split!
- Shitty pass.
- I heard that!
What are you, a garbage mouth?
Hit the showers.
Wash that mouth out. Miller!
- You know the patterns?
- Like the back of my hand.
Get in here. Run the same thing again.
Hurry up.
Come on, Miller.
We're waiting on you, let's go!
Come on! Move it! You wanna play?
Come on, run. Let's go.
Thanks.
Run it.
Up. Let's go.
Miller, you all right?
- Coach!
- What's wrong with Miller?
Back up, let him breathe.
What's wrong? What is it?
Come on, give us some air.
Let's get his helmet off.
Real easy. Support his head, coach.
Real gentle.
From what I hear,
it wasn't a very hard tackle.
I only wish I knew, you see
Dr Jennings examined him last.
Why so gloomy?
Bunny Beechwood says that
everybody's calling you Dr Death.
That's just silly, Shelley.
And they say you want to
cut people up into little pieces.
Tom, look...
It's called an autopsy.
It's not a very pleasant thing,
but sometimes it's the only way to find out
what really happened to a person.
But some doctors who should know better
won't accept that.
But some doctors who should know better
just won't accept
that their big-city methods
don't sit well in a small town.
Both Margaret and that poor boy
did seem to be quite healthy.
It's a bit odd, don't you think, Sam?
If I autopsied everyone
who ever died of a heart attack
I'd be run out of Canaima so fast...
Poor Sam. You still think life is
a popularity contest.
You're not jealous of
our new young doctor, are you?
What?
Now you made me lose my timing.
You're yelling, Sam.
Come on to bed.
I need a shower.
I'd love to start taking walks
around the neighbourhood with you.
It's not the same thing, Evelyn.
I need to know exactly how far I've gone
and exactly how long it took me.
Floor's cold, Sam.
You're right. You're always right.
Damn!
- What's wrong?
- Some damn thing bit me.
It's just a spider.
Spider? Felt like a damn cougar.
Damn!
I'm having a seizure.
Sam, what should I do?
Ambulance. Call Jennings.
I'll be right there.
- What's going on?
- Metcalf. He's having a seizure.
Thank God you didn't
examine him this morning.
- What's the coroner doing here?
- I don't know.
Milt! This isn't necessary.
I'll be the judge of that, Lloyd.
Wait out here.
Guard the house or something.
Was he alive when you got here?
He'd been dead maybe five minutes.
Whatever it was, it was abrupt and acute.
What's your guess? Massive coronary?
Cerebral haemorrhage?
His wife says he was bitten by a spider
just before he seized.
Oh, right.
Sam told me about you.
You're the hot shot who won't accept
anyone else's diagnosis.
I'll accept it if I agree with it.
Good.
Let me show you something.
Down here.
I believe that's a spider bite.
I'll buy that.
But I rather doubt that's what killed him
In twenty years,
I've seen only one spider-bite fatality.
And that involved a black widow
and a one-year-old child.
No. My guess is that
Sam overexerted himself.
His wife said he was using the treadmill
just before he keeled over.
You may be right.
I want a full autopsy.
Tissue samples, blood toxicology,
the whole nine yards.
- Wait just one second.
- Shut up, Lloyd.
- You'll get Evelyn's permission, of course.
- Of course.
- You need a ride home?
- No, I'm all right, thanks.
You better take care of yourself now.
You're the town doctor.
Say "Aahh."
Okay, I think we're gonna
treat this inflammation with antibiotics.
Does this mean
I don't get any ice cream?
I'll buy you a double scoop
on the way home.
Who's next?
I'll take that. Thank you very much.
Step right this way.
Just have a seat. I'll be right with you.
Okay, hot shot. Are you sitting down?
According to preliminary data,
Sam Metcalf died as the result of
a minute amount of an as yet unidentified
toxic substance in his bloodstream.
My office isn't ruling out accidental
poisoning, deliberate poisoning
or even killer spiders.