03x07 - The Man with the Golden g*n

[bunniefuu]

MUSIC: "007" by Desmond Dekker

Why aren't your brother
and sister helping you?

Don't worry, Papa, I got this
covered.

Your mother always used to scold me
for spending so much on wine.

"All tastes the same after
a few glasses."

Boy, she'd be mad at me
for buying this lot.

I think she would've just been happy
to have everyone together again.

See you at lunch, then?

Have you seen your father?

No? No.

What do you think? It's my mother.

Swimming. Hmm.

She used to love doing
laps in the pool.

Blue is very nice.

Ah, Mr Jackson,

these are the faxes
from the London office,

the documents you requested.
Thank you.

Daddy? I've almost finished it.

Well, do you like it?

Are you happy with it?

Yes. Yes. I think I am.
Well, I'm happy...if you are.

Need any help at the office?
Under control.

Market's looking pretty
bullish at the moment.

Mm-hm.

There are some developments I need
to discuss with you after lunch.

Ah, Joseph,
nice of you to make an effort.

I didn't realise there was
a dress code.

I can lend you a decent shirt
and tie if you want.

Hmm, good idea, boys.
Let's start bickering -

today of all days.

Yes, ma'am?
Check where Daddy is, please.

Some of us are getting hungry.

Mr Jackson?

Mr Jackson?

Oh, my God!

Let me review what we know so far.

A man is found dead at the bottom
of a ten-storey building,

clearly having fallen.

Yes.

And the detective must work out
whether it was m*rder or su1c1de.

He goes up each floor and throws
a coin

out of the window at every level.

And then he knows he's
got his answer.

What kind of coin?
It doesn't matter.

It was m*rder.

Ah, yes. It's definitely m*rder.

Are they big or small coins?
The coins aren't important.

Maybe we should start again from the
beginning... Oh, gosh!

PHONE RINGS
Honore Police Station.

It must have been m*rder

because the detective had to open up
all the windows, which means

the victim was pushed out
and the window closed afterwards.

If it was su1c1de, he would have
found an open window. Simple.

Well, it does depend on how big
the window ledges are.

I thought you said you liked riddles.
I do. Give me, give me another.

OK. There's been
a m*rder on Sebastien Island.

OK.

And?

And we should go there.

No. I don't get it.

No, sir, it's not a riddle.
There's actually

been a m*rder. Alexander Jackson.

Been found sh*t near his home.
Oh, the old carpetbagger, eh?

I'll arrange some transport.
What do you mean by carpetbagger?

The man made millions out of
property developments - land grabs.

And he has a house
on Sebastien Island?

Chief!
The man owns the whole island.

There's only one house on it. HIS!
He's a lucky man.

Or should I say "was"?

We'll be at the harbour in ten
minutes.

Why is he even using coins? It
doesn't matter!

I can't imagine buying
an entire island.

Buying a house was stressful enough.
That's the rich for you.

Considering
Mr Jackson's popularity,

living away from Saint-Marie was
probably a smart move.

He wasn't well liked?

Buying up land cheap,
clearing out the locals,

and building luxury homes in their
place? What do you think?

Some of those homes had
been in families for generations.

Yes, I imagine the drinks will be
flowing in

a fair few of the bars tonight.

Owah.

I mean, the estate agent fees
alone would be astronomical.

Oh, it's a little bit choppy.

Yes, sir, the weather report says
there might be storms.

But don't worry.
They're usually wrong.

Coming up, whoa!

Oh, oh...!

Thank you.

Hello. Hello.

I'm Emily Benoit.
Mr Jackson's personal assistant.

I'm DS Bordey,
this is Inspector Goodman.

You were the one who made the call?

Yes.

Er, the housemaid, Rosie,
she, she found the body...

Can you take us to it?

Yes, of course.

So who else
is here at the moment?

Mr Jackson's two sons
and his daughter.

It's been a year
since his wife passed away.

I'm sorry to hear that. How did she
die?

A stroke. It was very sudden.

Mr Jackson wanted everyone in the
family to join him here to remember
her.

Gathering the clan, as it were.

And you are considered family?

Me? No.

He had some work things he wanted me
to go over this weekend.

Did he always work weekends?

Mr Jackson liked to do
things his own way.

No internet, no mobile reception,
only one landline.

He doesn't even own a computer.

He called this place his
"Fortress of Solitude".

Yes, well that's pretty apt.

So, the jetty is the only
way on or off this island?

He made sure of that -
security was very important to him.

I'm going to have my own island
one day, you know.

Hm, sure, Dwayne. Of course you are.

SHE EXHALES

I'm Detective Inspector Goodman,
this is DS Bordey.

Terrance Jackson, this is my sister,
Anna, and my brother, Joseph.

I'll need you to step away from
the body, you're contaminating the
crime scene.

Actually we were waiting for you.
Want to move our father inside the
house now.

It's important that you stay
away from the body.
Look, my father was a great man.

It's disrespectful to leave him
lying out.

I sympathise but the sooner you
let us get on,

the sooner we can move him
somewhere more...respectful.

Maybe it's better
we wait up at the house.

Thank you.

Best you go with them.

Thank you.

Sir. I've got a b*llet here. Looks
like it's gone straight through.

And judging by the wound
and the b*llet,

I'd say he was sh*t with a p*stol.

Why's he not wearing his shirt?

Look at his clothes.

Smartly dressed, bit odd,
isn't it - sat here

and decides to take his shirt off?

Look, I'm going to go and tell
the captain to take the boat back,

pick up the paramedics so the body
can get examined properly.

OK, but you'd better tell him to get
a move on. What? The storm.

Well, you'd better finish up here
and take the body inside then.

So, it's a year
since his wife passed away.

Family all together,
on the island he owns.

At some point he comes outside,
removes his shirt.

And is sh*t through
the heart with a p*stol.

I think it's time we heard what the
family have to say for themselves.

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

Erm, as difficult as this must be
for all of you, we need

to know the last time you all saw
Mr Jackson prior to his death.

Well, I saw him at the jetty

when the boat delivered
supplies for lunch.

I saw him
when I was painting by the pool.

I saw him there too.

Ah... Erm...

(I've broken my pencil.
Have you got a pen?)

I have a pen.
Be careful. It's very expensive.

Thank you.

So, jetty, swimming pool.

And that was the last time
he was seen?

No. I saw him later in his study.

He was just putting
something in the safe.

Then headed out for a walk.
It was around 11:20 or so.

What was he putting in the safe?

Not sure.
Financial projections, maybe?

And how did he seem?
His mood, his manner?

He did seem a little preoccupied.

There are some developments I need
to discuss with you after lunch.

Sir, it's not my place

but maybe you shouldn't be
worrying about business today.

This is something that
needs to be done.

At this point, before he

went for his walk,
did he have his shirt on?

Yes. Of course. Did he say why he
was going out to the garden?

Father always liked to take
a walk before lunch.

Clear his head from business.

Except at some point within
the hour BANG!

A g*n goes off.

Yes. I heard it.

I was preparing
the vegetables for lunch

and I had another 30 minutes
before it was due to be ready.

That must have been about 11:40.

g*nsh*t

I thought it was just Mr Jackson
sh**ting the birds again.

Birds?
Mmm-hmm.

It's a business thing.

Take the client out to play
golf or go sh**ting.

Father liked to keep his aim in,
you know?

Was the g*n
kept for protection, as well?

He wasn't exactly popular with
certain people in Saint-Marie.

Everything he did was legal.

Which doesn't make it morally right.

Ask the hundreds of people made
homeless by Papa's little
"loopholes".

Let's return to the g*n in a moment.

I want to be clear where
everyone was

when the sh*t was heard at 11:40.

I was by the pool,
working on my painting.

I heard the sh*t,

I assumed the same thing
as Rosie that it was the birds.

I heard it too, I was in the library
doing some reading.

I was in my room taking a shower,
getting ready for lunch.

Which leaves you, Joseph.
Did you hear the g*nsh*t?

No. I was running,
I had my headphones on.

Normally I have a workout
on the beach when I stay here.

But the weather
looked like it was turning,

so I decided just to
head to the gym instead.

Right, so... Kitchen. Pool.

Library. Room.

Gym.

All of you alone.

No corroboration as to
where you were.

Um, no. Rosie saw me.

Is that right?
Yes.

I was asking her. Not you.

Er, yes, I saw him in the gym.

What time was that?

Er, maybe around half past 11...

all the way through to 11:50,
12...

And he stayed there the whole time?
Well, I was...

I was busy running in
and out the kitchen...

but I'm fairly sure I would have
noticed if he'd gone anywhere else.

Fairly sure.

Joseph has an alibi but no-one else
has someone who can vouch

for where they were.

About this g*n your father owned...

It's a shotgun. It's kept
mounted in the hallway.

And it's the only g*n in the house?

Is there something we should know?

It's erm...

It's not the only g*n.

Yesterday afternoon,
I was out looking for inspiration

and I heard the sh*ts.

g*nsh*t

It was just practice.

I mean I have a p*stol, yes,
but it's for personal protection.

I have the papers for it.
Where's it kept?

In a lockbox in my room.
It's quite safe.

I keep the key on me at all times.

Even when working out in the gym?

At all times.

But
if Papa was k*lled by a shotgun...

Well, that's the thing, you see,
he wasn't.

We believe the w*apon used
was a p*stol.

I'm not a fan of g*ns

but I work for an aid
organisation around the world.

Sadly, some of the places that need
the most help are also

the most dangerous.

And the organisation you work for
condones the carrying of firearms?

Yes, well, they, they understand.

Aid work's a little bit
different from what your father did.

That's kind of the point.

How long have you been back here?

Only a few days. It's been a long
time since I've been home.

And why is that?

Had some pretty big issues with how
Papa made his millions.

Seemed better to stay away than have
endless arguments about it.

But after Mum d*ed, felt it was time
to build those bridges again,

you know?

CLATTER

Trust me,
you won't find a better lock.

And you're the only one with a key
with access to it?

Well, yes, but Rosie saw me
in the gym.

And v*olence is never an answer to
anything. I'm a pacifist.

A pacifist with a p*stol.

Here it is.

Right, so I'll need to lock
this away, OK?

You sure that's not
the m*rder w*apon?

Your father was k*lled with
a p*stol b*llet.

Shotguns don't fire b*ll*ts.
They fire sh*t.

Well, you seem to know your stuff.

If there's anything else you need...

Yes, just be around to answer
any more follow-up questions, OK?

Chief, I hope you know that
that storm means

the crime scene's a goner, you know.

That wind is going to cut right
through it and tear it up.
Sounds like orange to me.

Er?

Storms are colour coded, sir.

Orange means stay inside,
lock the doors

and all boats remain in the harbour.

Wait! So that means
the paramedics can't come over?

I'm afraid so.

So, we're stranded here?

Yes and that means
the k*ller is too.

Yes, well, that's reassuring.

Yeah, not to mention without mobile
or internet connections

we can't even get proper
background checks.

We can improvise. Get what
information we can from here.

And at least we still...have an
outside line.

With a distinct
lack of a dialling tone.

Phone lines tend to be
the first thing to go.

OK!

So, let's make this the base of our
operations for the time being.

So what do we need?
Right, we need headshots.

Headsh...
Aha!

Present on the island
at the time of the m*rder

we have Anna the daughter,
Terrance the son.

She's 30, a freelance artist
in New York.

Terrance has always lived at home.
He's 37 years old,

and he's the vice-president
of his father's property company.

Then we have Emily the PA.

Hard working and willing to work
overtime at weekends.

Just like us.
Speak for yourself.

Now, Emily's 42.

She's worked for Alexander
for 11 months.

Then we have Rosie the maid who
found the body.

Now there are no photos of her.

So, we need to improvise.

Going to need some paper.

Sir...
Thank you. OK...

There we go.

Oh, you have hidden talents, sir!

HE CHUCKLES

So, what have we got on her?

25. Been with the family
three years.

And finally we have Joseph.

40. Works for foreign aid.

Tends to live wherever his work
takes him.

Yes and let's not forget he arrived
at his mother's memorial with

a p*stol in tow.

And then his father was found dead.
Shirt off. sh*t.

Two pieces of the puzzle right
there. Why was he shirtless?

And why use a g*n? A small island.

Much quieter
ways to k*ll someone.

Strangling.

Poison.
Push him off a cliff.

Half brick to the back of the head.

Yes...erm...nevertheless,

the b*llet that k*lled Alexander
did come from a p*stol.

And as far as we know the only
p*stol on the island belongs

to Joseph. Unless someone is lying
to us. Which is entirely possible.

So we need to find out if the b*llet
came from the p*stol that Joseph
owns.

I could check the striation
marks from the recovered b*llet
with another one fired from the g*n.

Mm-hm. If they match up, then we'd
know for sure that the p*stol was
the m*rder w*apon. Good.

Well, it looks like we're going to
have to use the old-fashioned ways
to solve this case.

And the sooner we do so, the better.
Because one of the five people in
this house k*lled Alexander Jackson.

So, let's be wary of that.

Watch your backs...and each others.

I've always wanted to say that!

HE CHUCKLES

So, who stood to gain the most from
Alexander's death?

Well, on the surface, Terrance
seems the obvious choice.

Vice-president of his father's firm.

And now Daddy's gone,
he's just gained control of a large,

successful company.

STORM GATHERS

I'm the only one who's
qualified to do it.

Really?

Not Anna? Or Joseph?

Joseph?

The only time Joseph's got
involved in the company
is across the bloody picket line.

The picket line being?

Joseph protested against some
of Father's resort plans.

Father almost had him
thrown in jail.

Do you have the
combination for the safe?

No. But Emily does.

Says here that your father
only had one

appointment for next week -
with his solicitor on Monday.

Do you have any idea what that
was about?

No. But I think maybe that...

Emily would know.

Yes. Sorry.

I didn't spend
much time in Father's study...

I guess it's my study now.

I always expected him
to hand the keys over to me.

Father to son. But...

..never
imagined it would be like this.

Take this.
Ohh!

Here! Come on.

These are all of Alexander's files
that were in storage.

Excellent. Thank you.
And the safe?

The combination is his wedding
anniversary.

BEEPING

Thank you.

He had an appointment
with his solicitor on Monday.

Do you know what that was about?

No. He didn't mention it.

Sorry.

Right, well, none of these seem
particularly recent -

financial
projections for this year and last.

Not sure what that is...

Oh!
And his last will and testament.

I don't suppose he left this
island to the longest-serving

officer of the Honore Police
Station, by any chance, did he?

Actually, he did.

Congratulations
Dwayne, all this is yours.

No...
No! Of course not.

It's your standard three-way
split between the children.
All included. All equally divided.

Sometimes Your Words Hurt Me Like a
Dagger Through My Heart.

It was just a joke, Dwayne.

No, chief,

it was among Alexander's things.

It's the name of a play Anna
wrote a few years back.

Had an off-Broadway
performance in New York.

So, an artist and a writer.

There's another one here as well.

One from a fashion show
she organised nine months ago

The Empress's New Clothes.

SHE CHUCKLES
And a message on the back to him

saying she knows he's missed
all her other events

but hoping he would make this one.

"Really hoping."

Yeah, which he didn't.
Contractors' meeting instead.

I thought you were meant to go
to your kids' plays and stuff.

It's like a legal
obligation of being a father.

If you're interested in them, yes.
I wonder if Alexander was.

Never showing up despite the fact
she kept inviting him.

You think he disapproved?

Could be. Maybe saw her as flighty.

I think it's time to see what the
artist has to say for herself...

Perhaps we would be better
off inside.

Ssh. Listen!

What exactly are we listening for?

I forget how violent these storms
can be - that primal force of
nature!

If I could capture just SOME of that
in one of my paintings...

Please come back inside. Come on.

Yeah.

SHE SIGHS AND CHUCKLES

So, have you always wanted to
be a painter?

Oh, yes. It's my greatest dream.

Right, not maybe a, a playwright or
a fashion designer?

Well, I have turned my hand to
quite a few things,

but when the muse calls,
one has to follow.

Have you ever had a regular job?

Being a painter isn't a regular job?

You know what I mean.

Did your father see your career
choices in the same way?

Oh, he was always very
supportive of me.

So, if you had, say, a gallery
opening he'd fly over especially?

I'm sure that he would
have tried to.

Except he never managed to, did he?
Which must've been very frustrating.

Hurtful, even.

To be on a stage, or by a catwalk,
looking out into the crowd,

hoping to see his face, yet knowing
in your heart of hearts you won't.

Perhaps what you said was right.

He was always very business minded.

When I wanted to pursue the arts
- my dreams -

rather than join the family firm...

Five minutes.
That's all I ever wanted.

Five minutes for him to sit
and read something I'd written or

look at a painting I'd done
and I mean, really look,

not just glance and dismiss it...

Not just glance and dismiss me.

SHE CHUCKLES

Look. Did I have issues
with my father?

Yes. Yes, I did.
But I didn't k*ll him.

I mean, have issues with everyone -
my brothers, my mother.

If we carry on talking I'll probably
have issues with you two.

SHE CHUCKLES

But it's OK.
I'm in therapy for it.

b*llet used to k*ll Alexander.

b*llet from Joseph's g*n.

Let's see if you match up.

Snap!

Striation marks match.

The b*llet used to k*ll Alexander
was fired from Joseph's p*stol.

Oh, how unfortunate.

No, I'm sorry
I mean, good work, Fidel.

But it just makes things
so much more complicated.

We have Joseph, with a g*n,
in a locked box.

A g*n only he had access to.

And yet he's the only person with
an alibi for the m*rder.

We need to find out if anyone else
has their fingerprints on that g*n.

I'll get on that right away.
I'll come with you.

And we start in on Joseph's alibi.

Because there is something
missing from this puzzle.

The g*n locked away.

A single key.
Alexander's shirt removed.

Why would a man
dressed for lunch remove his shirt?

Solve one of these clues and the
whole thing should unravel.

Hopefully.

I still can't believe you forgot
to pack

my finger-printing equipment.

OK, I'm sorry but I did tell you it
was for a magic trick

I was working on.

Dwayne, why would you want to
learn magic tricks?
To impress women, of course.

UNDER HIS BREATH: Of course.

Why go up to them and ask their
names when you can just do this...

Huh?

This is why I hate lending you
things.

DWAYNE CHUCKLES
Ah, Rosie!

I brought the items you asked for.

A brush and cocoa powder.

Good idea. Nice hot cup of cocoa.

Calm him down a bit.

No, Dwayne.
It's for the fingerprints.

What?

Now, that's magic.

He's very good.

Yes, but I'm not too bad either.

For example, I noticed your lovely
earrings earlier.

Diamonds, right?
No, no, no, imitation.

First year on the force, I trailed
a diamond forger for months.

I can spot a fake
diamond from 20 yards.

So, I have to ask myself, "What is
a housemaid doing with

"shiny stones like these?"

Mmm?

They were a gift.

From Mr Jackson.

Quite an extravagant gift.

You want to talk somewhere more
private?

Because I'm all ears.

Ah.

HE CHUCKLES

Right. Erm... Hmmm...

Well, I could definitely see you,
but not your face, just your back.

So if it was someone
else on the treadmill,

they would have had to look
a lot like Joseph.

A fake alibi then? Er, Rosie
and Joseph working together.

But what motive would Rosie have?

She wouldn't have one.
Not to k*ll Mr Jackson.

In fact, he very kindly
gave her some diamond earrings.

What?

HE GROANS AND SHE GASPS

Well, that was very generous of him.

It wasn't generosity. It was to buy
her silence, her loyalty.

You see, there was
a little incident here,

six months ago, one which would
have been

very embarrassing for the company
if it had come out in the press.

Rosie!

One day all of this will be mine.

Rosie! Rosie...

Mr Jackson...
Rosie! Rosie! Rosie!

Mr Jackson...

SHE SHRIEKS

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Rosie,
please don't tell my father.

I was drunk. It was a mistake.

A stupid, foolish mistake
and I've paid for it.

He stopped my wages. My expense
account. It was under review.

Father said if I made another
mistake he'd bump me

right down to the same
level as the doorman.

While I can't condone your actions
towards Rosie

but that punishment sounds pretty
humiliating for you.

He didn't even tell me face-to-face.

Just sent me a memo. That's his way.

Yes, I...know how you feel.

I doubt it.

I've got two brothers who graduated
from Oxford.

My father framed and put their
certificates up in the living room.

When I passed my police
exams I gave him

a copy of that certificate...

..which
he lovingly stuck up in the toilet.

It was the way he was
so dismissive of me, you know?

Mmm. It's like they don't seem to
appreciate all your hard work

and effort.

Maybe you just wanted to show him
a bit of backbone.

Maybe you just went a bit too far.

What? No, no! He's my father!

I couldn't do that.
But he stopped your money.

The one thing that made you
feel like a success.

No. I've always,
always been loyal to my father.

No matter what.
We had a strong relationship.

I mean, I mean it wasn't like him
and Joseph.

We didn't have those
kinds of problems, you know?

Presumably their problems are in the
past. The protests and so on.

Well, you'd think so. I did.
But maybe I was wrong.

Last night, I heard them arguing.

You hold your tongue. Don't you dare
cross the line this time!

What were they arguing about?

I don't know. But ever since Father's
body was found,

I've thought about it and
turned it around in my head and...

I'm loyal to my family. Above all.

And I just hope with all my heart,
Joseph feels the same way.

I feel a bit sorry for Terrance.

You shouldn't. He just inherited
a multimillion pound company.

Mmm.

There's just something a little sad
about the way he carries himself.

Joseph on the other hand...

Joseph? Confident.
Willing to stand up to his father.

On the night before Alexander d*ed.
Brings a p*stol to the island.

The p*stol we know is
the m*rder w*apon.

And yet it's locked away, he has
the only key and the only alibi.

We could search his room.
See if we can uncover anything else.

It's not a bad idea,
Camille. Thank you.

THUNDER CRASHES

OK. We've finished going through
these files. Are there any more?

No.
You sure?

Absolutely.

Can you just press your fingers
down here, please?

It's just that all the newspaper
correspondence paints

a pretty glowing picture
of Alexander and his company.

Well,
he worked hard to get good press.

And I remember the protests,
the petitions, the trouble -

there must be more.
Mmm.

Honestly, that's all we've got here.

How do you know
when someone's lying to you?

They use the word "honestly"
to start a sentence.

Exactly.

Maybe I'll snoop around a bit
and see

if there's anything else I can dig
up. Sure.

Aha.

I think I know what Joseph was
so angry about.

Looks like Alexander Jackson was
planning on opening

a new golf course on Saint-Marie.

Which would have meant having to
move a lot of houses, families.

Seeing as Joseph had already
protested

against his developments before...

But would it be enough to
k*ll his father over?

I don't know. Let's keep looking.

Gotcha.

Camille?
Mmm-hmm.

Catch.

SHE SCREAMS

Not funny. And be careful.

Yes, yes, I'm fine.

ELECTRICITY FUSES

BOTH GRUNT

CLATTERING

It was just a power cut, right?

I hope so. Otherwise...

Somebody's done it on purpose.

Don't worry,
it happens a lot out here.

Why does that not surprise me?

Might be morning before the power
comes back on.

But we've got some more of these
camper lights

stored away for emergencies. See,
this is why I could never actually
leave New York. Sir?

Joseph. We'd like a word with you.

I think it's time you were
honest with us, Joseph.

We've checked everyone's
fingerprints against those found on
your p*stol.

The very same p*stol we know was
used to k*ll your father.

There is only one
set of fingerprints. Yours.

You were heard arguing with your
father the night before he was
k*lled.

We found the documents in your room.
About the new golf course.

Maybe you didn't come back to
build bridges after all.

It was a big deal.

The environmental damage alone would
have been catastrophic...

The last time you protested against
one of your father's property plans,
he had you arrested.

I imagine this time you were even
more determined not to back down.
Yeah, I wasn't going to hold back.

But he told me not to worry.

That he had decided not to
go ahead with it.

He said that he'd been thinking
a lot since Mum d*ed.

That he needed to make changes
to his life. Big changes

that would affect us all.

What did he mean by that?
I don't know.

He just told me that he
knew I would be all right.

And that he was proud of me.

Although maybe less proud if he knew
about you carrying that g*n.

I told you. It's a dangerous job.

And I also happen to know that
foreign aid workers
don't carry firearms.

So, what's the real reason you were
carrying that p*stol?
It's not relevant!

Your father was sh*t by your own
p*stol. It's incredibly relevant.

All right...

I got arrested in Darfur at a
checkpoint. Drug possession.

Plea bargained my way out of jail by
giving up the names of the dealers.

They weren't happy. At all.

I told you I wasn't lying

when I said the p*stol
was for my protection.

No, you weren't lying.
But you weren't exactly

telling the truth, were you?

So, if Joseph is our k*ller,
why use his own g*n?

Maybe it wasn't premeditated?

Argument got out of control?

Had his g*n to use as a thr*at?
That sort of thing?

OK, so Joseph follows Alexander
out into the gardens.

At some point Alexander
removes his shirt - willingly,

unwillingly - an argument escalates
- Alexander is sh*t.

Joseph returns to the house.
Puts the g*n in the lockbox?

And hopes the police don't discover
it? No, I don't buy it.

Even in a panic
he seems smarter than that.

Plus - Rosie the housemaid saw
Joseph in the gym

at the time of the sh**ting.

Which just brings us
back to the question -

how did he manage to k*ll his father
without breaking his alibi?

If it wasn't him,
who else are we looking at?

Rosie? Or Terrance?
Father dies, he gets the company.

Or Anna. Her father funded her
lifestyle choices.

But he never bothered to follow up,
not in person. Fashion shows.

Plays. He was absent.

Maybe she snapped.
Wanted the attention that badly.

Then how did she or Terrance get
hold of that damn p*stol?

I don't know.
I don't know either.

Here's the news, chief. I think
you're going to like this.

Now, I asked Emily for the other
files and articles.

But I could tell
she wasn't being straight

so I decided to have a
look around for myself.

That's
when I discovered these...

A couple of years ago, Alexander's
company was buying up land

cheaply and knocking
down low-rent residences

and businesses looking to build
a luxury holiday resort.

Which people started protesting
against... Oh, yes.

We've got a quote
here from one of the protesters,

a Miss Valerie Pellow.

That's her there, chief.

That's Emily. Alexander's PA.

Exactly. There is no Emily Benoit.

She's Valerie Pellow.

And her father lost his business due
to Alexander Jackson.

Please, take a seat.

Thank you.
Valerie.

So, you know we've found
out about you.

Your real name.
Your past.

My father had a boat-hire business.

Alexander crushed it.

The anger
and stress of it k*lled my father.

So, you decided to work for
Mr Jackson, under an assumed name.

Looking for a way to get
back at him?
And maybe you were successful.

I started working for him
just after his wife d*ed

and he wasn't the man I thought
he was going to be.

He was...

I don't know.
Broken, I guess.

In what way?

By his wife's passing.

By how he reached out to his
children and how they barely cared.

So he was angry with them?

More like disgusted.
He realised how alone he really was.

But he still took your father's
business away from him.

Indirectly caused his death.
That's true.

I don't think I forgive Mr Jackson.

But it was like he'd been
punished enough.

That's incredibly
understanding of you.

So much so I'm not sure
I actually believe it.

If you couldn't forgive him, why did
you continue to work for him?

The money is good.

If you're loyal
to him, you're paid well.

Revenge doesn't pay the bills.

That'll be all. For now.

You know those moments where
something clicks in your brain and
suddenly everything becomes clear?

Yes?
Not happening. Not even close.

Best if you all go to bed, lock your
doors, and don't let anybody in.

Thank you.

Now, chief, here's a scary
thought...

What if the m*rder*r thinks we're
getting close to the solution?

Well, then they'll be sorely
disappointed because we we're
nowhere close to a solution.

Chief. We meant...

Yes, I know.
Thank you, Dwayne, very reassuring.

Right, I'll keep watch.
You're sure?

As Detective Inspector I have a
duty of care.

Nothing to do with the fact that I
won't be able to sleep with a k*ller
upstairs.

Look, sir, I don't mind staying up
with you, it's OK.

Nonsense. I need you all sharp
and bright in the morning.

Provided we last that long.

Sorry, that was actually
meant to be a joke,

but under the circumstances...

Good night, sir.
Yes. Good night.

HE EXHALES

THUNDER CRASHES

WHISPERS: Sir?

HE GASPS

Oh. Hello.

Sorry. I couldn't sleep.

I thought I might as well keep you
company. Please...

HE SIGHS

Sorry, I have to ask, erm, that whole
thing about your police certificate.

And your father hanging it
up in the toilet.

I mean, that was just a story,
right? Yes.

SHE SIGHS
It was more of a guest
bathroom than a toilet.

Oh.

It was just that...I
suppose in a sense

I can understand what Alexander's
children have gone through.

A successful father can cast quite a
shadow over one's own achievements.

But you're a Detective Inspector,
that's fantastic.

Well, I think so.

He'd disagree.

And there, in a nutshell, is many
an uncomfortable family dinner.

So, what did he say when you told him

you were splitting up with your wife?

Oh, er, he was, erm,
he was fine about it.

You haven't told him, have you?
Nope.

And do you plan on doing
so any time soon?

Oh, I imagine I'll get around to
it in about,

erm...two or three...years.

Sir...

I know. It's just...

..the marriage
was the one time my parents

seemed...

properly impressed, you know.

Like Sally was just too good for me.

And, of course, they expected
grandchildren.

And, you know, I wasn't
against the idea.

Sally, on the other hand...

She's a career woman.

Exactly. Like yourself.

No, no. No?

No, I mean,
I'd love to have children.

I just need to meet
the right man first.

HE CHUCKLES

You will meet the right man. No,
definitely. Yeah.

You're, you're, you're, you're,
you're funny, you're smart,

you're beautiful...

Sorry.

Yes. You should apologise.
I hate hearing how fantastic I am(!)

Go on, then. Don't stop.

Erm, well, this is a bit awkward,
erm, it's just er, well,

well, you're, you're you.

Mmm-hmm.

And that, that's good.
Mmm-hmm.

Er, so...so well done...

Chief?

Oh, er, sarge.

Hey, I didn't come to check up on
you or anything like that, you know.

I'm quite sure you can handle
yourselves in the event of any
trouble.

And yet here you are.
Sir... Oh, Hi!

Hi.
Well, look, I didn't come to check
up on you or anything like that...

Yes, I've already done that one.
All right.

Chief. I was just wondering
something. Yes?

Are you any good at cards?
Er, well, not particularly.

Just what I was wanting to hear.

HE CHUCKLES
OK, what we playing?
Newmarket.

What's that?
New...the four kings...

Actually, we need two
packs of cards... We don't have...

Caribbean poker.
I don't know how to play.

Strip poker!

No, I was just joking.

Guys!

Sorry! Erm, deal the cards!

Sir?

Oh, morning.
You didn't sleep?

A little bit.

Dwayne snores.

Fidel snores. And you...

..don't.
Definitely not.

HE CHUCKLES
So, where are Dwayne and Fidel?
Not still asleep surely?

No, no. I told them to go
and wake up everyone.

Right.
Well, we have an outside line now
so I called the solicitor

and asked him if he knew why
Alexander wanted to meet on Monday.

And?
He didn't know. Another dead end.

Which brings us back to the
suspects. All have a motive.

But only one has the proper means.
Joseph.

Yes, but I still can't get
past that alibi.
Joseph on the treadmill...

But he must have found a way around
it because all the evidence...

Points to him.
Yes. It does.

Chief. We can't find Joseph.

He's not in his bedroom
and the window is open.

We think he might have made
a break for it.

Right, we'll head to the jetty.

You and Fidel check
the rest of the island. Let's go!

Stop!

GRUNTING

I'm placing you under arrest,
for the m*rder of your father,

Alexander Jackson.

We're ready to cast off, chief.

Now, that's interesting...

That's very interesting...

Why's he not wearing his shirt?

Bit odd, isn't it? Sat here and
decides to take his shirt off?

Snap!

The b*llet used to k*ll Alexander
was fired from Joseph's p*stol.

He found only one
set of fingerprints on the p*stol.

Yours.

Chief?!

Hang on a minute.

Maybe two.

So, there's this riddle,
about a dead body.

At the bottom of a building.

And the detective who has
to work out

if the victim jumped or was pushed.

So, he goes up every level...

And he throws a coin out the window

and he works out that the
guy was pushed.

Oh, so you know it?
It's pretty old.

Well, it's new to me.

Right, well, how about the,

er, riddle of Alexander Jackson's
death?

That's about as new as you can get.

I thought Joseph... I thought
he'd already been arrested for it?

Ah, yes, of course.
Our guest of honour.

Right on time, Joseph. Take a seat.

So, you'll have to admit that as far
as riddles go, this one isn't easy.

It's real for a start, and real life
throws up awkward questions.

Why was Alexander k*lled yesterday,
before lunch?

Why did he remove his shirt?

And why was the one person whose
fingerprints were all over

the m*rder w*apon also the only
one with an alibi?

Anyone care to have a cr*ck at it?

Mmm? Anna?

I don't know...

Come, on, have a guess.

No? Rosie?

Emily?

No, I don't blame you.

Because that's the whole point

of the riddle.
It was never meant to be one.

There was never meant to be some
puzzle for the police to grapple
with.

It was meant to be straightforward.

A body is found.
We show up. We find a b*llet,
m*rder w*apon, fingerprints.

All leading to Joseph,
who we arrest.

Case closed and we're all sipping
cocktails by sunset. Lovely.

Except...

..except something went wrong.

Joseph had planned to
be on the beach that morning...

But the weather
looked like it was turning,

so I decided just to
head to the gym instead.

And that weather forecast
threw off the k*ller's plan.

Joseph was never meant to
be in the gym.
Rosie was never meant to see him,

and this puzzle...

that's been bothering me for
so long - how can a man with

a solid alibi k*ll his father?
Was never meant to happen.

I'm not sure
I understand what you mean.

Really?
All right, let me help.

We've got Joseph's p*stol -
the m*rder w*apon, right?

Yes. That's right.
Wrong.

Alexander Jackson was
k*lled with the shotgun.

No...

The officer said it was a p*stol.

No. He said a b*llet had to have
come from a p*stol.

Which, technically, it did.

Alexander's wound clearly
showed that he had been

sh*t by a b*llet from a p*stol.

Which naturally would mean
a p*stol was used...

or at least that's what
we were meant to think.

Joseph fired six sh*ts
when he was practising,

a full magazine.
But only five b*ll*ts were found.

So, where did the missing b*llet go?

And if you wanted to k*ll someone
on a small island, why use a g*n?

They're noisy. Attract attention.
Leave evidence.

But...

if you could use one to
frame someone...

Snap!

If the police knew that the
b*llet that k*lled

Alexander had been
fired from Joseph's g*n,

well, they'd assume the obvious.
Joseph was guilty.

All the k*ller needed was
that one b*llet.

You see, it was the shirt,
the shirt gave it all away.

His shirt was not removed before
he was sh*t, it was after.

The k*ller removed Alexander's
bloodied shirt

because it was COVERED with
evidence.

Gunpowder residue that proves that
the shotgun was used to sh**t
Alexander.

The shirt with the shotgun gunpowder
residue still on it was taken

away and replaced with
a fresh shirt.

No evidence.

You know your way around g*ns.
Gone sh**ting with your dad.

I'd imagine you'd even know that you
could take a p*stol b*llet

even one that's already been fired
and pack it into a shotgun shell.

So, even though it's fired
from a shotgun, the actual b*llet

that k*lled Alexander...

..was a spent
one from Joseph's g*n.

This is ridiculous.

You tried your best to incriminate
Joseph, didn't you?

Using that b*llet from his g*n.

Even giving us little hints and help
along the way, about his past,

his argument with Alexander
the night before...

Last night...
I heard them arguing...

Wait, sorry. You actually think
I had something to do with it?

I mean what possible reason would
I have for k*lling my father?

Which was the final part
of the puzzle to solve.

Why now?
Why this weekend?

Because of a
decision Alexander had made.

A meeting planned with his solicitor
on Monday. To change his will.

But Dad never mentioned
anything about that.

No. He didn't.

But then, that wasn't his way...

He didn't even tell me face-to-face.

Just sent me a memo.

That's his way.

Locked in Alexander's safe
was a blank...

notepad.

I'd noticed that a page had
been ripped out,

but it didn't seem important
to me at the time.

And then it struck me.

"Why would you lock a blank
notepad in a safe?"

I mean, you wouldn't. And yet he
did.

Which meant that whatever he'd
written on it,

must've been pretty important.

Let's find out what that was...

You see, pressure on the pad,
leaves indents,

even if the page above with the
actual writing has been removed.

It's a letter to his solicitor.

Stating the terms and conditions
of a new will, to come

into effect, Monday morning.

Explaining that
since his wife passed away,

he's become aware that his money has
made some of his children...

spoilt. Entitled.

How it's time for them
to stand on their own two feet.

He acknowledges that for some this
won't make a difference.

But for others...

..no more handouts.

No more indulging of whims.

Time to fend for yourselves.
Without his help.

No inheritance.

No trust fund.
No place in the company.

Nothing.

You couldn't stand
the thought of that, could you?
You can't be serious!

Even tried to put us off the scent
by claiming you didn't know

the combination to the safe, yet
your fingerprints are all over it.

You read that letter.
And you knew you had to act fast.

If your father

was still alive come Monday morning,
then the will would change
and you would be cut out for ever.

You weren't going to let
that happen.

ALEXANDER GASPS

I'm calling my lawyer.
This is nothing short of harassment.

A lawyer would be a very
smart move, actually.

But I'm not sure you're as smart
as you think you are.

You see, a smart man would properly
dispose of the bloodied shirt

that Alexander had worn.

And you tried.

But you didn't try well enough,
did you?

HE TUTS

No wonder your dad was
disappointed in you.

Couldn't even pull off a simple
m*rder without screwing it up.

Don't you dare say that!
How could you?

He was going to cut us off,
we lose everything.

All of us!
We'd have nothing!

When did you find the
shirt?

I didn't.

No idea where the real one is.

This is the one
he used for the switch.

Sir...

I can't help it if Terrance felt
the need to confess.

Oh, and Terrance?

I didn't lose your pen.

Shh.

This is what it's all about, Fidel!

CHEERING

What are you doing?
I'm going to do a fire walk.

What?
Don't. You'll end up in hospital.

It's all in the mind.
Yes, and you're out of yours.

I know!

HE CHUCKLES

Wait, you're, you're not...

Someone needs to show them
how it's done.

Oh, right. You've done it before.

Ah, no. Never. I mean, come on,
walking on hot coals, fire...

It's ridiculous.
It's dangerous. And terrifying.

Yes, all good reasons to do
something.
Well, kind of it is.

You know, face your fears
and all that.

SHE CHUCKLES

Yes, I'll remind you of this
conversation when you're on fire.

SHE CHUCKLES

SHE CHEERS

SHE SHRIEKS

CHEERING

Oh... Oh...

CHEERING

Hello, Dad? Dad, it's Humphrey.

Look, there's something
I need to tell you.

Better go and rest up if...

I'm going to have any
energy for this dance tonight.
Judith, have you seen Emma?

Oh, not since this afternoon.
Emma?

I can see her.

HE GRUNTS

If she was going to take her own
life,

why get out a special
dress like this and not put it on?

Er...
What?

Your wife came a long way to
see you. It must be important.

Letting you go, it's the biggest
mistake I've ever made.