All language subtitles for Death In Paradise - S10E10 - death in paradise christmas special uktv

Ooh, it's cold and it's grey out
there today.

However, never fear because

Christmas Day is less than
a week away.

We're all feeling warm and cosy

and twinkly on the inside.

But if you're not, don't worry,
here's something...

that will get you in
the festive mood.

OK, but it's been nearly a week now

and the water tank is still leaking.

I appreciate you've got other
properties to look after

but, it's just my girlfriend's
coming round on Christmas Day

and she's not going to be over
the moon if it's like

Niagara Falls in here.

No, I understand you're a very
busy man, Mr Driscoll.

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Got a pick-up for a Mrs Jenkins at
32 Wardsby Villas.

Going to Streatham High Road.
Any takers?

41. I'm on that, Sal.

He's seen you.

Oi!

Hey, go, go. You idiots!

Bye, loser!

41. I'm going to need some
roadside assistance.

Not again, Colin.

One day, Colin.

One day.

Oh, champagne, yeah, that goes right
in the fridge. Thanks.

I found Guy Fawkes loitering in
the hallway. Where do you want him?

Down on the beach, please.

Great.

Oh, Mari, Mari, no.

No swimming please.
The pool area is out of bounds.

Why? Cos it's all set up for the
party and I don't want

the table-wear getting splooshed
with water.

It was never like this when
Mum had parties.

They were actually fun.

Philip, you've a conference call
coming up.

I never tire of it, you know.

Watching the old girls pass by.

Seeing your empire before you.

More like, I'm reminded just how
small my part is in it all.

I think the shareholders in
New York would disagree.

You know, you just can't get away
with that anymore.

Excuse me a moment.

Honey, what is your ex-wife
doing here?

Well, I couldn't not invite her.

Bliss, what a wonderful party.

Better than anything I ever
threw here.

That's kind of what I was going for.

Then you've surpassed yourself.

I'm going to see if I can
get a top-up.

God, this music's awful.

Hello? Is someone there?

Bit eager with the fireworks.

I... I don't know what to say.

It's my favourite.

And not cheap.

By deduction, I think I can guess
who gave me this.

Inspector?

Oh, I might go over budget a little.
You are the Commissioner, after all.

I will enjoy it very much.

Well, that just leaves me.

And by process of elimination,
dictates it must be you

who gave it to me so, let's see.

It's nice and soft.

Maybe, a fancy new tie.

And it is...

Socks.

You bought me, plain, brown socks.

You see, I realised
in all the time I worked with you,

I actually know very little about
you.

But then I remembered...

That I wear socks?

There's just something about you
that makes me think of... socks.

Thank you, sir. Much appreciated.

Right, time for a drink, I think.

Good idea.

Evening, Neville!
Evening, Catherine.

Four of your famous rum punches,
please. With pleasure.

So, I hung a little sprig
of mistletoe above your table.

I thought it might give you a chance
to, you know, kiss Florence.

Right, I... I'm not sure...

Is that really my... my style,
do we think?

Probably not.

It would involve you actually
doing something.

That's a tad unfair, Catherine.
I did try and do something.

It's just events conspired
against me.

You haven't told me.

What happened that night?

You were all ready to tell Florence
how you felt.

What I wanted to say was...

And then nothing happened!

I need a few more rum punches inside
me before we open that can

of worms, Catherine.

Thank you.

OK, thank you.

It's a divert from the station.

Party's over, I reckon.

Guy called Philip Carlton,
looks like he shot himself.

There was going to be a
fireworks display at 11 o'clock.

The man we hired to organise it came
down here a few minutes before.

And that's when he... he found...

The victim owns the villa,
you said? It was his party?

It was actually his wife's idea.

Philip Carlton was
a well-respected businessman.

He owned the
Carlton Atlas Shipping Company.

Must have had a few quid going
spare, then? I'd say so.

Marlon, photographs, please.

And we should bag the gun.

The villa's not that far away.

I'm surprised no-one heard
the gunshot?

I was on the terrace.
I feel like such a fool.

I thought it was one of the
fireworks going off by mistake.

What time was this?
Quarter to 11.

Er, Sarge. We got a mobile phone.

It's locked.

Pass code is four-one-eight-two.

I've been working with Philip now
for nearly 40 years.

There's not much I don't know
about him.

Looks like the last thing the victim

did was to record a video at 10:43.

That's two minutes before
the shot was fired.

I... I don't think this will come as
any surprise to you.

I'm sure you'll understand this has
to happen, right now, right here.

So, Mr Carlton recorded these final
few words.

And then, took his own life.

Philip had always suffered from
down days, as he called them.

And you're his wife, Mrs Carlton?

Ex-wife, but I kept the surname.

After 40 years, I'd grown rather
fond of it.

I'm the latest incumbent, Inspector.

Bliss Monroe.

Oh, so you didn't take your
husband's surname?

No, I don't believe in that kind
of thing.

It's regressive and archaic.

OK, sure.

What Natasha's saying is Philip was
prone to

the odd bout of depression.

And had Mr Carlton been particularly
downcast of late?

A little, I'd say, yes.

Dad always found this time
of year hard, didn't he?

Yes, Philip lost his father
at Christmas.

I mean, it was years ago, but

they had a very difficult
relationship,

strained, at best.

It haunted Philip that he never made
peace with his father.

I tried to get him to speak
to my therapist.

I told him he had to deal
with these issues,

not bottle them up.

But he could be so stubborn.

And you think this is what
Mr Carlton was referring to

in the message he left?
It has to be.

This afternoon, he looked so lost.

I should've said something.

But I thought, "He always picks
himself up, dusts himself down."

Always.

I've, finished processing
the scene.

I'll get the paperwork written up.

And I'll speak to the coroner.

Poor family. Some Christmas, huh?

What are you doing at your
parents' house?

You're meant to be spending
Christmas here with me?

No, right, of course.

I can appreciate why you'd want to
be somewhere else.

So, maybe I should come up and
be with you all?

No, no, I understand.
Yeah, silly idea.

Proper talk?

I see.

Yeah, well, we can do that when you
get back.

OK. Bye, love.

Let's go, see if we can't spread
a little Christmas joy.

What do you say, Officer Pryce?

I'll try my best, Commissioner.

But I'm finding it very hard
to raise a smile myself,

dressed like this.

Stop complaining.

And put your hat on.

Now, where's my sack?

Hello, Officer Pryce speaking.

Er, yes, he's, he's right here.

Commissioner, it's your secretary.

She's got someone called... Interpol
on the line for you.

The hotel has a spa and pool.

And on Christmas Day we go down
the beach to swim

and eat barbecued fish.

It's just...

I mean, c'est juste parfait.

Well, I'm a bit of
a traditionalist at heart, Florence.

When it comes to Christmases,

I like them cold and drizzly
and grey.

Hm. Which I don't get at all.

Well, while it's cold
and drizzly and grey outside,

inside the fire's on and it's warm
and cosy.

The smell of roast turkey's
wafting in from the kitchen.

I'm all snuggled up on the sofa.

My nan's nattering away whilst she
sips her sherry.

Now, for me,
that's c'est juste parfaite.

Oui.

That's my family. I better go.

Yeah, erm...

Have a lovely Christmas, Florence.

Thank you. You too.

Enjoy your trip home to Manchester.
Thank you. You've earned it.

I don't believe what I'm seeing.

There's been a development in
the Philip Carlton case.

Oh? Interpol received
a phone call last night.

A man based in London.

He'd been sent a Christmas card

claiming that Mr Carlton
was murdered.

He's waiting to speak with us now.
OK.

Sorry, I have to ask,
why are you both dressed like that?

I've been asking myself
the same question.

I thought it was a joke at first,

but then I looked up the name

and I saw this news article about
this rich guy, Philip Carlton,

who'd killed himself,
on your island?

Which is where this came from.

The post-mark's smudged, but you can
still make it out Saint Marie.

And that's when I thought to myself,
"This is not a joke, Colin.

"This is serious." There you go.

Is that an elf? Not a real one.

Mr Babcock, is there any reason you

can think of why someone might've
sent this to you?

No. So you have no connection
to Philip Carlton?

Never met him,
or someone in his family?

I'd never even heard of the guy
until I got this Christmas card.

Well, we're going to need you
to bag up the card and the envelope

and send it over to us. OK?
Sure. Er, just email me the address.

Thank you for your assistance.

We'll be in touch if we

need to speak to you, again.

Right.

Erm, bye, then.

There's a chance this
Christmas card was sent as a joke.

Not a very funny one, but...

Even if it was, what I don't
understand is, why him?

Why send it to some random
mini-cab driver in the UK?

Er, sir. That was the pathologist.

There's something he thinks you
should know.

Postmortem lividity shows that

the victim's body was moved after
he died.

Possibly lifted and then dragged.

If the body was moved,

that means that someone placed
the gun in Philip Carlton's hand

to make it look like a suicide.

And in so doing,
covering up a possible murder?

Which might explain why this
was sent.

If we have a murder case
to investigate,

then I suggest we put on more
suitable attire.

Sir, I'm not going home, am I?

For Christmas.

You're going to want me
to stay here?

Sorry, Inspector.

I'll call my mum and let her know.

I don't think this will come as any
surprise to you...

and I'm sure you'll understand
this has to happen...

right now, right here.

If Philip Carlton was murdered,
it begs the question...

Why did he leave what appears
to be a suicide note?

Yeah. I mean, he doesn't

specifically refer to taking
his own life.

He says..."I don't think it will
come as a surprise to you,

"you need to understand, this has
to happen."

Could he be referring to something
else that had to happen?

But what?

We need to get in touch
with his family

and let them know this case is being
treated as suspicious.

And we should contact
the head office in New York.

Search the house and grounds,

we'll have to go through his phone
and email records.

There's a lot to do, sir.
And we're a woman down.

I suppose, there is someone I can
think of who we could ask

to assist us a retired officer.

He's been away from the island
the last few years, traveling,

but I hear he's coming home
for Christmas.

Man, oh, man.
It's good to be back!

Yes-i!

Dwayne. You're back!

Yes-i. And there's going to be a lot
of partying on the island tonight.

Ai-ai-ai!

Well, this I can't believe.

The Commissioner himself coming
to welcome me back to Saint Marie?

I'm honoured, truly.

That's not why I'm here. Oh?

Not in any trouble, am I,
Commissioner?

OK, I might've been
a bit loosey-goosey with

the duty free allowance on
the way back, but...

I wondered if you could help us out
with a murder case.

We are a depleted team
and it's all hands to the pumps.

DI Neville Parker. Dwayne Myers.

Nice to meet you, Dwayne.

Oh. So you're the new detective,
huh?

You're even more pale and pasty than
they said you were.

Who told you that?

I have my sources.

And this is our newest recruit
Trainee Officer Marlon Pryce.

Er, wait. Didn't I arrest you once,
back in the day?

Er, it... it's certainly more than
possible, yeah.

Well, this is a ragtag bunch.

So, what do you say?
Will you do it?

The thing is, if you got me working
Christmas, we on overtime rates?

I suppose. And could there be a
little seasonal drinkies thrown in,

in the light of the sacrifice?

I am sure something can be arranged.

Man, he's more of a player
than I am.

Is that a yes, then?

Out of the way!

I'm sorry. Murder?

Why on Earth would you say that?

The postmortem suggests that
Philip Carlton's body was moved

after he died, which is suspicious.

Also, there is a man in the UK who
received a Christmas card

sent from this island.

Inside it was written,
"Philip Carlton was murdered."

What man?

He's a mini-cab driver who lives in
South London.

His name is Colin Babcock.

Colin Babcock? Mm-hm.

Does that ring any bells for
any of you?

No. Is this who you're talking
about?

Yeah, that's him.

This has go to be a joke, right?
Look at him.

No disrespect to this
Colin Babcock guy,

but he's kind of a nobody.

Well, never the less,
until we can prove otherwise,

we can't ignore the allegation.

But who would want to kill Philip?

That's what we were
going to ask you all.

Is there anyone you can think of
who may have had a motive?

Well, we'll need to take statements
from each of you, and your staff.

And if we can get a list of all
the guests who attended the party?

We'll also need to search
the house and the grounds.

You're not joking about this,
are you?

No.

Eh!

What's he like?

The new Inspector?

Oh, smart.

Knows his stuff.

But, erm, he can be a bit strange,
you know.

Marlon, the English,
they're all strange.

Now let's get down to business,

I'll search inside the house,

you go outside and do the grounds,
all right? Sure thing.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. What?

So, while I'm out there getting all
hot and sweaty, you're inside,

where the air-conditioning's
on full blast?

I don't know what you mean. Hm.

We'll toss for it. What?
Heads or tails?

Heads!

Hm. Tails.

You lose. I'm inside.

So you got moves, huh?

All right, you win today.

The estate is divided equally
between Natasha, Bliss and Marigold.

He had two phones?

One for work and that one for
personal.

It's six-two-four-three.

Seem to be a lot of recent calls
from the ex-wife, Mrs Carlton.

Yeah, Natasha struggled with
the separation.

I don't think she ever quite
accepted it. And the calls?

Most days, after a glass of wine
or four,

she'd call and just let rip.

Philip stopped answering
after a while.

Let his voice-mail bear the brunt.

You have one new message,
received Friday 12:33pm.

That's the day of the party.

"Why have you done this?"

"I don't understand!"

"Everything is just for her."

"That... that silly little... witch!"

"What we had was so and you went
and crushed it, Philip."

"I hate you for what you've done."

"I hate you for what you've done.
I hate you."

I was feeling rather sorry
for myself,

overdid the vino at lunch.

Look I'm not the first person
to drunk-dial an ex.

No, but you'd been making rather

a habit of it, from what we've
heard.

Oh, Bruce has been yapping
to you, has he?

Good old yappy Bruce.

Mrs Carlton, you're obviously still
bitter about the divorce.

I am, yes.

But if I was going to murder
someone, it would be that

vacuous Yank he's shacked up with.

Look, what reason would I have
to kill Philip?

I still loved the man,
for God's sake.

If you still loved him
and you couldn't have him.

That does give you motive.

No, it doesn't.

Not if...

In my heart, it was never going to
last, him and her.

It just wasn't.

You thought he'd come back to you?

I was sure of it, yes.

All I had to do was bide my time
and wait.

And everything would correct itself.

Except that now that's never
going to happen, is it?

Because he's... gone.

He's gone from my life for good.

Ah, Commissioner. Inspector.

So, how did it go with
the crazy ex-wife?

Probably best if we don't call
her that.

While Natasha Carlton
does have motive,

she also seems genuinely

grief-stricken by Mr Carlton's
death.

What about you gents? Any news?

Er, so we searched the house
and grounds.

Took witness statements,
and spoke with all the staff.

And nobody knew
of any monkey business going on

in the victim's private life.

Although we did get something
from the guy who organised

the parking the night
of the murder.

His name's Emmanuel.
He said he noticed

a car up on the hill,
close to the villa,

around the time of the murder.

And when he approached the car,
it sped off.

Did he get a registration number?
We got better than that.

He said the car was a busted
Orange Triumph.

There's only one person who drives
a car like that on this island.

Zelda Moncrief.

I can't believe she still owns
that old orange rust-bucket.

Who's Zelda Moncrief?

Calls herself an investigator,
but don't let the title fool you.

Zelda has her fingers
in a number of pies,

most of them illicit.

Yeah, she's got quite
the greatest hits list.

Dwayne and me thought we'd pay her
a visit first thing. Right, Dwayne?

It's like I've never been away!

Well, I get the feeling
that this is as a good time as any

to wrap things up
for this evening.

Sir, in the morning,
I suggest we do some digging

into the victim's background
and those closest to him.

Because, while we may be looking
for a potential killer,

we also need to find
whoever it was who wrote

and posted this Christmas card.

The question is just why
did they send it to this man?

Colin Babcock.

Evening, Catherine. Busy tonight.

The wanderer has returned.

So, Neville.

It's just us. No-one will hear.

Please tell me,

what happened between you
and Florence?

Do I have to, Catherine?
Yes!

Or, I'll never serve you chicken
and chips again.

OK, well...

So I went and knocked on
Florence's door.

The thing is,

I-I had something I wanted to,
to tell you.

And I was about to do it.

I was about to tell her.

What I wanted to say was...

And?

Well, then Florence
noticed something.

What is it?

A mosquito landed and perched
right on my forehead.

Ah, no.

Well, Florence told me not to move
and she was going to bat it away.

But then at the last second,
I sort of panicked and...

No!

I don't know if I've ever mentioned,

but I'm extremely susceptible
to nosebleeds.

And when my nose bleeds,
boy, does it gush!

Ah, Neville.

So she insisted on cancelling
her date and taking me to A&E.

While we were sitting there waiting
to be seen, I...

Sir.

I just remembered.
What was it you wanted to tell me?

I kind of felt like I'd missed
my moment, you know?

Aah.

So, what now?

Will you try again?

Well, when I watched her getting
on the boat this morning,

All that was going
through my head was that

I couldn't wait for Christmas
to be over

and for her to come back again.

Maybe next time,

don't make a big deal of it.
Just be casual.

Mm.

Oh, no, no. Oh, yes.
No, I really shouldn't.

Trust me. You need it.

OK.

OK, CJ. I'll see you and Bomba
on Boxing Day for the poker game,

hah? And you tell Turtle Pete
that I'm going to clean him out,

oh, yes, I am.
You better believe it.

♪ Dum, dum...

♪ Dum, du, du, du, du dum,
dum, du, du, du.

One last little rum.

♪ Dum, dum, dum, du, du, du, dum! ♪

So I was speaking
with JP last night.

Huh?
He was telling me all about you.

I bet. Me and him,
we made a good team.

He was like the ying to my yang.

Yeah. I know what you mean.
I been kinda missing him

since he went.

He was a sort of a mentor to me,
you know.

Then you were learning from
the best. Smart cookie, that boy.

Though he reckoned I could learn
a thing or two from you. Oh?

Said you had your own,
unique style of policing.

Yes, it's called the full package!

Watch and learn.

Hey! Officer Dwayne Myers, eh?
I thought I'd seen

the back of you.
I should be so lucky, huh?

And a Merry Christmas
to you too, Zelda.

This is my colleague,
Officer Marlon Pryce.

Yes, I know Marlon.
Hm. Still doesn't suit you,

you know? That uniform.
Still look like a little thief.

Morning, Zelda.
Hm. So go on now, what you want?

A man called Philip Carlton
was found dead two nights ago.

We're treating it as suspicious.

Well, I ain't never heard of
the guy, so I can't help you, can I?

Oh, yeah? Well we have a witness
who places your car outside

the victim's house around
the time of the shooting.

Guess you better come inside.

Hm.

You know, I was just mixing up some
Creme de Ponche when you knocked.

Oh? You want a glass,
while we're discussing matters?

It's a bit early, isn't it?

Christmas Eve an' all, eh?

Well, I suppose a little Creme
de Ponche wouldn't do any harm.

Voila. Coming right up.

You sure you should be doing that?
What?

Drinking on duty?

Marlon,

what you have to understand is this
is all part of my process.

Put the people at ease.

Make them think that you're on
their side.

By the way, you're driving.

I've got a bad feeling about this.
Ach!

No, no, no, no!

Quick, give me the keys.

The ignition is busted!

Zelda!

So losing a suspect,

that all part of your process too?
Hm?

It's only my second day!

I'm a bit rusty.

Sir, I'm just going over the witness
statements taken yesterday.

There are three people who stood
to gain from the victim's will.

Bliss, Natasha and Marigold.

Mm-hm. None of these people have an
alibi at the time of the murder.

So any one of them could've been
down on the beach

and shot the victim.
So Bruce Garrett

is the only one of
the four who has an alibi?

At least we know who didn't do it.

Although, that said,

he may still have had
a possible motive. Really?

Last night, I spoke to a couple
of contacts at the Yacht Club

who had some dealings
with Carlton Atlas Shipping.

And they say Mr Garrett
had grown resentful over time.

Why?

Because, while he remained loyal
to Philip for close on 40 years,

he was never anything
other than a salary man.

No shares, dividends, nothing.

Commissioner, Chief,

we have a real live situation
going on.

Zelda Moncrief has done a runner.

How did that happen?

During an interview,
she hot-footed it good and proper.

Right?

That's right.

And it wasn't our fault
in any way whatsoever.

I was putting out
an all-port warning when Reggie down

the harbour said he saw her getting
on a ferry over to Guadeloupe.

So, Zelda was seen near
the Carlton Villa on the night

of the murder,
and now she's absconded?

You two need to get
to Guadeloupe and find her, ASAP.

Hello.

Oh, hi. Can we help you in any...?

Wait. Are you...?

Colin Babcock. I know.
Bet you weren't expecting this?

I thought I'd bring you these.

Er, thanks,

but you could've just posted them,
like we asked.

I was going to.

But... This is probably going to
sound mad,

but I've never been to
the Caribbean.

And I've always wanted to and
I thought, now I've got a reason.

I won't get in your way.

I just wanted to introduce myself
and I'll be on my way.

I'll get this to the lab
for processing.

Hey, Dwayne.

Check me out!

You get these on your travels?

Tahiti.

Oh, what a night that was!

I had my heart broken twice,
you know.

Both times by the same woman.

Oh, Mahana.

What it could've been between us.

So what made you do it?
Pick up everything and set sail?

It was me and my father. Nelson.

We had a lot of making up to do.

So we thought we'd see
the world while we were doing it.

Is he back on Saint Marie as well?

No, he went back to London.

That's where home is for him.

Well, it's a shame you won't
be together for Christmas.

Yeah.

Well, we'll probably speak
on the phone, you know,

something like that. Hm, yeah.

Yeah.

OK, thank you.

Sir, I've been working through
the victim's laptop.

The last few internet searches
he made were for this guy,

Rufus Adler.

An actor based in the UK.

Doesn't seem to have had many jobs?

Why was Philip Carlton

so interested in some
unemployed actor?

Well, I spoke to his agent,

who told me that Mr Adler recently
dispensed of their services

because he was moving
to the Caribbean.

And according to Immigration
just now,

Rufus Adler arrived in Saint Marie
a week ago.

This is his address.

Shall we?

Well, for an out-of-work actor,

Mr Adler appears to be renting
himself a rather expensive villa.

Unless he's staying with a friend?
Mm.

So how long have you two been
seeing each other?

Er, four years or so,
very much on and off,

because we both travel so much.

We met when I was teaching yoga
out in LA.

And, er, were you still seeing
each other when you met

Philip Carlton, Ms Monroe?

The way I live my life is my choice.

Polyamory is not a crime.

I was just keen to know whether
your husband was aware?

He found out recently.

And you, Mr Adler,

you arrived on the island
a week ago.

Two days before Philip Carlton's
murder. Why?

You see, Bliss was having
a hard time of it.

So, I flew out.

A hard time?

Yeah, it's like we told you.
Philip was in a real funk,

at least the last month or so,
and I wasn't coping with it.

And now here you both are.

Having just inherited
a third of Mr Carlton's

billion-pound estate.

How convenient for you.

OK, stop.

You're going to need
some actual evidence

if you're going to throw
accusations like that around.

Not an accusation,
Miss Monroe, just an observation.

Get your things, we're going home.

I don't think we should cook,
let's get takeout.

Love you. Bye, Mum. Bye.

Oh, my God. Mum, look.

I can't believe it.

She's moving him in.

We haven't even had Dad's funeral
yet, and it's Christmas Eve.

OK, so, Zelda had already passed
through passport control

by the time they heard
that we were looking for her.

Now apparently, she was picked up
by a dodgy looking light skinned guy

in a vest, riding a scooter.

Did they get a registration?

Didn't have any plates.
But they reckon he was local.

But look, he could be anywhere.

You know what? What?

I think I might have an idea.
Oh, really?

So, if this dodgy light skin
guy lives in town,

his scooter has
to be parked up somewhere.

So?

So, if we walk every street on this
map, we are bound to find it.

You know what?

That must be just about the dumbest
plan I've ever heard in my life.

Walking every street
in the city with my feet?

Ha! That would literally kill
me, man.

Well, have you got a better idea?

Er... Er, well until you do,
let's get to it.

OK, thank you.

The VP of Carlton Atlas Shipping
can think of no reason why anyone

would want Philip Carlton dead.

Particularly as they were
just about to throw a party

for his 40th year heading up
the company.

Bruce Garrett was going to organise
the retrospective for it.

All in all, a well-loved CEO.

A distinctly different state
of affairs to his childhood.

According to this article,

Mr Carlton was six
when his mother died.

He was sent to boarding school
in England,

where things got worse.

It seems he was bullied,
didn't make friends.

He and his father
remained estranged after that,

spent the rest of his life
dealing with the fallout.

All of which sets the scene
for the supposed suicide perfectly.

Whoever killed Philip Carlton
knew exactly what they were doing.

But who, was it? Who shot him?

Oh...

Hey, Catherine.

Er, yeah, OK.

I'll... I'll come over now. Bye.

Inspector Parker?
What are you doing here?

Well, I know the owner,

and she hates to see people
drink alone.

Thanks.

Cheers.

To a Caribbean Christmas, eh? Yeah.

So, explain to me again
why you've come out here?

Can't just be because you've never
been before?

Christmas kind of got cancelled.

My girlfriend
made other arrangements

that turned out, didn't include me.

Oof, I'm sorry.

Anyway, I thought to myself,

"Go for it, Colin. Be spontaneous
for once in your life,"

"stop living in the shadows."

Here I am.

It's beautiful, isn't it?

Yeah, it is.

So Colin,

now that we've sorted
your accommodation... You have?

Yeah. Oh, I forgot to mention.

Erm, you can kip at my place,
if you want.

Really? Sure.

Thank you.

Now, most importantly,

what would you like to have
for your dinner?

Do you do chicken and chips?

Oh! The English!

It was him.

I... I saw him there,
clear as day. Colin Babcock.

What the hell's he doing
in Saint Marie?

He can't be here, he just can't.

I need to get onto Mum,

I've got to do something.

No.

OK.

I reckon if I take this street
and you take the next one,

we meet up at the end, hm?

Ah, so,

the dumbest plan I ever heard
in my life got even dumber.

We can't search all these streets
in this weather!

So what do you suggest we do?

I don't know!

But not doing this would be
a hell of a start!

May I remind you, Dwayne,

that it's your fault we're here
in the first place?

And how'd you work that one out?

Because you're the one
who fell for Zelda offering you

a glass of Christmas punch!

It was early in the morning.
I wasn't thinking straight.

You know, I have no idea
why JP said you're such

a good police officer.

You've lost us a suspect.

And then when I come up
with a plan to try and find her,

you do nothing but moan about it.

This whole thing would've been
easier without you.

Oh, well be my guest, then!

I was only trying to help.

It's Christmas Eve,
if you haven't noticed.

Dwayne...

What? I've got places I should be.

Dwayne... Dwayne!

Here you go, Colin.

Looks like I've made a friend.

Oh, that's Harry. He's my lodger.

Or maybe I'm his lodger?

Anyway, Harry,
this is Colin Babcock.

Nice to meet you, Harry.

Oh.

Colin, that Christmas card
that you received.

Are you sure there's nothing
you can think of that might explain

why it was sent to you?
No. Nothing. Really.

Hm.

All right. Goodnight, Colin.

Thanks again.

My fault? How is it my fault?

Some welcome home this is!

Hey! Watch where you're going!

Right, when I get you,

I'm going to teach you to show
an Officer of the Law some respect!

Seriously?

You didn't see me standing here?

Help! Neville!

Colin! Colin!

I need an ambulance.

Dwayne?

Man, it's... it's really coming down
out there.

I'm completely soaked.
Tell me about it!

Man, it's quiet in here.

Peaceful.

My, erm, my little sister,
right now...

she'll be going crazy,
refusing to go to sleep,

waiting for Santa to arrive.

I swear, man,
she's a nonstop noise machine.

First Christmas I won't be there.

Marlon, I...

I'm sorry about the...

It's cool. It's cool man,
I'm... I'm sorry too.

I haven't been feeling
myself lately.

The truth of the matter is,
my father,

the reason he went to London
is because he got ill.

And I mean really ill.

I'm sorry.

So, why didn't you go with him?

Because while I'm here,

I can pretend maybe
it isn't really happening.

So many wasted years, me and him,

not speaking to each other.
I don't want to lose him, Marlon.

Not when I've only just
got him back into my life.

I know my father needs me.

But I'm really scared right now,
you know?

This isn't really helping, is it?

OK.

Man, I'm not much good
at giving advice.

But you know,

one of the things JP taught me
was that,

how as police officers,
we're there for each other.

No matter what.

Partners, you know?

And I reckon
that's all this is for you.

You just have to be there
for your partner.

Right?

Sounds like the rain's easing up.

Well...

Officially it's Christmas Day,

and there won't be any planes
going back to London just yet.

So, I think, me and you,

should go and finish
what we started.

But how are we going to do that?
It's like you said,

Zelda could be anywhere.

I'll tell you how.

We'll do it exactly
the way you said it.

By walking every single street
in this city.

Morning, Inspector.

Morning, sir.

And, er, merry Christmas, I guess.

And to you.

How is Mr Babcock?

Any news? Well, the doctor says
he has a bad concussion,

but they're not worried. Might take
him a while to come round, though.

The fact that he was the target of
this assault would suggest that

this Christmas card
wasn't sent as a joke.

I agree, sir. Plus,
I found this among his possessions.

Looks old, like he's had it a while.
I have a feeling he knows

more than he's letting on.
But what can he know,

considering he'd never even
heard of Philip Carlton

until a couple of days ago?

Oh, it's from the lab, sir.

They've found a match for
the fingerprints on the card

and the envelope. So who was it?

Who sent the card?

I'm sorry,
that just can't be right.

The evidence is pretty indisputable,
Mr Garrett.

But I swear to you, I did not send
some total stranger in London

a Christmas card saying Philip was
murdered. I mean, why would I?

As far as I'm concerned,
the man shot himself.

Then... is there
another possible explanation

as to how your prints
ended up on the card?

Well, the only thing I can think

is that someone's trying
to set me up here, to frame me.

But why would they do that?

I have no idea.

Marlon! Are we nearly there yet?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

I don't understand. The scooter
should've been parked on

one of these streets.
It should've been here.

Maybe you're right,
maybe the idea was dumb.

No, it's not. Yes, it was.
Look at us.

Walking all night and for what?
Scooter.

Where? Over there.

You know, it just could be.

Dwayne, Dwayne, come on.
Get up. Let's go.

Oh! Oh!

No way.

I don't believe it!
It's the scooter, Dwayne.

No registration plates. And look

it's got a dodgy guy in a vest
driving it. Come on.

Anton, you find anywhere open?

Wahey!

Can I tempt either of you officers

with a glass of Creme de Ponche, eh?

So, want to tell us why
you were at the Carlton Villa

the night Philip Carlton was shot?

Zelda.

This has been a tiring few days
for all of us.

Please. Don't let this take longer
than it needs to.

I was there cos that Mr Carlton
was paying me some money.

She had this on her.

What was this money for?

I'd done a bit of work for him.

The private investigating side
of things, eh.

What work?

He had me find someone for him.

Who? His son.

He had a son?
Hmm back in the day,

him and him wife have a baby
and give it up for adoption.

Him asked me to track
the kid down. Not easy, I tell you.

But you found him?

Uh-huh, some boy in England,
London. Goes by the name of...

Colin Babcock.

So hold on, if you were just there
to collect the money,

why have you been giving us
the run-around?

Cos I thought you'd pin his murder
pon me.

Never trusted your like, hmm.
Never will.

Move.

I was traveling round India

after my A Levels
when I met Philip.

We were together for a few months

and then the news came through
about his father dying.

So we flew over here

and Philip was made the new CEO
of Carlton Atlas Shipping.

It was in the midst of all that
that we found out I was pregnant.

The timing couldn't have been worse.

But you went through with it and
then put the baby up for adoption?

It was the hardest decision to make.

But considering how young
we both were

and the huge changes that
we were dealing with in our lives,

you know,
it felt like the right choice.

And erm, all these years later,

Philip decided to start looking
for his long-lost son?

Yes, I think he hoped it might help
to bring some peace into his life.

So you knew he was doing this?

He...

He didn't tell any of us at first.
But...

I came across the letter
he was writing to his son.

I spoke to Natasha about it,
to see if it was true.

They had a son.

But the letter never got sent?

No.

Why not?

Because it may have meant that
the billion-pound estate

which was to be divided between
the three of you

would then include a fourth party?

Hmm. Can you blame us?

Some random bloke getting his hands
on our money?

So, what did you do?

We told Philip,
in no uncertain terms,

he couldn't go through with it.

I just feel
I really need to do this.

Philip, you are being selfish.
This affects all of us, Dad.

We're putting an end to this.

And he just accepted that?

Well, when he was feeling low,

Philip was not someone
to put up a fight.

He could be very easily managed.

So that's what we did.
We managed him.

So if you're thinking one of us
killed Dad over it, you're wrong.

Yeah. Well, you say that.
But why should we believe you,

when you've already tried to kill
Colin Babcock?

We bloody did not.
Well, someone did.

Look, I wasn't trying to kill him,

all right?

I, I just thought if I gave the guy
a bit of a scare, he'd go away.

What on earth made you think that,
that was a good idea? I, I'm sorry.

I just saw how angry you were when
he turned up on the island.

I thought I'd help.
Except it all got out of hand.

The silly man fought back and banged
his head when I pushed him off.

I really didn't mean to hurt him.

Of all the idiotic things
you could do.

Mr Adler, you're going to need to
accompany us to the station.

And Mrs Carlton, I'd like to suggest
that you take a DNA test.

Just to confirm that you
and Mr Carlton

are indeed the parents of Colin
Bab... I will do no such thing.

I'm sorry? I may have given a baby
up for adoption,

but I can tell you now,

it was not Colin Babcock.

I mean, you've only got to see
his photograph.

He doesn't look anything like me
and Philip, for God's sake.

I really think that we're done here.

Come on, my darling.

Hey, them ruin your Christmas too,
honey, hmm?

So... I guess we arrange
a DNA test for Colin and the victim

and apply for a warrant
to force Mrs Carlton

to take one as well, right?

I'm sensing the energy levels
are a little low right now, guys.

Sorry, Chief.

We were up all night
looking for Zelda.

And I haven't had anything
since breakfast.

I must admit even I am not feeling
my usual sprightly self.

You're right, no way to spend
Christmas Day, is it?

Hello, everyone. Catherine?

Now, I knew you were all
working hard,

so, I may have accidentally cooked
too much Christmas lunch.

Oh, wow!

It's only leftovers,
but there's more than enough.

Oh, Catherine, I could kiss you.

So, we're going to need a table
to eat at.

And there's more food
to collect from the car.

I've got the table.
I've got the car. Excellent.

And you know what,
personally speaking,

I've always preferred the leftovers

to the actual Christmas Dinner
anyway.

A bit of cold turkey and stuffing,
a dollop of piccalilli, lovely.

Catherine, this is a total feast.

You are a saviour, Catherine.

A Mayoress must look after
her team of police, no?

Oh, there's seafood in this,
for some reason.

OK.

Oh, this seems to be
full of seafood as well.

If you're looking for turkey,
Neville,

I'm afraid you might be
disappointed.

A traditional Christmas Day lunch
on Saint Marie is always lobster.

Oh, yes, it is.

What? No mashed potatoes?
No Brussels sprouts?

Brussels sprouts with lobster?

What?
Stop sulking, Inspector.

You're right, sir.
You're right, I'm sorry.

Catherine, this looks erm...

fantastic.

Maybe there is one more surprise.

Don't get your hopes up, Neville.

It's not your Christmas
turkey dinner.

But it is...

Chicken and chips!

Yes!

You know what, this might just be
the best Christmas ever.

Cheers, everybody, Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas, Chief.

Hey! Evening, sir.
Oh, hey, Florence.

I just wanted to wish you
a happy Christmas.

Thank you, and the same to you.

I hope it wasn't too disappointing
for you.

No, you know what?
It's been all right.

Really?
Even though you were working?

And not home in grey,
cold, drizzly Manchester?

Well, despite all that,

I have somewhat unexpectedly
had a pretty good Christmas.

Then I'm pleased for you.

Er, Florence, there's
something I've been wanting to...

to say for a while now.
Hmm, OK?

I've had a really great time,
this last year, in Saint Marie.

And a lot of that
has been down to you.

And I think us
spending time together...

Erm, I, I've maybe grown...

a bit fond of you.

A lot fond of you, actually.

So, I, I was wondering if...

would you maybe consider...

going for a drink,
or, or dinner, or erm,

just, just a walk on the,
on the beach with me, maybe, ever?

Florence?

Florence?

It's frozen! I don't believe it.

Inspector?

Er, hospital just called.
Colin Babcock's awake.

I've had this ten, maybe 12 years.

Always makes me smile
when I'm having a bad day.

It's not a coincidence, though,
is it?

That you have a photo
of Saint Marie?

I never knew my parents.
I grew up in care.

And one day when I was feeling alone
in life,

I decided to go looking for them.

And what happened?

I requested my file from
the local authorities,

and... when I went to collect it,

it had got water-damaged.

Burst pipe, ink had run everywhere,

you could hardly
make any of it out

just a few words here and there.

And two of those words
were Saint Marie?

At first I thought
it must be a church

or an orphanage or something.
Saint Marie?

Then I looked it up
and I found out about this island,

and it looked so warm and sunny
and...

so far away from my life.

So when you received
the Christmas card

with the Saint Marie stamp,
postmark,

you wondered if
maybe there was a connection?

I'm sorry I didn't tell you
sooner, Neville.

I just, I thought you'd think
I was mad coming all this way.

I think if I'd never known
my parents,

I would have done
whatever it takes.

So do you know now?

The Christmas card,
is it something to do with my past?

It might be.

We're doing a DNA test
to confirm it.

So I might finally meet
my birth family?

The lab sent over the results.

And? Is Colin Philip Carlton's son?

It's really not a biggie.

It was always a long shot,
coming out here

thinking I'd find my parents.

I'm sorry, Colin.

Really, I'll be fine.

I'm used to a few knock-backs
in life.

This Christmas card has led us
a merry dance.

First, it was sent to
a man who appears to have

no connection to the case.

And then, when we eventually uncover
a link between him and the victim,

it turns out there wasn't one,
after all.

What are you saying, sir? That maybe
this really was nothing more than

a practical joke, and we've been
investigating a murder

when no murder was ever committed.

But sir,
the body was moved after he died,

which means that someone staged
the scene to look like

he'd taken his own life.
We can't ignore that.

But then we also can't ignore
the video message

recorded by the victim
two minutes before he died.

If this isn't a suicide note,

then what is it?

I, er, I don't think this will
come as any surprise to you.

And I, I'm sure you'll understand,
this has to happen,

right now, right here.

"Right now, right here"?

"Right here." Of course!
Chief?

I can't believe I didn't notice it
before. Notice what, sir?

Well, it's what isn't there that
I didn't notice,

rather than what is there.
If that makes sense.

Postmortem lividity shows that

the victim's body was moved
after he died.

I was traveling around India
when I met Philip.

Then the news came through
about his father dying.

He was sent to boarding school
in England.

He and his father
remained estranged after that.

They were just about to throw
a party

for his 40th year
heading up the company.

Bruce Garrett was going to organise
the retrospective for him.

Is Colin Philip Carlton's son?

Yes! But where? Where?
That's the question.

Where did it happen?

Why have you been giving us
the run-around?

Zelda!

You lied to us. You weren't there
to collect Philip's money.

You were there to give him
something, weren't you?

Zelda, come on, please.
I need to know the truth.

Then tell me where you were when you
handed over what he wanted.

Down the bottom of the garden.

Close to the beach.

And where was Philip Carlton?

Him sat on a bench,
underneath this arbour.

Is someone there?

Yes.

Inspector, if we don't know
what it is we're looking for,

how will we know
when we've found it?

If I'm right about this, sir,
then I assure you, we'll know.

It'll be something that predates
Philip's dad's death.

Maybe something from
Philip's schooldays.

Like a school photo?

Exactly like that, sir.

See? Philip Carlton.

Philip Carlton was murdered.

And that is a statement of truth,
it's a fact.

And yet it's also a lie.

Let's go back in time one week,
to the night of the party.

Just before 10:30,
Philip Carlton left the party

and headed down here,
to this bench.

Where he was meeting this woman,
Zelda Moncrief.

Because not only had he paid her
to find his long-lost son for him...

Mr Carlton had also asked her
to acquire a gun for him.

Correct?

You see, Philip Carlton
had already made up his mind

to take his own life that night.

So, after Zelda left
and he was alone,

he recorded the message
on his phone,

then he put the gun to his head.

So the conclusion that everybody
drew about the way Mr Carlton died,

was, in fact, correct.

One of our officers has just
finished processing

this second scene
and can confirm that there are

significant traces of blood
on this seat.

So... the Christmas card was wrong?

Philip wasn't murdered?

No, the Christmas card is right.

Philip Carlton was murdered.

But the man who shot himself here
last week

was not Philip Carlton.

He was an impostor.

That doesn't make any sense.

This is the real Philip Carlton.

When he was 18 years of age,
just about to leave school.

And although this photo
is nearly 40 years old,

I think we can all agree that

that is not the same man
who was found dead on a beach

a week ago today. Because this man,
the real Philip Carlton,

was murdered nearly 40 years ago.

And it's that murder, in the past,

that I think the message in the
Christmas card must be referring to.

Oh, the dig team is here.

Dig team?
Why do we need a dig team?

Because we believe that there's a
body buried underneath this bench.

The body of Philip Carlton.

Isn't that right, Natasha?

If Philip Carlton was murdered,
the real Philip Carlton,

it leaves us asking one question

just who has Natasha been married to
these last 40 years?

Who is the impostor?

According to Natasha,
she and Philip met and fell in love

while traveling in India,
after finishing school.

She was using her maiden name
back then. Berridge.

But there's one small fact
that's been left out of

the story all this time.

When Natasha met Philip Carlton,
she was not traveling alone.

We checked the immigration records,

and when you and Philip arrived
here, nearly 40 years ago,

another person
with the surname Berridge

landed in Saint Marie
around about the same time.

His name was Andrew Berridge.

Your cousin Andrew, I believe?

And that's who you've been married
to all this time.

We loved each other.

Andrew and I.

So, so much.

No-one understood. No-one wanted us
to be together and...

Just because... Because we were...

So you ran away together
and traveled round India.

We didn't know what we were doing,

we didn't know where we were going,
we just...

All we knew was that
we could never go back home.

Then you met Philip.

A lonely young man, no friends.

We just let him tag along with us.

And then the news broke through
of his father dying

and his inheritance and

I... I realised, you see,

that there was a new life for me
and Andrew.

There was a new life with security
and wealth and a future.

So... you let Philip believe
you'd fallen for him?

Seduced him?

It wasn't very difficult, really.

I mean he, he wasn't very
experienced with girls,

And he was grieving for his father.

So I comforted him

and I told him that Andrew and I
were finished.

Then we came over here together,
to the empty villa.

And Andrew followed
a few days later.

By which time, I assume,
you'd already committed murder?

You and Andrew
lived the lie ever since,

with him assuming
Philip Carlton's identity,

enjoying the privilege
and luxury of another man's life.

Except Andrew always
struggled with it more than you,

the truth of what you'd done.

That's why he ultimately decided
to take his own life.

And the message he recorded
all the information is there,

if you know the truth.

I'm sure you'll understand
this has to happen,

right now, right here.

Right now. Right here.

Right here.

He was referring to the site
where Philip's body was buried.

See, I watched the footage again,
one last time,

and I realised something.

We may have found the body on the
beach, but if you listen closely,

you can't hear
the sound of the sea.

It's what isn't there that I didn't
notice, rather than what is there.

Because your ex-husband shot himself
on that bench,

not on the beach,
and when you found him, dead,

the gun on the ground,
you panicked and moved the body

to misdirect us away from
that bench.

I heard the shot.

Gunfire.

Just something in me, just...
I knew, I knew.

I'd always been frightened
he would do something like that

because... it weighed
so heavily on him,

you know, what we'd done...

What I'd done.

So you dragged his body
down to the beach.

You restaged it to make it look like
that's where the suicide took place.

But none of this explains the
Christmas card. Who sent it?

Bruce.

There was a reason your fingerprints
were all over this Christmas Card.

And that's because it was you
that sent it to your old boss,

the man who was pretending
to be Philip Carlton.

Because I believe you were
blackmailing him.

You'd stumbled across the truth
of his identity

when you were digging through
some old pictures of Philip

and you came across
this old school photo.

We know you were already resentful
of the way Philip treated you.

He was never anything other
than a salaryman.

No shares, dividends, nothing.

And in that moment you realised

that all these years,
working faithfully, loyally,

you'd also been had.

You had two choices.
You could either expose him

and no doubt damage the reputation
and integrity of the company. Or,

you could make it worth
your own while.

I know your secret.

So, we know that Mr Garrett here
wrote the Christmas card.

But how did it find its way
to Colin Babcock?

Well, I believe
the victim himself sent it.

After he was prevented from
sending the letter to the child

that he and Natasha
gave up for adoption.

We're putting an end to this.

His final attempt at finding
some peace for himself,

snatched from his hands.

I think this is ultimately
why he decided to end it all,

to take his own life.

And looking down at his desk,
he saw the Christmas card

next to the envelope
with Colin's address written on it

and no letter to put inside.

So he took the card,

put it in the envelope,

and posted it,

knowing that this final act
of defiance

would put the cat amongst
the pigeons and set into motion

a series of events that would
ultimately bring to light

the dark secret that he'd been
living with for most of his life.

Make the arrest, please.

I'm not sorry.

I'm not sorry.

I did what I had to do,
to live with the man that I wanted.

Mum! But I'm sorry for you, darling.

I don't regret it.

Mum... I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
darling.

I'm sorry.

Mr Babcock, I presume?

You're welcome here.

Good morning, Colin.
How're you feeling?

Yeah, good, thanks. Better.
Good. Er, what's going on, Neville?

Your officer who phoned
wouldn't say.

Well, we did another paternity test,

comparing your DNA with a man
who was murdered a long time ago.

And that man owned this house,

and the Carlton Atlas
shipping company.

Right...

This is him.

The original Philip Carlton,
shall we say.

This man, it turns out,
is your father.

This is my dad?

Feeling a bit choked up,
actually, Neville.

Well, brace yourself, because
I have some other news for you.

How'd you mean? Since you're
the sole surviving blood relative,

that also means you are
the sole surviving heir. OK.

So... all of this,
it's all yours, Colin.

The villa, the business, the money.

Yeah, right. As if.

You're serious?

Bloody hell!

Merry Christmas, Colin.

Woohoo!

Thank you, Neville!

Dwayne! What you got in here, man?

Honestly? My entire wardrobe,

all the extra things I'll
need to keep warm in England.

Hurry up, Dwayne. We'll miss the
flight. Yes, Chief, I'm coming.

Look after me old lady, you know.

No worries. And, er,
I hope your dad's all right, yeah?

Yeah, me too.

Oh, er, so you know.

I think you're managing just fine
without Sergeant Hooper.

You just keep doing things
the way you've been doing them. OK?

OK, Chief.
Let's get this show on the road.

Yes!

Are you sure sharing the flight back
with Dwayne is wise?

A bit of company's
never a bad thing, is it?

Well, have a happy new year,
everyone. You too, Neville.

You too. Have a good trip.

I'll be back before you know it.
Indeed.

Officer Pryce.

We have a small task to finish
at the Children's Hospital.

Just as long as I don't have to
put on a costume again, sir.

Think of the children, Officer
Pryce, think of the children.

Something the matter?

I don't know. What is it?

Neville kind of asked me on a date.

Really? Yeah.

What did you say? Nothing.

We were on a video call.
The screen froze, he kept talking.

And I don't think he knows I heard.

Ah. So what are you going to do?

I don't know.

I don't know!

Ahh. So, erm, Chief,

I should probably tell you
before we get on the plane

that I'm a terrible fidgeter
when I'm flying.

I'm like a trapped bluebottle.

I can't keep still!
Except when I'm snoozing, of course.

Oh. But then again,
I snore really bad.

So if I get too loud,

you might want to give me
the old nudge in the ribs

to keep me quiet, you know?

All right, Chief?

Oh, boy.

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