All language subtitles for Death_In_Paradise_S10E00_Christmas_Special_1080p_HEVC_X265-MeGusta_track3_[eng]

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

However, never fear because

Christmas Day is less than 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.

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 rightin 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-wifedoing 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 aboutyou.

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 sprigof
mistletoe above your table.

I thought it might give you a chanceto,
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 conspiredagainst 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 wasprone 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 timeof 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.

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, travelling,

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 ont he 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 cancel
lingher 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.

One last little rum.

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 Cremede
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 analibi 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 ofthe
four who has an alibi?

At least we know who didn't do it.

Although, that said,

he may still have hada
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 Garretthad
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 faultin
any way whatso ever.

I was putting outan 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 searche
she 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 Mariea 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 heardthat
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 skinguy lives in town,

his scooter hasto 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.

Who ever 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 on to 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 justgot
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'p on me.

Never trusted your like, hmm. Never will.

Move.

I was travelling 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 feell 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 meand 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 foodt
o 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 bedisappointed.

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-backsin 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 travelling 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
hert o 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 travelling 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 travelling 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 travelled 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 verye xperienced 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 hearthe 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 Atlasshipping 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,
becausel 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.

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 finis
hat 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.