All language subtitles for Death.in.Paradise.S07E03.Written.in.Murder.WEBRip.x264-ION10

(BIRDS CHIRPING)

FRANK: "Chapter three...

"Jim Harvey

"was tired of people
trying to kill him."

(INHALES) Hmm...

To shoot him. No, no, no,
that's too on the nose.

To rub him out...

To whack him.

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

Sorry to interrupt you, darling.

He's here.

-Excellent.
-Thank you.

-Oh.
-Oh. (CHUCKLES)

-Don't worry.
-No, no, no.

I can print out another.

(LAUGHS) Hello, I'm Larry.

Larry South.

I'm the old sod's agent.

And you must be, erm... Yes.

Gillian P White.

Yeah. Erm...

Frank's told me
so much about you.

All lies, I'm sure.

-(GIGGLES)
-(LAUGHS)

Oh, talk of the devil.

There he is.

-FRANK: Larry.
-(LAUGHS)

FRANK: Yes.

-(APPLAUSE)
-(PEOPLE LAUGHING)

Forty years.

For the life of me
I can't think where
they've gone.

But I do know how lucky
I've been to have your
unswerving support.

My loyal agent.

-(LAUGHS)
-My darling wife.

Without you, I'd have long since
chucked in the towel,

so here's to you both.

And here's to another 40.

-Another 40.
-Forty more. (CHUCKLES)

Erm...

I'd just like to say, Frank,

I've learned so much from you.

And Valerie,

I'm so grateful to you
for letting me stay here.

-(CHAIR SQUEAKS)
-Ooh!

Shall I get the coffee on?

No.

Who wants coffee?
More champagne!
(CHUCKLES)

Whoo-hoo!

FRANK: Oh, Larry.

Whoa.

(ALL LAUGHING)

(BOAT ENGINE STARTS)

Hey!

(SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY)

Have you seen Frank?

Wouldn't he be in his office?

If he was, I wouldn't be asking,
would I?

He left a note saying he'd gone
for a swim to cool off.

He should be back by now.

I'm gonna go down
and see if he's still there.

VALERIE: What's going on?

Frank?

(GASPS)

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

(DWAYNE MOANS SLEEPILY)

See, now...

JACK: Dwayne! Wake up.

(GASPING) What?

Made you a brew.

(GROANS)

WOMAN: (ON RADIO)
Yes, listeners, are you
feeling the heat?

Are you ready to rumble?

Because it's that time
of year, again,

when Saint Marie becomes
an island of love.

Erzulie time.

Great thing about being
just us fellas,

you can have a dirty big fry up
any day of the week

and there's no one to stop you.

How many sausages
would you like?

I don't think I could handle
anything this early, chief.

Of course, you can.

You can't go to work
on an empty stomach.

Here, what's this Erzulie
business they're on about?

It's a festival.

It honours the voodoo
goddess of love.

The whole island goes
mad for it.

Which reminds me,
it's tomorrow night.

We've got to get ourselves
a date, Chief.

(CHUCKLES) Not sure,
I'm ready to fish in that
particular river, just yet.

Oh, yeah. Of...
Of course, sir.

Yeah, but you go on ahead.

No, no.

Did you lose something,
Dwayne?

Uh, my uniform trousers.

I've got to iron them.

Never saw the point
in ironing myself.

A good shake works just as well.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Florence, what can I do for you?

FLORENCE: There's been
a murder. Twelve...

Got you.

Okay, be right there.

Dwayne, better get
those pants on.
There's been a murder.

Frank O'Toole,
this is his estate.
The house is up there.

Not Frank O'Toole,
the novelist?

That's right, sir.

He's lived on the island
for 20 years.

He went for a swim
early this morning,

and some fishermen found
his body floating a couple
of hours later.

All right.
What time are we talking?

About 7:00.

They were on their way in
with the morning catch.

That was some catch.

Thirty-five snapper
and a dead novelist.

I'm really sorry about this,
by the way.

I had to leave in a hurry,
couldn't bear to waste it.

Siobhan sends them
over, specially.

Whoa, looks like
she means business.

That's the voodoo goddess,
Erzulie Dantor.

She's the reason
for the festival.

Jeepers.

Wouldn't wanna meet
her on a dark night.

(CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKING)

What have we got
so far, fellas?

Well, I just spoke to
the fisherman and they said
they saw Frank

wading into the water
on their way out around 5:00.

Five? That's an ungodly
hour for a swim.

It would only just
be getting light.

Mmm. Did they see
anyone go in after him?

-Not that they mentioned.
-Frank left his towel
and his shoes

over there, on the rocks.

And sometime during
the next two hours...

FLORENCE: Someone stabbed him
in the heart, out at sea.

-Is that a diving knife?
-DWAYNE: Yes, Chief.

Very common around here,
be very difficult to trace.

There's 1,000 ways
to kill a man.

Shoot him, strangle him,
run him over, poison his tea.

They all get the job done.
So what the heck

would possess you to stab a man
in the middle of the ocean?

(SIGHING)

5:00 this morning,
Frank went for a swim.

Was that out of character?

No, not the swimming.
But, the timing was, erm...

I was usually awake
before he was.

And this swim was unplanned?

-Nobody knew he was going?
-No, we were all asleep.

He left me this.

(READING) "Too hot to sleep,
gone for a quick dip. F."

Could he not just have
switched on the
air conditioning?

It's given up the ghost.

And what time did you all
go to bed last night?

Well, I went first,
at about 11:45.

And then I was asleep
when he came to bed.

And I wasn't far behind you.
Ten minutes or so.

Frank and I stayed up,
hitting the cognac for a while

no idea when we called
it a night. Late.

So you were the last person
to see Frank alive?

I suppose I must
have been. Yeah.

Apart from the killer.

FLORENCE: And how was Frank
the day before he died?

-Any unusual behaviour?
-No.

He finished work about midday
when Larry turned up and then...

Champagne stocks look
perilously low. I think I'll
nip in to town and, er,

-replenish.
-I'll come with you.

No, no, you're our guest, Larry.
You make yourself at home.

May I?

-Whose work is this?
-It's mine. Why?

-It's absolutely top-notch.
-Oh!

Do I detect a, er,
hint of coconut in that icing?

A little bit.

-Ooh.
-Forgive me, but we have to ask.

Can anyone think of a reason
someone might want Frank dead?

No! Dear God, no.

He could be a belligerent
old bugger, but no one
had any reason

to bump him off.

Oh, would you look at that?
You would never go thirsty
around here, would you?

There's a good case
and a half of champagne
and the dust tells me,

it's been there for a while.

But Frank didn't think it'd be
enough for the four of you?

Well, he must have forgotten
that they were there.

So, besides belligerent,
how would any of you
describe Frank?

Well, if you want to know
who my husband was

you should start
by reading him.

"With My Little Eye.
Hard bitten code breaker,
Jim Harvey

"tracks a deadly assassin
to Ecuador." Thanks,
I'll give it a read.

Sounds like a real page-turner.

Right, well, if any
of you think of anything
that might be relevant,

please be sure
to drop me a line.

Detective Jack Money.

JACK: Ah, no, that's a typo.

I only got these done yesterday.

Wouldn't you know it,
they've misspelled my name.

-Thank you.
-It should say "Mooney."

Ah.

Still, close enough, eh?
No point wasting another tree.

You know what's niggling me?

How on Earth did the killer
know that Frank would be
going for a swim?

Maybe, they'd been
keeping watch.

Yeah, but, why would they be
watching the house at 5:00 in
the morning on the off-chance?

Which makes me think it's
more likely to be someone
inside the house.

Someone who just happened
to hear or see Frank leave
and seize their moment.

We know his wife was
sleeping beside him. If anyone
was going to notice him

-go for a swim...
-True, but, all the bedrooms

face that way.

So the killer could have been
any one of those three people?

You would think? Mmm.

Right, let's start by finding
out who this man was?

Dwayne, JP, I'll need you
to turn the place inside out.
Anything that could

-remotely be of interest.
-Yes, sir.

-Here! Let me.
-No, it's... It's no need.

No, I insist. It's Gilly,
isn't it? You're
the housekeeper.

No, I'm, er...

Well, I was Frank's
research assistant,

and protege, I suppose.

I'm so sorry. A fellow scribe.

Yeah, well, no,
I aspire to be.
Not published anything, yet.

All right, and what brought
you out to the island?

Frank. He invited me out.
I've always been a fan.

As long as I can remember.

-JACK: Looks like it was
quite a party.
-Yeah.

I'm afraid I made a bit
of a fool of meself.

-FRANK: Champagne.
-(ALL GASP)

(CHUCKLING)

It was a mistake to try
and keep up with
Frank and Larry.

Earlier when DS Cassell
asked if anyone could think
of a reason why

someone might want Frank dead,
you didn't say anything.

But I couldn't help noticing,
you looked at Larry.

I didn't. I mean, I wouldn't
read anything into that.

Well, I'm afraid that's
what I do, read things
into things.

Sort of goes along with being
a detective. (SIGHS)

I mean, I'm sure it's
probably nothing, but,

I sat in the garden
after dinner last night,
I was trying to sober up.

(FRANK AND LARRY ARGUING)

GILLIAN: Frank and Larry
had gone inside
to drink Cognac.

But, after about 20 minutes,
they started arguing.

Like I said,
it's probably nothing.

I wasn't really operating
at full capacity.

No.

Well, thanks all the same.
It all helps to paint
the picture.

Lovely cake.

Just as I suspected.
Nobody forgets they've got
18 bottles of champagne.

It's the exact same stuff
that was in the house.

Even, got the same dust on it.

So Frank didn't go in to town
to buy champagne.

He may have gone in to town,

but it wasn't to buy champagne,
that's for sure.

Trouble is, he went alone.

So your guess is as good
as mine as to where he went.

(BOTTLES CLINK)

Sir, see here, tyre tracks.

JACK: Yeah, and they're fresh.
Let's get Dwayne and JP onto it.

See if anyone in the house
owns a motor bike

or had any deliveries
this morning.

Mmm.

This Frank O'Toole was
a pretty big deal.

Eleven awards.

DWAYNE: But, check the dates,
nothing since 1989.

And take a look around.

Manual typewriter,
fax machine. The man was
stuck in a time warp.

(DWAYNE SIGHS)

Of course, this would be
a lot quicker if I had
a bit more help, Dwayne.

Huh?

Listen, it's all right for you,
you know.

You've already got
a beautiful wife.

I've got less than a day
to find someone.

And you know what they say,
alone for the Erzulie,

alone all year long.
And I don't like being
on my own.

(FAX MACHINE WHIRRING)

-What did you press?
-Last message received.

WOMAN: (ON RADIO)
My castaway this week
is a prolific author,

writer of the best-selling
Jim Harvey spy thrillers,
Frank O'Toole.

Welcome, Frank.

FRANK: Pleasure to
be here, Sue.

I love this show.
It's a real institution
back home.

He has to choose eight records
to take to a desert island.

They leave him
on an island, alone?

Er, no, no, no,
it's not a real island.
It's hypothetical.

WOMAN: (ON RADIO) So tell me
about your first record?

FRANK: I've chosen
The British Grenadiers,

they're the marching band
of the Blues and Royals.

-A marching band, really?
-(MARCHING BAND MUSIC PLAYING)

What's wrong with you?
You could have had Dylan
or The Beatles

and you chose this.

But, if you're stranded
on an island, why do you
care about music?

You just wanna stay alive, no?

No, Florence, er,
you're still not getting it.

It... It's not a real island.
It's just a way to get
the person to reveal

something of themselves. I was
hoping it might give me some

insight into Frank.

But all it's told me so far is
he had woeful taste in music.

And what about his book?
What does that tell you?

Yeah, well, this Jim Harvey
is a bit of an idiot,
to be honest with you.

Thirteen pages in,
he's already slept with a woman

he's supposed to be spying on,
while drunk.

-I assume Frank's ex-military.
-How did you...

(CHUCKLES) Only an
old soldier goes misty-eyed
for a marching band.

Was Frank O'Toole
his real name or
a nom de what's it?

Plume. Oh, no,
he was born Francis Toole.
He just added the O.

Wanted to sound like
a real Irishman.
And who can blame him?

He wrote 40 novels,
one a year. Last night,
they celebrated 40 years

since his first publication.
Frank had two failed marriages
until he met...

Valerie O'Toole, 54. She was
an actress but,
she gave it all up

when she married Frank 23 years
ago. Then, there's...

JACK: The ten percenter.
FLORENCE: Larry South.

Late 60s.
He discovered Frank when he
was just a local reporter.

Right. But we know from Gilly
there was tension.

They were arguing just
last night.
And there she is,

the research assistant
slash protege
slash cake baker.

Gilly White, late 30s,
worked in a book shop
until three months ago,

-somewhere called Stoke.
-Ah, yeah, Stoke. A lovely spot.

So how did she get from
there to here?

I'm working on it.
All we know so far
is Frank invited her.

We don't yet know
how they met.

WOMAN: (ON RADIO) And now,
we come to your luxury.

What have you chosen
to take with you?

FRANK: Well, one item
I really couldn't

live without is a decent cup of
English breakfast tea.

(SIGHS) A cup of tea?

Er, that's the
one thing you take?

You're stuck in an island
for flip's sake.

One word for you,
sir, sausages.

(CHUCKLES) No, that's not
the same thing at all,
Florence.

They were
exceptional sausages.

Here we go, Chief.
Every single thing
from Frank's house

that might conceivably
be of interest.

But, you might want to
look at this first, sir.

Frank was sent this
fax late last night.

He was about to sign
with a new agent?

So Larry not only faced
the threat of being discarded
by an old friend

after, what, 40 years?

But also losing what
must have been a fairly
hefty income.

No wonder they were arguing.

LARRY: Just so you know,
I don't normally hit
the sauce this early.

My nerves are a
tad jangly just now.

It pains me to tell you this,
but Frank's best days
were behind him.

No one would publish his last
two novels, he blamed me.

That's what you were arguing
about last night, after dinner?

Oh, that was just
a bit of nonsense, really.

We were both three sheets
to the wind.

Frank was telling me that he was
going to sign with a new agent.

But no, I need someone
young and dynamic.

And you think that'd make the
blindest bit of difference,
do you? It won't!

He just did that to get
a rise out of me.

I am sorry to be
the one to tell you.

LARRY: Ah.

-Well, there you go.
-JACK: Frank's switching agents.

I assume there'd be financial
implications for you?

As I told you, the golden
goose had stopped laying
eggs sometime ago.

Thank you for
your time, Mr South.

They're saying Frank's murder
won't do his book sales
any harm.

I suppose you're right,
I just haven't thought
of it in those terms.

No? Well, it seems to me

that a thriller writer dying
in mysterious circumstances,

well, you can't buy that
sort of publicity, can you?

What's your point?

It just strikes me
that poor Frank

is not really in a position
to enjoy his renaissance.

But you'll still get your,
what is it, 10%

of every penny he makes.

Chief, I may be an agent,
but I'm not that ruthless.

So, JP, what's the story with
those financial cheques?

I went back over
the last five years, sir,
and it seems the O'Tooles

didn't have a lot of money.
Not as much as we think, anyway.

So Larry was right.
Book sales aren't
what they were.

I get from his wife's
perspective, he's worth
a lot more dead than alive.

Chief, I checked out those
tyre tracks like you asked.

They belong to a small
scooter, but no-one in the
house owns one,

and they've had no deliveries
in the last week.

Well, someone was
outside that house
on a scooter and recently.

I've managed to pull up
some more information
about Gilly White.

Here's the homepage of her
social media profile.
Take a look.

Ah, the social media page,
God's gift to detectives.

A year ago she got engaged to
the manager of
the book shop in Stoke,

Dean Shanks, and if the
comments from their friends
are anything to go by...

"Where are you, Gilly?"

"How could you do
this to Dean?"

And here's one
from Dean, himself,

"Call me please,
I need answers."

She recently cut
off all contact.

Right. Let's see if we
can't set up a video chat
with this Dean fella.

Hear what he has to
say for himself.

Frank O'Toole decides
on the spur of the moment

to go for an early morning dip.

He tells no one he's going,

just leaves a note
on his pillow.

Yet one of these three,

the wife, the agent,
the protege, gets wind
of the fact,

rouses themselves from their
heavy post-champagne slumber

and follows him down
to the beach.
No sign of a boat.

So we assume they swim
out after him and then...

But why not stab him
on the beach or in the house?

Why wait till he's out to sea?

No witnesses, I suppose.

Yeah, not much chance
of recovering DNA.

Not from a million square
miles of open water.

(EXHALES SHARPLY)

She's been following
me around the island.
I thought I'd seen just

about every saint going.
She's something else.

(CHUCKLES)

They say if you make
her an offering,
she'll bring you love.

-What sort of offering?
-She loves knives, rum

-and unfiltered cigarettes.
-Oh, I knew a girl
like that once

back in County Cork.
Butcher's daughter, Emer.

Biggest hands I've ever
seen on a woman.

(ALL LAUGHING)

Look, I know we didn't
really talk a lot at school,
Darlene,

-but I always...
-Did we ever speak?

Well, not really,
you know, actual words.

But you were a bit
younger than me.

-Only a bit?
-All right, a lot.

But, if I'd known you was
going to grow up to look
like this, oh, well...

So, now, years later,
the day before Erzulie,

you find yourself
without a date.

So you run around
the bar in a panic
to see the only woman

-standing on her own...
-No!

It's not because you're
on your own, Darlene.

And it's not because
I'm panicking.

It's because you're the most
beautiful woman on the island.

(LAUGHS)

You know what, every year
at Erzulie, I get taken to
the same restaurant

and I eat the same meal.

-Hmm.
-Just once

I wish someone would
make a real effort.

I like a man who can cook.

Can you cook, Dwayne?

(CHUCKLES)

Excuse me a minute.

(LAUGHING)

Don't look now, but
the most beautiful woman
on the island just agreed

to let me cook her
an Erzulie meal.

So I decided I was going
to cook her some of my
sure-thing chicken.

But then I remembered
I don't live on my own.

Oh, right. No, don't you
worry, Dwayne. Understood.
I'll make myself scarce.

(CHUCKLES)

You won't even know I'm there.

(DWAYNE HUMMING IN THE SHOWER)

Hey, Dwayne,
you must be clean by now.

Hold on there, Chief.
You can't rush the regime.

It takes a lot of time
and effort to look this good.

I swear, you take longer
in the bathroom
than anyone I've ever met

and I've got four sisters
and they're big girls.

It's like he's never heard
of personal space.

I guess it's a while since
he lived with anyone
that wasn't family.

But I'm not family.

He's meant to be my boss.

Pathology reports
have come through.

Cause of death,
definitely the stab wound.

And they found some tiny fibres
under Frank's fingernails.

Iron oxide and polyurethane.

Iron oxide is used for
making paint and polyurethane
is type of varnish,

you might use it to make
something water resistant.

That's it, of course,

there must have been a boat.

(EXHALES SHARPLY)
Frank wasn't stabbed
in the water,

the killer had a boat
and the paint and varnish
were under Frank's nails

so he must have...
What was he doing?

Why was he clambering
onto a boat in the middle
of a sea?

And where did
this boat come from?

Is it possible that
the killer had it

stashed around the bay?

But even if they did
that doesn't really explain

how he got from the house
to the boat in time to
meet Frank out there.

-Unless...
-Unless?

They had a scooter.

Ooh, that's very good, Florence.
Stick a pin in that thought.

First things first, Dwayne, JP,
ring around the marinas,

speak to the harbour masters.
See if anyone saw
(STAMMERING) a grey boat,

coming or going, between 5:00
and 7:00 yesterday morning.

-Aye aye, Captain.
-Any luck with Gilly's fiance?

He's expecting our video
call any time.

JP: So this was found
floating out to sea
and the harbour master said,

as far as he can tell,
it's unregistered and as you
know, all boats on the island

have to be registered.

Hang on a minute.

Heh, got you.

Er, Dwayne?

Huh?

Looks like blood.

Frank came to
do a signing about a year ago.

(SIGHS)

Don't get it myself,
always seemed like
a budget le Carre to me.

But Gilly did this
online thriller-writing course

and he was like
a rock star to her.

Now, they met at the book shop
where you were both working?

She asked him to sign a book,
told him she was a writer.

Next thing I know,
he's only invited her to
stay with him and his wife

on some tropical island.

First, she was a bit home sick.
She used to

call me every day,
but then, she changed.

She became obsessed
with her novel. Her last book
got rejected by

fifteen publishers and
she was terrified of it
happening again.

That's all she could
talk about. And then,
two months ago

she just stopped answering
her phone, emails, texts,
ignored them all.

All right, Dean.
Well, thanks for your time.

If she wanted to end it,

why didn't she just say so?

Why did she just ghost him?

Mmm. Why don't we ask her?

JACK: Paradise Mislaid.

This is the novel you've been
working on?

Well, it... It's very much
a work in progress.

Sadly, Frank never got to
read my latest draft.

I've been working on it,
day and night,
these past two weeks.

These are his notes?

-Not one to mince
his words, was he?
-I came out here to learn.

It was always constructive.

And this is what he signed at
your book shop, the day you met?

-How did you know?
-We just spoke to Dean Shanks.

Why? Dean's not a
part of my life any more.

So the engagement's off.
Your decision?

GILLY: Yeah, it was.
We wanted different things.

I had to focus on me writing.

Sometimes you've got to be
a bit hard-nosed, don't you?

I know that seems selfish,
but I'm not gonna have
this chance again.

So, tell me, how long ago did
Frank end your affair?

-What?
-Well, Frank's criticism
isn't cruel,

but it is intimate.
"Clumsy, darling, I know
you're better than this."

And there's a lingering scent
of after shave in your towel

and the shower's set
to a man's height.

Also, this should be a prized
memento of that first meeting.

You wouldn't tear it
up unless you were in
a blind, passionate rage.

I didn't tear it up, Dean did.

He couldn't understand
why I'd wanna come out here.

He's never been further
than Spain.
(LAUGHS)

And I wouldn't
call it an affair.

It was just a silly fling.

But... But for
what it's worth,
Frank didn't end it.

In fact, he'd just
booked these.

JACK: A trip to Prague?

He wanted to show
me his favourite city.

It was a research trip
in theory.

Only, please
don't tell Valerie.

She's been through enough.

Wife and mistress
under the same roof.
And he wasn't even French.

(CHUCKLES)
So, Valerie had a motive,
assuming that she knew.

Sorry to disturb you,
Mrs O'Toole. May I?

Come in.

Frank would never let anyone
sit in his chair.

Or, God forbid,
touch his beloved Irene.

(VALERIE CHUCKLES)

He was superstitious
like that.

And he was working
on something new.

Mmm.

Novel 41. The Moscow Mule.

JACK: Mmm.

Did he always plan
it all out like this?

He never just made it up
as he went along, no?

Frank would never start
until he knew the ending.

It was one of the few rules
that he never broke.

He always says,

"A good writer plots backwards."

(STAMMERS) Said...

(SOBS) Sorry... I can't.

I'm sorry.

We can go somewhere
more comfortable,
if you'd prefer.

FLORENCE: You and Frank
had been together 23 years?

I was in the TV version
of one of his books.

He was married to someone else
at the time. The...

The papers were scandalised.

But he was a good husband?

He loved me, I loved him.

Must be strange, though,
being married to
a well-known writer.

All those readers who feel
they know him intimately.

Did it never feel like you
were sharing him?

I suppose, occasionally,
it bothered me that he was
so receptive to his

prettier, younger fans.

But you were happy enough
to welcome one into your home?

I wouldn't say happy.
It was pragmatism on my part.

Frank needed the validation of
(EXHALES SHARPLY)
adoring younger women.

Better it happen under
my roof where I could
keep an eye on him.

-So you turned a blind eye?
-No, my eyes were wide open.

She's the one with blinkers on.
Poor, naive little girl.

I knew he'd tire
of her soon enough.

Well, did you know he'd booked
a trip to Prague for
the two of them?

A research trip.

It was my idea.

Your idea?

I knew a week alone with her
would put him off for good.

Well...

-How could you be so sure?
-Because she was clingy

and Frank couldn't
bare clingy. We had to send
her off to Montserrat

last weekend,
just so that we could breathe.

Forgive me, Mrs O'Toole.

I know you and Frank
had been struggling
financially.

But the terrible irony is
that with Frank's death...

You think I give a damn about
book sales or money?
My husband

was murdered yesterday
and I would give everything
I have, everything

to bring him back again.

You have no idea what we had.

Well, if it isn't
inspector Jack Money?

Is this how you
conduct your investigations,

sitting around sipping tea?
There's a killer
out there, man!

-Sir.
-Who knows?

-Deciding which of us
to bump off next.
-Stop it, Larry.

You're not helping.

(SCOFFS)

Yes, so once we had
the number. It didn't take
us long to find

the boat's last registered
owner, Zeke the Crabman.

-Zeke the Crabman?
-Zeke the Crabman.

Took a while for Zeke
to sober up enough to speak,
but when he did,

he told us he sold the boat
two weeks ago.

-Did he say to whom?
-Mr Otis Falconer.

Otis Falconer, well there's
a name to conjure with.

Any description of the man?

No, Zeke said it was
all done by email and
the cash posted to him.

-They never met.
-Right, well,
I think we can safely

file that under
suspicious behaviour.

Oh, I was so certain it
had to be one of these three.

We've got motives.
We've got proximity,

and then, suddenly
enter stage left,
Mr Otis Falconer.

A mysterious man with a boat.

And all the cards are
thrown up in the air.

(CLICKS TONGUE) Right.

Let's find this Otis
and bring him in
for questioning.

DWAYNE: Er, about that,
Chief,

we checked with
the land registry
and Immigration

and there's absolutely
no record of an
Otis Falconer on Saint Marie.

I also called the O'Toole
household, they had never
even heard of the name.

So we don't know what Otis
looks like or where Otis lives.

Or what Otis's connection
to Frank is. All we have
is a name and a boat.

-And possibly a scooter.
-Ah, yes. The scooter. Right.

What if it was Otis who
was sitting outside the house,
watching and waiting

for the moment Frank emerged,
so as he could zip
around to his boat.

Dwayne, JP, I need you
to visit every scooter
shop in the island.

Find out if anyone
rented or sold a scooter
to a Mr Otis Falconer

in the last few days.

You mean, right now, Chief?

Well, yes, given this
is a murder investigation.

I think there's some small
degree of urgency.

Right, don't tell me.

Erzulie.

-Erzulie.
-JACK: Okay.

(LAUGHING) Okay.

Ah!

Wow, Dwayne, that smells good.

(BOTH TALKING AT ONCE)

-(DWAYNE EXCLAIMING)
-A tiny bit.

Mmm, what's that you added?
Allspice?

Gives it quite a kick.
I might just, let's get
this in there. Okay.

If you wouldn't mind...
(GROANING IN FRUSTRATION)

My mother used to put allspice
in her Christmas cake.

But, then, one year
she forgot her glasses and
she added black pepper

by mistake.
We were still sneezing
half-way through March.

Chief, please. I'm sorry.
I don't want to be
disrespectful or anything, but

Darlene's gonna be here
at any second.
So, do you think, maybe,

just for one minute you could
possibly give me just a tiny
little bit of space?

Well, of course, Dwayne.
Why didn't you just
say so before?

-I'll get out of your hair.
-Thank you, Chief.

-(KNOCKING AT DOOR)
-(STAMMERS)

-That will be her.
-All right, just pretend
I'm not here.

-Okay.
-I'll be out the back doing

-battle with this.
-Well, go on now.

Yeah. Knock her dead,
Dwayne. I mean,
not literally, obviously.

-That'd be disastrous.
-Chief, go!

Okay.

Happy Erzulie.

(ROMANTIC MUSIC PLAYING)

Hmm.

I got to tell you, Dwayne.
That is one of the best
things I've ever eaten.

(CHUCKLES)

-You must give me the recipe.
-My secret recipe?

You'll have to torture
it out of me.

(CHUCKLES)

Now, that sound
like a challenge.

-You better believe it.
-So what you call it?

I call it sure-thing chicken.

-Do you now?
-Mmm.

And why you call it that?

Erm...

Well, I, I suppose, people
always asking me for my
recipe and I say sure thing,

-you know?
-But, you just said
it was a secret.

Did I?

(LAUGHS)

So it's not because
you're under the illusion
that all this chilli

and spice might put a woman
in a certain mood.

(TOILET FLUSHING)

Who's that?

Er, erm... Oh, that's, erm...

Sorry, ignore me. I'm not here.

Is that an Irish accent I hear?

(DISGUISING ACCENT POORLY)
Eh, No.

(LAUGHS) It is.

A real Irishman.
Like Liam Neeson.

(CHUCKLING) Well, no,
not really like him, I mean,

he's from Ballymena
which is...

You've not been back
there all this time?

Erm...

Look, you must try
some of this chicken.

-No, no, no.
-I insist.

Pull up a chair, honey.
Dwayne, get the man a plate.

-Really, it's not...
-Do not say no to Darlene.

Ah, okay.

-Come.
-(INHALES SHARPLY)

You are going to love this.

It's a sure thing.

Right, Dwayne?

-Right.
-Now, what I need to know is

what is a good-looking
Irishman like yourself doing
alone at Erzulie, hmm?

Anyone for cheesecake?

Who knew there could
be so many scooter shops
on one little island, eh?

This will be number six.

Oh, erm, by the way,
how did it go last night

-with your sure-thing chicken?
-I don't want to talk
about it, okay?

-Hey, Eddie.
-Mmm-hmm?

You rent a scooter to
an Otis Falconer lately?

Yeah, you sure now,
Eddie? Because this is
vitally important.

And we think this Otis
might hold the key to
the Frank O'Toole murder.

Oh!

Chief, we got a description
of Otis. We went to
every scooter shop

-on the island.
-And no one know the name

-Otis Falconer, until...
-We got to the last one.

-Eddie Scooters.
-Now, Eddie is very,
very laid back,

never writes anything down.
Never bothers taking names.

But he said, and I quote,
"This dude in his
thirties or forties,

"maybe British, maybe
Australian, rented a red
scooter, wore a yellow T-shirt,

"was medium built,
and paid a cash deposit."

And get this. He asked Eddie
where Frank O'Toole lived.

-It has to be him.
-Yeah, not the most
detailed description

I've ever heard but
it's got to be.

So who is Otis Falconer?

And what motive could
he have to murder Frank?

A deranged fan or did
Frank owe him money?

Some sort of
military connection?

But we know he has no
footprint on Saint Marie,

so how are we going to find him?

We know he has a boat. So
what's to say he's based
on this island.

Dwayne, JP, run a search on
all the neighbouring islands.

Meanwhile, we'll see
if we can find any more
witnesses back here,

besides Scooter Eddie.
Where's the first place
you'd expect to find a Brit

with a moped?

-I'm afraid I'm not open yet.
-Alas, Catherine,
we're not here

-for a drink.
-We're here on police business.

Oh. Is it something to do
with the Frank O'Toole murder?

Yes, proving to be a puzzle
like something out of
one of his novels.

We're searching for a man
called Otis Falconer.

-Sorry, I don't know that name.
-No one does.

All we know is he's a man
in his thirties of forties,
medium build,

a yellow T-shirt
and a red scooter.

-I think I might know
the man you mean.
-You do?

Yes, he was in here
a couple of days ago
asking if I could recommend

a cheap place to stay.
I sent him to Queenie's
guest house.

Mayor Bordey,

-I think I love you.
-(EXCLAIMS)

(MOUTHING) Thank you.

Okay, you go on up.
I'll keep watch out here.

He's in there.

Otis Falconer. Police,
open up, please.

There he is.

-He's getting away.
-I don't think so.

(MOTOR SPUTTERING)

Oh...

Of course, a potato is best,
but you work with
what you have.

Otis Falconer, I'm arresting
you on suspicion of
the murder of...

Of... Dean Shanks?

Would you rather we called you
Dean or Otis?

Who's Otis?

Otis Falconer is
the identity you assumed
when you landed in

-Saint Marie, two days ago.
-Sorry, I don't...

The thing is Dean, we're not
that inclined to trust you

given that you lied
in a police interview

pretending that you
were in Stoke,

-when in reality...
-I didn't, I mean,
you never asked.

-You... You just assumed.
-You also scarpered

when we tried to question
you just now and I suspect,
your tyre treads are

an exact match for the tracks
we found outside Frank's house.

-I know, I know,
it looks terrible.
-Yeah, not great, to be fair.

This is your chance
to explain yourself.

(SIGHS)

Well, Gilly and me, it's...

I love her, you know...

We were supposed to
be getting married.

I couldn't just give her up
without a fight.

So you flew to Saint Marie,
you hired a scooter,
you asked around till you

found out where Frank lived.
And then?

(SIGHS) Thought I'd go
around there first thing
in the morning,

before everyone else was awake,

find Gilly, say my piece
and when I get there...

DEAN: I don't know,
I just lost my nerve.

I thought...

(SIGHS) "What if I've come
all this way and she just
tells me to get lost?"

So, I bolted.

Feel like a coward.

I'll ask you one last time.
Are you or are you
not Otis Falconer?

I never heard of him, I swear.

We had him. I honestly thought
we had Otis Falconer in custody.

But now he's back to
being nothing more than
a big, fat question mark.

Sir, I just heard back
from Linton Williams,

a rental manager
from Saint Michelle, one of
the neighbouring islands.

Four months ago,
he rented a house to
an Otis Falconer.

And guess what?
He's never met him,
never spoken to him.

It was all done via email.

And apparently this Otis wanted
the most secluded house
he had to offer.

How far is Saint Michelle
from here?

Not far at all,
about five kilometres.

Right, this must be the place.

-Mmm.
-(EXHALES SHARPLY)

-It's the only one here, sir.
-Shh.

-(KNOCKS AT DOOR)
-Otis Falconer.

-(SIGHS)
-Erm...

-Don't we need
a search permit, sir?
-Probably. Don't tell anyone.

I'll say this for Otis.
He doesn't go in for clutter.

-Otis's laptop.
-If there's nothing on it,

let's bag it and check
it for prints.

Frank was killed on the boat.
The boat was bought by Otis.

Otis rented this house.

(SIGHS) What else do we have?

Well, we've got zero motive.
Zero idea who Otis is.

No-one's ever seen
him or spoken to him.

Ah, you're right, Dwayne. Our
number one suspect
is an invisible man.

He's only communicated
with two people on this laptop.

Zeke the Crabman and the
letting agent for this house
and there is no internet

here, so he must have sent
the emails from somewhere else.

(SIGHS) Wow, looks like
we're looking for a ghost.

Mmm.

Or a voodoo goddess.

Except, there's more proof
flipping Erzulie exists.

Maybe, that's it.

What if Otis doesn't exist?

Yeah, what if he was
one of our suspects all along?

(SIGHS)

WOMAN: (ON RADIO) And now,
we come to your luxury.

LARRY: Jack Money.

Frank would never start
until he knew the ending.

They found some tiny fibres
under Frank's fingernails.

He left me this.

As I told you, the golden goose
had stopped laying eggs...

I would give everything to bring
him back again.

I've been working on it,
day and night,
these past two weeks.

There's a good case
and a half of champagne

but Frank didn't think it'd be
enough for the four of you?

Of course, you beauty.
We have to get back to
Saint Marie. Dwayne, when we do,

I need you to check something
with Immigration.

-Will do, Chief.
-What's in a name?

I tell you I'm Jack Mooney.
You take me at my word.

What's the difference between
Jack Mooney and Jack Money?

-The letter O.
-The letter O is
exactly right, JP.

That is it. Yes. It all comes
down to the missing letter O.

I know who Otis Falconer is.
I know who killed Frank O'Toole,

and I know how.

-Gilly.
-Dean, what...
What are you doing here?

(SIGHS)

I flew out here 'cause I
couldn't let you give up on us.

We're meant to be together,
you know we are.

(SIGHS)
You shouldn't have come.
I'm sorry, Dean.

(SIGHS)

The wife, the mistress,
the agent.

The jilted boyfriend

and, then, there's
our fifth suspect who you'll
notice isn't here yet.

Mr Otis Falconer.
But which one of these
five is our killer?

Right. Yes.

With My Little Eye
by Frank O'Toole.

Full disclosure,
I wasn't too sold on

Jim Harvey to begin with.
But, by the end, when Jim
cracks the Russian code,

I have to admit,
the plotting is ingenious.
Yeah.

A real feat of
reverse engineering.

Which put me in mind
to something that Valerie
said, Frank

could never start
writing a novel until he
knew the ending. Yeah?

Yeah.

For Frank, a good plot
was a puzzle.

Er, a code to crack in itself.

It was the letter O
that solved it for me.

Now, we all know the O in
O'Toole was a late addition.

But our man of letters,
he couldn't resist one
last literary flourish.

The last plot he constructed,
the last character he created
was a pseudonym.

But it was also an
anagram of his name.

Otis Falconer.

But why did he feel
the need to create Otis?

Well, the fact is
Frank and Valerie
had run out of money.

And Frank decided that
the only answer was to
fake his own death.

Step one, he'd buy a boat.

Step two, he'd rent a hidey-hole
on a neighbouring island,

filling it with just
the bare essentials.
Clothes, groceries...

JACK: Of course,
English breakfast tea.
His desert island luxury item.

Step three,
on the afternoon of the party...

Champagne stocks look
perilously low. I'll nip in
to town and replenish.

JACK: When he was
supposedly buying champagne,

he preset the boat
into position.

Step four,

the following morning,
a few minutes before 5:00,

he'd leave a note for
his wife before heading
down to the beach.

He'd wave at a fishing boat
just setting out, as it
did every morning

to make sure that he had
witnesses and then, he'd
stride out into the ocean,

never to be seen again.

Missing, presumed drowned.

Being sure to leave behind
a pile of unfinished business.

You know, a contract with
a new agent that
he'd never sign.

And a trip to Prague
that he'd never make
and a novel he'd never finish.

So as nobody would
suspect the truth.
At least, that was the plan,

wasn't it, Valerie?

You knew as a former actress
that you could play the part

of the grieving widow
convincingly,

until it was safe to
join Frank on Saint Michelle,

where you'd spend
the rest of your lives

living off Frank's newly
reinvigorated book sales.

Frank had planned his death,
down to the very last detail.

All except for one tiny,
tiny thing, the dying part.

It was never meant
to end like this.

(SULKS)

He wasn't supposed to die.

No, certainly you didn't mean
for him to die, but you did.

Didn't you, Gilly?

JACK: Frank had already done
all the planning for you.

All you had to do
was swim out ahead
of him and lie in wait.

(EXHALES SHARPLY)

(NERVOUSLY)
This is ridiculous.

Why would I wanna kill Frank?

Well, because you were
head over heels in
love with him.

Up till now,
you'd barely left Stoke.

And here you were in paradise
with a man that you idolised.

Reading your words and sharing
your bed. Dean told us how
obsessive you can be.

He thought it was your
novel you were obsessed by,
but really it was Frank.

And you believed that Frank
felt the same way.

JACK: I mean, what were
the tickets to Prague,
if not a declaration of love?

You had no idea that
they were just another of
Frank's red herrings.

Until last weekend, believing
they had safely dispatched
you to Montserrat.

We had to send her
off to Montserrat

last weekend,
just so that we could breathe.

Frank and Valerie
were finally able

to talk about their plan
out in the open.

The hardest part is swimming
out to the boat.

The hardest part will be living
without you for six months.

Little did they know that
you hadn't gone to Montserrat.

We checked with Immigration
and you never left the island.

Instead, you decided
to stay behind and work
on your novel.

I've been working on it,
day and night,
these past two weeks.

JACK: Which is when we assume
that you overheard
the conversation

and you became suspicious.

FLORENCE: You must have
started snooping around,
which is when you

discovered Frank's laptop

and that would have revealed
the existence of two things.

A boat and a hideaway
on a nearby island.

JACK: For someone with
such a deep-rooted fear
of rejection

this must have
been unbearable.

Her last book got rejected
by fifteen publishers

and she was terrified
it would happen again.

It wasn't Dean
who tore this up, was it?

It was you.

You were prepared to give up
everything for Frank.

And then you realised that
the only woman that he
was truly in love with,

the woman he was planning
a future with, was his wife.

So on the afternoon
of the party...

Champagne stocks look
perilously low. I'll nip in
to town and replenish.

You knew going to
buy champagne
was just a ruse.

You do most of
the catering in here.

You knew exactly
how much champagne
was in that cupboard.

So you followed Frank.

And you discovered exactly
where the boat would be.

Then, after that all you had
to do was feign drunkenness

to put everyone off
the scent. Swim out to
the boat and lie in wait.

This is ridiculous.

You've got no proof.

Well, except for
a small grey boat,

the paint on which
exactly matches

the paint fibres that we found
under Frank's fingernails.

And I've no doubt that
our lab will confirm

that you left your
DNA all over it...

-(GILLY SCREAMING)
-(FRANK GROANING)

...when you brutally stabbed
Frank O'Toole to death.

-(GRUNTS)
-(GROANS)

Before setting the boat
adrift, hoping that it
would never be found,

hoping that you might, indeed,
get away with murder.

(SIGHS)

(GASPS AND SIGHS)

After everything
he did for you.

Did for me?

He destroyed my life.

Oh, I was happy when
I met him, but then he had
to let me believe that

I was special,
that I had talent,

that he loved me.

Something you knew!

Frank felt nothing for you.

How could he?

You're a monster.

DI Money, erm, Mooney.
Mooney, sorry, sorry.

I just wanted to apologise
to you for doubting you.

I see now that
there is a certain
method in your madness.

Oh, well, thank you.
What are you going
to do now, Larry?

On the hunt for another
golden goose?

O, no, no, no,
as you pointed out,
the irony is

that now the old sod's
gonna keep me
busier than ever.

But it seems to me that
you have a certain gift
for spinning a yarn.

If you ever decide
to turn to writing,

give me a call.

-Well, I'll bear it in mind.
-I mean it now. Bye.

(SIGHS)

Why is she still up?
Thought I'd seen
the last of her.

Even when you
can't see Erzulie,
she's always there.

Tricking people into
falling in love,
so she can break their hearts.

You're not really
that cynical, are you?

What have we just seen?

One man dead,
two lives ruined, by what?

Well, it wasn't love
that killed them.
It was envy.

Precisely because in its
own way Frank and Valerie's
love was the real deal.

The kind of love that
nothing can break,

not infidelity, not time,
not even death.

-Does that really exist?
-Oh, it does, trust me.

Talking of which...

It was such a lovely
surprise to receive
your voicemail.

Whenever I feel blue,
I'm just gonna listen to
your lovely Irish voice

-cooing in my ear.
-Oh, that's great.

Well, the reason I asked you
here, Darlene, is because,
well,

last night I feel
I interrupted something.

Now, seemed to me
that you were striking

sparks off each other
and that's rare.

You don't seem too convinced,

but frankly you should
be because

Dwayne has got a good heart

and a great sense of humour

and a magic way with chicken.

(BOTH LAUGHING)

So you can't judge a man on
half a date, now, can you?

You got to give him
a fair crack at the whip.

So I know it's not Erzulie
any more, but maybe

you could ask him to dance,
what do you say?

You are a good man,
Jack Mooney. Come here.

Come, Dwayne. Come.

-What about you, Jack?
-What about me?

They're dancing.

No, no, no, not ready
for that just yet.

But I'm happy to watch,
you know, for now.

(SIGHS)

(TALKING INDISTINCTLY)

(LAUGHS)

-(TALKING INDISTINCTLY)
-(LAUGHING)

ALL: Amen!

-Do you feel his power?
-(PEOPLE GASPING IN SHOCK)

JACK: Looks like burn marks
on her lips.

-You mean the kind
you get when...
-When you've ingested poison.

We will be introducing
policing methods
that are new to us.

Would I be right in
thinking that's got something
to do with it?

JACK: Is he really arrogant
enough to commit murder?

I'm playing a particularly
sophisticated game here.

-And that actually works?
-Hasn't failed me yet.

Night, Dwayne.

Who the hell is Gerald?

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)