08x04 - Frappe Death Day

[bunniefuu]

DISTANT VOICES Six million dollars! SHE LAUGHS Jo, PLEASE speak to the gardener.

I haven't seen him for days.

Because he quit.

Oh, not another one.

Why? I told him he was a lazy bugger.

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

I can do what I want, Squeak.

Josephine, will you prepare dinner for nine? Make sure the whole family's there, and that there's plenty of champagne.

We're celebrating.

Yes, sir.

Benedict, wait! Don't you think that any decision about the plantation's future should be discussed with the whole family? It will.

At dinner.

Dad would've been proud I kept his dream alive for so long, and that Paradise Skies Coffee is still a household name in the Caribbean.

But now is the right time to say goodbye.

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

To Paradise Skies.

Paradise Skies.

Paradise Skies.

REGGAE MUSIC PLAYS DISTANT FEMALE LAUGHTER REGGAE MUSIC Darling.

I'm going to go to bed.

I feel a horrible migraine coming on.

Don't stay up too late.

Night, Mum.

MUSIC FADES GUNSHO Benedict! No! SHE SCREAMS CHEERING AND APPLAUSE Come on! Come on, Colin! You can do it! He's going to make it.

Come on.

You haven't let us down all night.

Focus! Yes, yes, yes, yes.

Yes! Come on! Yes, yes, yes! Yeah! Sir? Don't worry, Florence.

It's really not how it looks.

Sounds like you two had fun.

Oh, that crab racing is the sport of kings, Florence.

It was fantastic! Patrice introduced me to everybody.

Real little community they've got going there.

Would've have stayed longer, only duty calls.

So, what've we got here, JP? We've got a male, mid-50s, was found dead in his swimming pool.

Any inkling as to what happened? A b*llet through the heart, sir.

One sh*t.

Hmm, that'll do it.

We've got a friendly neighbourhood spy up there.

See any more of these on your travels, JP? Yup, three cameras on the property in all, sir.

We're just waiting for the footage.

Who's the victim? Benedict Dacre, sir.

The Coffee King.

You must have heard the jingle.

# Whoa, wake up to Paradise Skies # It's a bright new day # Tis a sunshine glory Time to write a different story.

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

So what time was he k*lled? Well, the house guests say they heard the sh*t around midnight, sir.

Any sign of the m*rder w*apon? No, but the victim kept a g*n in his study.

Some kind of family heirloom.

Let me guess.

It's gone missing? Yup! This is an exit wound.

sh*t in the back.

And the b*llet went straight through him.

So he was standing around here by the pool.

sh*t in the back, he fell in.

b*llet must be over in that area.

Can't have gone far.

Hmm, what do we have over here, then? Brandy.

But only the one glass.

Clearly he wasn't socialising.

His family said he read every night alone.

Napoleon The Great.

Not exactly light reading.

Hmm.

Something wrong with the book, sir? Not with the book itself, Florence.

It's more what's missing from it.

There's no bookmark.

Not a single corner of any page turned down.

How did Mr Dacre keep his place? Maybe he just started the book and never got a chance to mark his page.

Well, maybe we should bag it anyway.

Just in case.

OK, why don't you two look for the b*llet? Florence - we should round up the house guests.

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

You're Benedict's wife? Yes.

We were married a week and a half ago.

Impeccable timing.

OK, right.

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

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

Yes, come rain or shine.

Same time.

Same drink.

Same cigar.

Some dull old history book, mostly.

And sorry, Mrs Dacre, where were you when you heard the g*nsh*t? In the lounge, getting wasted with everyone else.

Not everyone else.

Auntie Ciss wasn't there.

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

So, I, I went to bed.

And you were in bed when you heard the sh*t? The noise woke me up.

What about you, Miss Porter? I was in my bungalow around the back of the house.

Away from everything.

So let me get this right.

Not one of you was anywhere near Benedict when that sh*t was fired? It seems not.

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

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

No, we got it fixed.

Yesterday morning.

Good.

Great.

Thank you, Josephine.

DRUMMING FINGERS Something bothering you there, Mrs Dacre? So this is what they call old-fashioned British reserve.

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

Ciss said Benedict should be k*lled for selling this place at dinner last night.

Paradise Skies.

Dad would not have been proud of you.

Speak up, Squeak.

I can't hear you.

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

He'd have k*lled you for doing this.

Well, he isn't here.

That's not true! It was just aa stupid argument.

So who's going to k*ll me now? You? It's all right, darling.

I just, erm, I I simply reminded my brother that he had no right to sell our home without consulting us first.

No, he had EVERY right.

You just love playing the victim, don't you, Ciss? OK, well HE CLEARS THROA .

.

just one last question.

Did Benedict ever use a bookmark? Er I I don'tI don't know, sorry.

Are we done here, Inspector? We are.

For now.

Thank you.

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

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

That'll bring back happy memories for you two, right? Mmm-hmm.

Can you guess how many jobs I've had? Er, I don't know.

Erm, three? 13, including this one.

Hairdresser.

Hand model.

Security guard.

Photography assistant.

Tequila girl.

It's an interesting CV, Ruby.

Thing is, after a week in all those jobs, I could tell you everything about my colleagues, from their family tree to their favourite tune.

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

So let's play a game.

We both get five questions each, and we can ask each other anything we want.

Anything? I'm an open book.

Just turn my pages.

You first, JP.

Um What's your favourite? b*llet.

Well, that's a pretty niche question, JP! No.

b*llet.

Well, there's nothing on the pool.

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

Found a b*llet, sir.

And the g*n.

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

The b*llet was where you said it would be, sir.

That's a nasty little toy.

It's fresh.

Definitely been fired in the last 12 hours.

Sir, you need to take a look at this.

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

That's Ciss Dacre with the g*n in her hand.

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

The other house guests said they heard the g*nsh*t around midnight.

What time was this? 11:52.

She thought the CCTV was broken.

That she couldn't be seen.

KNOCK ON DOOR Please leave me alone.

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

You see, we've studied the footage, and it shows you walking towards the pool with a g*n in your hand, just before your brother was sh*t.

This is ridiculous.

I told you I was in bed when it happened.

This is your robe? Yes.

Of course it is.

Why? We have to take it away and test it for g*nsh*t residue.

I was nowhere near the pool when the g*n was fired.

This is absurd.

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

Inspector .

.

do you really think I k*lled my brother? Well, then explain this.

It's you walking towards the pool, minutes before Benedict was m*rder*d.

I can't.

OK.

We have actual video evidence of our k*ller holding the g*n.

She walks towards the scene of the m*rder, just a few minutes before it happened.

But you don't believe it.

It's convenient, don't you think? Well, the camera doesn't lie.

No, but it can mislead.

She's the only one without an alibi.

Not just her.

The housekeeper.

Josephine? She said she was in the bungalow alone at the time of the sh**ting.

That hasn't been corroborated.

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

Like she was surprised Ciss would say what she said.

You think Josephine knows more than she's saying? Well, let's see if I can find out.

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

Or you could simply tell me what you're hiding from us? I'm not hiding anything, Inspector.

Maybe I should ask Josephine? I wasn't I wasn't in my bedroom when I heard the g*nsh*t last night.

I'd already left it .

.

to go to Josephine's bungalow.

Why not say this before? It's private.

Between me and Josephine.

I'm not here to judge, Miss Dacre.

I love Josephine.

I always have.

And my, er .

.

my father was very old-fashioned.

And Benedict didn't fall far from the tree.

There's always been a right way of doing things in my family, and I was scared of doing anything wrong.

Sorry.

SHE SOBS You are the, er You're You're the first person I've ever told.

It's true.

We are partners.

For some time now.

You know she could have been charged with m*rder, Miss Porter? And do you know how ridiculous that is? m*rder? There is a reason Benedict called her "Squeak".

Look, Ciss was even married for a few years, trying to be a "good" Dacre.

That's when she had Owen.

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

I guess telling a lie is all I know.

So, what time did Ciss come to your bungalow? It was just before midnight.

She was in a bad way.

It had been a long and a hard day.

I made her some cocoa whilst she had a shower.

And then we heard the g*nsh*t.

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

I used to dream of going to dinner with Ciss, hand in hand, with the whole damn family there to see us.

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

If you'll excuse me? She's back.

You're joking? Why have they released her? RUBY SINGS # It's a bright new day Tis the sunshine glory.

Nice work, Ruby! Thank you, sir! Right, ladies and gent, we are literally back to the drawing board.

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

Yep.

Benedict Dacre was found face down in the pool, having been sh*t through the heart, here.

His sister is Ciss Dacre.

AKA "Squeak".

Squeak worked for her brother until she was 18.

And she was our prime suspect, until Until Josephine Porter, Ciss' partner, gave her a solid alibi.

They were both at the bungalow when the sh*t was fired.

Meanwhile, the rest of the house guests claim they were getting hammered in the dining room of the main house, here.

But, to confuse matters, we have CCTV footage of what looks like Ciss Dacre, walking towards the scene of the crime just a few minutes before it happened, with a g*n in her hand.

Except we now know Ciss was with Josephine in the bungalow at the time of the sh**ting.

Meaning, if this isn't Ciss Dacre, then someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make us think it is.

So, who the hell is it? And why did they not only want Benedict dead, but his own sister out of the picture as well? We need to enhance this CCTV image.

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

I used to work at a photo processing lab.

I'm sure they can help us out.

Great, and as you can see, the suspect is pretty well covered up in that robe there.

So why don't you focus on the hand? I'll see what we can do.

What about our suspects? Let's start with our American friend, and the victim's wife, Ricki Dacre.

34 years old.

Works in real estate.

Met Benedict Dacre at a physical therapy clinic in Barbados about a year ago, after she'd suffered a back injury from a car crash.

Were married two weeks ago.

The others believe it was her idea for Benedict to sell the plantation.

I ran a quick financial check on her, sir.

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

Big money? Substantial enough.

I'm just waiting for the employment agency to tell me exactly who she was working for.

And what about Benedict's daughter, Ruth? 28.

An only child.

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

She moved back to the estate over a year ago.

Something of a social media junkie.

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

He worked at the plantation.

And what about this young man, Owen Dacre? Do we have anything on him? Er, nothing much, sir.

He just finished boarding school in England, and spends every summer holiday working on the plantation.

Do we know what the plantation was being sold for? Er, yeah, hold on.

Sorry.

Yep, er 6 million, sir.

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

Quite a motive in itself, too.

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

Yes, sir.

So if someone is pretending to be Ciss Dacre, what would they need to play the part? A wig.

And a good one, too.

And a green robe.

Exactly the same as Ciss Dacre's.

So, if our impersonator disposed of the disguise somewhere on the Paradise Skies Estate, it's still got to be there, right? JP, Ruby, why don't you search the estate high up and low down? Try and find us this wig and robe.

Yes, sir.

# Whoa, whoa, wake up to Paradise Skies It's a bright new day, tis the sunshine glory Ruby! Please stop, OK? What? It's a catchy tune.

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

Which makes it the perfect place to stash something.

Right, back to the game.

Question number two, and don't hold back.

Erm, OK.

What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done? Oh, I hope you have a strong constitution, because this story begins with a goat, and ends with me getting arrested.

I'm sorry.

Did you just say arrested? Mmm-hmm.

Really? You can? OK, see you later.

Just a wild guess here.

That was Patrice? Yes.

He's managed to get cover at the bar tonight, so we're going to check out the wedding venue.

Oh, fantastic.

Where is it? It's a place up in the hills.

It's where my mother and father were married.

Really? Well, that sounds perfect.

It's just beautiful.

Morning, Inspector.

Commissioner! Morning to you, sir.

Are we making progress at the Paradise Skies Estate? Well, it's early days, sir, but we're getting there.

Benedict Dacre always had a somewhat unpleasant reputation.

You knew him? We met at the occasional corporate gathering.

Rather full of himself, I always found, pumped up with his own self-importance.

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

.

I'm here on other business.

What do you know about crabs? Crustaceans? Eight legs, delicious with butter.

I'm talking about the racing variety.

There's been a marked rise in illegal crab racing in bars across the island.

Crab racing? Did you know it was going on? Well, "know" is a bit of a strong word.

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

It's unlicensed gambling, which is tax evasion.

My superiors take these things very seriously.

They want it stamped out.

Absolutely, sir.

I'm on it.

Stamp on the crabs.

I mean, not literally, of course! Quick little beggars.

So I've heard.

Thank you, Inspector.

How's my niece doing? She's barely put a foot wrong, sir.

Ruby, does your uncle know you were arrested on Guadeloupe? No.

Why would I tell him that? Because you can't be a police officer with a criminal record.

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

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

You could be in proper trouble for this.

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

No.

No, no, no, no, no, OK? Don't Don't ask me to keep secrets, OK? I hate keeping secrets.

Please, JP, I'm asking as a friend.

Cross your heart.

JP? Why didn't you tell me crab racing was illegal? No, it's not illegal to take part, just for bars to host it.

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

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

Oh, we've got the postmortem through.

Benedict was k*lled by a single sh*t through the heart.

The b*llet severed his aorta.

He d*ed instantly.

But there is more.

Scarring from a recent Kn*fe wound to the upper arm.

So somebody had att*cked him previously.

Not exactly Mr Popular, is he? But if he'd got a wound like that, he'd have gone to hospital.

Thank you.

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

It says the wound was accidental.

The doctor said that Ruth was distraught about it.

But Benedict refused to get the police involved.

Sir, I've been checking out the family's social media, and I found this on Ruth's.

Photos a few days before Benedict received the Kn*fe injury.

So, this is boyfriend Manu.

"The happiest day of my life".

I wonder why it was so special.

Then, two days after the stabbing, she posted this.

"My heart is broken.

No-one understands.

"I hate my father".

Sounds like Daddy didn't approve.

She hated him enough to s*ab him in the arm? An argument that got out of hand? About Manu? Well, why don't we ask Ruth just how she really got on with her father? He was using a ticket.

A ticket? Yeah, to mark his place in the book.

Right.

Tell me, did your father like Manu? I'm not sure he liked anyone.

Well, I mean, did he approve of him? He simply gave me an allowance and left me alone.

We've seen the photos of you and Manu.

It looked pretty serious.

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

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

Did Manu propose to you? No.

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

He did propose, didn't he? And I think, when you told your father, there was an argument.

I never meant to hurt him.

But it must have smacked of hypocrisy.

I mean, there he was marrying new girlfriend Ricki and he wouldn't let you be with the man you loved.

My father lived by his own rules.

When I told him we were engaged, he simply fired Manu and his whole family from the plantation, just like that.

He said he wanted what was best for me.

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

He was all I ever really had.

They think I did it.

They think I k*lled Dad! JP, Ruby, any luck searching the estate? Sorry, sir.

Not a wig or a green robe in sight.

But, the mobile phone network has released all of the victim's phone records, which has given us access to all of the unanswered voice messages and there was one.

I'm all ears.

VOICE MAIL: Hey, Benny.

It's Clinton.

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

She hasn't got a leg to stand on.

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

Ciao.

I did a bit of digging, and I found out that Clinton is Benedict's financial adviser.

Now, he's in Miami for business right now, but he'll be back tomorrow.

Top-notch work.

And did you find out about the will? Mr Dacre's lawyer is arranging for a copy to be sent over.

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

It turns out she was actually working for the therapy clinic where she met Benedict.

So she lied about being a patient? Yes, sir, and her old staff photos are definitely worth seeing, sir.

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

Er, yes, sir.

I'm fine.

Think I got bitten at the plantation, or something.

Er, yes, OK.

Wow! That is a strong look.

Looks like she used to be called Ricki Logan.

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

It's actually Ricki Lee Jones.

She's been married twice before.

So, what happened to husbands number one and two? Both dead.

Going somewhere nice? Hi, Inspector.

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

I'm not exactly Miss Popularity around here.

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

This is number three, am I right? So what did husband number one die of? Really? Heart att*ck.

And number two? Heart att*ck.

You're a genuine heartbreaker, aren't you? So, how do you pick 'em? Take a look at their cardiogram and their bank account? I know where you're going with this, Inspector.

But you're wrong.

I'm not a m*rder*r.

You're not a real estate agent either.

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

Have you ever nursed someone who's sick? My wife, actually.

Every day for two years.

Well, I'm sorry to hear that.

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

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

You see a side of them that no-one else sees, and you come to depend on one another, emotionally and Financially? Benedict proposed to me, but you don't get it - it was about more than just money.

I'm not stupid.

I know Benedict was not a nice man.

But, he was nice to me.

And his plantation was worth 6 million.

You've got it all figured out, haven't you? Well, sorry to ruin your day, but it's not that simple.

I signed a pre-nup.

Benny had been b*rned by his last divorce.

I'd get a lump sum of a quarter of a million if we divorced, or if he d*ed.

I'm an outsider, Inspector.

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

But Benedict sold the plantation.

The buyer pulled out an hour ago.

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

Wise man.

So, we've got Benedict reading his big old book out here by the pool, when someone masquerading as Ciss Dacre, and making sure they're caught on CCTV, comes along and sh**t the poor guy.

Four questions.

Number one, who was it? Number two, how did they do it when all of our suspects have alibis? Yeah.

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

Josephine was with Ciss in the bungalow, meaning none of them were near the scene of the m*rder.

Question number three.

Why is the k*ller so keen to frame Ciss Dacre for m*rder? Whoever it is clearly had issues of some sort with the woman.

So much so, they'd be quite happy to see her spend the rest of her life locked up in prison.

Why? What did Ciss do to them? And the fourth question, Inspector? The fourth question.

Why did our victim, who we know was an avid reader, apparently not mark his place in this book in any way whatsoever? No turned corners, no embossed leatherette souvenir bookmark from the Tower of London.

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

I vote we come at this tomorrow with fresh eyes.

Anyone fancy a beer? Sorry, sir, but I can't.

Patrice and me are heading up to Oh, yeah.

The wedding venue.

Of course.

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

Why don't you come, if you don't have plans? Ah, no.

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

You won't be, I promise.

And I'd really like you to see it.

Hmm, well, I'd be honoured.

Night, Ruby.

Goodnight.

Night, JP.

Night, sir.

JP? Why in the hell are you so damned itchy all of a sudden? Look, I told you.

I can't keep secrets.

And that makes you itchy? Yes, it does.

Hot as well.

Hot and itchy.

Well, if me making you cover up for me is causing this, I'm going to tell Uncle Selly about me getting arrested.

You can't, Ruby.

You might Well, you might get suspended.

Or worse.

No, I won't.

It's really not that big a deal.

But it's the rules, Ruby.

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

Look, either I tell Uncle Selly, or you keep it a secret for the rest of your life.

What's it going to be? Oh, my God! What happened? It's a mess.

I'm so sorry.

It's OK.

I'm fine.

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

We'll have to find somewhere else.

This was the place? Yes, it was.

But sadly that place doesn't exist any more.

OK, let's go.

Arrested? Well, it was only a caution.

But it will be on record.

You should have told me earlier.

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

You don't need to do anything.

You can't do anything.

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

The Policing Standards Committee? Well, are they a real thing? Of course they're a real thing.

Well, come on, Unc.

I mean, what's the worst that can happen? You could be dismissed from the Saint Marie Police Force.

MUSIC: Book of Rules by The Heptones # Isn't it strange how princesses and kings In clown-ragged capers in sawdust rings Where the hell could it be?! Oh, my goodness! Miss Dacre.

I am so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you.

No, I'm sorry, it's OK.

I just didn't know there was anyone there.

Yeah, just re-tracing a few steps.

Not making much headway, mind you.

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

No, I I didn't get much sleep.

Yeah.

Don't normally smoke.

You know, it only just dawned on me last night that the person who k*lled Benedict, they want they want me to go to prison, don't they? I don't know who to trust any more.

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

You're bound to feel paranoid.

I can't do anything to stop that, but I promise you, I will find out who it is.

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

Thank you.

The guys told me you'd be here.

Yeah, I was hoping coming back to the scene might get the old hamster wheel turning again.

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

What were you looking for? Oh, an old receipt.

A bus ticket.

Anything that Benedict could've used as a bookmark.

I mean, here we have a man of ritual.

Always takes time to sit here, with his posh brandy and a cigar, reading for an hour.

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

Just doesn't sit right.

Does that water look funny to you? Sort of a green-ish hue to it, no? I guess so, sir.

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

Doohickey? Yeah, doohickey, you know, the thingamajiggy.

Oh, hello! The Policing Standards Committee?! I guess I might be looking for job number 14 very soon.

And I was just starting to like this job.

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

.

good at it? Look, I I'm really sorry, Ruby.

So we found our wig, and our robe.

So we missed it? Ah, there's no shame in that, JP.

It was stuffed into the pool pump basket.

Chlorine's probably wiped away any DNA, but let's get them checked out anyway.

Yes, sir.

Thank you.

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

Apparently, Benedict Dacre was refusing to pay Josephine Porter her pension.

Nasty! How long has Josephine worked at Paradise Skies? It's coming up to 35 years, now.

That'd be a sizeable sum.

But if she kills Benedict, problem simply goes away? But if she loves Ciss Dacre, why would she try to frame her? Unless Josephine isn't in love with Ciss.

JP, any joy with the will? Oh, they're faxing it over in an hour, sir.

Great.

Quicker we find out who gets what, the sooner we might get to solving this.

Ruby, you used to be a hairdresser? Oh, yes, sir.

What do you make of that wig? Oh, this is real hair, sir.

Not that cheap horse hair business.

And it's pretty pricey, too.

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

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

As for you and me, Florence, I think it's time we had a little chat with the housekeeper.

35 years working for the Dacre family.

That's loyalty.

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

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

Did Benedict? I don't know.

35 years.

Barely a promotion.

No pension.

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

Benedict was a complex man.

Really? Because he made a simple decision.

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

You'd be jobless and penniless.

I doubt if Benedict would even give you a reference.

You were desperate to get that pension.

Of course I wanted that money.

I earned it! Every penny! But would I k*ll to get it? Are you mad? This was about more than money, wasn't it? This is about respect as well.

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

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

I was here with Ciss when that sh*t was fired, Inspector.

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

Do you think she's really capable of m*rder, sir? Well, I think she might have been deeply hurt by Benedict's betrayal.

But would she dress up as Ciss and k*ll her boss? PHONE RINGS Might be a bit of a stretch.

JP, what have you got for me? This is a very weird will, sir.

How weird? It doesn't involve animals, does it? Er, no.

No animals, sir.

But it does stipulate that the Paradise Skies Estate can only be passed onto the closest male heir.

And legally, the clause cannot be altered.

And the next immediate male heir is Owen Dacre.

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

I'm going to work, Inspector.

Won't take a minute.

Did you know you're the heir to the Paradise Skies Fortune? That's news to me, Inspector.

I thought Ruth would get it all.

No.

The truth is, only a male heir can inherit the estate.

So sexism is another Dacre family tradition? I hate this place.

It's a relic.

My uncle was too stupid to think about the future.

Very expensive relic.

Now it belongs to you.

This house is a prison.

And they're all trapped inside.

Every single one of them.

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

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

Let me.

"Building a brighter future for Paradise Skies Coffee.

" I thought you hated the place? Just cos I hate the place doesn't mean I'm bad at my job.

I just can't get my head around it.

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

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

And he's got an alibi.

They've all got bloomin' alibis.

Owen.

Ricki.

Ruth.

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

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

Which means none of them were near the pool when that sh*t was fired! And then, then we've got a lady, or, or possibly a fella, wandering around in a robe with a g*n in their hand, making us think that Ciss Dacre is the m*rder*r.

Sir, the test came back on Ciss Dacre's robe, the one we found in her bedroom.

There is no blood spatter or g*nsh*t residue.

Confirms Ciss didn't fire the g*n.

The robe we found in the pump basket must be the one the k*ller wore.

The only thing we can be certain of is that this person on CCTV is our k*ller.

Ruby, some good news, please? I spoke to Letitia at HairWaves.

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

Anyway, she told me that a customer came in about a week ago, wore big sunglasses and bought a short brown wig, and had an American accent.

Ricki.

I have her credit card receipt here.

The wig was purchased with Ricki Dacre's card.

Excellent work, Ruby.

And that's not all! I have the enhanced CCTV images from my friends down at the photo lab.

Check this out.

Disco Rouge.

Disco what? Oh! I was a nail technician for six months, and I knew every colour off by heart.

That nail colour there, that is Disco Rouge.

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

Something bothering you there, Mrs Dacre? Three strikes and you're out! You want to arrest me because of my nails? Fierce colour.

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

The g*n is in your hand, and you're wearing those nails.

A wig? This is nuts! Your plastic says otherwise.

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

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

Someone must've stolen my card.

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

All of us.

And it was your idea, right? The drinks.

You wanted to loosen them up a bit.

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

Creates the odd black spot, I find.

That gave you the perfect opportunity to sneak out and k*ll Benedict.

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

Inspector, look at me.

I did not k*ll my husband.

Come on.

Let's go.

Look, you've got it wrong! You know, maybe now that we've cracked the case, I won't have that stupid jingle in my head all the time.

Small mercies, eh, Ruby? # Whoa, whoa, wake up to Paradise Skies # It's a bright new day # Tis the sunshine glory # Time to write a different story Time to write a different story Florence, wait! That's it! It's an entirely different story! Where are you going? The study! No bookmark, sir.

No bookmark, sir.

Sir! How did you know? I didn't.

Which means none of them were near the pool when that sh*t was fired.

Where were you when you heard the g*nsh*t? In the lounge, getting wasted with everyone else.

Do you have it? I made her some cocoa whilst she had a shower.

You're the heir to the Paradise Skies fortune.

That's news to me, Inspector.

I thought Ruth would get it all.

Does that water look funny to you? That's outrageous! The barefaced cheek of it! Florence, Ruby, round up the suspects.

JP, one last job.

I need you to dig up a flower bed.

OWEN: Why are we here, Inspector? We're here to solve your uncle's m*rder.

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

Well, I admit, it was a tough one, although on the surface, it looked like it might be quite simple.

New young wife, on her third wealthy husband.

All the hallmarks of a gold digger.

No offence.

None taken.

And, if it was her, how better to deflect attention from herself than to disguise herself as somebody else? The victim's sister.

Make sure she was seen on the security camera, dressed as Ciss Dacre and holding the m*rder w*apon.

But then, how could Ricki be in two places at once? She was in the house with you the whole time when the sh*t was fired.

And the truth is, none of you were lying about where you were when that sh*t was fired.

But the problem is, that wasn't the sh*t that k*lled Benedict.

What you all heard was the second sh*t.

No, wait! There was only one sh*t.

I heard it.

We all heard it.

Well, that was the idea all right, yeah.

Recognise this? It's a bookmark.

Fancy one, too.

A bookmark that tells me a story.

A story written by you .

.

wasn't it, Ciss? I, I, I don't know what you're talking about.

No, but what you did know was that your brother Benedict was a man of ritual.

Certain things he did like clockwork, like having a brandy and reading a book by the pool at night.

And that's where you'd k*ll him.

After dinner, you made your excuses.

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

Then you took the g*n from the study, and a book.

One of those "big, dull history books".

Something that would be sure to silence the sh*t.

Pow! You'd argued earlier.

You went down to the swimming pool under the pretence of apologising to him, didn't you? And I'm guessing he turned his back on you, to make the apology even harder because that's the sort of man he was.

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

Nobody heard the first sh*t.

The sh*t that k*lled Benedict.

With Benedict dead, you had to act fast.

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

You see, the idea - it wasn't just m*rder, was it? What if you could make it look like your brother was k*lled by his new young wife? I have to say, what you did next really quite brilliant.

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

You disguised yourself as yourself! Ingenious.

That's why you hid the bloody robe and the wig in the swimming pool pump basket.

And you put the book you'd used as a sil*ncer back in the study.

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

And then you strolled past the CCTV, with a g*n in your hand, as though you were completely unaware of the camera.

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

The re-painted nails and a wig you bought using her credit card.

It was vital that everyone saw you walking towards the pool just a few minutes before the sh*t was fired.

This is complete nonsense.

No, it's brilliant.

You see, you weren't going to m*rder Benedict at that stage.

He was already lying face down in the pool.

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

.

and your airtight alibi.

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

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

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

Whereas your alibi, Josephine - she told us you went to the bathroom while she was making the cocoa.

And that's where and when you fired the sh*t that everyone believed k*lled Benedict.

GUNSHO JP? The b*llet we found in the soil outside the bathroom window of Josephine Porter's bungalow.

Now, all you had to do .

.

was dump the g*n and just wait for us to do our jobs.

Why would I frame myself, Inspector? One word.

Doubt.

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

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

And suddenly we started to doubt ourselves.

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

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

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

And the chlorine would wipe away any DNA.

But, most importantly of all, you knew we'd stumble across them, the wig and the robe.

In fact, you counted on it, didn't you? And you knew we'd track down the wig and believe it was Ricki who bought it.

Every little detail - the book, the wig, the nails, the CCTV - it was all done to make us doubt our investigation every step of the way.

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

We went from believing it was you to being nearly 100% sure it was Ricki trying to frame you.

But, when you went to apologise to Benedict, you made two simple mistakes.

You picked up the book that Benedict was reading to silence the sh*t, not the one you took down with you.

And then you forgot to put Benedict's bookmark in the book that you left behind.

You spun us a fantastic story.

But you botched the ending.

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

Absolutely nothing.

You don't.

But Owen does.

The plantation can only be passed to the next male on the family bloodline.

This house had you trapped, hadn't it, Ciss? But you were always loyal to the Dacre name.

And you knew that Paradise Skies Coffee could be managed far better than the way your brother was running it.

"Building a brighter future for Paradise Skies Coffee.

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

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

You even prepared him for it by sending him out into the coffee fields every summer.

Tell me you didn't do this, please.

You knew, once Owen took over, that you and Josephine could finally be together.

But then Benedict decided to sell.

So you k*lled him, so that you, and your son, and Josephine could finally face the future.

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

It doesn't matter, Inspector.

Don't you get it? I won.

Squeak won.

You call this winning? Paradise Skies is my son's now.

My brother didn't deserve it.

He never did.

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

I'd call that winning.

Mum! What have you done? Paradise Skies is yours now, darling, it's all yours.

Wait! Wait! Look after this place.

All right.

And each other.

Come on! You know what, Florence? I'm gasping for a cup of tea.

KNOCK ON DOOR Yes, enter! Commissioner.

Let me guess.

You're here to talk about Officer Patterson.

Yes, sir.

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

I believe that Ruby is an exceptional police officer and I'm proud to call her my partner.

And I don't think she deserves to be sacked.

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

Your decision? I am the Standards Committee.

And that was quite a stirring defence of your colleague.

Why didn't you tell Ruby that? Because I want my niece to realise how much this job means to her.

Sometimes you don't realise how much you have, until there's a danger of you losing it.

You know, on my wedding day I was so nervous I had to change my shirt twice.

I was sweating buckets, so I was.

But then, as I saw my wife walking down the aisle, it all made sense.

She was so beautiful, so calm.

When I see you and Florence together, I have to say it all makes perfect sense too.

Thank you.

That means a lot.

What have you been up to, Jack? Ah, call it my wedding present.

No, it's too much.

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

Mostly superficial, lick of paint here and there.

You'd be surprised at how many people want to do the local police inspector a favour! Hello, Inspector! I just hope your wedding day is as wonderful as mine was.

Florence deserves it.

She's a very, very special young woman.

Yes.

She is.

We're all heading back to my place later, if you fancy a quick one? Just a quiet one, you know? CHEERING AND SHOUTING Yes! I told you he's invincible.

So! This is where all the action is.

Well, it's not strictly illegal, sir.

This is my property.

And these are all my friends.

I see you've come up with a smart way to exploit a loophole in our law, Inspector.

Now .

.

who's the favourite? It's been a long time since I've been crab racing.

I'd put my cash on Colin, sir.

Trust me, that crab is an eight-legged Shergar! You could probably do with a beer.

Er, yup.

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

Oh, don't be getting all soppy on me.

This is a clean shirt.

Thank you.

Any word from the committee? No need for the committee to look at your case.

There isn't? No.

The funny thing is, there's no record of your arrest anywhere to be found.

Well, that is funny.

No doubt an administrative oversight.

Well, I do love an administrative oversight.

So, no further action will be taken.

Thank you.

CHEERING Come on, Colin! Good to see you, man! Yeah, my first Mahi Mahi Festival.

I wouldn't miss it for the world! She's coming! Tiana! Hey.

Something's wrong.

HEARTBEAT POUNDS SLOWLY GUNSHO