Weatherall looked irritated as Ash and Scribbs stopped him in the corridor. The man was clearly on his way out with hat on head, coat firmly buttoned and briefcase in hand. Weatherall sighed when he saw them, after giving his watch a quick glance.

"I don't have a lot of time," he told them. "Told the wife I'd get to our son's Holiday play. He's Father Christmas this year; a move up from one of the Elves last year."

"Doctor, we wanted to talk to you about the pond body." Ash had to practically tackle him to make him stop while Scribbs made apologetic faces. "James Moore."

"And we don't want to make you late," Scribbs added.

Weatherall looked at them and sighed. "Can't this wait?"

Ash shook her head. "Just had an idea."

He said, "Fine. Get on with it. Make it quick. I'm still in the doghouse for missing last years' show."

Ash smiled and answered, "Right. I was talking to a doctor and he mentioned that potassium chloride is a dangerous substance."

"Can be," he answered. "What brought this up?"

"Oh," muttered Kate, "just a chat about medicine. He told me it can stop the heart."

"Well, not stop it outright, unless there are other factors or the dosage is very large." He crinkled his brow. "That's an idea."

Scribbs butted in, "But Moore didn't drown. You told us that. So why's he dead?"

Weatherall leaned back against the wall and rubbed his forehead. "Where would the KCl come from?"

Scribbs and Ash exchanged glances. "A doctor?" they said in unison.

The pathologist stared at the floor for a moment. "Moore massed around 75 kilograms, not quite 12 stone. It wouldn't take very much since he had been drinking."

"Why not?" Ash asked.

"Alcohol can depress the central nervous system, so the dose of KCl needed to kill him might not be very high. Perhaps less than a cubic centimeter. It would have to be diluted and injected of course." Weatherall sighed. "Look, I really have to dash."

Scribbs smiled at Ash. "Did you find any needle marks on his body?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. But we can take another look. He had no next of kin so we still have the remains. Now I really must be off."

"Thanks, Doc," Scribbs told him. "You best run."

He looked at his watch, muttered a, "Bloody hell," and was gone.

"Hope he makes it," Scribbs said. "Wouldn't want him to miss the big show."

As Ash watched him run away she wondered how a certain other doctor would be spending his Christmas.

The two women were walking upstairs when the Boss stopped them. "Any leads on the Moore case?"

Scribbs said. "We found out Mr. Moore had a girlfriend; a married one. And her husband is quite tall; has large feet, which might match the footprints at the RAF field, plus he's a cyclist – or at least used to be one."

"And Moore was a supplier of pharmaceuticals to this doctor," Kate added.

"Name?" Sullivan asked.

"Dr. Thomas Ostercroft," Ash answered.

DCI Sullivan's face blanched. "I know him and his wife."

"Oh?" Ash asked.

The Boss rolled his eyes. "He's a friend of my uncle – mother's side. Uncle Alfred served on a hospital board with him and I remember meeting the man at several community police initiatives as well." Sullivan looked up and down the stair. "Better come to my office."

The Boss parked himself behind his desk while Scribbs and Ash told him all they knew.

"Humph. So how does this tie in with the B&Es?" he asked when they had finished.

Ash bit her lip. "We don't know."

Sullivan shook his head. "This has to be watertight. So far you haven't tied the robberies, or the footprints, to the dead man. Ideas?"

Scribbs waved her hands about nervously. "Guess we need to work on that."

The Boss smiled sadly at them. "You do."

Emma added, "Maybe we should talk to the robbery victims."

Sullivan nodded. "Sounds like a good idea before we can make a charge of murder. So far…" he snapped his fingers. "We don't have that much in hand. Facts, detectives! I need facts! Now get to it."

Scribbs straggled after Ash back to their desks. "Well that was less than excellent."

Ash pulled out the B&E files and sighed sadly. "Okay, let's just take another look at these," she said.

Scribbs rolled her chair around her desk so she was next to Kate. "The Boss didn't exactly yell at us," she said softly.

Ash glared at her. "Nor did he give us the best detective medal either."

"I hate robberies," Emma moaned.

"But a good old-fashioned murder sets your heart racing?"

Scribbs replied, "You make me sound like a ghoul. As a girl I couldn't stand to step on a spider and now look at me." She shook her head. "You as well. We're a couple of odd ducks."

Kate thought about her conversation with Martin. Surrounded by a pretty tea room, warm and dry, they'd discussed ways to bump people off. "Scribbs, we're not the only ones."

Scribbs dragged a map across from her desktop. "I did mark down where these robberies happened. All out here in Collins Grove."

"Nice neighborhood," Ash commented.

"I wouldn't mind having a house out there or a flat."

"Speaking of which, two are detached houses and one is duplex."

Scribbs pursed her lips. "Wondered about that."

"The duplex complaint was by Chester Wiltshire," Ash read form the file. "Says nothing was taken but a window was forced. Large foot prints found there too."

Scribbs scanned the other incident sheets. "Not much taken from the other two. Some jewelry and cash."

"Drug kids?" Ash asked. "I wonder." She picked up the desk phone and dialed. "Mr. Wiltshire please?" After a few seconds the person he wanted came to the phone. "Mr. Chester Wiltshire? This is DI Kate Ashurst of the Middleford CID. Might I and my colleague come talk to you about the robbery you reported?"

Scribbs folded her arms and waited but she squinted at the map, checked an address, then made a small mark with a pen.

"Right. Really? Tonight would be good. Fifteen minutes then. Thanks." Kate hung up. "Says he's meeting a glazier to get an estimate on the window damage."

Scribbs yawned. "I was hoping for an early night."

Ash yawned in reaction. "Stop that!"

Emma stood. "Sorry. I figured you're be tired after a train ride yesterday. How was Bath?"

"Beautiful, festive; cold. Crowded."

Emma nodded. "And Michael?"

"He called – I told him off. That's over."

"Oh Ash, I know the guy could be a bit, well, you know, demanding, or so you said."

"That's one way to put it," Kate muttered, for when he wanted to see her she was supposed to drop everything (especially her pants). "He didn't seem to care much what I thought or wanted, until the end."

Scribbs chuckled. "Well we know what he wanted."

"Oh stop it," Ash half-slapped her elbow. "Come on; field work."

"But its cold out and getting dark," moaned Scribbs.

Ash jumped up and slung her coat around herself. "Move it."

Scribbs snatched up the map. "And look what I noticed. Our endocrinologist lives less than a mile from the robberies. Ought to have seen that before."

"That warms the cockles of my heart, Scribbs," Ash told her.

"Yeah," Emma replied, "but my feet get frigid on a cold night like tonight."

"Thicker stockings, my dear Emma," Ash told her. "Best be prepared."

Scribbs laughed.