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And why the move,

if you don't mind me asking?

- Well, just between you and I...

- Yes?

- You know that fella who blew up?

- George Merchant.

Well, George Merchant, God rest him,

wanted to buy this land,

so he sends round his legal fella,

Martin Blower, God rest him,

and I thought I might take them up on it.

I haven't really got that much family

round here, save for Cousin Sissy.

So I thought I might take them up

on the offer and move to Buford Abbey.

Would you like a card with this?

No, sorry, you were talking about the offer?

Well, it turns out that Martin Blower,

God rest him,

knew where the new bypass road is going

because he was knocking off Eve Draper

from the council, God rest her,

and then that reporter, God rest him,

finds out about the route

and tells me this land's very valuable.

Ten times what George Merchant and

Martin Blower, God rest them, offered me.

So, with them having passed on,

I decided to sell it on myself

to some folks from the city

that Martin, George and Eve,

God rest the lot of them,

had been talking to.

Apparently, they want to build

a big shopping center or something.

Of course, Cousin Sissy won't be

too happy about that,

but as far as I'm concerned,

Cousin Sissy can go and f***...

Would you just excuse me,

for just one second?

Stop!

In the name of the law!

Hang about, hang about.

You're saying this wasn't an accident?

Leslie Tiller was f***ing murdered!

- What, just like Tim Messenger?

- Yes!

- And George Merchant?

- Yes!

- And Eve Draper?

- Yes!

- And Martin Blower?

- No, actually.

- Really?

- 'Course he f***ing was!

Thank you, Danny.

Oh, murder, murder, murder.

Change the f***ing record.

Thank you, Andy.

Come on, Sergeant, you've gotta accept

it was just another nasty accident.

What are you suggesting?

That Leslie Tiller tripped

and fell on her own shears?

Ben Fletcher fell

on his pitchfork the other week.

Yeah, accidents happen all the time.

What makes you think it was murder?

- Because I was there!

- There's a point.

Why were you there?

I was buying Constable Butterman

a Japanese Peace Lily for his birthday.

What absolute horseshit.

I chased a suspect from the scene.

Innocent people don't run!

Here, maybe it was our old friend,

the cactus thief.

Oh, yeah, he was a prickly customer,

weren't he?

Am I going completely mad?

Maybe you are.

Maybe you did it.

Yeah, seeing as how you're such

a big fan of murder.

- What the...

- Sergeant Angel?

Yes! Sir.

Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas.

What am I going to do with you?

- Sir, you have to understand...

- No, you have to understand.

The boys here aren't used

to the concepts you're bandying about.

The "M" word, Nicholas.

There hasn't been a recorded murder

in Sandford for 20 years.

But, sir, I'm certain.

And what's more, I know who did it.

Can I see the manager, please?

Mr. Skinner to the Manager's office.

Manager's office. Mr. Skinner.

Sergeant Angel.

And to what do I owe this pleasure?

Simon Skinner, I'm arresting you

on suspicion of the murder of Leslie Tiller.

Leslie Tiller's dead? How?

She tripped and fell on her own shears.

I'm also arresting you on suspicion of

the murder of Tim Messenger on May 1st,

of George Merchant on April 29th

and of Eve Draper

and Martin Blower on April 28th.

- Why on earth would I do that, Sergeant?

- I'm glad you asked.

My suspicions were first aroused

when you appeared

at the scene of the Blower-Draper death,

on the outskirts of Sandford,

despite the fact you live and work

in the center of the village.

I couldn't help but recall your comments

at the theater on the previous evening.

When you not only indicated

an awareness of the couple's affair

but also inferred

that Eve's connections at the council

might make her privy

to important information.

You even spoke of "bashing her head in."

Perhaps hoping you might discover

the route of the proposed Sandford Bypass.

You were already suspicious

that George Merchant was buying up

a large area of land

on the outskirts of Sandford,

after an article Tim Messenger

wrote in the Sandford Citizen.

You see, the land Merchant was buying

had little value in of itself but,

if it became accessible by road,

it would be a prime location for say,

a retail park.

Consumed with concern for your business

and potential disloyalty

from fickle customers,

you yourself expressed a wish to behead.

You killed the competition in cold blood.

Staging the murders as accidents.

You used a vehicle removal truck

to stage the Blower-Draper death

and incinerated an old man

in his own house.

Covering your tracks with the judicial

application of bacon and beans.

However, there was a loose end.

Tim Messenger.

Splattered before he could share with me

what he told Leslie Tiller

that very afternoon.

The true value of her land.

Upon discovering she was about

to sell up to the developers,

you brutally murdered her

with her own shears.

And made good your escape utilizing

your impressive skills as a fun runner.

Very entertaining. But I rather think

you've been watching too many films.

He hasn't.

Why would I kill Leslie?

You clearly aren't aware that we're related.

Oh, but I am, "Cousin Sissy."

I'm afraid my nickname of Sissy

is only a revelation to yourself.

My teenage years studying ballet

are well known.

- Yeah, Sissy Skinner.

- What a Gaylord.

Thank you, Andrews.

Now, despite my comments

about "beheading" customers,

I personally relish the competition

of another store.

Anything to energize my workforce.

And anyway, what makes you think

I could dislodge part of the church roof?

Or for that matter, stage a car crash?

It's a well known fact that

the church roof is in dire need of repair.

And isn't it true

that two of your own employees

operate the vehicle removal service

for the council?

Sergeant, this is the 21st Century.

Many people hold down several jobs.

I myself host a life drawing class

at the Village Hall.

Tina here is a table dancer at Flappers.

Nevertheless, you could have utilized

the vehicle removal truck for your own ends.

These accusations

are quite meaningless, Sergeant,

unless you can back them up

with hard evidence.

Well, you've got me there.

I'd need something conclusive.

Something that placed you

at the scene of the crime.

Perhaps a wound you sustained on

a piece of broken glass this very evening.

This very evening.

Sergeant, this is beginning

to get embarrassing.

How could I possibly be

in several places at once?

I'm sure the store's security footage

will absolve me.

Do feel free to spool through.

I can handle this, Danny.

You might as well go back

and just enjoy the rest of your birthday.

- Did you really get me that plant?

- Yes, I did.

But it's been impounded as evidence.

Well, I mean,

maybe Dad will still let me water it, eh?

Yeah.

Sergeant, I wanted you to know that

if I do indeed now

own the land belonging to...

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