did hear him being...unwell.

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

How was it, Vernon?

- Delicious. - Good.

VERNON: You should've had some, Bernard.

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

Whatever's the matter, David?

Yes, it...er...belongs to Harry Davies.

VERNON: Who's he when he's at home?

What is it?

It's Ector.

- Urgh! - It's his pet rat.

Get that thing out of here.

He'll be no trouble, Mr Blaketon. He's dead.

Yeah, 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?

Tea's up.

CLEARS THROAT

Sarge, I've just had Dr Summerbee on the blower.

A sudden death in Weir Lane, Aidensfield. Number five.

- Straightforward? - She'd appreciate your opinion.

Bradley...

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

Nothing you can see, and nothing I can prove yet.

I'll put the kettle on, shall I?

Come back to the surgery. I'll show you what I mean.

All right.

PHONE RINGS

Yes!

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

Right, I'd better see her.

I'll be round 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 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 Summerbee.

Any idea of the source? - Afraid so.

One thing all these cases have in common

is the Aidensfield Arms chicken pies.

PHONE RINGS

Dr Summerbee.

- Tricia, it's Tom. - Tom who? Oh, Tom Nicholson.

- Listen... - Oh, sorry. You're busy.

May I, Dr Summerbee?

'There's a new restaurant in Whitby.'

Nicholson? What the devil are you playing at?

SLAMS PHONE DOWN

No joy?

Again? - It was Craddock!

He was there in her office! - Blimey, Tom.

When lightning strikes, you're there with a metal rod, mate.

ICE-CREAM VAN JINGLE

ALF: Never mind. Mr Pickering to the rescue.

Off you go, lad.

Vanilla 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 got a customer, Mr Vernon. - VERNON: Aye. Step up, lad.

BERNARD: I told you to get rid of him.

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

- Ector. - Ector...

have the honour of being our first client.

This is where he'll end up?

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 won't recognise it. - I'll come back in a week.

W-w-what about Ector, in the meantime?

Fridge.

Well, from the look on your face, Craddock,

I would say this was business and not pleasure.

Yes. One of your regulars has died, Mr Blaketon. Jim Pritchard.

Jim?

He was only in here on Thursday.

He may've picked up Salmonella Enteritidis here.

What?

We're waiting on the pathologist,

but Dr Summerbee's seen four similar cases this week

and they have one thing in common - your home-made chicken pies.

So, we'd like one, please. For testing.

If you bring the requisition form,

signed by the Chairman of the Local Health Authority, I just...

That stops you selling food until further notice.

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

I keep telling you, neither of us smoke.

My late husband couldn't abide the smell.

ICE-CREAM VAN JINGLE

- You know him? - He stops off every week.

- Mum, lend us a tanner! - Purse. Desk drawer.

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.

Clean yourself up. I need you to go for some fags.

If you're planning on staying, you'd better get some food.

Make him a list or he won't do it.

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

All right.

There's one in Herondale should be open. Mrs Marton's Pantry.

As long as they sell fags.

MUSIC: 'House Of The Rising Sun' by The Animals

♪ There is...

♪ A house

♪ In New Orleans

♪ They call the Rising Sun...

♪ And it's been...

♪ The ruin of many a poor boy

♪ And, God

♪ I know I'm one... ♪

CAR STUTTERS

Oh, evening, Doctor.

By 'eck, you look all in.

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

Thanks. I should be getting back.

I've seen Doris Fothergill. - She was rushed to hospital.

She's in intensive care.

We're pretty sure it's Salmonella, but the catch is she's teetotal.

She's never been in a pub, let alone had Gina's pies.

- So 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.

TYPEWRITER KEYS CLATTER

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!

Danny?

Thank you for coming, Doctor.

You've seen the path report on Jim Pritchard?

Confirmed. Salmonella poisoning.

Listen up, everyone.

As you know, in a m*rder inquiry, attention to detail is vital...

This isn't a m*rder inquiry, sarge.

There are many similarities, albeit that our k*ller is a microbe.

So, what do we know about him?

Well, we know his name - Salmonella Enteritidis -

and we know his favourite haunts.

Let's find him so he doesn't strike again.

When you say we know his haunts, 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 factors.

Yesterday it was Gina's pies.

Then along comes Doris Fothergill and her passion for vanilla wafers.

What is the common factor? Is it ice cream or is it something else?

Find out what they've eaten. A pattern will soon emerge.

Thank you very much, Doctor.

Typical bank letter!

"Dear Mr Ventress, according to our records,

your mortgage payment of the th is overdue.

Since late settlement can prejudice your interest in the property,

your urgent attention to the matter is advised.

Yours sincerely."

Not so much as a thank you or by your leave.

It's business.

Brief and to the point.

I don't know where you've got that idea from, Mr Peagram.

We do not provide a service for animals.

What advert?

Do you know, David, for a rush job that typesetter's done us proud?

- BERNARD: I'll phone you back. - Looks really good, Mr Vernon.

Scripps Fur and Feather Farewells.

Yes, Bernard. This is one of those rare opportunities

where we serve the community and make a bob or two ourselves.

I suppose that was a potential customer you 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 whatsoever.

PHONE RINGS

But could you fill the truck up with fuel?

DAVID: Hello?

'It's Daisy Pritchard.'

Oh, hello, Mrs Pritchard.

I see you now do animals.

Oh, don't say that Boris has died.

Give it us here, you daft beggar.

It'll be Jim she wants burying, not the cat!

Hello, Daisy.

Yes, it's me. Bernie.

'Well, who was it before, then?'

David Stockwell.

'Yes, listen, I meant to come round and say how sorry I was about Jim,

but you know how life whips past you.'

Well, Jim's did, certainly. A bit faster than he bargained for.

Yes, Constable?

What can I do for you?

I'd like to ask you a few questions about Jim

and what else he might've eaten.

Right,

you'd better come in.

Bernie, I'll ring you back.

'I've a visitor.'

Oh, righto, 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.

Piece of cake with your tea?

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'd 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 our list that also had ice cream.

Aye, Mr Pickering's an' all.

You know, I keep thinking:

is that bellyache or is that my imagination?

What if we go the same way as Jim Pritchard?

So long as it's not in my pyjamas.

I've never given it much thought. Dying.

You probably have, a man of your age.

What's this?

OK. Yep.

Thank you.

Control to Panda One.

'Alf, I've got that information.' - Take this down.

'It's registered to

a Mrs Meryl Elizabeth Johnson,

Highbeck Cottage,

Ferndale. Over.'

Thanks, Phil. Out.

I know her. She's the manageress of the building society.

Listen, we've got some petrol in the boot.

We'll pop the car back to her.

PHONE RINGS

Ashfordly Police.

Yes. Dr Summerbee.

Right.

OK.

Yeah. Just hold on. - What is it, Bellamy?

A serious case. Toddler.

Three years old. Needs hospital treatment.

Can we help? - Ambulance?

ETA minutes. There's been a pile-up near Whitby.

Get the address!

Dr Summerbee, give me the address.

- Get rid of them! - All right.

Calm down... Please, please.

Don't hurt him. - Mum, I can handle it, really.

Shut up. Go!

Morning!

That's so kind of you.

It's our pleasure.

- Thank you. - Nice to see you again.

I don't think we've ever met. No. I'm sure we haven't!

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

Yes, I went into Herondale for a few things last night.

- How did you get home? - Walked.

- That's a long way. - Kids for you, eh?

In our day we walked everywhere.

Well, you could've 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 know you, Alf.

Should I read anything into that? - No, you shouldn't!

Straight ahead, Chrissie. They're expecting us.

MAN: Nurse?

- Doctor. - Yes. We'll take care of her.

- 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, Jenny Latimer. Jen's a pharmacist.

- 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? - I can answer that, Miss Latimer.

Sixteen-hour days. Thank you.

Patchy sleep, meals taken on the hop. Does take its toll.

At the risk of being presumptuous, what Dr Summerbee really needs

is extra help in her surgery.

And not just during an emergency.

You don't know anyone who'd give me a few hours a week?

Well, not off hand, but I'll ask round.

And, 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.

Something the public didn't know they wanted until we offered it!

Like sliced bread or...er...life insurance?

Exactly.

Get the kettle on, David. It might just take the edge off things.

Why have you dropped in, Alf? Business or social?

Er...well, business I suppose...

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?

Certainly. - My friend couldn't get through.

Must be her 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?'

I wondered if you'd had any luck in asking around.

'You know, about extra help for Dr Summerbee?'

I've not had much time...

It's just I'm a bit concerned about her.

I mean, not for any reason.

You don't have to explain, Sergeant.

Leave it with me. I'll sort something out.

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

KNOCK AT DOOR

Come in.

- Still working, sarge? - Yes, Ventress.

Jim Pritchard's inquest opens tomorrow. Make it brief.

Well, er...that Mini that I found.

Out of petrol near Herondale?

Yes. I...er...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 Scripps says otherwise.

There were no calls all evening.

She also said that she didn't know me.

Dented your pride, has it, Ventress?

- No, sarge, but... - Listen...

Tomorrow I am appearing

before the most demanding coroner in Yorkshire.

We're facing an epidemic

and you are worried about whether a young woman...

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've found you some help. - 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, the dispensary and the phone?

PHONE RINGS

There's the phone!

Good morning. Dr Summerbee's surgery.

Can I take your name, please?

Oh, great news, lads!

Craddock's gone down with the bug.

Well, that's not very charitable, Alf, even for you.

No, no, no.

The point is that Craddock hates ice cream,

and he couldn't have caught it from Mr Pickering.

So we couldn't have either.

What do you mean "even for me"?

Has he gone sick?

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.

Could I have a quick word with Dr Summerbee in between patients?

- I think that can be arranged. - Thank you.

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.

She had eaten ice cream but from a supermarket.

If that's so, the disease is likely to spread way beyond our reach.

But it hasn't spread, which makes me think the source is local.

What have your officers found?

Common areas, certainly.

Sunday roast, fish suppers, sandwiches.

Nothing specific.

Maybe it's a matter of waiting for a new case

to point us in another direction.

Yes. I've got a nasty feeling

that I might be the new case you're referring to.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Good morning, sir. Which of Scripps' 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...erm..?

Herbert Maddison.

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.

lb.

lb?

She's died young.

Our garden of remembrance opens on Tuesday.

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.

That bloke who died the other day, it was Salmonella.

Nothing to do with salmon?

No, it's named after the man who discovered it.

A vet, Daniel Elmer Salmon.

- How do you know that? - Looked it up. Encyclopaedia.

He's had time on his hands, in case you hadn't noticed.

Listen, I have to go into Ellerby this evening.

- BEN: What for? - The builder.

I need to check his work.

- Mayonnaise, Mum? - No thanks.

OK. We'll go. These two can stay here.

Do you have your late husband's clothes?

There's some in the loft.

- What are you after? - A suit fit for an area manager.

How are you, sarge?

Well, according to Dr Summerbee, Ventress,

I'm suffering from stress.

A new disease invented by the Americans.

Is that an ice-cream wrapper? - I believe it is, sarge,

but it's not one of Mr Pickering's.

I've got news for you.

Mr Pickering's not to blame any more.

It's likely to be one of the big manufacturers.

Oh, dear.

Do tidy your desk, will you, man?

It's becoming offensive. - Er...right, sarge.

Er...sarge, could I have a word? - Certainly.

What did he mean by "Oh, dear"?

He's just teasing.

I think.

It arrived for me this morning, sarge.

Late payment? This could have serious consequences, Ventress.

Sarge, it's from Meryl Johnson.

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

What makes you think it's not an error?

Well, something that she said when I made my final payment.

It's funny how these things stick in your memory.

She said, "This'll be the 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.

ON RADIO: 'Please Release Me'

- Ah, Bernie. - Is Gina about?

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.

Precisely! This time of 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 my premises, my tools, my good name.

Hey, steady on, Bernie!

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

Well, put your foot down!

I have done. He takes no notice.

What I need is a really big reason that he can't do it

before it gets out of hand.

Right, erm... I'll give it some thought.

I'd 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. - Great.

CRADDOCK: Who's that with the boy?

Danny Begley. Went down about five years ago

for armed robbery with his brother Ben.

I didn't know they were out.

TOM: The kid on the scooter?

ALF: That's Meryl's son, Toby.

Given she's manageress of the building society

and the fact they're closed for refurbishment,

it doesn't take much working out.

Will they be armed?

Oh, given their record, almost certainly.

CRADDOCK: Right, split the surveillance between you.

Bradley, I suggest...

Movement, sarge.

ALF: That's Ben.

MIKE: They'll be off to see the builders.

Someone's got to check their work.

CRADDOCK: Is there any money on the premises?

No. The security firm are delivering first thing.

£ , into a deposit safe.

- Follow Begley and Mrs Johnson. - Right, sarge.

- Nicholson. - Yes, sarge?

I've got to square things with CID.

We don't want any bruised egos at an arrest.

- Can you handle the surveillance? - Yes, sarge.

If anything untoward happens, you radio in. OK?

This is her...

Amanda.

Yes, well, the casket is in need of its final touches.

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.

THEME TUNE PLAYS ON TV

You all right, mate?

No...I'm not.

What is it? Your stomach?

Hey, come through. I'll get you a glass of water, all right?

Oh, lad, you're burning up.

I'll be all right.

VIOLENT VOMITING

PHONE RINGS

Dr Summerbee's surgery.

- DANNY: 'Is the doctor there?' - Can I have your name, please?

Never mind that. It's Toby Johnson who's ill.

- 'He's burning up.' - And your address?

Highbeck Cottage, Ferndale.

'It's this bug. I'm sure it's got him!'

Tell her to come as quick as she can.

Sounds like the new case you've been waiting for.

MUSIC: 'Sunny Afternoon' by The Kinks

♪ The tax man's taken all my dough

♪ And left me in my stately home

♪ Lazin' on a sunny afternoon

♪ And I can't sail my yacht

♪ He's taken everything I got

♪ All I've got's this sunny afternoon... ♪

Do you feel any better?

No.

CAR DRIVES UP

Don't do anything stupid, Toby. I'll be watching you.

Hello?

Toby?

It's Dr Summerbee.

Toby? It's Dr Summerbee. Can you hear me?

- Yeah. - Do you know where you are?

- Look at me. Have you been sick? - Yeah.

- When were you last sick? - Just now.

- And how are you feeling now? - Hot and cold.

OK. Have you any stomach pains?

SONG: I'm A Hog For You'

♪ I'm a hog for you, baby

♪ I can't get enough of your love

♪ When I go to sleep at night

♪ That's the only thing that I'm thinking of

♪ When I go to sleep at night

♪ That's the only thing that I'm thinking of... ♪

- Whose is it? - Doctor's!

- What happened? - Mrs Johnson...

I was concerned with this Salmonella scare...

Salmonella?

- It's OK. There's no emergency. - No emergency?

Jim Pritchard died of it.

Jim Pritchard was overweight and generally unfit.

Toby's a healthy teenager. - Mum, don't go overboard.

Right, well, thank you, Doctor.

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

- Who are you? - I'm Toby's uncle.

I see, only I'm just wondering who called me.

Can't help you, I'm afraid.

Anyway, if it is Salmonella, Mrs Johnson, it would help to know

what Toby had eaten lately. - BEN: Some other time.

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

I'll see you to your car.

Sarge, I've just had Nicholson on the radio.

Dr Summerbee has just come out of the cottage and driven off.

Did you see her car there, Bradley?

When I tailed them?

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

Take Ventress with you, find her and see what she's got to tell us.

BEN: Danny? Where are you?

What do you think you're playing at, calling the doctor?

He was sick! It said in the paper that bloke died!

Why do I bring you along, eh?

Thank you, Dr Summerbee.

Tricia.

What does this say?

Er... Phenobarb. ml.

Doctor's writing. Quite an art form.

Hello, Alf, Mike. This is Jenny Latimer.

- Nice to meet you. - And you too.

Trish, you went to Highbeck Cottage?

I went to see Toby Johnson.

He's ill - Salmonella - but he'll weather it.

Did you notice anything odd there?

No. His uncle was a bit strange.

His so-called uncle is going to rob the Ellerby Building Society.

He's armed with a shotgun, so we can't just barge in.

- But I did. I walked straight in. - And I let you.

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

Oh, I might be able to help you there.

It's a shopping list. It was in her car.

Salad, tinned salmon,

Mrs Marton's Mayo, shortbread biscuits.

Mayonnaise...

Sandwiches. You've found common areas.

Sgt Craddock said. Sunday roast, fish suppers, sandwiches!

But it isn't the sandwiches.

It's the mayonnaise that's in them!

I think we've found it.

- You should leave. - What?

I think the police might know.

How...?

You may have saved Toby's life, calling the doctor.

- Thank you. - BEN: Danny?

Go tonight.

Vernon!

Your pig has wrecked my garage!

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

That's all.

Oh, shall I... shall I go get the vet?

No! Telephone Herbert Maddison.

Get him here quick sharp!

- Problem? - He's gone!

- Good! - He's on your bike.

Not as good. But still good.

On your feet, the pair of you! Get your keys, Mrs Johnson.

Up! Come on!

Delta alpha - to control. Over.

'Control. Go ahead, sarge.'

Subjects are leaving the cottage in a blue Mini.

Begley is armed. Repeat, Begley is armed. Over.

Right. In you go.

Get the money. Fetch it out. It couldn't be simpler.

Mum, I can handle it. Really.

Sarge.

She's just entered the building society.

He's still in the car with the boy.

Don't arrest him till 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 my 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?

Hang on. 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.

But nobody tried to bury him.

Kindly remove your pig from my garage.

How do you get on with young Nicholson, Bradley?

Well enough. Seems nice enough.

Headstrong, of course. Inexperienced.

- Keen, though. - Yes, enthusiasm counts for a lot.

I want you to take him in hand for me.

- How do you mean, sarge? - Keep an eye on him.

Make sure some of your experience rubs off.

The best thing for all concerned is if he moves in with you.

You've got a spare room at the police house.

- Hang on, sarge... - They're back.

Sergeant Craddock to all units.

'The subjects have returned.

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.

MUSIC: 'Whiter Shade of Pale' by Procol Harum

THUDDING

♪ We skipped the light fandango

♪ Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor

♪ I was feeling kinda seasick... ♪

Mrs Johnson?

It's the police. - Help!

We're in here. Under the stairs.

TOBY: Here!

Thanks.

- You all right? - Fine.

Good.

Oh, morning, Oscar.

They nailed the Salmonella bug

and it turned out not to be your chicken pies.

I feel a bit sorry for old Ma Marton, having to close her down.

I take it you got planning permission for this?

- You what? - From the council.

You don't need planning permission for a pet cemetery.

You just dig a hole and fill it in again.

The enforcement officer won't see it like that. Have you applied?

- Funny you should ask, but no. - If you did you wouldn't get it.

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.

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

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

Aye, but there's a principle at stake here.

If you can turn this into a cemetery,

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

Do you follow me?

Yeah, I suppose so.

So 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'd be a case of taking the money

and burying the animals.

But that Herbert Maddison,

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.

KNOCKING

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 Summerbee's car

leave the cottage, you 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're moving to the police house.

While you're there, under the general supervision of PC Bradley,

read, mark and learn.

That's all.

Thank you, sarge.

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?

Ector. 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 important for his headstone.

Don't be daft!

If it had an H it'd be 'Ector, not Ector.

Are we gonna bury him, then?

Aye, lad. Happen we are.

Would you like to say a few words?

Aye.

So long, Ector.

You were a terrific rat.

See you.