All language subtitles for Death.In.Paradise.S04E03.HDTV.x264-FTP-eng

It is my heartfelt pleasure
and my greatest honour

to claim this land, this
island, on behalf of France

and call her - Saint Marie!

Vive la France!

~ Ryan!
~ Sorry!

OK, come on, guys, let's keep
it together. We're nearly there!

~ Good!
~ So, erm, all right, come on, come on....

Vive la France! Vive le roi!

Vive la France! Vive le roi!

Maybe one more rehearsal
- we'll be fine tomorrow.

No, look, if we've any chance
of sticking to schedule,

we'd best crack on with the food.

You know how quick we lose
the light this time of year.

All right, well, no need to panic -

plenty of time for foraging.

Right, yes, erm, fact
sheets, everybody.

And don't forget we're rehearsing
your speech straight after dinner.

~ Well, I haven't even finished it yet.
~ Ah, well... there...

Right, I'm striking out this way.

I've had enough of this! Who are you?

If you've got something to
say to me, say it to my face!

Yes, Detective Inspector Goodman.

Humphrey?

Look it's Francis Davison, President
of the Saint Marie Heritage Society.

Look, I need to talk
to you about something.

Right, what do you think?

It's lovely. Really, really lovely.

No-one's forcing you to eat it.

I think it's delicious, Imke.

~ Thank you.
~ Well done for finding the recipe.

Mmm, yeah. Imagine what we could've
been eating if you hadn't!

~ So, Francis...
~ Mm?

You going to give us

~ a little flavour of your speech?
~ Ah-ha-ha!

~ Yeah, come on.
~ Go on!

Erm...all right.

Go on, Dad.

Something along... these lines.

Erm...

Ladies and gentlemen, on
this weekend celebrating

our island's history,

welcome to the Saint Marie
Heritage Society's tribute

to those brave European men and women

who risked life and limb
crossing the ocean

to discover our beautiful isle.

Any numbness, loss of feeling?

Excuse me. What's wrong,
what's happening?

Food poisoning, I think.

Erm, is, er, Francis
around? Francis Davison?

He was here, he must be in his tent.

Francis? It's Humphrey
Goodman. We spoke earlier?

Francis?

Ow!

Francis...

Francis?

So, it's been 461 years since the
French first arrived on the island.

So, how comes only a
small band of ex-pats

were the only ones celebrating it?

Do the Brits celebrate
the Romans invading them

~ and kicking them up the back...?
~ We mark it.

So, what's happened?

Well, the Saint Marie Heritage
Society had been

rehearsing for tomorrow's
re-enactment of the French landing.

But half an hour after
their evening meal,

they all started to complain
about stomachache.

The victim, Francis Davison,
came for a lie down.

They all seem to have been hit
by what looks like food poisoning.

So, they've all eaten this
stew. They've all been ill.

Francis had a particularly
bad reaction.

Nothing suspicious in that.

But, if I told you that
no more than an hour ago,

Francis called me, telling me that he

thought someone was trying to kill
him, what would you say then?

Coincidence?

I've got a feeling that if I
say yes, you're going to say no.

And I would say, what was that
guy doing with your number?

Yeah, well, erm, yes, well,
I, I considered joining them.

It seemed a great way
to meet new people.

But, er, I got to know you lot
and I realised I didn't need to.

Anyway, can we move on? Erm, I
don't think this is a coincidence.

~ You think he was murdered?
~ Mm-hm.

Let's get all the food
and drink bagged up

and sent to the lab for analysis.
Any idea where Camille is?

~ She said something about
getting an early night.
~ Oh, er, no problem.

Erm, yes, well, there's
not much more we can do

until tomorrow anyway
with this light.

Erm, er, yes, no problem at all.

We'll get the tent sealed off,
and maintain a police presence

until daylight, to
preserve the scene.

Good - erm, yes.

Thank you.

♪ Way out in the morning sun

♪ There lies my baby She
was waiting so long... ♪

Er, look, Camille...

Erm, er, er, I know this is going
to sound a little out of the blue.

But I have been thinking
long and hard about this.

I-I go to sleep thinking about it,

I-I wake up thinking
about it, about you.

Can't stop thinking about you...

Do you have to do that?

Hey!

Ah.

Just rehearsing my speech.

You're giving a speech, for who?

Oh, er, no-one. Er, just
in case I'm ever asked.

~ Be prepared.
~ Scout motto.

Dib, dib, dib.

I'll be in the Jeep.

Yes.

Not a word!

Dwayne, how come you can
spend all night on a beach

and still look smarter than I do?

Practice.

Right. Ah, look at this.
All this effort for nothing.

Today's anniversary will pass
and hardly anyone will notice.

OK. Tonight. You and me.

I'll show you how the island
really marks the anniversary.

Oh, yes, I'd like that, Dwayne.

Right, so what have we got?

Our victim sat down
for his evening meal.

They all complained of stomach pain.

Francis came in here, lay down...

And died.

Yes.

No sign of a struggle.

So, we have a change of clothes,
the key to his Jeep, phone,

wallet containing cards and cash.

Now, according to Francis's
son, his journal is missing.

Apparently he relied
quite heavily on it.

It's what he wrote his
notes and dates in.

You think someone's stolen
it? Is that our motive?

Someone wanted to get hold of
whatever's in the journal? Possibly.

Maybe the answer's in
that. Er, anything else?

They had an authentic 16th-century
recipe for the evening meal.

I don't recognise any
of these ingredients.

Obviously, the postmortem will confirm
but that means it's looking

unlikely Francis had a particularly
severe reaction to the poison.

The medics cleared at
4.30 in the morning.

They were satisfied that the rest of
the Society weren't in any danger,

so they sent them home
after treatment.

Good.

I've arranged to meet
them at Catherine's bar.

Any particular reason?

It's where the Society
meet each week.

Yes, that's quite a
good reason. Right!

The boy is Ryan Davison,
Francis's son.

Someone's looking after
him, I take it?

Teresa Gower's looking after
him for the time being.

His mother passed
away some years ago.

Right.

~ Morning.
~ Good morning.

I'm DI Goodman, this is DS Bordey.

Thank you for agreeing
to talk to us at what

I know is a very difficult time.

Could I start by taking
your names, please?

Oh, er, I'm Teresa
Gower, Club Secretary.

Er, this is Henri Garon. Imke Sandt.

And Ryan Davison.

I'm really sorry for your loss, Ryan.

Er, so, could you talk me through
what happened yesterday?

Well, it was the final rehearsal
for our re-enactment today.

And we got to the beach,
what, about ten?

~ Ten.
~ Yes.

Er, set up the camp, rehearsed, and
then prepared our evening meal.

Right. So who was it who made
the decision to serve stew?

We were following an
authentic recipe I found.

Francis was very keen for us

to relive the experience
of the original settlers.

Yeah. We all helped prepare it
and foraged for other ingredients.

~ Foraged?
~ For the herbs.

Teresa made a fact sheet for us

and we foraged in the
woods by the beach.

And once the stew was cooking,

was there someone in
attendance at all times?

More or less. I mean, it was
simmering for quite some time

but we were never away for too long.

And you didn't see anyone
tamper with that?

~ Oh, no.
~ No.

Er, excuse me. Were you
using that yesterday?

Er, yes. For, er, Society archives.

Well, maybe you caught
something on it.

Would it be possible to borrow
it? With the memory cards?

Yes, sure.

Thank you.

So, who was it who served up the
stew, and how much did you have?

We helped ourselves, we had
a couple of bowls each.

It's lovely. Really, really lovely.

No-one's forcing you to eat it.

And Francis had the same?

Yes.

What can you tell me about Francis?

He came to the island
a year ago, with Ryan.

Took over as President of
the Society two months back.

Everything you'd want your
leader to be - enthusiastic,

passionate, er, exactly about
the same things as we are.

How do you mean?

Well, anything to do
with the island, really.

Loved the Society, too. We were
like a little family, weren't we?

Yes, erm, forgive me for asking

but can you think of anyone who
might have wanted to harm Francis?

~ No.
~ He was a popular man.

I got your text.

It's awful - it's... just awful.

Alan Butler.

DI Goodman. You obviously
knew Francis.

Our paths crossed at the Society
but I haven't set eyes on him

~ since I left.
~ You left?

About two months ago.

Right, which would explain
why you weren't on the beach.

I was at home.

~ All afternoon?
~ All afternoon.

You see, because just before he died,

Francis called me...

.. saying he was being
threatened by someone.

I think I'm being followed.

Yeah, somebody's out
to get me, I know it...

Ryan, did your dad
mention this at all?

He said someone was threatening him?

You think someone killed him?

Yes. Yes, I do.

So, how come you didn't
join the Society?

Well, it was all prancing
about the countryside,

~ pretending to be Charles II.
~ Didn't appeal?

No, I just don't have
the legs for it.

Hang on a sec...

What?

We found a set of keys for a Jeep

in Francis's belongings
at the campsite.

And?

Well, it wasn't parked at
the beach, it isn't here.

So where is it?

Gosh!

What?

Captain Howarth's Chronicles
- major 18th-century explorer

and biological archivist.

Knocks Darwin into a cocked
hat, in my humble.

Yes, yes, I'm, er, I'm working.

Yes, yes, yes, yes...

Ah, the Heritage Society
accounts book.

Mmm.

Ah!

Francis said he was receiving
threatening letters when he called me.

Interesting.

What?

Unless I'm not reading this properly,

it looks like the Society
is 4,000 out of a pocket.

Yes, it's, um.... out of pocket.

~ Out of...
~ I've got it!

OK.

Dwayne, er, they'll need
checking for fingerprints.

Also we need to contact Ryan,

ask him if he knows where
his dad's Jeep is.

Maybe he just borrowed it?

Too young - he's only 16.

Never stopped me.

We found the Society accounts book

and it looks like they
are 4k in the red.

If we find out why, it could
help with the investigation.

I'll request financial checks.

And Dwayne's made a start on
Francis Davison's e-mails.

Right.

So, President of the Saint Marie
Heritage Society, Francis Davison.

He came here two years ago.

He tutors private pupils
in Caribbean history.

He's also writing a book

about the history of Saint
Marie while he's here.

And running the Heritage Society.
Busy man. Henri Garon.

Single. Moved to the
island 18 months ago

from his hometown of Antibes.

He's an accountant at
the Three Sails Hotel.

Member of various clubs -
scuba diving, yacht club.

A social butterfly.

Quite. Imke Sandt.

Dutch national. Single, no children.

She worked as a primary school
teacher for eight years,

then gave it up to
become a travel rep.

Teresa Gower?

Secretary for the Society. Unmarried.

Moved here six years ago,

following the death of
her father back in the UK.

Librarian at the Port Royal Library.

Ryan Davison?

16, moved here with his dad.

His mother passed
away some years ago.

Straight-A student back in the UK.

Which, er, just leaves Alan Butler,
ex-member of the Society.

He moved here following
early retirement.

Middle management for 25 years
at the Hertfordshire Water Board.

Sergeant in the Territorial Army.

Where are my... my notes?

Inside left.

Inside left.... ah, yes.
Well done, Florence.

So...

.. five people gather ingredients
for an evening meal, prepare it,

cook it and help themselves.

They eat the same food,
they drink the same drink,

they all suffer food
poisoning and one dies.

To all intents and purposes,
it's a terrible accident.

Except... that one hour before
his death, the victim calls me

and confesses that
he fears for his life.

And his journal's gone
missing from the campsite.

Indeed it has. The journal
has to be significant.

All of which means that his death is
much more likely to have been murder

than some awful coincidence.

Path and lab results are in.

Francis died from eating a large
amount of the poison water hemlock.

~ Water hemlock?
~ It's found only in woodland
areas near the coast.

Fast acting, in a highly
concentrated dosage.

Death would occur within 30 minutes.

It would seem somehow
he had a much larger

amount of the poison in his
system than anybody else.

Did the lab say where the poison was?

Only in the stew -
everything else was clear.

Not a trace showed up in
any of the water or wine.

Well, then, how did Francis consume
more poison than any of the others?

I don't know... he ate more stew?

No, they all ate the same.

Could the poison be
more concentrated in

one part of the stew than the other?

Then how did the killer
ensure that it was Francis

who got that particular portion?

Especially when they
served themselves.

It's all too random - it's a
bit like a Christmas pudding.

~ A what?
~ Christmas pudding.

It's an old tradition in the UK -
hide a silver sixpence in the pud.

If you got it in your
portion, you kept it.

Let me see, then.

No. No water hemlock in the Society
fact sheet Teresa handed out.

Here's what it looks like.

Looks quite similar to this herb
the Society should have been

foraging for - pound-cake bush.

Could have been picked
up accidentally,

and thrown in the stew -
it looks almost identical.

Yes, er, er, Dwayne, if you can get
down to the woods near the beach,

~ see if this water hemlock
actually grows there.
~ Chief.

I'll look through the
camcorder footage,

see if that sheds any light on who
may have put something in the stew.

~ Chief?
~ Yes?

I think I have something
on the 4,000 mystery.

E-mail exchanges between
Francis and Teresa.

Looks like she was the Society's
treasurer as well as the secretary.

She never mentioned
that when we spoke.

Hardly surprising. Francis
was on to her -

he knew it was her who'd
put the Society in debt.

And get this - they
agreed to sort it out

on the morning of the rehearsal.

The morning of the day he died.

~ Hello again.
~ Ah, hello.

We thought we may as well get on
with it, sooner rather than later.

Hopefully keep his mind
off things, bless him.

Could we have a quiet word?

Of course. Er, Ryan, darling, could
you, er, carry on without me?

Oh, by the way, Ryan,

do you have any idea where
your dad's Jeep is?

Is it not at the house?

Doesn't look like it.

I'm sure it'll turn up.

Teresa, erm, we're looking into possible
motives people may have had

to kill Francis. Was there
anyone he'd fallen out with?

Any issues he had?

Er, none that I know of.

And how did you get on?

Er, well. Good. I liked him.

Right, so how did he react when
he discovered that you'd taken

the Society bank account into the red

and used the cash for your own use?

I... I was stupid.

Desperate.

He was furious.

Quite rightly.

Did he threaten to
involve the police?

No. Just asked that I repay
the money. And quick.

The only way I could raise the cash
would be to sell up here, go home.

And I love it. I love it so much.

Most of the other members
of the Society

ended up on Saint Marie
through their work.

What brought you here?

Well, I saw the island
on a documentary.

Fell in love immediately.

Promised myself that one day I...

This was the one thing that kept
me going when my dad was ill.

I was his sole carer and it was,
er, pretty lonely at times.

Yes, that's not too
difficult to understand.

It didn't work out
quite as I'd planned.

Why is that?

I arrived with a lot less in
the bank than I anticipated.

Most of what my dad was going
to leave me in his will

had been spent on his health
care. Then the funeral.

But I was determined to start again.

With Francis dead,
your secret's safe -

no-one would ever know
what you'd done.

Actually, erm, he
talked me out of it.

I was determined to sell,
pay back what I owe and go.

But, erm, Francis very kindly said

I could pay off what I'd
taken in instalments.

When did he say that?

Well, I went round to his
place the morning he died.

'I thought I'd be walking
into some huge barney,

'but, erm, he was so gentle.

'So understanding.'

Teresa - where do these go?

Oh, big box in my car, love.
Erm, look, I'll help you.

~ May I?
~ Yes, of course.

~ Everything OK?
~ Oh, nothing to worry your
head about, sweetheart.

Just asking about your dad.

You think she's telling the truth?

You think 4,000 is worth
killing someone for?

People have died for far less.

And what if Francis wasn't
quite as understanding

as Teresa's making out?

Oh, this brings it all back.

Disco in the village hall.

Slow dances. Young love.

What was her name?

Your young love. They
say you never forget.

Ah, erm, Gillian Ratcliffe.

She wasn't mine - friend's girl.

I was holding his coat until
the dance had finished.

Great song, though. Could never
be written by an Englishman,

far too direct.

What would an Englishman sing?

Er, dunno. Beatles, She Loves You.

Not I love you, but she loves you.

Fella concerned couldn't probably
bring himself to say it.

Say what?

I love you.

Well, I have no patience
for a man like that.

Got something to say, say it.

It's not that easy sometimes.

And what if she didn't feel the same?

He'd be emotionally repressed,
high maintenance -

what woman would go
for a man like that?

Yeah. Quite.

Oh!

Dwayne, where are you?

'I'm in the woods.'

OK. I need you to
do something for me.

'There's an opening,
leading to the beach.'

Ah, got it.

Head towards it but stop maybe

ten metres away, so that the opening
is directly in front of you.

I've stopped.

You're hiding in the
trees, aren't you?

This is going to end up
on one of those TV shows,

where you scare the life
out of me and get 250, eh?

Dwayne, please concentrate.
Three metres to your left,

there should be a small clearing...

Yes.

Are there any discarded cigarettes?

No.

Yes.

Great! Bag them!

How did you know that?
Hey, where are you?

Just bag them, Dwayne.

All right,

I'm bagging, I'm bagging!

Water hemlock. Found exactly
where we thought it would be.

In the wood near the campsite.

It's so similar to the
rest of the herbs -

someone must have picked it, put it
in the pot and voila. Big mistake.

Yes, possibly. But it
still doesn't explain

how an excess of the same poison
ended up in Francis's system.

Er, I don't suppose you

came across his journal lying
about in the woods, did you?

~ Er, no, Chief.
~ I'm convinced it's significant.

I, erm, spoke to Ryan about
his father's Jeep -

he's no idea where it is.

Dwayne, could you
put the feelers out?

Er, erm, er, garages, second-hand
dealers, scrapyards...

Thieves, scoundrels... yeah. Don't
worry, Chief, leave it with me.

Got you!

This is footage from the
woods near the beach.

See? Just here. A silhouette.

Difficult to see - male or female?

Can't tell. But, fast
forward an hour...

He - or she - is still there.

What's that? That's a spark of light.

They're smoking.

Oh! Well done, team.
Get them to the lab,

get the saliva tested for the DNA.

Ah, we may not need to. I found this.

This is on the Heritage
Society blog page.

Alan is the only one smoking.

And the brand - the pack before him
on the table - is Black Strand.

Snap!

Oh, well done, Florence.

~ Yeah.
~ Sterling work.

Yes, and you, Dwayne.

So, Alan was lying.

He was in the wood,
near the Society camp.

Yes, and if it was him,

he'd have had the perfect
opportunity to poison the stew.

Sorry to disturb you.

30 lengths a day, keeps
the doctor away.

Yes!

So, you're the, er, ex-President
of the Saint Marie Heritage Society.

Guilty as charged.

Any particular reason you left?

Well, I'd been at the helm ten years.

Decided to take a back seat, give
someone else a chance at the wheel.

That someone being Francis Davison.

Yes, we've seen the
Society's blog page.

Looks like you all
had some good times.

Fantastic group of people.

Enthusiastic, cultured,
very friendly.

Then why resign?

My wife was diagnosed
with terminal cancer.

I'm sorry.

I resigned from the Society
so we could spend

what little time she
had left together.

Then, when she died, I
decided not to go back.

Hmm, right, well, then how come
you spent a number of hours

watching the group from the woods,
on the day of the re-enactment?

You go to the camp, acquire
some water hemlock

and when the Society
members aren't looking,

slip it into the stew
and leave unnoticed.

You think I killed Francis?
That's preposterous.

We can prove you were
at the woods. But why?

Revenge?

Ah, the journal at last.

It belonged to Francis.

Everything he did or was going
to do with the Society -

including the speech he was meant
to give today - is in there.

I thought, if I took it...

Today's celebrations
would fall apart.

I wanted him humiliated.

To feel a little of what I felt.

Why did the two of you fall out?

We clashed over several events
on the Society's calendar.

Every year, we commemorate the
British invasion of the island.

But Francis arrives and suddenly,

the whole thing apparently
possesses a very dark tone -

it's too colonial, celebrates
thuggery over the islanders.

Yes, I imagine there is
a sensitivity required.

We just waved a few flags, sang
God Save The Queen, and marched

up Main Street in military uniform
- where's the insensitivity in that?

What's wrong with a bit of
old-fashioned patriotism?

You argued with Francis?

All the time.

The last straw was when he
cancelled the celebration

and replaced it with what
should have happened today.

Oh, the arrival of the first
European settlers on the island.

How does that differ
from the Brits landing?

How is one invading force
better than another?

So, Francis insults you by
changing the Society calendar,

making it almost impossible
for you to stay.

In a nutshell.

And puts you under pressure at
the very time you needed his help.

When your wife was ill.

Yes, I can't imagine
how you must have felt.

Your wife desperately ill,

Francis putting you
under enormous strain.

I don't think I'd blame
you if you wanted revenge.

Look, Inspector. I admit it!

I didn't like the man.

But I swear, I didn't want him dead.

Yes, indeed, yes.

So, it turns out Alan Butler
stole Francis's journal

but claims he didn't kill him for it.

It'd be good to know what's in it.
Would you mind, Florence? Thank you.

So, yesterday, the Saint
Marie Heritage Society

sat down for their meal.

One of them, or this man,

managed to get some poisonous
water hemlock into the stew.

Somehow, Francis ingested more
of the poison than anybody else,

despite the fact that we know
that all of the other...

consumables at the camp contained
no trace of the poison.

So how did that happen?

How did our killer ensure that
it was Francis... who died?

No, we're not getting anywhere here.

Let's sleep on it and come
at it fresh in the morning.

Right, Dwayne, meet you in an hour.

You and me, suits and boots.

Yes... But maybe in something
a little less formal, eh, Chief?

Good night, Florence.

Good night, sir. Have fun.

Yes, and you.

OK, Chief, you're about to witness
the best thing the Brits

brought with them when they invaded.

The humble British pub...
without the fighting.

Wow. This place is amazing, Dwayne!

Crikey!

Indeed, and plenty of it.

Marco?

Yes... we need...

Camille!

Camille!

Oh! Er, I'm terribly sorry!

Yes...

Whoo!

It's always the quiet ones, eh?

Two beers - large.

And two rums - larger!

~ To Francis!
~ To Francis!

To Francis!

So... Going anywhere nice?

If you're angling for information...

This is your second
date in as many days.

~ Good night, Maman.
~ Tell me his name at least, Camille!

Uh-uh!

Oh, ah, Monsieur Garon.

No, Henri, please.

Will it be possible to
get my camera back soon?

Well, I'm sorry, it's still part
of an ongoing investigation.

I see.

Well, then, have a very nice evening.

Thank you.

~ Vive la France!
~ Yes! Vive la France!

So, what about you? Got
your eye on anyone?

You know what, Dwayne... I have.

Not here, though. Somewhere else.

So, why you here getting
drunk with me?

Shouldn't you be wherever she is?

Well, we haven't really, sort
of, erm, got round to, kind of,

talking about it.

~ Why not?
~ Well, I'm building up to it,

just trying to find the right moment.

There never is a right moment
- just get in there, the man!

You think?

Look, when things aren't quite
going the way I want them to,

I have this little trick.

It works every time.

I'm all ears. All ears.

Women need a hero - so be that hero.

Sweep her off her feet. Let
her fall into your arms.

Yes, but how?

Contrive a little mishap. And
before any real danger occurs,

you just sweep in there and
save the day. After that,

she'll be like putty
in your hands. Trust me.

I can see that working
for you, Dwayne,

but, you see, I'm not really
the action hero type.

If you don't try, you'll never know.

Whoo! Ah!

You, sir, are a gent and a scholar.

Night-night, Dwayne - and thanks.

I'll see you bright and early, Chief.

Maybe not so bright and
maybe not so early.

Cami...

~ Good morning.
~ Good morning.

~ Good night?
~ Brilliant.

Quite inebriated, actually, painted
the town red, eh, Dwayne?

And quite a few other colours, too.

Good night, yourself?

Yes, sure. Quiet.

Erm, this is the video from
the Heritage Society again.

'You going to give us a little
flavour of your speech?'

I bumped into Henri and he mentioned
getting his camera back.

There is something not right.

Anything show in Francis's journal?

Notes on the
re-enactment, his speech,

but nothing of any significance.

Apart from a mobile phone number
and the initials GO beside it.

It was one of the last entries.

I've left a message for
them to get back to me.

OK.

Chief? I just had a call
from Honest Eddie.

He's one of my... contacts.

He said a Jeep has just been seen
at the lock-ups down on the coast.

And it matches the description
of the missing Jeep?

Perfectly. Apart from the windows.
They've been broken, apparently.

~ Want us to check it out?
~ Er, yes.

~ Nothing?
~ 'Ladies and gentlemen...'

No. Maybe he really did
just want his camera back.

'Welcome to the Saint
Marie Heritage...'

I think you might need to rename
Honest Eddie... Lying Eddie?

At the very least, Mistaken Eddie.

Look, if he said he
saw it, he saw it.

Dwayne, there must be
a thousand Jeeps like...

That one.

Hey!

Head him off!

Stop!

Come on! Let's go!

What's wrong?

Dwayne, if you could
search Ryan's bedroom?

Ryan, what's happened?

What were you doing
with the Jeep, Ryan?

Just wanted to get
out of here. Get away.

We told you it was missing, you said you
didn't know anything about it. Why was that?

Why were the windows smashed?

Why were you trying to set fire
to it? Trying to destroy evidence?

~ Chief!
~ Yeah?
~ Open on his desk.

Ah.

You need to talk.

You sent your father threatening
letters, you poisoned him.

No! OK!

I sent the letters
- yes - and the Jeep,

I smashed the windows
but I didn't poison him.

I just wanted to scare him,

I just wanted him to - I don't know
- just notice that I was there.

It was great when we first arrived.
I thought we'd be fine.

But it's, it's hard to make friends,
you know, it takes time.

And he was always so busy. Throwing
himself into everything.

Teaching, writing, the Society...

I even started going to the meetings
myself, to spend time with him.

But he hardly even
noticed I was there.

Teresa saw what he was like.

I'm going to get another
drink. Do you want one?

He was just so passionate
about everything.

I'm sorry.

I know it was wrong but I just
lashed out... just wanted a dad.

Yes, well, you should have told us.

Is there anything else, Ryan?
Anything that can help us

find out who did this to your father?

Well, I... I heard Dad
arguing on the phone.

Who with?

I don't know. But Dad
sounded pretty angry.

Look, we've talked about this
- it ends here, it ends now.

Do you understand?

When was this?

Three nights ago.

Camille, the list of
members' phone numbers

from the Heritage Society, please.

So. Three days ago...

No calls after 6.30 - until
this one here at 9.00,

about the time Ryan said...

.. and another two.

Number belongs to Imke Sandt.

Right.

Grab yourselves a drink and meet
me back at the coach, OK? Merci!

Can I help you, Inspector?

Yes. We looked through Francis's
call record on his mobile.

You made three calls to him
on the same night. Why?

I'm sorry, I...

You see, the night before he died,

his son heard Francis
arguing with someone

on the phone, around the
same time as you called him.

You were heard arguing and
the next day he was dead.

Ryan said he heard Francis saying,
"This has to end here."

Were you having a
relationship with Francis?

I was so tired of this...

knowing people for no more than
the length of their holiday,

then they'd be off and replaced
with a new coach-load of people

you'd never see again.

You mean men?

Yeah. It's not the ideal place
to start a relationship.

So, what did Francis offer?

Stability.

He had the house, the kid.
For the first time in my life,

he made that kind of
thing seem attractive.

But he ended it?

I thought things were
going well between us.

But I guess I got it wrong.
He didn't feel the same.

So you called him?

I didn't want to believe it was over.

I pleaded with him not to end it.

It's not the most attractive
thing to do, is it?

Beg someone to stay.

But I guess you do stupid
things when you're in love.

Thank you.

Thank you.

It's funny, isn't it?

You can live in paradise

and yet still have exactly the same
troubles as if you were living in...

oh, I dunno, Grimsby... Ooh.

Not that there's anything
wrong with Grimsby.

We're all under the same sky. If
you're not loved, you're not loved.

Watch out, I've got you!

Oh, my God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!

What did you think you were doing?!

I just saw the chicken
man, I just thought...

Hang on - I'll save you.

Save me?! Oh, don't you dare!

I'm perfectly capable
of doing this on my own!

Idiot!

Don't go there!

Well, we now know that Francis

wasn't actually being
victimised, it was just his son

trying desperately to get
his father's attention.

If Ryan is to be believed, the threatening
letters have nothing to do with the murder.

~ Chief?
~ Yes?

Maybe this was just
a tragic accident.

Hmm...

Thank you.

But the levels of toxin in Francis
were too high to be accidental.

Sir, I think we're getting somewhere.

The number I found earlier
in Francis's journal.

It belonged to a Guillaume
Orme, he's an accountant.

According to him, Francis
contacted him

on the morning of the
re-enactment, asking him

to block Teresa's access to
the Society's bank account.

~ Well, who can blame him for that?
~ Guillaume also told me

he'd advised Francis to insist
Teresa leaves the Society.

~ And?
~ Francis said he'd already
done it that morning.

She never mentioned that.

I wonder what else she's
been lying about.

What's that noise?

I thought that had finished.

Must be an earlier recording.

'I mean, no, no, we've got to try
and do the two things, I think...

'Why do we have to always move on?

'I think it's important
to have the two...'

Mmm. Looks like she's
got a bit of a fan.

'Imke? Big smile!'

Yes, a very big fan.

You were right to be
suspicious, Camille.

No wonder Henri wanted his
camcorder back in a hurry.

So, the camera belongs to Henri.

Who loves Imke.

Who loves Francis.

Who's dead.

That's very kind of you to bring it.

I could have picked
it up at the station.

You shot that footage. Yes?

Without Imke's knowledge, obviously.

Or Francis's.

This isn't how it looks.

Well, it looks like you've
been stalking her.

~ I know...
~ You're infatuated with a woman

who had a relationship
with a man who's now dead.

~ Murdered.
~ So, what was it, Henri?

You wanted him out of the
way, so you could move in?

That night was the first I
knew about her and Francis.

I found myself outside her place,
camera in hand, thinking,

"Henri, what are you doing?

"Do you have any idea how
ridiculous this makes you?"

When I realised that she loved him,
I knew there was no chance for me.

Is this how you behave
when you're in love?

Stupid?

I know that now.

I wanted to tell her.
I should have told her.

Why didn't you?

She didn't see me in that way.

I guess I knew that all along. But...

You must think me a fool.

Well, yes, well, it's,
er, certainly, erm...

an unorthodox method of courtship.

It got out of control.

I became a little obsessed, I admit.

But I didn't kill Francis.

Keeping this.

What did he say?

He admitted he was in love with Imke

but denied any involvement
in Francis's death.

Come on, the answer has
to be here... somewhere.

Who is our most convincing killer?

Alan!

He'd been ousted from the
presidency and he was

under terrible pressure, because
he'd just lost his wife.

Henri - in love with Imke, knew about
her relationship with Francis.

Imke - in love with Francis
but he rejected her.

Ryan. A* student back in the
UK, Dad forces move here,

his grades suffer, he's lonely,
thinks his dad doesn't care.

Teresa - stole cash and
Francis caught her.

Like you said, it could
be any of them.

How did the killer make sure
that it was Francis that got

the metaphorical silver sixpence
from the metaphorical Christmas pud?

~ Sir?
~ Mm-hm?

Your pen is leaking.

Oh, yes, so it is. Thank you.

It's always leaking, this pen!

I'll just be a minute to clean...

Only in the stew -
everything else was clear.

He was so gentle, so understanding.

It belonged to Francis.

We were following an
authentic recipe I found.

Just wanted a dad.

You know who did it, don't you?

Yes, I do.

And how.

And why!

Shall I call all the suspects now

and tell them to meet
us at Catherine's bar?

You're a fast learner, Florence.

Thank you all for joining us.

Francis's death was designed
to look accidental.

An innocent mistake.

A terrible reaction to a poisonous
herb mistakenly added to a stew.

What the killer didn't know was
that not an hour before Francis

tucked into that fateful
meal, he called me,

saying that he thought someone
was trying to kill him.

It was for that reason
and that reason alone,

we decided that Francis's death
wasn't an accident at all.

It was murder, plain and simple.

But - and this is what kept stumping
us - how did the killer

manage to deliver a fatal dosage
of the poison to just one person?

I mean, you all ate exactly
the same amount of food,

so why did Francis die...

.. while the rest of
you were merely ill?

Apart from you, Alan.

See, by your own admission,

your departure from the Society
had been humiliating.

Your wife was ill and this
other man just swept in,

changed everything without
your consultation or approval.

Like you just didn't matter.

You, more than anyone else,

had the opportunity to
poison the stew unnoticed.

I know how it looks.

But I didn't kill him.

Believe me.

I do.

And, Imke. You loved Francis.

At last, you'd found
a man you could rely on.

It was you who chose the recipe
for the rehearsal dinner.

Maybe you selected it

with the sole aim of using
it to poison your ex-lover.

No.

Henri. You also had motive.

You were in love with the
woman Francis was seeing.

I swear to God, I didn't do it.

Ryan, your dad brought you
halfway round the world,

away from everything and
everyone you'd known.

All you wanted was for him to
acknowledge you. But he didn't.

But I genuinely believe

the last thing you wanted
was for your dad to die.

Which makes this murder
all the more tragic.

Just leaves us with you, Teresa.

You killed Francis Davison.

What?

But that... that's ridiculous!

You see, as Heritage
Society Secretary,

you'd been at the heart of
organising the events to celebrate

the first European settlers
landing on the island.

And knowing that part of the day's
activities involved foraging for

the ingredients to be used in that
evening's meal, you realised you

could contrive for Francis's murder
to look like a tragic accident.

Once Imke had found the recipe you
would be cooking from, you prepared

a fact sheet outlining all the herbs
the Society would be foraging for.

All you then had to do,

was find a poisonous plant
similar to any one of them.

As a librarian, I'm sure it wouldn't
have been too hard to find

the necessary botanical
books you needed.

Then it was just a quick recce
to the beach where the rehearsal

was happening to make sure that both
plants were indeed growing there.

And everything was in its place.
When the day of the rehearsal came,

all you had to do was hand
out the fact sheets.

And instead of picking the
harmless pound-cake bush,

you knowingly picked the
poisonous water hemlock.

You put it with the rest of the
herbs to be used in the stew.

It was then just a
matter of sitting back

and letting the poison
take its course.

You knew you would have
to suffer as well.

But it was a small price to pay
to get the result you wanted.

Francis's death.

Which brings us back
to the question -

how did you manage to kill only
Francis, while everyone else,

yourself included, were
left just feeling unwell?

Well, it was a leaky pen
that solved it for me.

It was then I realised that it wasn't
just the stew that was poisoned.

We'd already checked the other
consumables from the beach.

The wine, fruit juice, water.

Not one contained any
hint of the poison.

So where was the extra
poison secreted?

Part of Francis's presidential
duties was to make

a speech on behalf of the Heritage
Society at the re-enactment.

And it seems, Teresa, that you'd been
the one encouraging him to rehearse it.

You going to give us a little
flavour of your speech?

~ Come on!
~ Oh, go on!
~ Yeah, come on!

He'd only just finished writing
the speech before dinner.

Writing it in the one thing
he took with him everywhere.

His journal.

That's how Francis ended up consuming

more poison than anyone else.
Because the edges of the pages

of his journal that
contained his speech

had been saturated with a lethal
concentration of poison.

You knew you only needed tiny
amounts of water hemlock

in the stew to make everyone sick.

But to kill, you'd need to
administer a much bigger dose.

Having sourced the poisonous
herb a few days earlier,

you then reduced it down to its most
toxic and lethal concentration.

You then contacted Francis,

arranging to meet to talk
about your money troubles.

And I assume that when the
opportunity presented itself,

you seized it.

You knew in its concentrated
form it would only take

a few licks of poison to kill him.

See, you knew Francis's habit.

Knew he'd need his journal,
how much he relied on it.

And as he licked his fingers
to turn the page...

his fate was sealed.

Francis!

See, the answer was in
the journal, after all.

You popped the silver sixpence
in his mouth. You killed him.

I've no idea what you're
talking about.

Why would I do that?

Because you'd spent the best
part of the last 35 years

looking after your father
and when he died...

.. apart from a dwindling inheritance,

you found yourself with nothing.

No husband. No children.

You took what little cash you had
and came out here to start again.

You joined the Heritage
Society to find friendship

and you found the family you'd never
had. And the child you'd never had.

You killed Francis because you
were about to lose the one person

that mattered the most to you.

You were about to lose Ryan.

It's nonsense.

You saw how unhappy he was on Saint
Marie. Miles from home. No friends.

His father not giving him
any time or attention.

But you did, didn't you?

You loved him as though
he were your own son.

And since Francis died, you've
been constantly by his side.

Wherever Ryan goes, you go.

So when Francis found out about
your misuse of Society funds

and told you to leave, you realised
you were about to lose everything

and most of all, Ryan.

For the first time, your
life had a purpose,

you'd become a mother by default.

If Francis had lost all trust in you,

why would he allow you
anywhere near Ryan?

You'd lose your son.

You couldn't let that
happen. Wouldn't.

Your love for Ryan was so strong,

you were willing to kill to keep him.

So Francis had to die.

You deserved so much better.

You deserved to be loved.

~ Sweetheart...
~ Take her away.

Please!

It's a sorry affair,
if you ask me, Chief.

Yes, it is. A boy's lost his father.

But I can't help but feel
some pity for Teresa.

Thank you for all your
hard work, everyone.

We did a good job.

Well. Night, sir.

Night, Florence. Dwayne.

Er, sir.

I wanted to apologise.

No, I should be apologising.
I threw you in the sea.

Yes, but, erm, the way I spoke
to you was entirely wrong.

You're my superior officer.

And a friend.

And as a friend, there's
something I need to tell you.

~ Things have been...
~ I'm sorry, I...

~ OK, you first.
~ No, please.

Right.

For the past few days, your
attitude, your behaviour.

You've been a little... odd.

Odd?

Maybe the wrong word.
Erm, distracted.

Preoccupied. Like you have
something on your mind.

You're right. I have.

~ Something I've been wanting
to talk to you...
~ Which was annoying me.

And then... I realised why.

I was feeling the same.

Yes?

Yeah. I think, to be fair, you've
probably picked up on it.

Felt the vibes.

In my head, I've talked this
through a million times

and it's never come out right,
so I'm just going to say it...

No, no, no, no, I need
to go first or I'll burst.

I...

I've been offered a job in Paris.

One of the inspectors
flew in a few days back

and I had dinner with him a couple
of times to discuss the offer.

I'd be going back to my
roots - undercover work.

They approached me.

It's a bit of a shock but it's
a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I haven't said yes yet -
I need to think about it.

But... say you're pleased for me?

Please.

I'm delighted.

~ Really?
~ Really, really, really delighted. It...

Such a... exciting change you need.

~ Yes.
~ Yeah.

You know what?

We should celebrate - this
is a champagne occasion!

Champagne at your mother's bar!

OK.

Well, I need to freshen up first
but, er, I'll meet you at the bar.

Thank you for being so understanding.

I'll meet you there.

Yes, see you there.

I've got the best bridesmaids ever.

Jenny!

Stop! That's it!

How can I go to Paris? You
wouldn't survive a week.

Dwayne, how do you know
so much about hen dos?

A great magician never
reveals his secrets.

She can't go unless we
agree to the transfer.

~ She'd hate me.
~ It would be in complete confidence.

I think it's time I
was honest with you.