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adjusting, I think.
I've been checking on you, Ross.
Henry, when I'm finally ready
to throw in the towel,
Dr Jennings is your man.
- Henry Beechwood.
- Ross Jennings.
- By all accounts, a fine physician.
- I'll remember that.
This brings back memories.
Right after the war,
when I moved to Canaima,
the whole town threw me a party.
You threw yourself a party.
Now that was a party!
Now that is a jerk!
- Canaima welcomes you.
- Thank you.
Listen, I was interested in something.
I wonder if you could give me a little help.
Do you think
that I should have this removed?
What's Bunny showing them over there?
Hand-to-hand combat techniques.
So Becky, have you thought about
what you'll major in at college?
Gym.
It's in the genes.
Bobby here,
he's the Broncos' star quarterback.
I taught him to throw a football
before he could walk.
I coach the team.
Nepotism, huh?
Actually, we're Baptists.
Nobody comes up to a mortician
at a party and says,
"Irv, you think I might be dead?"
Must drive you nuts
trying to dip your Dorito
while somebody's showing you his growth.
How do you handle it?
I just mention that until quite recently
my wife was a successful stockbroker.
Say, what do you think about that...
- Why shouldn't I have another?
- Because you've had too much already.
- Let's go.
- No, I'm thirsty.
That's the Manleys.
Their son recently passed away.
That's awful. How?
I'm not sure. He was a scientist.
Photographer.
He was on a scientific expedition down in...
Venezuela.
Nobody'd tell me how.
- Or even let me see him to say goodbye.
- Let's go.
I had to recommend a closed coffin.
His body looked all chewed up.
Drained.
Like some vampire had had a go at him.
It was terrible.
Excuse us.
I'll be you made enough friends today
to break Sam Metcalf's death-grip.
It was wonderful.
We can't thank you enough.
Nor I you.
Freeing me from those damn pills.
I feel I could compete in a triathlon.
On the basis of your check-up,
I tend to agree.
- Bye-bye, Margaret.
- Bye, Molly.
Irv, Claire. Would you like a doggy bag?
We're fine, thank you.
Great party, Margaret!
Come on, honey. Party's over.
Happy hunting, Felix.
See you in the morning.
You'd have had too much punch
and been the life of the party.
I missed you.
Ross!
I could have killed one of you.
The nails came straight...
It's all rotten down there.
My wine cellar is...
It's probably crawling with termites.
I'm surprised
we haven't fallen through the floor.
I'll call the exterminator.
You're rather casual
about the death of my dream.
I've been trying to reach Margaret
to thank her
and her line's been busy all morning.
She's probably gabbing.
- You want me to...
- Would you?
I'll go over and check on her.
Margaret?
So what do you think, doc?
Heart attack.
Bound to happen, rather sooner than later.
She had a history of high blood pressure.
- Even with the pills I put her on...
- I took her off those.
What right did you have to do that?
She came to me. As a patient.
You didn't notice she was hypertensive?
Her diastolic reading was normal.
Her systolic elevation was below 160.
- If you'd stayed current...
- This is a very serious matter, young man.
- You may well have killed this woman.
- I don't think so. She was in fine shape.
- I want an autopsy.
- Never.
Look, she was my patient.
And mine for 40 years.
Margaret wouldn't want to be butchered.
And nobody here would want that for her.
Give it to me, Irv.
I'm satisfied if you're satisfied, doc.
You come from a big city
where people don't care about each other.
I don't expect you'd understand.
A little advice.
If you're ever going to fit in in Canaima,
learn to be sensitive to
the feelings of the people here.
I'm sorry I'm more interested
in medicine than public relations!
You know, cardiac victims
don't usually bite their tongues off.
It's as though she went
into titanic convulsions.
Until I know why, this case isn't

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