All language subtitles for Death.In.Paradise.S08E04.HDTV.x264-MTB[eztv]

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Six million dollars!

Jo, PLEASE speak to the gardener.
I haven't seen him for days.

Because he quit.

Oh, not another one. Why?

I told him he was a lazy bugger.

Benedict, you've got to stop
treating the staff like this.

I can do what I want, Squeak.

Josephine,
will you prepare dinner for nine?

Make sure the whole family's there,

and that there's plenty of
champagne. We're celebrating.

Yes, sir.

Benedict, wait!

Don't you think that any decision
about the plantation's future

should be discussed with
the whole family?

It will. At dinner.

Dad would've been proud I kept
his dream alive for so long, and

that Paradise Skies Coffee is still
a household name in the Caribbean.

But now is the right time to
say goodbye.

So, if you'll raise your glasses
to Paradise Skies.

To Paradise Skies.

Paradise Skies.

Paradise Skies.

Darling.

I'm going to go to bed. I feel
a horrible migraine coming on.

Don't stay up too late. Night, Mum.

Benedict! No!

Come on! Come on, Colin!
You can do it!

He's going to make it.

Come on.
You haven't let us down all night.

Focus!

Yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes!

Come on! Yes, yes, yes! Yeah!

Sir? Don't worry, Florence.

It's really not how it looks.

Sounds like you two had fun.

Oh, that crab racing is the sport of
kings, Florence. It was fantastic!

Patrice introduced me to everybody.

Real little community
they've got going there.

Would've have stayed longer,
only duty calls.

So, what've we got here, JP?

We've got a male, mid-50s,
was found dead in his swimming pool.

Any inkling as to what happened?

A bullet through the heart, sir.
One shot.

Hmm, that'll do it.

We've got a friendly
neighbourhood spy up there.

See any more of these
on your travels, JP?

Yup, three cameras
on the property in all, sir.

We're just waiting for the footage.

Who's the victim?
Benedict Dacre, sir.

The Coffee King.

You must have heard the jingle.

♪ Whoa, wake up to Paradise Skies

♪ It's a bright new day

♪ Tis a sunshine glory

Are you serious?
I'm more of a tea man myself.

So what time was he killed?

Well, the house guests say they
heard the shot around midnight, sir.

Any sign of the murder weapon?

No, but the victim kept
a gun in his study.

Some kind of family heirloom.

Let me guess. It's gone missing?
Yup!

This is an exit wound.
Shot in the back.

And the bullet went
straight through him.

So...

he was standing around here
by the pool.

Shot in the back, he fell in.

Bullet must be over in that area.

Can't have gone far.

Hmm, what do we have
over here, then?

Brandy.

But only the one glass.

Clearly he wasn't socialising.

His family said
he read every night alone.

Napoleon The Great.

Not exactly light reading.

Hmm.

Something wrong with the book, sir?

Not with the book itself, Florence.
It's more what's missing from it.

There's no bookmark.

Not a single corner of any page
turned down.

How did Mr Dacre keep his place?

Maybe he just started the book and
never got a chance to mark his page.

Well, maybe we should bag it anyway.
Just in case.

OK, why don't you two
look for the bullet?

Florence -
we should round up the house guests.

I think it's time
we had a chat with the Dacre family.

You're Benedict's wife? Yes.

We were married a week
and a half ago. Impeccable timing.

OK, right.

Um, now, it seems to me
that Mr Dacre was a man of ritual.

I understand he liked to read
outside by the pool after dinner.

Yes, come rain or shine.

Same time. Same drink. Same cigar.

Some dull old history book, mostly.

And sorry, Mrs Dacre, where were you
when you heard the gunshot?

In the lounge, getting wasted
with everyone else.

Not everyone else.

Auntie Ciss wasn't there.

Oh, I erm...
I, I felt a migraine coming on.

So, I, I went to bed.

And you were in bed
when you heard the shot?

The noise woke me up.

What about you, Miss Porter?

I was in my bungalow
around the back of the house.

Away from everything.

So let me get this right.

Not one of you was anywhere near
Benedict when that shot was fired?

It seems not.

I'm sure the CCTV will tell us
the same story.

Inspector, the CCTV is not
working, I'm afraid.

No, we got it fixed.
Yesterday morning.

Good. Great. Thank you, Josephine.

Something bothering you there,
Mrs Dacre?

So this is what they call
old-fashioned British reserve.

Well, I'll just go straight ahead
and say it, then.

Ciss said Benedict should be killed for
selling this place at dinner last night.

Paradise Skies. Dad would not
have been proud of you.

Speak up, Squeak. I can't hear you.

I said Dad wouldn't have
been proud of you.

He'd have killed you for doing this.

Well, he isn't here.

That's not true!

It was just a... a stupid argument.

So who's going to kill me now? You?

It's all right, darling.

I just, erm, I...

I simply reminded my brother

that he had no right to sell our
home without consulting us first.

No, he had EVERY right.

You just love playing the victim,
don't you, Ciss?

OK, well...

just one last question.

Did Benedict ever use a bookmark?

Er... I...

I don't... I don't know, sorry.

Are we done here, Inspector?

We are. For now.

Thank you.

I'd say Christmas is
a blast in this house.

So, are you bringing Rosie
to Florence's big day?

Er, yep.

That'll bring back happy memories
for you two, right?

Mmm-hmm.

Can you guess
how many jobs I've had?

Er, I don't know. Erm, three?

13, including this one.

Hairdresser. Hand model.
Security guard.

Photography assistant. Tequila girl.

It's an interesting CV, Ruby.

Thing is, after a week in all those
jobs, I could tell you everything

about my colleagues, from their
family tree to their favourite tune.

But all I know about you is that
you take one sugar in your tea.

So let's play a game.
We both get five questions each,

and we can ask each other
anything we want. Anything?

I'm an open book.
Just turn my pages.

You first, JP.

Um...

What's your favourite...?

Bullet.

Well, that's a pretty niche
question, JP!

No.

Bullet.

Well, there's nothing on the pool.

Let's run the others,
from about 11:30.

Found a bullet, sir. And the gun.

It was in the bushes too,
just by the main path.

The bullet was where
you said it would be, sir.

That's a nasty little toy.

It's fresh.

Definitely been fired
in the last 12 hours.

Sir, you need
to take a look at this.

It's the camera
at the back of the house.

That's Ciss Dacre with
the gun in her hand. Look!

The direction she's heading,
it leads to the swimming pool.

The other house guests

said they heard the gunshot around
midnight. What time was this?

11:52.

She thought the CCTV was broken.

That she couldn't be seen.

Please leave me alone.

I'm afraid we can't do that,
Miss Dacre.

You see, we've studied the footage,

and it shows you walking towards
the pool with a gun in your hand,

just before your brother was shot.

This is ridiculous. I told you
I was in bed when it happened.

This is your robe?

Yes. Of course it is. Why?

We have to take it away
and test it for gunshot residue.

I was nowhere near the pool
when the gun was fired.

This is absurd.

Ciss Dacre, I'm arresting you
on suspicion of murder.

Inspector...

do you really think
I killed my brother?

Well, then explain this.

It's you walking towards the pool,

minutes before
Benedict was murdered.

I can't.

OK. We have actual video evidence
of our killer holding the gun.

She walks towards
the scene of the murder,

just a few minutes
before it happened.

But you don't believe it.

It's convenient, don't you think?

Well, the camera doesn't lie.

No, but it can mislead.

She's the only one without an alibi.

Not just her. The housekeeper.

Josephine?

She said she was in the bungalow
alone at the time of the shooting.

That hasn't been corroborated.

I saw a look between her and Ciss
when they were being questioned.

Like she was surprised
Ciss would say what she said.

You think Josephine
knows more than she's saying?

Well, let's see if I can find out.

It's probably time you called
your lawyer, Miss Dacre.

Or you could simply tell me
what you're hiding from us?

I'm not hiding anything, Inspector.

Maybe I should ask Josephine?

I wasn't...

I wasn't in my bedroom
when I heard the gunshot last night.

I'd already left it...

to go to Josephine's bungalow.

Why not say this before?

It's private.
Between me and Josephine.

I'm not here to judge, Miss Dacre.

I love Josephine. I always have.

And my, er...

my father was very old-fashioned.

And Benedict didn't
fall far from the tree.

There's always been a right way
of doing things in my family,

and I was scared
of doing anything wrong.

Sorry.

You are the, er...

You're... You're the first
person I've ever told.

It's true.

We are partners.

For some time now.

You know she could have been
charged with murder, Miss Porter?

And do you know
how ridiculous that is?

Murder? There is a reason
Benedict called her "Squeak".

Look, Ciss was even
married for a few years,

trying to be a "good" Dacre.

That's when she had Owen.

And I made a promise to her back then
that I would not tell anyone about us.

I guess telling a lie is all I know.

So, what time did Ciss
come to your bungalow?

It was just before midnight.

She was in a bad way.

It had been a long and a hard day.

I made her some cocoa
whilst she had a shower.

And then we heard the gunshot.

This is not how I wanted
people to find out about us.

I used to dream of going to dinner
with Ciss, hand in hand,

with the whole damn family
there to see us.

Would have been worth it, just to
see the look on her brother's face.

If you'll excuse me?

She's back.

You're joking?
Why have they released her?

♪ It's a bright new day

Nice work, Ruby!

Thank you, sir!

Right, ladies and gent,

we are literally
back to the drawing board.

So, let's go from the top
on this one. Yep.

Benedict Dacre was found
face down in the pool,

having been shot
through the heart, here.

His sister is Ciss Dacre.

AKA "Squeak".

Squeak worked for her brother
until she was 18.

And she was our prime suspect,
until...

Until Josephine Porter, Ciss'
partner, gave her a solid alibi.

They were both at the bungalow
when the shot was fired.

Meanwhile, the rest of
the house guests claim

they were getting hammered in the
dining room of the main house, here.

But, to confuse matters,
we have CCTV footage

of what looks like Ciss Dacre,
walking towards

the scene of the crime just
a few minutes before it happened,

with a gun in her hand.

Except we now know Ciss was
with Josephine in the bungalow

at the time of the shooting.

Meaning, if this isn't Ciss Dacre,
then someone

has gone to a lot of trouble
to make us think it is.

So, who the hell is it?

And why did they
not only want Benedict dead,

but his own sister
out of the picture as well?

We need to enhance this CCTV image.

Maybe there's a clue as to who it is
pretending to be Ciss Dacre.

I used to work at a photo
processing lab.

I'm sure they can help us out.

Great, and as you can see,
the suspect is pretty well

covered up in that robe there.

So why don't you focus on the hand?

I'll see what we can do.

What about our suspects?

Let's start with
our American friend,

and the victim's wife, Ricki Dacre.

34 years old.
Works in real estate.

Met Benedict Dacre at a physical
therapy clinic in Barbados

about a year ago, after
she'd suffered a back injury

from a car crash.
Were married two weeks ago.

The others believe it was her idea

for Benedict
to sell the plantation.

I ran a quick financial
check on her, sir.

She had a regular income up to a few
months before she married Benedict.

Big money? Substantial enough.

I'm just waiting for the employment
agency to tell me

exactly who she was working for.

And what about
Benedict's daughter, Ruth?

28. An only child.

Tried to be an actress,
but that didn't work out.

She moved back to the estate
over a year ago.

Something of a social media junkie.

Any boyfriends?

It seems she has an on-off
boyfriend called Manu.

He worked at the plantation.

And what about this young man,
Owen Dacre?

Do we have anything on him?

Er, nothing much, sir.

He just finished
boarding school in England,

and spends every summer holiday
working on the plantation.

Do we know what the plantation
was being sold for?

Er, yeah, hold on.

Sorry.

Yep, er... 6 million, sir.

Oh, that could buy you
a whole heap of shoes.

Quite a motive in itself, too.

Let's check the will,
see who benefits the most.

Yes, sir. So if someone is
pretending to be Ciss Dacre,

what would
they need to play the part?

A wig. And a good one, too.

And a green robe.
Exactly the same as Ciss Dacre's.

So, if our impersonator
disposed of the disguise somewhere

on the Paradise Skies Estate,
it's still got to be there, right?

JP, Ruby, why don't you search
the estate high up and low down?

Try and find us this wig and robe.
Yes, sir.

♪ Whoa, whoa,
wake up to Paradise Skies

Ruby! Please stop, OK?

What? It's a catchy tune.

Wow! This place looks like
it hasn't been used in years.

Which makes it the perfect place
to stash something.

Right, back to the game.
Question number two,

and don't hold back.

Erm, OK.

What's the most embarrassing
thing you've ever done?

Oh, I hope you have a strong
constitution, because

this story begins with a goat,
and ends with me getting arrested.

I'm sorry.
Did you just say arrested?

Mmm-hmm.

Really? You can?

OK, see you later.

Just a wild guess here.

That was Patrice? Yes.

He's managed to get
cover at the bar tonight,

so we're going to check out
the wedding venue.

Oh, fantastic. Where is it?

It's a place up in the hills.

It's where my mother
and father were married. Really?

Well, that sounds perfect.
It's just beautiful.

Morning, Inspector.

Commissioner!

Morning to you, sir.

Are we making progress
at the Paradise Skies Estate?

Well, it's early days, sir,
but we're getting there.

Benedict Dacre always had
a somewhat unpleasant reputation.

You knew him?

We met at the occasional
corporate gathering.

Rather full of himself,
I always found,

pumped up with his own
self-importance. Really?

Much as I enjoy
our little catch-ups...

I'm here on other business.

What do you know about crabs?

Crustaceans? Eight legs,

delicious with butter.

I'm talking
about the racing variety.

There's been a marked rise

in illegal crab racing
in bars across the island.

Crab racing?

Did you know it was going on?

Well, "know" is
a bit of a strong word.

I may have had a whiff,
or a whisper...

Just a whiff of a whisper.

It's unlicensed gambling,
which is tax evasion.

My superiors take
these things very seriously.

They want it stamped out.

Absolutely, sir. I'm on it.

Stamp on the crabs.

I mean, not literally, of course!

Quick little beggars.

So I've heard.

Thank you, Inspector.

How's my niece doing?

She's barely put a foot wrong, sir.

Ruby, does your uncle know
you were arrested on Guadeloupe?

No. Why would I tell him that?

Because you can't be a police
officer with a criminal record.

Well, then he definitely
doesn't need to know.

But Ruby, this is a serious
breach of police rules.

You could be in
proper trouble for this.

Well, I won't tell if you don't, JP.

No. No, no, no, no, no, OK?

Don't... Don't ask me
to keep secrets, OK?

I hate keeping secrets.
Please, JP, I'm asking as a friend.

Cross your heart.

JP?

Why didn't you tell me
crab racing was illegal?

No, it's not illegal to take part,
just for bars to host it.

OK, I'll get JP to call all
the bars, tell them it has to stop.

Well, then the crab racers
will have nowhere to go.

Oh, we've got
the postmortem through.

Benedict was killed by
a single shot through the heart.

The bullet severed his aorta.

He died instantly.

But there is more.

Scarring from a recent
knife wound to the upper arm.

So somebody had attacked him
previously.

Not exactly Mr Popular, is he?

But if he'd got a wound like that,
he'd have gone to hospital.

Thank you.

So, it was Ruth who brought
her father into A&E.

It says the wound was accidental.

The doctor said that
Ruth was distraught about it.

But Benedict refused
to get the police involved.

Sir, I've been checking out
the family's social media,

and I found this on Ruth's.

Photos a few days before
Benedict received the knife injury.

So, this is boyfriend Manu.

"The happiest day of my life".

I wonder why it was so special.

Then, two days after the stabbing,

she posted this.

"My heart is broken.
No-one understands.

"I hate my father".

Sounds like Daddy didn't approve.

She hated him enough
to stab him in the arm?

An argument that got out of hand?
About Manu?

Well, why don't we ask Ruth just how
she really got on with her father?

He was using a ticket.

A ticket?

Yeah, to mark his place in the book.

Right.

Tell me, did your father like Manu?

I'm not sure he liked anyone.

Well, I mean, did he approve of him?

He simply gave me an allowance
and left me alone.

We've seen the photos
of you and Manu.

It looked pretty serious.

What does it matter?
That's ancient history now.

One of your posts said it was
the happiest day of your life.

Did Manu propose to you?

No.

You know, that look on your face
right now tells me you're lying.

He did propose, didn't he?

And I think, when you told
your father, there was an argument.

I never meant to hurt him.

But it must have
smacked of hypocrisy.

I mean, there he was
marrying new girlfriend Ricki

and he wouldn't let you
be with the man you loved.

My father lived by his own rules.

When I told him we were engaged,
he simply fired Manu

and his whole family from
the plantation, just like that.

He said he wanted
what was best for me.

But if you think I killed him
for what he did, then you're wrong.

He was all I ever really had.

They think I did it.
They think I killed Dad!

JP, Ruby,
any luck searching the estate?

Sorry, sir.
Not a wig or a green robe in sight.

But, the mobile phone network
has released

all of the victim's phone records,

which has given us access to
all of the unanswered voice messages

and there was one. I'm all ears.

Hey, Benny. It's Clinton.

I looked into that thing
with the housekeeper, Miss Porter.

She hasn't got a leg to stand on.

I know she's going to be angry
but don't worry, we're covered.

Ciao.

I did a bit of digging,

and I found out that Clinton
is Benedict's financial adviser.

Now, he's in Miami
for business right now,

but he'll be back tomorrow.
Top-notch work.

And did you find out about the will?

Mr Dacre's lawyer is arranging
for a copy to be sent over.

Sir, I finally got a message
from Ricki's old employment agency.

It turns out she was actually
working for the therapy clinic

where she met Benedict.

So she lied about being a patient?

Yes, sir, and her old staff photos
are definitely worth seeing, sir.

You all right there, JP? Seem to be
scratching yourself a fair bit.

Er, yes, sir. I'm fine.

Think I got bitten
at the plantation, or something.

Er, yes, OK.

Wow!

That is a strong look.

Looks like
she used to be called Ricki Logan.

Well, Logan's actually
not her maiden name, sir.

It's actually Ricki Lee Jones.

She's been married twice before.

So, what happened to
husbands number one and two?

Both dead.

Going somewhere nice?

Hi, Inspector.

Thought I'd hole up in a hotel
till Benny's funeral.

I'm not exactly
Miss Popularity around here.

It must be tough,
having to go to another funeral.

This is number three, am I right?

So what did
husband number one die of?

Really?

Heart attack.

And number two?

Heart attack.

You're a genuine heartbreaker,
aren't you?

So, how do you pick 'em?

Take a look at their cardiogram
and their bank account?

I know where you're going
with this, Inspector.

But you're wrong.
I'm not a murderer.

You're not
a real estate agent either.

In fact, I have no idea who you
really are, Ricki Lee Jones.

Have you ever nursed
someone who's sick?

My wife, actually.

Every day for two years.

Well, I'm sorry to hear that.

But then you'll know
that it's exhausting.

And every day you're by their side,
you get closer to that person.

You see a side of them
that no-one else sees,

and you come to depend on
one another, emotionally and...

Financially?

Benedict proposed to me,
but you don't get it -

it was about more than just money.

I'm not stupid.
I know Benedict was not a nice man.

But, he was nice to me.

And his plantation
was worth 6 million.

You've got it all figured out,
haven't you?

Well, sorry to ruin your day,
but it's not that simple.

I signed a pre-nup.

Benny had been burned
by his last divorce.

I'd get a lump sum of
a quarter of a million

if we divorced, or if he died.

I'm an outsider, Inspector.

And outsiders can't ever
get their hands on the business.

But Benedict sold the plantation.

The buyer pulled out an hour ago.

He didn't want to get snarled up
in years of legal wrangling.

Wise man.

So, we've got Benedict reading his
big old book out here by the pool,

when someone masquerading as
Ciss Dacre, and making sure

they're caught on CCTV,
comes along and shoots the poor guy.

Four questions.

Number one, who was it?

Number two, how did they do it

when all of our suspects
have alibis?

Yeah. Owen, Ricki, Ruth, they were
all in the main house together.

Josephine was with Ciss
in the bungalow,

meaning none of them
were near the scene of the murder.

Question number three.

Why is the killer so keen to frame
Ciss Dacre for murder?

Whoever it is clearly had
issues of some sort with the woman.

So much so, they'd be
quite happy to see her

spend the rest of her life
locked up in prison.

Why? What did Ciss do to them?

And the fourth question, Inspector?

The fourth question.

Why did our victim,
who we know was an avid reader,

apparently not mark his place
in this book in any way whatsoever?

No turned corners, no embossed
leatherette souvenir bookmark

from the Tower of London.

I don't know about you,
but my brain is scrambled.

I vote we come at this
tomorrow with fresh eyes.

Anyone fancy a beer?

Sorry, sir, but I can't.
Patrice and me are heading up to...

Oh, yeah.
The wedding venue. Of course.

Well, hope it's as magical
as it sounds.

Why don't you come,
if you don't have plans?

Ah, no. No, wouldn't want to be
a gooseberry or a third wheel

or whatever.
You won't be, I promise.

And I'd really like you to see it.

Hmm, well, I'd be honoured.

Night, Ruby. Goodnight.

Night, JP. Night, sir.

JP? Why in the hell are you
so damned itchy all of a sudden?

Look, I told you.
I can't keep secrets.

And that makes you itchy?

Yes, it does. Hot as well.
Hot and itchy.

Well, if me making you cover up
for me is causing this,

I'm going to tell Uncle Selly
about me getting arrested.

You can't, Ruby. You might...

Well, you might get suspended.

Or worse.

No, I won't.

It's really not that big a deal.

But it's the rules, Ruby.

You can't be a police officer
with a criminal record.

Look, either I tell Uncle Selly,

or you keep it a secret
for the rest of your life.

What's it going to be?

Oh, my God! What happened?

It's a mess.

I'm so sorry.

It's OK. I'm fine. It's just...

I mean, we can't have
the wedding here.

We'll have to find somewhere else.

This was the place?

Yes, it was.

But sadly that place
doesn't exist any more.

OK, let's go.

Arrested?

Well, it was only a caution.

But it will be on record.

You should have told me earlier.

Well, I am sorry, but just tell me
what to do and I'll sort it out.

You don't need to do anything.

You can't do anything.

I, on the other hand, have to inform
the Policing Standards Committee.

The Policing Standards Committee?
Well, are they a real thing?

Of course they're a real thing.

Well, come on, Unc. I mean,
what's the worst that can happen?

You could be dismissed
from the Saint Marie Police Force.

Book of Rules by The Heptones.

♪ Isn't it strange
how princesses and kings

Where the hell could it be?!

Oh, my goodness!

Miss Dacre. I am so sorry!

I didn't mean to startle you.

No, I'm sorry, it's OK. I just
didn't know there was anyone there.

Yeah, just re-tracing a few steps.

Not making much headway, mind you.

You look tired,
if you don't mind me saying.

No, I...

I didn't get much sleep.

Yeah.

Don't normally smoke.

You know, it only just
dawned on me last night

that the person who killed Benedict,

they want...

they want me
to go to prison, don't they?

I don't know who to trust any more.

Somebody's playing a very unpleasant
game with you, Miss Dacre.

You're bound to feel paranoid.

I can't do anything to stop that,

but I promise you,
I will find out who it is.

Sir?

Ah, I'll... I'll leave you
to your work.

Thank you.

The guys told me you'd be here.

Yeah, I was hoping
coming back to the scene

might get the old
hamster wheel turning again.

And I thought I'd have another
look at these flower beds.

What were you looking for?

Oh, an old receipt.
A bus ticket.

Anything that Benedict
could've used as a bookmark.

I mean, here we have
a man of ritual.

Always takes time to sit here,
with his posh brandy and a cigar,

reading for an hour.

And yet he doesn't bother to mark
where he is in a 600-page book.

Just doesn't sit right.

Does that water look funny to you?

Sort of a green-ish hue to it, no?

I guess so, sir.

I'd say the old doohickey
must be on the blink.

Doohickey?

Yeah, doohickey,
you know, the thingamajiggy.

Oh, hello!

The Policing Standards Committee?!

I guess I might be looking
for job number 14 very soon.

And I was just starting
to like this job.

I thought I could be,
I don't know...

good at it?

Look, I... I'm really sorry, Ruby.

So we found our wig, and our robe.

So we missed it?

Ah, there's no shame in that, JP.

It was stuffed into
the pool pump basket.

Chlorine's probably
wiped away any DNA,

but let's get them
checked out anyway.

Yes, sir. Thank you.

Oh, and sir, Clinton Ross,
Benedict's money man, got in touch.

Apparently, Benedict Dacre
was refusing to pay

Josephine Porter her pension. Nasty!

How long has Josephine
worked at Paradise Skies?

It's coming up to 35 years, now.

That'd be a sizeable sum.

But if she kills Benedict,
problem simply goes away?

But if she loves Ciss Dacre,
why would she try to frame her?

Unless Josephine
isn't in love with Ciss.

JP, any joy with the will?

Oh, they're faxing it
over in an hour, sir.

Great. Quicker we find out
who gets what,

the sooner we might get
to solving this.

Ruby, you used to be a hairdresser?

Oh, yes, sir.
What do you make of that wig?

Oh, this is real hair, sir.

Not that cheap horse hair business.

And it's pretty pricey, too.

There's only three shops on the island
that would sell a wig of this quality.

OK, why don't you pay them a visit?
I'm on it, sir.

As for you and me, Florence,

I think it's time we had a little
chat with the housekeeper.

35 years working for
the Dacre family. That's loyalty.

I've always taken pride
in my work, Inspector.

I like to think of myself
as more than just a housekeeper.

Did Benedict?

I don't know.

35 years.

Barely a promotion.

No pension.

He thought of you as
"the help", nothing more.

Benedict was a complex man.

Really?

Because he made a simple decision.

He wasn't going to pay you a penny
for all those years of service.

You'd be jobless and penniless.

I doubt if Benedict would even
give you a reference.

You were desperate
to get that pension.

Of course I wanted that money.

I earned it! Every penny!

But would I kill to get it?

Are you mad?

This was about more than
money, wasn't it?

This is about respect as well.

All that time, you were still
treated like the hired help.

Now, that must have hurt Ciss
as much as it hurt you.

I was here with Ciss
when that shot was fired, Inspector.

And that is all
I have to say on the matter.

Do you think she's really
capable of murder, sir?

Well, I think she might have been
deeply hurt by Benedict's betrayal.

But would she dress up as Ciss
and kill her boss?

Might be a bit of a stretch.

JP, what have you got for me?

This is a very weird will, sir.

How weird?
It doesn't involve animals, does it?

Er, no. No animals, sir.

But it does stipulate that
the Paradise Skies Estate

can only be passed onto
the closest male heir.

And legally,
the clause cannot be altered.

And the next immediate
male heir is Owen Dacre.

Quick word, Owen, if you don't mind.

I'm going to work, Inspector.

Won't take a minute.

Did you know you're the heir
to the Paradise Skies Fortune?

That's news to me, Inspector.
I thought Ruth would get it all.

No. The truth is, only a male heir
can inherit the estate.

So sexism is
another Dacre family tradition?

I hate this place.

It's a relic.

My uncle was too stupid
to think about the future.

Very expensive relic.
Now it belongs to you.

This house is a prison.

And they're all trapped inside.
Every single one of them.

Some people find it hard
to let go of the past.

Yeah, well, I'm not one of them.

Let me.

"Building a brighter future
for Paradise Skies Coffee."

I thought you hated the place?

Just cos I hate the place
doesn't mean I'm bad at my job.

I just can't get my head around it.

Owen is the only one who can legally
get his hands on the estate.

But I'm not sure if he's a wannabe
tycoon, or just an angry young man.

And he's got an alibi.
They've all got bloomin' alibis.

Owen. Ricki. Ruth.

They're all here in the lounge
in the main house.

Josephine is with Ciss,
relaxing up here at the bungalow.

Which means none of them were near
the pool when that shot was fired!

And then, then we've got a lady,
or, or possibly a fella,

wandering around in a robe
with a gun in their hand,

making us think that
Ciss Dacre is the murderer.

Sir, the test came back
on Ciss Dacre's robe,

the one we found in her bedroom.

There is no blood spatter
or gunshot residue.

Confirms Ciss didn't fire the gun.

The robe we found in the pump basket
must be the one the killer wore.

The only thing we can be certain of
is that this person on CCTV

is our killer.

Ruby, some good news, please?

I spoke to Letitia at HairWaves.

By the way, they have the most
amazing wigs down there.

Anyway, she told me that a customer
came in about a week ago,

wore big sunglasses
and bought a short brown wig,

and had an American accent.

Ricki.

I have her credit card receipt here.

The wig was purchased
with Ricki Dacre's card.

Excellent work, Ruby.
And that's not all!

I have the enhanced CCTV images from
my friends down at the photo lab.

Check this out.

Disco Rouge.

Disco what? Oh!

I was a nail technician
for six months,

and I knew every
colour off by heart.

That nail colour there,
that is Disco Rouge.

And there's only one person
I've seen wearing that recently.

Something bothering you there,
Mrs Dacre?

Three strikes and you're out!

You want to arrest me
because of my nails?

Fierce colour.

We've got footage of you
wearing her robe and a wig.

The gun is in your hand,
and you're wearing those nails.

A wig? This is nuts!

Your plastic says otherwise.

That's your name on the receipt,
Mrs Dacre.

Wait, what?!
No, I never bought a wig.

Someone must've stolen my card.

Look, I told you, we were
getting blasted in the lounge.

All of us.

And it was your idea, right?
The drinks.

You wanted to loosen them up a bit.

It's funny what a few drinks
will do to the memory.

Creates the odd black spot, I find.

That gave you the perfect
opportunity to sneak out

and kill Benedict.

No, no, no!
You've got this all backwards.

Inspector, look at me.

I did not kill my husband.

Come on.

Let's go.

Look, you've got it wrong!

You know, maybe now that
we've cracked the case,

I won't have that stupid
jingle in my head all the time.

Small mercies, eh, Ruby?

♪ Whoa, whoa, wake up
to Paradise Skies

♪ It's a bright new day

♪ Tis the sunshine glory

♪ Time to write a different story

Florence, wait!

That's it!
It's an entirely different story!

Where are you going?

The study!

No bookmark, sir.

No bookmark, sir.

Sir!

How did you know?

I didn't.

Which means none of them were near
the pool when that shot was fired.

Where were you
when you heard the gunshot?

In the lounge, getting
wasted with everyone else.

Do you have it?

I made her some cocoa
whilst she had a shower.

You're the heir to
the Paradise Skies fortune.

That's news to me, Inspector.
I thought Ruth would get it all.

Does that water look funny to you?

That's outrageous!

The barefaced cheek of it!

Florence, Ruby,
round up the suspects.

JP, one last job.

I need you to dig up a flower bed.

Why are we here, Inspector?

We're here to solve
your uncle's murder.

Ah, well, I'm surprised
it took you so long.

Well, I admit, it was a tough one,

although on the surface, it looked
like it might be quite simple.

New young wife,
on her third wealthy husband.

All the hallmarks of a gold digger.

No offence. None taken.

And, if it was her, how better to
deflect attention from herself

than to disguise herself
as somebody else?

The victim's sister. Make sure
she was seen on the security camera,

dressed as Ciss Dacre
and holding the murder weapon.

But then, how could Ricki
be in two places at once?

She was in the house with you the
whole time when the shot was fired.

And the truth is,

none of you were lying
about where you were

when that shot was fired.

But the problem is, that wasn't
the shot that killed Benedict.

What you all heard
was the second shot.

No, wait! There was only one shot.

I heard it. We all heard it.

Well, that was the idea
all right, yeah.

Recognise this?

It's a bookmark.

Fancy one, too.

A bookmark that tells me a story.

A story written by you...

wasn't it, Ciss?

I, I, I don't know what
you're talking about.

No, but what you did know

was that your brother Benedict
was a man of ritual.

Certain things
he did like clockwork,

like having a brandy and reading
a book by the pool at night.

And that's where you'd kill him.

After dinner, you made your excuses.

You went up to the bedroom to
add the details - nails and a robe.

Then you took the gun
from the study,

and a book.

One of those
"big, dull history books".

Something that would be sure
to silence the shot.

Pow!

You'd argued earlier. You went
down to the swimming pool

under the pretence of
apologising to him, didn't you?

And I'm guessing
he turned his back on you,

to make the apology even harder

because that's
the sort of man he was.

And that big, dull history book
really did its job.

Nobody heard the first shot.

The shot that killed Benedict.

With Benedict dead,
you had to act fast.

Because you still had a few
little tricks left to play.

You see, the idea -
it wasn't just murder, was it?

What if you could make it look like

your brother
was killed by his new young wife?

I have to say, what you did next...

really quite brilliant.

It's why it took me
so long to unpick everything.

You disguised yourself as yourself!

Ingenious.

That's why you hid
the bloody robe and the wig

in the swimming pool pump basket.

And you put the book you'd used
as a silencer back in the study.

Who'd look for it?
And you left a book by his body.

And then you strolled past the CCTV,
with a gun in your hand,

as though you were completely
unaware of the camera.

Oh, you left us a few clues
all right, thank you for that.

The re-painted nails and a wig

you bought using her credit card.

It was vital that everyone saw you
walking towards the pool

just a few minutes
before the shot was fired.

This is complete nonsense.

No, it's brilliant.

You see, you weren't going to murder
Benedict at that stage.

He was already
lying face down in the pool.

You were going to see Josephine,
the woman you love...

and your airtight alibi.

And that's where you staged
the end of the first chapter.

This was only the beginning of the
story that you wanted us to follow.

Owen, Ricki, Ruth, they were
all in the house the whole time.

Whereas your alibi, Josephine -

she told us you went to the bathroom
while she was making the cocoa.

And that's where and when
you fired the shot

that everyone believed
killed Benedict.

JP?

The bullet we found in the soil
outside the bathroom window

of Josephine Porter's bungalow.

Now, all you had to do...

was dump the gun and
just wait for us to do our jobs.

Why would I frame myself, Inspector?

One word. Doubt.

You did just enough
to make us think it was you.

But then your alibi threw us,
as you knew it would.

And suddenly we started
to doubt ourselves.

And doubt - well,
that's a copper's worst enemy.

As we started to dig deeper,
we followed your story to a T.

You knew the dye from the robe
would stain the pool water.

And the chlorine
would wipe away any DNA.

But, most importantly of all,
you knew we'd stumble across them,

the wig and the robe.

In fact, you counted on it,
didn't you?

And you knew we'd track down the wig

and believe it was
Ricki who bought it.

Every little detail - the book,
the wig, the nails, the CCTV -

it was all done to make us doubt our
investigation every step of the way.

And I have to hand it to you,
it nearly worked.

We went from believing it was you
to being nearly 100% sure

it was Ricki trying to frame you.

But, when you went
to apologise to Benedict,

you made two simple mistakes.

You picked up the book
that Benedict was reading

to silence the shot, not
the one you took down with you.

And then you forgot
to put Benedict's bookmark

in the book that you left behind.

You spun us a fantastic story.

But you botched the ending.

I had nothing to gain
from my brother's death.

Absolutely nothing.

You don't.

But Owen does.

The plantation can only be passed
to the next male

on the family bloodline.

This house had you trapped,
hadn't it, Ciss?

But you were always loyal
to the Dacre name.

And you knew that Paradise Skies
Coffee could be managed far better

than the way your brother
was running it.

"Building a brighter future
for Paradise Skies Coffee."

You knew that someday
this place would be Owen's.

He'd look after the business
in the right way.

You even prepared him for it

by sending him out into
the coffee fields every summer.

Tell me you didn't do this, please.

You knew, once Owen took over,

that you and Josephine
could finally be together.

But then Benedict decided to sell.

So you killed him,

so that you, and your son,
and Josephine

could finally face the future.

But sadly, that's a future
you'll never get to see.

It doesn't matter, Inspector.

Don't you get it?

I won.

Squeak won.

You call this winning?

Paradise Skies is my son's now.

My brother didn't deserve it.
He never did.

And you can be damn sure
I wasn't going to let him sell it.

I'd call that winning.

Mum! What have you done?

Paradise Skies is yours now,
darling, it's all yours.

Wait! Wait!

Look after this place.

All right. And each other.

Come on!

You know what, Florence?

I'm gasping for a cup of tea.

Yes, enter!

Commissioner.

Let me guess. You're here
to talk about Officer Patterson.

Yes, sir.

I'd really like to be there when
you talk to the Standards Committee.

I believe that Ruby
is an exceptional police officer

and I'm proud
to call her my partner.

And...

I don't think
she deserves to be sacked.

I'll bear that in mind
when I make my decision.

Your decision?

I am the Standards Committee.

And that was quite a stirring
defence of your colleague.

Why didn't you tell Ruby that?

Because I want my niece to realise
how much this job means to her.

Sometimes you don't realise
how much you have,

until there's a danger
of you losing it.

You know, on my wedding day
I was so nervous

I had to change my shirt twice.

I was sweating buckets, so I was.

But then, as I saw my wife
walking down the aisle,

it all made sense.

She was so beautiful, so calm.

When I see you
and Florence together,

I have to say it all
makes perfect sense too.

Thank you. That means a lot.

What have you been up to, Jack?

Ah, call it my wedding present.

No, it's too much.

No, no, no, no,
just a few favours, is all.

Mostly superficial,
lick of paint here and there.

You'd be surprised
at how many people

want to do the local
police inspector a favour!

Hello, Inspector!

I just hope your wedding day
is as wonderful as mine was.

Florence deserves it. She's
a very, very special young woman.

Yes. She is.

We're all heading back to my place
later, if you fancy a quick one?

Just a quiet one, you know?

Yes! I told you he's invincible.

So!

This is where all the action is.

Well, it's not
strictly illegal, sir.

This is my property.

And these are all my friends.

I see you've come up
with a smart way

to exploit a loophole
in our law, Inspector.

Now...

who's the favourite?

It's been a long time
since I've been crab racing.

I'd put my cash on Colin, sir.

Trust me, that crab
is an eight-legged Shergar!

You could probably do with a beer.
Er, yup.

Sir, Patrice just told me
what you've done.

Oh, don't be getting all soppy
on me. This is a clean shirt.

Thank you.

Any word from the committee?

No need for the committee
to look at your case.

There isn't?

No.

The funny thing is,

there's no record of your arrest
anywhere to be found.

Well, that is funny.

No doubt
an administrative oversight.

Well, I do love
an administrative oversight.

So, no further action will be taken.

Thank you.

Come on, Colin!

Good to see you, man!

Yeah, my first Mahi Mahi Festival.
I wouldn't miss it for the world!

She's coming!

Tiana!

Hey.

Something's wrong.

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