All language subtitles for Death.in.Paradise.S04E03.WEBRip.x264-ION10

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!

Okay, come on, guys, let's keep it together.

We're nearly there!

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

come on, come on.

Uh... Vive la France! Vive le Roi!

ALL: 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, uh, fact sheets, everybody.

And don't forget we're rehearsing your speech

straight after dinner.

Well, I haven't even finished it yet.

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.

-IMKE: Thank you. -Well done for finding

the recipe.

Mmm, yeah. Imagine what we could've

been eating if you hadn't.

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

Uh-uh! -Yeah, come on.

-Go on! -ALL: Yeah, come on.

Um... All right.

Go on, Dad.

Something along these lines.

Uh...

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.

MAN: Any numbness, loss of feeling?

Excuse me. What's wrong,

what's happening?

Food poisoning, I think.

Um, is Francis around

He was here, he must be in his tent.

Francis? It's Humphrey Goodman.

We spoke earlier?

HUMPHREY: Francis?

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

-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 stomach-ache.

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, um, yes, well, I, I considered joining them.

It seemed a great way to meet new people.

But then I got to know you lot and suddenly I realised

I didn't need to.

Anyway, can we move on?

I don't think this is a coincidence.

-Mmm-hmm.

And 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, uh, no problem.

Um, yes, well, there's not much

more we can do

until tomorrow anyway with this light.

Um, yes, no problem at all.

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

until daylight, to preserve the scene.

Good, um... Yes.

Thank you.

Uh, look, Camille...

Um, 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, uh, no-one.

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?

-Practise. -Right.

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

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

Okay. Tonight. You and me.

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

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

Watch out.

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.

DWAYNE: 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

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

Possibly.

Maybe the answer's in that. Anything else?

They had an authentic 16th-century recipe

for the evening meal.

I don't recognise any of these ingredients.

Obviously, the post-mortem 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. -ALL: 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, well, I'm Teresa Gower, Club Secretary.

Uh, this is Henri Garon. Imke Sandt.

And Ryan Davison.

I'm really sorry for your loss, Ryan.

Uh, 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. -Yeah.

Uh, 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.

-For the herbs.

IMKE: 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. -No.

Oh, excuse me. Were you using that yesterday?

Uh, yes. For 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.

IMKE: No-one's forcing you to eat it.

And Francis had the same?

-Yes. -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,

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, um, forgive me for asking

but can you think of anyone who might have wanted

to harm Francis?

IMKE: No. HENRI: 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.

-ALAN: About two months ago.

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

I was at home.

-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,

Didn't appeal?

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

Hang on a sec...

-We found a set of keys

for a Jeep

in Francis's belongings at the campsite.

-Well, it wasn't parked

at the beach,

it isn't here.

So where is it?

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

and biological archivist.

Knocks Darwin into a cocked hat,

in my humble.

Yes, yes, I'm, 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!

Okay.

Dwayne, they'll need checking for fingerprints.

Also we need to contact Ryan, ask him if he knows

where his dad's Jeep is.

-Too young, he's only 16.

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.

Mmm-hmm. 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, 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.

FLORENCE: 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.

And 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.

-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, uh, 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.

Mmm-hmm.

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. -Oh, 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. Um, Ryan, darling, could you carry on without me?

Okay.

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, um, 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?

Uh, none that I know of.

And how did you get on?

Uh, 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.

-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...

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?

Oh, 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, um, he talked me out of it.

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

But, 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.

TERESA GOWER: I thought I'd be walking into

some huge barney,

but, um, he was so gentle. So understanding.

Teresa, where do these go?

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

-Yes, of course.

-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, um, 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?

Uh, 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?

DWAYNE: I'm in the woods.

Okay. 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

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.

Uh, I don't suppose you came across his journal

lying about in the woods, did you?

-No, Chief. -I'm convinced

it's significant.

I spoke to Ryan about his father's Jeep,

he's no idea where it is.

Dwayne, could you put the feelers out?

Um.. Garages, second-hand dealers,

scrapyards...

Thieves, scoundrels... Yeah, 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.

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, then he'd have had

the perfect opportunity to poison the stew.

Sorry to disturb you.

30 lengths a day, keeps the doctor away.

-Yeah. -Uh...

So, you're the 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

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?

HUMPHREY: 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.

ALAN: 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,

What's wrong with a bit of old

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.

HUMPHREY: 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.

so 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.

So, 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.

Okay, 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! I'm terribly sorry!

Yes...

Whoo!

It's always the quiet ones, eh?

Two beers, large.

And two rums, larger!

-To Francis! -ALL: 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.

Oh. I see.

Well, then, have a very nice evening.

Thank you.

-Vive la France! -Yes! Vive la France!

So, what about you

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, um, got round to,

kind of,

talking about it.

-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.

Uh-huh.

Whoo! Ah!

-You, sir, are a gent and a scholar.

Night-night, Dwayne, and thanks.

I'll see you bright and early, Chief.

Ah...

Maybe not so bright and maybe not so early.

Cami...

-Good morning. -Good morning.

-Brilliant.

Quite inebriated, actually, painted the town red,

eh, Dwayne?

And quite a few other colours, too.

Good night, yourself?

-Yes, sure. Quiet. -Mmm-hmm.

-Um, 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.

Okay.

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.

-Yes.

Okay.

Uh...

Nothing?

-Ladies and gentlemen... -No.

Maybe he really did just want his camera back.

FRANCIS: 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, your Dad's Jeep 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?

Open on his desk.

HUMPHREY: Ah.

You need to talk.

You sent your father threatening letters,

you poisoned him.

No! Okay, 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.

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,

okay? Merci!

-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.

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

What did you think you were doing?

I, I just saw the bloody 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.

Maybe this was just a tragic accident.

Thank you.

HUMPHREY: 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.

-Francis said he'd already

done it that morning.

She never mentioned that.

I wonder what else she's been lying about.

FLORENCE: 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...

ALAN: 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.

Big smile! -Cheers.

Yes, a very big fan.

Huh.

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.

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?"

Uh, 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, certainly, um...

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 star 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?

Your pen is leaking.

Hmm?

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.

TERESA: 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.

HUMPHREY: 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 and did it without your consultation

or approval.

Like you just didn't matter.

CAMILLE: 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.

CAMILLE: 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.

HUMPHREY: 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.

MAN: 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 left

and you 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. HUMPHREY:

Night, Florence. Dwayne.

Uh, sir.

I wanted to apologise.

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

Yes, but, um,

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...

Okay, 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. Um, distracted.

Preoccupied. Like you have something on your mind.

You're right. I have.

Something I've been wanting to talk to you...

Yeah. 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 delighted.

It...

Such an exciting change you need.

-Yes. -Yeah.

You know... You know what,

we should celebrate.

-This is a champagne occasion!

Champagne at your mother's bar!

Okay. Well, I need to freshen up first

but I'll meet you at the bar.

Mmm-hmm.

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 handles?

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.