ROSEMARY: I've got a funny feeling about this job.
LAURA LAUGHS
LAURA: You can't have!
We don't even know what it is yet,
what with this Grania Monkton woman
- being so mysterious about it. - Exactly.
Why couldn't she tell us more about it on the phone?
Honestly, you and your funny feelings.
You always work on instinct, don't you?
Whereas I, I can only go on what I see and hear.
Now for instance,
what was that that just went past?
What?
Well, it was a car, wasn't it?
Yeah, well...
You see, you feel it was a car, but I know it was a taxi.
And if I ever saw that woman again,
I would recognise her instantly.
What woman? Oh, here we are.
Here we are. Rowfield.
Now, erm, now you turn left here.
- Left? - Left. Yes. Left, left, left.
- My instincts say left. - You sure?
Yes, I'm sure.
LAURA: Well, this doesn't look right.
DOG BARKING
- Can't you read the instructions? - Oh. Ha! Second left!
SHE SCOFFS
You and your instincts! Look where they've got us now.
Oh.
Sorry.
We're looking for Rowfield House.
Next turn.
Charming! SHE CHUCKLES
Nice garden, eh?
Oh. I see what this job is all about.
It's the Garden Open Day Scheme.
Yes, that's right.
It's a competition for us keen gardeners
who like to open to the public.
We have a mystery judge who goes around secretly
and picks a winner.
So you want us to knock your garden into shape
so you'll win?
Oh, no!
No, no, no. It's much more complicated.
You see, I'm the local organiser for the whole area.
And in Rowfield, we have a big problem.
ROSEMARY: Oh.
That's just a bit of blight or something, Mrs Monkton.
We can soon sort that out.
Yes, except that this is just the tip of the iceberg.
It's only just starting here.
But I've been expecting it
because other gardens in the competition
are rampant with it.
Just the ones in the competition?
Yes.
And then I noticed that the worst hit are those
which are in the running to win the trophy.
Oh.
Well, it smacks of sabotage.
Sabotage? Really?
The point is that,
unless we find out what's doing it and who,
all the gardens will pull out,
and we'll have to cancel the whole event.
Oh, dear. It won't be the end of the world.
Oh, it would be of Grania's.
My husband, Tim.
Rosemary.
- Hello. - Laura.
Yes, these days,
her whole standing in the village
hangs on the success of the scheme, doesn't it?
It's not just me, darling, it's the whole village.
Open Day is the big event in Rowfield.
It certainly is.
People would kill to get their hands on that trophy.
We call that Adora Grania.
GRANIA: Yes. Tim named it after moi.
- Didn't you, darling? - Yes.
To mark the day we last won the trophy.
I must have been in a very silly mood.
- It's lovely. - She's lucky.
Normally, to get a rose named after you,
you have to be dead. HE CHUCKLES
Well, I think I'd better show you around
the gardens of the other competitors.
We'll start with Donald Westward.
'He won last year.'
No point in winning a cup
if you don't keep it where people can see it.
Bit vain perhaps.
But it encourages me when I'm out here gardening.
Now, the trouble's over here.
Well, it certainly looks as if it's got the same symptoms.
DONALD: You think someone's deliberately doing this
to our gardens?
GRANIA: That's what the ladies are here to tell us.
My wife certainly thinks so.
But you know Norah.
Always ready to blame someone else
when things go wrong.
Usually me.
Perhaps we could ask her
if she has any idea who's doing it?
She's not here. She's rushed off.
To London. To the opera.
She came by a ticket for Tristan at the last moment.
She'll be back tomorrow.
I'm meeting her off the train first thing.
Hey! Westward!
I suppose you're very pleased with yourself, aren't you?
Oh! It's Mr Skinner.
- Take no notice. SKINNER: Good day's work, that.
I don't think.
I'll win this thing in the end, you'll see.
Come on, Sam. Let's go.
Win what? The competition?
No, someone started complaining
about the builders yard at his house,
and he thinks it's me
just cos I run most things in the village.
Everyone knows he doesn't have planning permission
to run a business there.
Right, let's have a look around the back.
It's much worse there.
ROSEMARY: Ah, well...
..if we could take some soil samples,
I'd probably be able to tell you if it's contaminated
and possibly what by.
I'd appreciate it
because I really want to retain that cup.
And I'm not going to
if it looks like this on judgement day, am I?
And not with this either.
You know what the scheme is like about Health and Safety.
If you get visitors with children,
they're not gonna be able to resist swinging on it,
and there could be a nasty accident.
Every village has to have its Donald Westward,
somebody prepared to protect its interests
and run everything.
Bless him! DOG BARKING
Whereas at the other end of the social scale...
Yes, we met him. We took a wrong turn.
Ah. Then you'll realise that our Mr Judd's
a bit of a blot on the local landscape.
He used to do some gardening for us,
and the Westwards.
But he was so unpleasant to us all,
we had to sack him in the end.
He built his own garden. He was pretty good.
Now, Lochinvar, Mr and Mrs Skinner, the builder.
Erm, you don't need me any more, do you?
Any objections,
just say you're doing the Health and Safety check.
But they're from the garden scheme, Barry.
- Horticulturalists. - Don't you believe it.
They're from the council planning office.
No, no, really, Mr Skinner.
Westwards sent you, didn't they?
First, he shops me to the council,
and now he's trying to sabotage my garden.
Who said anything about sabotage?
Well, you've been in his garden,
which it's contaminated by this epidemic,
and then he sends you around to infect mine.
It's very clever.
He's chosen the wrong person to pick a fight with, hasn't he?
Epidemic? Contamination? Sabotage?
And how does he know Westward's got it,
- unless he put it there? - Mm.
There's Mr Westward. Look.
Busy running the village as usual.
Looks like he's been visiting our next stop.
LAURA: Oh.
Maple Cottage.
Maple Cottage!
Vilma Hockham.
Right.
What is it? SHE SNIFFS
I can't remember.
Not indigenous, that's for sure.
DOORBELL RINGS
I know I'm listed in the Green Book,
but I'm not actually in the competition.
Why not?
You'd stand a good chance.
I withdrew.
Look, I'm new to this village.
And, I don't know, this garden was the creation of the people
who were here before me.
It seemed like cheating entering with somebody else's work.
ROSEMARY: You've got some amazing plants out in the front.
VILMA: They're mine. Yeah.
I brought those over with me from South Africa.
- Ah! - From Bloemfontein.
And there we had a garden which was, oh!
Well, you know,
Bloemfontein means fountain of flowers.
That's exactly what we had.
ROSEMARY: They look wonderful,
even away from their natural habitat.
VILMA: Yeah. I'm very pleased with the way they've taken.
Ah.
That's fascinating.
Mm.
Oh, we call that Dragon's Tongue.
I can't remember its fancy name,
but it'll be on its passport somewhere.
- Passport for a plant? - Oh, yeah.
Your government's very strict
about what plants we can import into the country.
Very interesting.
I'll look it up for you if you really wanna know.
Oh, thank you.
Anyway, no sign of plant disease.
Why? Should there be?
Er...
Well, surely Mr Westward told you.
Who?
Wasn't he just here? Mr Westward. Greenacres.
I call that Jumeau Guillaume.
ROSEMARY: Braemar. The Gallops.
High Trees. Fair Lawn.
Pine Croft.
Rowfield House. And Greenacres.
Right.
That's all the competing gardens we've looked at so far.
And?
Well, I think it might be ammonium sulphamate.
- Weedkiller? - Mm. Mm. In all of them.
Look, you can see little white granules
- in the soil. - Oh.
What are we supposed to do, pick them out with tweezers?
No. If it is it, you need a complete soil change.
Well, it certainly looks like sabotage now.
TYRES SCREECH
What's that?
MAN: Oi!
Watch out, you drunk! LAURA: Oh, look.
Isn't that Judd?
What's he doing out at this time of night?
Mm.
DOORBELL RINGS
We shouldn't really start if the Westwards aren't here,
but we can't hang about either.
Not with all the other gardens to deal with.
They've all got to be ready by judgement day!
ROSEMARY: What in heaven's name?
Mr Westward.
BOTH GRUNT
Too late.
Well, it's Judgement Day for him all right.
NORAH: Who are you?
Why wasn't I met at the station? Where's my husband?
INDISTINCT POLICE RADIO CHATTER
So, in your professional opinion,
that branch wouldn't have come down easily.
No, Inspector. It was cracked,
but from the healthy state of the wood,
it would've taken some strength.
Thank you.
And also for all this stuff about the garden competition.
Very useful.
Is that why he was murdered?
Murdered?
Jumping to conclusions, aren't we?
What... no. What about all this vandalism?
Might be connected, might not. Too early to say.
Do you need me any more, Inspector Hammond?
I'd like a word with you, but when you're ready.
I'm as ready as I'll ever be.
Excuse me.
LAURA: Now that's odd.
Is it?
Yeah. She was the woman in the taxi.
Yesterday. The one you didn't notice.
SHE SIGHS So, what are we gonna do?
I don't know. This is a write-off.
We'd better go and deal with some of the others.
I think it's pretty obvious what happened.
Westward hears our saboteur doing his stuff
in the middle of the night.
He goes out. There's a struggle which gets out of hand.
And Westward gets killed.
But there's no marks on the body, though.
They must have had some sort of scythe to savage the garden.
What about the tree? How does that get into it?
Erm... afterthought maybe?
Dragged the body under the tree,
then pulled the branch down on him
to make it look like an accident.
- Someone very strong, then. - Hmm.
VILMA: Hello, girls!
Just the people I wanna see.
Listen, I've got this sick plant I'd really like your advice on.
Go on. It's your department.
SHE EXHALES
I've got the very stuff for this.
Soon get it back on its feet.
- Erm, may I take it with me? - Sure.
Oh, I found the import document for that Plectranthus.
What? Oh!
Er, yes. The, erm, the Dragon's Tongue.
Plectranthus. Plectranthus. Where is that piece of paper?
Oh, here it is.
Oh. Is this its passport?
Covers all the plants I brought over.
All the Latin names are on there, too.
Plectranthus ecklonii. Very interesting.
- Could I keep this, too? - Oh, please.
Thank you.
Oh.
And about Donald Westward.
It's very tragic, isn't it?
Look, I know I was a bit cagey
when you mentioned him yesterday,
but, er, yes, he was here.
And he did mention that somebody had been sabotaging the gardens.
Do you think that has anything to do
with why he was killed?
I-I thought he was well liked and respected here.
Donald? Oh, no.
He was the most hated man in the village.
- Hated? Who by? - Just about everybody.
His wife for a start.
Flaming Norah
Playing that bloody opera music all day long!
And then there was that weirdo, Judd.
And the Skinners.
And as for those Monktons...
- The Monktons? - Oh, yeah!
Their noses were put out of joint big time
when Donald arrived
and started trying to run everything in their village.
No, I...
I think I was probably
the only real friend that he had here.
And now...
..well, there's nothing left for me here.
VILMA SNIFFLES
Oh, I'm sorry. I had no idea you were so close.
Did his wife know that he came here?
Oh, God, no!
If she did, he'd be dead.
LAURA: Even the Monktons?
Yes. The whole village seemed to have it in for Westward
according to Vilma Hockham.
Oh, and that is not her real name, by the way.
The name on the plant passport is Vilma Van Der Vall.
Oh, that's South African all right.
It must be her married name or her maiden name.
So that man must be her husband.
As in WE had a garden in Bloemfontein.
What man?
The man in all the photographs.
What photographs?
All the framed photographs all over the room.
There weren't any photographs.
Yes, there were. There were at least six of them.
No. No photographs.
Look, I notice these things. I saw everything in that room.
I noticed all the African artefacts,
but there were no photographs.
Not when we were there.
Well, there were when I was there!
Maybe she put them away
so that Westward didn't see them.
Why?
Because she was having an affair with him.
How do you work that out?
Because you wouldn't go to all the trouble
to put photographs away
if you were just gonna do a bit of village gossip, would you?
Not unless you were having a full-blown ding-dong.
Just an instinct.
MUSIC: 'The Merry Widow' by Franz Lehar
I'm sorry, Mrs Westward.
We're just not gonna be able to sort this out in time.
No, no, but you must.
My husband lived for this competition.
Now he's died for it.
Do you think this is all to do with the competition?
Well, absolutely.
I have proof.
Please excuse the mess.
I've just been going through my husband's papers.
Absolutely chaotic he was. MUSIC STOPS PLAYING
Yes, I found something here on the desk.
The note.
Oh, where have I put it?
Ah.
ROSEMARY: "I know who you are.
"If you don't want the rest of the village to know,
"keep your garden out of the competition."
If that's not a threatening note,
I don't know what is.
Who could this be from?
Could be anyone.
I'd put my money on Skinner, probably.
Pot of poison, that one is, if you ask me.
What does it mean, "I know who you are"?
Well, that's just it.
He wasn't anybody.
He was just an ordinary retired consultant.
Early retired.
Did he have any enemies?
No. Not what you'd call enemies.
No, he was on civil terms with most people in the village.
Rather too friendly with one in particular for my liking.
Anyway, I'm sure none of this would have happened
if only I'd been here.
Yes. You were in London last night, weren't you?
Yes, at the opera.
Somebody sent me a complementary ticket
out of the blue.
Nice surprise.
I suppose I must have some secret admirer.
Well, I couldn't resist Tristan, could I?
So I went up to London yesterday morning.
She didn't go up to London in the morning.
What?
We saw her in the taxi on the way to the station.
Remember?
And it was in the afternoon.
Odd.
That means that her morning is unaccounted for.
She was into her husband's desk a bit sharpish.
She had his insurance policy out.
Top of the pile.
What about the secret admirer sending her opera tickets?
SHE CHUCKLES
That would go with the opera she was playing,
The Merry Widow.
- Whoa! - Oh!
Oh, hang on.
Oh, whoops.
I've got some... some tissues here somewhere.
Well, there's one.
There's another.
What's that?
That's a belt buckle I found in the Westward flowerbed.
Uh-oh!
Well, what do you know?
Now what?
These are the route directions from Grania Monkton.
I thought I recognised that notepaper pattern.
Have a look.
It's the same as the "we know who you are" note.
Mm-hm.
And the writing's the same, too.
Well observed.
So, Grania Monkton writing threatening messages.
Ooh, our friends, the Skinners.
Off to sabotage more gardens.
Whatever.
The point is, they're not at home.
Where are we going now?
I'm gonna have a look around their garden.
WHISPERS: We shouldn't be doing this, you know.
I want to see if it's contaminated or not.
All right, all right, but just be quick.
That's all.
No sign of browning.
Yet.
Should we take some soil samples for comparison?
What? All right. If you insist.
JUDD: What are you doing here? BOTH GASP
Er, what are you doing here?
I'm Mr Skinner's gardener, if it's any of your business.
Are you, indeed.
Mr Judd, for a gardener, you keep very odd shifts.
What do you mean?
Do you always work in the middle of the night?
Eh?
We saw you here in the lane last night.
Around the time when Mr Westward was being killed.
HE SCOFFS Not me.
Oh, yes, we did. We saw you. You had a brush with a van.
What van?
I haven't got time to answer questions
from interfering old busybodies.
Now clear off out of here
before I pitch you out with this.
All right. All right. We're going.
Nice chatting to you.
"Interfering old busybodies"?
There must be two other ladies asking him questions.
Rosemary.
Why has a builder got so much ammonium sulphamate?
And how could Judd say he wasn't there
on the night of the murder when we saw him?
- Yes, exactly. - Ow!
Inspector Hammond, what brings you here?
We can have days off, can't we?
In the middle of a serious murder investigation?
Actually, we're not sure
this is a serious murder investigation.
Oh, so it's a funny one? HAMMOND CHUCKLES
No. We were looking at manslaughter.
But then we had the postmortem result.
Go on.
I can't tell you that.
Oh, go on. It's your day off.
All right.
If you twist my arm. It was a heart attack.
- What? - Brought on by trying to shift
that branch on his own, no doubt.
A heart attack?
Oh, that is good news.
Not if you were Donald Westward.
No. I mean,
here's us thinking somebody might have murdered him.
All because of the garden scheme,
which might have given it a frightfully bad name.
So we're only concerned with our saboteur now.
Do you think Skinner and Judd might be doing it together?
Well, we do know that Skinner has got ammonium sulphamate,
and that his garden is clear.
And Judd is working for him, but all this proves nothing.
At least Judd's doing an honest job for a change!
What dishonest jobs has he done?
Oh, well, he scavenges for tree bark
from the Forestry Commission property,
and then he bags it up
and sells it around the neighbourhood
as garden chippings.
- Ooh, naughty, naughty! - That's stealing.
So I wouldn't put sabotaging gardens past him.
Or Skinner, for that matter.
People have stooped to worse to win the trophy.
Such as?
Finding out who the mystery judges are
so they can bribe them.
I get calls all the time from other villages.
Often, the judges are local organisers
from somewhere else.
What about blackmail? Anyone ever tried that?
Blackmail? What do you mean?
Sending blackmail notes to the other competitors.
Mrs Westward showed us a blackmail note.
It said, "Stay out of the competition or else..."
Or else what?
Or else they would tell the rest of the village
who he was.
Really? Who on earth would do a thing like that?
Who was he, Mr Westward?
Well, his wife said he was a retired consultant.
A consultant surgeon.
We don't know anything about him, darling.
Yes, we do.
It may not be generally known in the village,
but it was in all the papers at the time.
What was?
He had a spot of bother a few years back.
He was a specialist
at St Nathaniel's Hospital in London.
Quite a high flyer, apparently.
Tipped for the very top.
And his wife was quite a socialite.
Then he bungled some operation.
The end of a brilliant career.
- And the high life for her. LAURA: I see.
No wonder she didn't seem to be too keen on him.
- What happened? TIM: The patient died.
There was a GMC enquiry and a court case,
but he was found not guilty.
He wasn't struck off, then?
No, but he gave up medicine.
Came own here to get away from it all, I suppose.
It just beggars belief, doesn't it?
Fancy digging up something like that
just to keep him out of the competition.
Mm. Fancy that.
LAURA: So how are your instincts tonight?
Don't knock my instincts. They tell me a lot.
Such as?
Well, for instance, such as, cheers,
they tell me that the plant, Vilma's plant, Dragon's Tongue,,
is not a Plectranthus,
but this passport thing says that it is.
Do your instincts run
to telling you what it is called?
No, but if I had my computer, I could look it up on the web.
Let's have a look.
Oof!
No, gobbledygook to me.
Look, there's a telephone number on the back.
That might be something to do with the plant passport thing.
- Go on. Give it a ring. - Nah.
Give it a ring.
You might find somebody who knows about these things.
All right.
What are your instincts telling you about Judd?
Judd? Such as?
Well, why would he deny
having had that brush with the van?
Because he's up to no good?
He wouldn't be out trying to sell tree bark
at that time of night.
LINE RINGING
Bark!
That's it.
I knew there was something different
about Skinner's garden.
No. Now you've lost me.
No. All the other gardens had tree bark chippings,
and Skinner's didn't.
Ah!
So maybe the ammonium sulphamate
wasn't in the soil to begin with.
But in the tree bark,
and who sells tree bark to everyone around here?
BOTH: Judd!
Oh, the box office is closed.
- Box office? - Yes.
The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden.
Oh.
So Vilma's another opera fan.
No, she isn't, you know. She isn't.
Because she said to me she couldn't understand
why Westward allowed his wife to play opera music all day.
Well, that doesn't make sense.
Why would she be ringing...
SHE GASPS
Unless she was booking a seat for someone else.
- Norah Westward. - Ah.
Yes, because she said the ticket fell out of the blue.
Yes, of course.
She packs the wife off
so the lovers can have their wicked way.
DOG BARKS
What is it, boy?
Anyone there?
Who's there?
DOG GROWLS
Come out, whoever you are. Do you hear?
Not you again.
Judd's not here.
You've no business knowing he was even working here.
We just happened to notice.
You happened to be snooping, I know.
I suppose the whole village knows now.
Well, is there any reason why they shouldn't?
HE SIGHS
Judd's my secret weapon.
I stand a good chance with him on board.
Mr Skinner, just how keen are you
to win this competition?
On a scale of one to ten? Twelve.
The competition has always been a stitch-up.
They pass the trophy around amongst themselves.
Well, it's about time somebody broke the chain.
Is that why somebody's going around
sabotaging everyone else's gardens?
What are you getting at?
Mm. Everybody's, except yours, that is.
Can you explain that?
I don't have to answer your questions.
Can you explain
why a builder needs ammonium sulphamate?
ROSEMARY: OK. So what's our calling card
if Judd catches two old busybodies
snooping around his bark bags?
Oh. No need. He's not at home.
Look.
DOG BARKS
DOG WHIMPERING
I don't believe it.
We've just seen him.
LAURA: Look.
Doesn't this look familiar?
INDISTINCT POLICE RADIO CHATTER
Thank you, Inspector.
DOG WHIMPERS
Well, as far as I'm concerned, Inspector Hammond,
this tree bark is riddled with ammonium sulphamate.
I don't know if you know it...
Weedkiller, I know.
So you're saying Mr Judd contaminated the bark,
then sold it around people in the garden competition
- who put it on their own garden? - No, no.
We know he was selling it,
but we don't know he was doing the contaminating.
Well, thank you for that.
It may or not be relevant.
And I don't know how it'll go down with my governor.
Not when I've got all the evidence
of a nasty accident.
Accident?
SHE EXHALES Accident, my foot!
ROSEMARY: He'd never have gone for us seeing two Judds,
not without proof.
Ah! We've got it.
- What? - This buckle.
Which I found in the Westwards' garden.
It's not Judd's, but it's identical to Judd's.
So somebody has got an identical coat.
Oh. So they could have been dressed like that...
on the night of the murder?
The person we saw in the lane.
Who we naturally thought was Judd.
Unless, of course, you happen to be Judd.
And that's what got him bumped off.
Well, that doesn't explain why Westward was killed.
LAURA: Maybe that wasn't anything to do
with the competition after all.
LAURA GRUNTS
Can't your instincts come up with another reason
why somebody would want him out of the way?
No, but my observation can.
One lover dead.
Next, please.
NORAH: A bit thin, isn't it?
It'll spread out in time, but not if we overcrowd it now.
So I can kiss goodbye to that trophy.
No, not necessarily,
but it's the best we could do in the time.
Well, I've only got myself to blame,
- I suppose. - Why?
For not being here.
I couldn't leave my husband for two minutes
without something happening.
Honestly, I could have murdered him sometimes.
Oh, what an awful thing to say!
Well, surely, you don't think that I...
Well, I do think you should explain
why you said you'd gone to London in the morning,
and yet we saw you in a taxi not from here in the afternoon.
So where were you in the morning?
SHE EXHALES All right!
I was at the council planning office.
I was formally registering my objection
to Skinner's builder's yard.
So it wasn't your husband harassing Skinner?
No, it was me.
Skinner must have seen
that the objection was in the name of Westward
and just assumed it was my husband.
It was I who was antagonising him.
But it was my Donald that he took his revenge on.
Wasn't it?
Hello, Inspector. What's new?
I was going to ask you the same question.
ROSEMARY: I thought your boss wasn't interested
in anything we had to say.
Well, he was coming around.
That is, until Mr Judd's postmortem results came in.
And?
Heart attack. Massive.
Heart attack? Another one?
LAURA: I mean, come off it.
That is too much of a coincidence.
So you've got a better idea?
No.
No, she hasn't. No, we haven't.
No, we're just gardeners.
Sometimes I wish that's all I was.
Mm, potentilla arbuscula.
ENGINE REVS
What does he mean, "that's all"?
Why did you cut me off like that?
What were you gonna say?
Two bodies. Two heart attacks. Two Judds.
And Vilma's two lovers!
We can't be sure of Vilma and Tim Monkton.
Oh.
- We could find out. - How?
Ask them while they're still alive to ask.
Just march in there
and accuse them of having an affair?
Here's your excuse.
Go and see her, give her that back,
- and find out what you can. - All right.
- What about you? - I'm going to see Tim Monkton.
- What's your excuse? - I'll think of something.
All right.
DOORBELL RINGS
Ah, Ms Boxer.
Mr Monkton.
What can I do for you?
I was wondering if we could borrow some...
..string.
Yes. I want to tie something up, and we're fresh out of string.
- String? - Yes.
Yes, I think I can help you there. Come here.
String. Yes.
HE CHUCKLES
String, string, string.
String.
No.
Would...
Oh. Thank you.
Actually, I'm rather glad you've come.
There's something I want to tell you.
Oh?
It's about that blackmail note you were telling us about.
Oh, that.
Ah! What about it?
I could see that you were rather under the impression
it had been sent by my wife.
It was her notepaper.
And you would have been quite right.
It was her who sent it.
It's stupid, very childish all those things.
And she bitterly regrets it.
Why are you telling me this?
Because, well, it makes it look
as if she might also have had something to do
with Westward's death.
But believe me,
I mean, all right, a bit of blackmail's one thing.
But murder?
No way! Not Grania.
She had nothing to do with it.
- Do you have any idea who did? - No.
Or why he was killed?
No. Have you?
No, no. Well, I thought... maybe he had a rival for Vilma.
Oh.
You know about them?
Mm-hm. Yes.
And I know about you.
Me?
Yes. Well, you were seeing her, weren't you?
We saw you yesterday.
Indeed, you may well have done. I was there.
Why?
In a purely professional capacity.
She's leaving,
and I'm selling her house for her.
I'm an estate agent.
Ah.
As a senior partner, I wouldn't normally be involved
in individual small property sales,
but I have a personal interest in who we get in the village.
Vilma was very grateful, too. She gave me a thank-you present.
Look.
Dragon's Tongue.
A Plectranthus, apparently.
No, I don't think so.
She said so,
and I've just been looking it up on the net.
No, it's something else.
And I have a feeling I know what it is.
- May I? - Yes.
Right. Let's see.
Let's see if my instinct is right.
Hello? Anyone at home?
KEYBOARD CLACKING
MOUSE CLICKING
That's the one.
Strophanthus speciosus.
Mm. Not a particularly friendly plant
to have around the house.
- What's this? - That?
Oh, that's the newspaper report about Donald Westward's
spot of bother. It's how we knew about it.
- Er, may I? - Mm.
Hello?
Ms Hockham?
TIM: "Prohibited import. Toxic.
"The seeds contain a potent glycoside
"used by native Africans to make poisoned darts
"which induce instant heart attacks."
Charming!
Instant heart attacks.
Poisoned darts!
Of course.
That's how they were killed.
Oh, my God! I've sent Laura over there.
You've got to come with me. Quickly!
- What about the string? - Now!
What's going on?
Mrs Monkton, call the police
and send them to Vilma Hockham's cottage.
It's an emergency.
Oh.
The picture in the paper and the patient's name.
- William Van Der Vall. - That's Vilma's real name.
- The man in the photographs. - What photographs?
In Vilma's cottage.
That's why she hid them when Westward was there.
He'd have recognised him as the patient he killed.
He'd have known who Vilma really was.
She only came here to live in the first place
to get her revenge.
But I don't understand.
Vilma and Donald Westward were good friends.
Only so she could find out all about him,
about the village, everything.
Just so she could kill him?
And so she'd know how to make his murder
look like something to do with the competition,
just to lead everybody up the garden path.
Oh, my God!
SHE GASPS
It was you.
Yes.
Not that you're going to be telling anybody.
Laura! It's a poisoned dart.
And it's powerful enough to stop a bull elephant,
so you had better stay right where you are.
So you know, too.
Yes, I do. I know why you did it and how.
- Impossible. - No. I do. I do.
I know you smuggled that deadly Strophanthus in
under another name
fully intending to kill Donald Westward with it.
And then you used the competition
to incriminate everyone else.
And then you planted that plant on Mr Monkton.
Yes.
And it was you that poisoned the bark that Judd was selling.
Then you dressed yourself up as him
so you could do your dirty work and he would take the rap.
Only he found out, so you had to kill him too.
Very clever.
And now you.
SHE WHISTLES
Let's have you both where I can see you.
My brother wasn't allowed to live
to enjoy his garden,
so why should the surgeon who killed him?
- Your brother? - Yes.
William was my twin brother.
And sometimes, when there's no justice in this world,
you just have to take the law into your own hands.
So, William... this is for you.
Ah!
SHE GRUNTS, HE GROANS
LAURA SIGHS
Of course. Jumeau Guillaume.
ROSEMARY: Twin William.
A rose by any other name.
INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS
Laura, that's your third!
- So? - Think of your health.
You don't need poisoned darts to have a heart attack
in this village.
How right you were about them.
Oh, Inspector!
I couldn't help overhearing.
But, yes, you were spot on.
The pathologist hadn't spotted the dart marks in the neck
in among all the other injuries.
GLASS CLINKING
GRANIA: Could I have your attention, everybody?
Now, erm, before we make the presentation,
I would like to say a special word of thanks
to two people without whose advice
and hard restoration work,
this year's Garden Open Day Scheme
might not have happened at all.
Our horticultural experts Ms Boxer and Mrs Thyme.
And who better to present the trophy
to this year's winners, Mr and Mrs Skinner,
than our mystery judge himself, Mr Hammond?
ALL APPLAUDING
GRANIA LAUGHS
How do you fancy that, a gardening detective!
I've never heard of anything so ridiculous.
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